Page 12 of Charmed by the Alien Warrior (Spirit Mates of the Laediriian Exiles #2)

Sorrin

Sard! Mara is the most vexing, stubborn, bewildering human I have met.

Not that I have met that many, but still. She makes my chest feel like a storm is brewing within it. Ever since she entered my world, she has woven herself into my thoughts, leaving my head a tangled web of confusion that would make any other warrior crumble beneath its weight.

A fact I should find vexing all on its own, but I don’t. I like it, and the more time I spend with her, I realize with a start, that I l ike Mara. I like her prickly nature and her fierce tongue.

My cock, meanwhile, has seemed to develop a mind of its own, stirring to attention whenever she draws near. Even now, it is hard and throbbing, the blood rushing through my veins and straight to my member as soon as my hand touched her soft skin.

Moonslight slices through the canopy, bathing her skin in a celestial hue and making her resemble the statues our ancestors raised in honor of the Goddesses. So luscious and beautiful yet encased in armor that somehow still remains delicate.

Which is why I must keep my hands—and my unruly cock—away from her. Despite her strength, Mara watches the warriors in my tribe with a wariness that makes it clear the males of her species have not treated her kindly. Her caution pierces me my chest like a knife, and I have no desire to be another source of pain for her. No matter how attracted I am to her. Or how often she enters my thoughts.

I clench my jaw, struggling to think of any way to convince her to return to the safety of the tribe and village. But as I eye the stubborn set of her shoulders, I know it would be futile. If there is one thing I have learned about the humans, it is that they are more determined than even a tiniio on the track of its prey. Once they have set their minds to something, they will not stop.

Unfortunately, confused warrior that I am, it seems that that courageous determination is something I admire about the female beside me.

We travel for a while longer, neither of us speaking. It is just after we stopped at a stream to refill the waterskin I brought with me that the stubborn pace Mara set begins to falter.

Her footsteps grow slower, barely lifting above the ground, and my concern only deepens when I notice her limp.

Sard! I knew it! She is injured. I should go back and find the miserable traitors and make them pay for the harm they’ve caused her.

Just as I have that thought, she stumbles over a tree root, nearly crashing to the ground. Instinctively, my hands shoot out and pull her trembling frame against me, stopping her fall.

For the space of ten heartbeats, we lock gazes. A charged silence envelops us, akin to the electricity in the air before a heavy storm. Everything around us fades away, except for the sound of Mara panting and the loud pounding of my heart in my ears.

Her eyes widen, and I feel as if I can see every part of her spirit in the bright green orbs. I can see the flutter of her pulse at her throat beating as fast as the wings of a lisek, and the urge to drop my mouth and lick the vulnerable skin there surprises me. I inhale deeply and her scent fills my nostrils.

Beneath the light, sweet fragrance that is unique to Mara is something new. Something musky and dark and dangerous. Something that makes my nostrils flare and my cock harden. It winds its way into my head and my veins with a buzz causing a muffled groan to escape my lips and spill into the air between us.

Her hands, so much smaller than my own, but with more power than I would have thought them capable of, clench against my chest. The pads of her fingers are warm and soft against my thick hide.

Red stains her cheeks and spreads down her neck to disappear beneath the material of her shirt. Her small pink tongue peeks out to wet her lips, and my attention immediately drops to her mouth. So soft and lush.

She makes a noise in her throat, then pushes away from me.

“Thanks for catching me,” She mumbles, dropping her gaze to her shoes as if she’s suddenly fascinated by them.

My arms feel empty and cold without her small body enclosed in them, and I want to ask her to return to them. But instead I clear my throat. “It’s no bother.”

Mara refuses to meet my gaze, but her plump cheeks are still flushed a ruddy color. But when she takes a step back, a sharp wince crosses her face, reminding me of her injury.

It’s then I notice the dark smudges and lines beneath her eyes. She is in pain and it is clear exhaustion will soon claim her and drag her down into sleep. Which means it’s time to find somewhere for us to rest until we can continue on our journey.

I glance around, my gaze snagging on a rocky hill rising ahead. A ledge of stone juts out above a dark, cavernous opening.

“You need to rest,” I say, nodding toward the cave. Mara makes a sound of protest, but I continue, “We both need to rest. Just for a little while.”

She hesitates, her expression caught between defiance and fatigue, but before she can argue, a yawn escapes her. She presses a hand to her mouth, her cheeks flushing again.

I chuckle softly. “Wait here. I’ll check it first.”

Before I enter the darkness of the cave, I decide that I don’t like the thought of Mara being left defenseless, even if I’ll only be steps away. So, I draw the small, oddly shaped knife out of the satchel looped around my shoulders, and I press the fabric-wrapped handle into her hands. I have carried the weapon ever since finding it in the grassland, stained with blood. Now, it’s time to return it to her.

Her eyes widen as I press it into her hand. For a moment, she stares at the weapon, her fingers curling around it in stunned silence.

“It’s yours,” I murmur before turning and stepping into the cave.

It only takes a moment to search the chamber. Inside, the air is cool and still. The cave is small, the ceiling too low for me to stand fully upright, but it’s empty and relatively clean. No signs of dried dung, no lingering scents of animals. Patches of moss cling to the stone walls, glowing faintly in hues of green and blue, and casting a soft light over the space. It’ll do.

As I step back into the moonslight, I find Mara still staring at the weapon in her hand. Her eyes finally lift to meet mine, and for a moment, I can see every emotion that dances through her eyes. Surprise, gratitude, happiness. The moment stretches between us until she blinks, breaking eye contact with me as she tucks the weapon into a pocket of her pale blue pants.

"It’s safe," I say, nodding toward the cave.

She hesitates, then steps toward the entrance. I follow closely, my hand instinctively darting out when she stumbles over a loose stone. Her fingers grip mine briefly before she pulls away, but the sensation lingers, the warmth of her touch burning into my skin.

I clear my throat, glancing around for something to make the ground less harsh. The broad leaves of a nearby cupressi tree catch my eye. In no time, I’ve gathered enough to create makeshift beds for us. Inside, I quickly spread the leaves out on the floor of the chamber, making two thick piles.

Mara sinks down with a sigh onto the nearest one, her exhaustion evident in the way her body seems to deflate, as if the fight has suddenly drained from her. Her shoulders slump, and for the first time since we started this journey, her guarded demeanor slips.

I settle on my own pile, close enough to be near if she needs help but far enough to give her space. My gaze flicks to her torn pants and the wound on her thigh. The edges of the blue fabric are frayed and stained dark with blood. I hesitate, then reach into my satchel for the medic kit.

I wasn’t able to bring much when I broke away from the others—just a small amount of rations and the kit Warrik insists we all carry. I silently thank the stubborn medic for his precautions, as I pull the metal box from my pack.

My eyes drift to the wound on Mara’s thigh. I don’t know if she’ll allow me to tend to her, but I have to try.

“How did you injure your leg?” I ask, keeping my voice as neutral as possible even though I feel like tearing whoever hurt her into pieces.

She glances down at her leg as though she’s just now remembering the injury, her expression distant.

“It was Bigfoot.” At my confused look, Mara’s lips twitch. “Um… the Pugj that took me. He stuck his claw into my leg.”

At her words, a surge of furious heat floods my veins shooting through my body. My vision tinges red, and the urge to storm back to the Tussoll village, find the beast who made the mistake of daring to lay a claw on her, and stick my sword into him is almost overwhelming. How dare he—

But then her next words cut through the haze.

“I paid him back by stabbing him.” There is an unexpected glimmer of dark satisfaction in her voice.

I blink in surprise, caught between admiration and concern. These humans… they are dangerous beings. They may be physically smaller and more fragile, but there’s a ferocious strength in them—in Mara—that I’m only just coming to realize.

For a moment, I see her in a different light. She isn’t just a fragile creature to be protected. There is a fire in her, one that I feel drawn to.

“Well, let’s make sure his claw doesn’t kill you.” I manage a small smile, even as my hands tremble slightly with the thought of treating her wound.

I shift closer, my heart pounding harder than I’d like. She’s watching me now, her eyes sharp on my every move, despite her obvious exhaustion. So, I keep my movements slow and deliberate as I carefully tear the material of her pants to make the ragged hole a little bigger. The sharp, angry lines of the claw mark stand out against her pale skin, and I can see the strain in her jaw as she holds herself still.

“This might sting,” I warn, using the waterskin I was able to bring with me to dampen a cloth before pressing it gently to the wound to clean it.

Mara flinches, her fingers digging into the leaves beneath her, but she nods.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, my voice low. “I’ll be quick.”

“It’s okay. Do what you have to.” She nods, her jaw tight, but she doesn’t flinch again. Her jaw is held so tightly it looks as if it will break.

My fingers brush against her skin as I clean the wound, and I feel a strange tug in my chest, something that seems to go deeper than just concern. It’s a need to protect her, to ease her pain, but it’s more than even that.

I’ve fought alongside the other warriors in the tribe, faced countless dangers together, and tended to numerous wounds over the years. But this feels different. It’s something I can’t quite name yet.

The silence between us grows, becoming tense. I almost resort to my normal banter to break it, but somehow it feels wrong in this moment.

“You did well defending yourself,” I say quietly.

My gaze is fixed on the jagged wound as I smear salixa gel on it, but my mind is on Mara’s courageous fight against the Pugj who took her. I saw the trampled grass and the blood stained ground, and I know how hard she fought him.

She chuckles, though it’s strained. “Probably not as good as a warrior, though.”

“Maybe not,” I concede as I finish wrapping a bandage around the wound, tie if off, and then sit back to admire my handiwork. “But you still fought back, and that’s what matters.”

Her eyes meet mine, and for a moment, there’s something unspoken between us, something fragile yet undeniable. I force myself to break eye contact with her before tucking the medic kit back into my satchel.

“I’m sorry about Kaja,” Mara says suddenly. At my questioning look, she explains, “That she ran away.”

“Ah. She’ll be fine,” I reply with a faint smile. “Kaja is a smart eponir. She’s fought in many battles and knows to return to the village if we’re separated. She’s probably being spoiled by the tribe even now.”

Mara nods, but her expression softens, the faintest shadow of worry lingering. The sight tugs at me, deeper than I’d care to admit.

Wanting to lighten the mood—both hers and mine—I dig into my satchel and pull out the bag of travel rations. “Here,” I offer, passing it to her.

Mara takes it with a small, surprised smile, and we settle into an unspoken rhythm, sharing the food as we rest and passing the travel rations the humans call trail mix back and forth. Once we’ve eaten our fill, I tuck what remains back into my pack, but the quiet lingers, stretching thin. Just as I consider speaking to fill it, Mara’s voice speaks, breaking through the stillness.

"Thank you," she whispers, her gaze fixed on her clasped hands. "For coming after me, for the shiv.” Her voice wavers, and when her eyes finally meet mine, something raw and unguarded flashes in their depths. My chest tightens, and my thoughts falter.

“The shiv?” I ask, grasping at the unfamiliar word. The chip in my head translates most of the human words she and the other females use, but there are still some it doesn’t recognize.

Mara chuckles, but the sound is wet as if she is holding back tears. “The knife. Crystal made it back at the crashed ship. I know it’s not much, but having it back makes me feel a little safer.”

“Ah.” I nod.

Despite the wound the small weapon managed to inflict upon the Pugj who took Mara, many of the other creatures on our planet have much thicker hides. A knot of unease settles in my gut when I think about small, ridgeless Mara standing defiantly against a tiniio or a magnis.

Then, a thought occurs to me, and I reach for the blades secured at my waist. I carry many weapons, all Laediriian warriors do, but one less will not harm me. And if it will make the small female in front of me feel safer then it is no issue at all.

Eyeing Mara’s delicate hands, I choose the smallest dagger I own and pluck it from its sheath, handing it over to her hilt first. “Take this.”

Even though it is the smallest blade I possess, it still dwarfs her palm. I jut my chin out to the knife. “It will be no match against a sword, but at least you will not be defenseless.”

She shakes her head and tries to hand the weapon back. “You don’t have to do that.”

I shake my head and press the knife back into her hand. Untying the sheath, I hand it over, too. “If it makes you feel safer, it’s yours. Just promise me you’ll keep it on you, always.”

Her fingers curl around the hilt. “I promise,” she whispers, her voice trembling.

She looks at me then, and the genuine pleasure at my gift shining in her eyes is a force all its own. My throat tightens, and for a moment, words escape me.

Mara yawns again, and with a sheepish upturn of her mouth, she lays down and burrows into the pile of leaves.

“Good night, Sorrin.” Her quiet voice whispers to me.

“Good night, Mara.”

The cave’s silence wraps around us, broken only by the distant sounds of the jungle and the soft rhythm of our breathing. Slowly, Mara’s eyes drift shut, her body finally succumbing to the rest it desperately needs, leaving me alone except for my thoughts.

I sit up for a while, my mind a tumult of thoughts and emotions. Her vulnerability tugs at something deep inside me, something primal and protective. I shift closer, keeping watch over her as she sleeps, my senses alert for any danger.

What is it about this small human? I don’t think she is my spirit mate. Not that it’s not possible. The amoris bond that has developed between Draggar and Haley is proof that it is possible for Laediriians to bond with these humans, and that the bond is just as strong as it was between two Laediriians.

But surely the Universe would not bind me to someone so unlike myself—a female so quick to challenge me, to push me away. Then again, she hasn’t been truly unkind. Not tonight, at least.

Except, Mara has endured so much. Taken against her will from her home. Caged and then abandoned on a planet that is so foreign and unknown to her kind that she is like a kitling learning everything. Who wouldn’t be guarded after such an ordeal? Even I would struggle to keep my spirit intact under such strain.

Still, she unsettles me.

No, I do not think Mara is my mate, but I will not deny that I desire her. I want to feel the press of her mouth, so often occupied with stern words, against mine. I want to drag my tongue over her soft skin. I want her beneath me, writhing and moaning in pleasure. The images flood my mind, vivid and unrelenting, and my heart pounds in response.

I huff out a breath and tilt my head up to stare at the rough stone ceiling of the cave. The weight of my thoughts presses down on me, even as exhaustion begins to creep in. Mara would never agree to such desires, I remind myself. And yet, the ache remains.

My gaze lands on her one more time, tracing the gentle rise and fall of her chest, and I finally allow myself to relax and drift off to sleep.