Page 19 of Charmed by the Alien Warrior (Spirit Mates of the Laediriian Exiles #2)

Sorrin

Mara lies sprawled on top of me, her soft curves molding against my body as though she was made to fit me.

How can a being so different from me feel so right, as if she’s always been a part of me? Her breath puffs gently against my neck, steady and rhythmic, but I know she isn’t asleep.

We claimed each other twice more during the night, and each joining was more intense than the last. Yet beneath the sated exhaustion, beneath the buzz of contentment flowing through her, I can feel her restlessness and the swirling turmoil of her thoughts. And it makes me feel uneasy.

This fierce, maddening human shakes me to my very core. She’s small, fragile by Laediriian standards, yet she’s a force stronger than anything I’ve ever faced in battle. Her laughter, her touch, even her stubbornness—they’ve worked their way into the marrow of my bones.

The bond between us is undeniable, and it thrums through my veins like an electric charge I can’t escape. And I don’t want to. I know what we’ve done is more than just flesh meeting flesh.

How do I tell her what I’ve only just begun to understand myself?

I can already feel the flutter of my second heart—the one that beats only for a spirit mate—as it begins to stir to life. It’s rhythm is sluggish, right now, but with each beat, it grows stronger.

Mara is my spirit mate. My amoris.

And she wants to leave me.

The thought sends a sharp pain through me, like a blade to my chest. And yet, I understand her desire to leave this planet. She wants to return to Earth, to the life she was taken from. She has already endured so much pain and hardship, and I want nothing more than to shield her from more. Laedirissae is wild, dangerous, filled with enemies and uncertainty.

How can I ask her to stay here? How do I tell her that she’s the center of my existence now? That the moment she entered my life, every other path fell away, leaving only her. I can’t. I can’t burden her with that.

The mate bond hasn’t been completed, yet, as that will only come with her willing acceptance. But it’s there, sitting heavily in my chest alongside the faint echo of Mara inside me. That echo will only strengthen if she accepts me until her spirit entwines with mine, just as mine will reside within her.

I want to say the words. I want to claim her as my mate, to see her smile in acceptance with her arms opened wide and welcoming. A snort of amusement almost leaves me at the image. My Mara is a courageous and stubborn being—she would be more likely to bare her blunt teeth in challenge than welcome.

But none of that can happen.

At this moment, the bond that exists between us is just an echo of what it could be, a fragile promise that can remain unfulfilled. She deserves the chance to return to her home if that’s what she truly wants, and I won’t stand in her way. Not now. Not ever.

I take a deep breath, the heavy feeling in my chest loosening slightly as I breathe in her scent. It’s an intoxicating mix of our shared desire and the sweet fragrance that is uniquely hers—a scent I’ve come to crave like oxygen.

My hands tighten around her, pulling her closer, as if I can keep her with me through sheer will. I know that’s not the answer. She isn’t a prize to be claimed or a problem to be solved. She’s so much more than that.

I never imagined a being from another world would be my mate, but she is. From the first time I laid eyes on her, there has been a silent tether pulling me to her. Even when she ignored me. Even when she seemed to dislike me. She has brought color to my dull life, and I would follow her to the ends of this planet.

But if she leaves and I remain here, how will I survive the void she’ll leave behind?

“Mara,” I murmur, my voice still hoarse from the night’s exertions.

She shifts, and my cock jumps as her hip presses against me. Her green eyes meet mine. They glint with something I can’t quite name. Uncertainty? Or maybe it's the same awe I feel whenever I look at her.

“Yeah?” Her voice is barely more than a whisper, but it sounds loud in the quiet of the control room.

I open my mouth, then hesitate. For all my skill in battle, this is a war I’m unprepared for—a battle of words, of emotions, where no amount of training or instinct can guide me. A part of me wants to stay silent, to avoid this conversation entirely, but I can’t ignore it any longer. Not when the truth weighs so heavily between us.

I take a steadying breath and force the words out. “I know why you really came on this mission.”

The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by the distant hum of the ship’s systems. Mara’s entire body stiffens against me, and I feel the tension radiating from her as my words sink in, confirming what I already suspected.

“You do?” She asks, her voice tight as she peers up at me.

I nod, my gaze never leaving hers. “You want to return to Earth. You came on this mission to find a way back.”

Her breath catches in her throat, and for a moment, I wonder if I’ve pushed too far. Her eyes flicker with uncertainty, and the guarded expression she wears like armor slips. But I don’t look away. I want her to see that I understand her longing.

But she also needs to know the truth, one I wish I didn’t have to tell her. There is no going back. Not to her home planet. Not anywhere.

Finally, she speaks, her voice small and fragile in a way that’s so unlike her it makes my second heart ache. “There’s no way back, is there?”

I shake my head. “No. If there were, I’d do everything in my power to help you return to your home planet. But it’s not possible.”

Her brows knit together, and her gaze becomes distant. A heavy silence settles between us, thick with unspoken emotions. I can almost see the thoughts running through her mind as she processes my words. The hope she’s desperately trying to hold onto.

Her hand rises from my chest, motioning around the room. “I was hoping the Ancestors’ Ship would work,” she murmurs. “That it could take us back...” Her voice trails off, the hope in her words so faint it nearly breaks me.

I draw in a breath, steadying myself before I answer. “This ship wasn’t meant for travel beyond this galaxy. It barely made it to Laedirissae,” I say, keeping my voice soft and choosing my words carefully. “Even if it could, there’s no fuel on this planet to power it.”

She blinks, her gaze falling to the floor as if she needs something solid to anchor her. The sight makes a sharp pang of guilt twist in my chest, but I can’t give her false promises. If anyone deserves the truth, it’s Mara.

I hesitate for a moment before adding, “The Pugj arrived on a ship, too, but it was destroyed when they landed. There’s nothing left to salvage. There’s no way off Laedirissae.”

Mara’s shoulders slump, the weight of it all pressing down on her. I hate seeing her like this—so defeated, so lost in a place where I can’t offer the comfort she craves. Not the comfort she longs for, at least.

"I’m sorry," I murmur. "I wish things were different."

Mara doesn’t respond right away. When she finally speaks again, her voice is quieter than before. “So, what does that mean? For us? For... me?”

I look at her, studying the lines of her face, the vulnerability she tries so hard to mask. How can I tell her that, even if returning to Earth were possible, I don’t want her to leave? How can I admit that the thought of her stepping out of my life—out of my arms—is a pain I cannot bear?

I want to say, You have a home, here with me. But the words catch in my throat. I’m not sure if she’s ready to hear it, yet.

Instead, I take her hand in mine, my thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles. It’s a small gesture, but it’s all I can offer right now. “It means we figure it out,” I say finally, my voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside me. “Together.”

***

It’s not long after that that the security system resets.

Unlike when we were locked in the day before, there aren’t any loud alarms or flashing lights. Instead, the only indication we’re free to leave is the sharp click of the door as it unlocks.

The sound should fill me with relief, but it barely registers to me. Being trapped in the control room no longer disturbs me like it did. Instead, it’s Mara’s tense silence and the troubled expression on her face that consume my attention. Though we may be physically close, her spirit feels distant, and I’m left to wonder if the fragile connection we forged with each other is already slipping away.

There are so many things I want to say to her, but each time I open my mouth to speak, the words seem to stick in my throat. Mara is a determined female with a quick mind, and I do not wish to burden her with the knowledge of the mate bond that I can feel lodged in my chest even now.

We gather our belongings quietly, and then it’s time to leave. To leave behind this room where we grew close in a way I never could have imagined. I worry that once we step through the door, that closeness will dissolve like fog in the sunlight, slipping away from us forever.

It already feels like it’s beginning to.

We move through the ship’s winding corridors in silence. Mara walks beside me, her head down, her gaze fixed on the floor beneath her feet. The weight of her unspoken thoughts presses against my rib cage like a physical thing, and I wish I could ease her burden. But I don’t know how.

As we approach a long hallway that splits into two branching paths at one end, an eerie stillness settles around us. The air feels heavier here, charged with an unsettling quiet that makes my skin prickle. Shadows pool in the dim space, broken only by weak light filtering from the damaged lamps. The corridor is cluttered with discarded machinery and empty crates left behind by the Ancestors.

Mara’s hand brushes my arm, halting me mid-step. The unexpected contact sends a jolt through me, and I turn to meet her eyes.

“Sorrin,” she says softly. Her voice is steady despite the tension lining her face. “Thank you for being honest with me earlier. For not…” She pauses, searching for the words. “For not leaving me hanging.”

“Hanging?” I ask, tilting my head in confusion at her choice of words.

She huffs out a soft laugh and her lips quirk into a faint smile, one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “For not giving me false hope. For telling me the truth, even though it wasn’t what I wanted to hear.”

Her words hit me like a blow, but not in the way I expect. There’s no anger, no bitterness in her tone—only gratitude. How could my honesty, which destroyed her hopes, be something she appreciates? And yet, the way she looks at me now—with a fragile kind of trust—makes my second heart flutter in my chest with hope of its own.

Would she ever accept me as her spirit mate? Should I tell her that my second heart beats only for her and will until the day I die?

But I suspect she doesn’t believe in spirit mates. To humans, the concept is as strange as it is sacred to us. Even though Haley feels the pull of the amoris bond just as strongly as a Leadiriian female, the other humans seem to view the bond with suspicion. But surely Mara feels the pull between us.

I don’t move. I can’t tear my gaze away from her, and I feel certain no power in the universe could make me. An entire herd of dicros could stampede through the now unlocked door, and I wouldn’t care. The only thing that matters—the only thing that can hold my attention—is the small female in front of me.

Before I can respond, a sharp metallic clang echoes through the corridor, shattering the fragile moment between us. The sound reverberates off the walls, loud and out of place in the quiet stillness of the ship.

Beside me, Mara stiffens, her breath hitching as her hand grips my arm. I can feel the fear crackling through her.

My muscles tense, every instinct sharpening as my ears strain, swiveling to pick up any out of place noises, while my hand falls to the hilt of my sword. Then, I hear it.

The faint shuffle of footsteps echoes from somewhere in the distance. The steps are too soft, too deliberate to belong to an animal. Whatever it is, it doesn’t move with the lumbering gait of a tiniio. And it stands between us and safety, moving slowly, but surely up the corridor that leads to the ship’s exit.

Mara leans in close, her breath warm against my ear as she whispers, “Is it the tiniio?”

“I don’t think so.” My response is little more than a breath as I soundlessly pull my sword free.

Every muscle in my body is coiled, poised to strike, but I force myself to stay motionless. My senses sharpen, straining to catch the slightest hint of movement, the faintest sound.

There! They’re close enough now that I can pick up each individual’s movements, and I count four separate sets of footsteps. A heartbeat later, my nostrils flare in irritation as a pungent odor reaches me. My blood runs cold with dread at the foul stench that now permeates the ship like a cesspit.

Pugj.

My grip on my sword tightens as I take a step in front of Mara, instinctively placing myself between her and the unseen threat. Every protective instinct in my body roars to life. If it was only me in this fight I wouldn’t worry, but I’ve seen how thin human skin is, and I know one wrong move could mean the end for her.

“Mara,” I whisper, my voice low, “stay behind me. Do not make a sound.”

She presses close against my back, her warmth a stark contrast to the icy dread settling over me.

Her breath is quick and shallow against my neck as she whispers, “It’s the Pugj, isn’t it?”

My jaw tightens. “Yes.”

I take a light step forward drawing closer to the intersection where the corridor branches off into two different paths—one leading to the exit and the other deeper into the ship. My ears twitch as the low murmur of guttural voices reaches me. I can’t make out their words, but I don’t need to. I know what they want.

Mara.

Sard! I should have known they wouldn’t give up. Not after they saw a wonderous being like Mara. Not when they realized there are females on our planet. Not when Haavor realized he could have a female all of his own.

A wave of rage rises within me, threatening to consume me entirely. They don’t care about her. They see her as something they can take, something they can use for their twisted purposes.

The thought of my mate being dragged away, of her being hurt, makes both of my hearts pound against my ribs like a drum. I glance over my shoulder and my gaze lands on Mara again, this time taking in every detail. Her eyes are wide and her colorless face is even paler than normal. Her breath is coming in fast pants, and I know she’s scared, but her jaw is set with determination.

She’s a strong, courageous female, and she deserves better than to be hunted by our enemies. I ache to gather her in my arms and carry her to safety, but I can’t. Not when the Pugj stand between us and the outside world.

She’s my spirit mate. Even if she doesn’t know it, even if she never accepts it, I do. Every beat of my second heart belongs to her, and if it takes every drop of blood in my body to ensure her safety, then so be it. I will protect her.

The whisper of voices is louder, now, and I know they’re close. The Pugj will be upon us in mere heartbeats, and there’s not enough time to race back down the long hallway. My instincts roar at me to move, to fight, but I force myself to take a deep, steadying breath and to think. To plan.

Glancing around, my gaze lands on a large, empty crate pushed slightly away from the wall. There’s a small amount of space that looks as if it should be just big enough for a human to fit behind. It’s not ideal, but it’s the best we have.

I turn to Mara, lowering my voice to a whisper as I gesture toward the hiding spot. “Get in there. No matter what happens, stay hidden.”

Her head snaps up, eyes flashing. “What? No!” she hisses.

Placing my hands on her shoulders, I stare into her eyes. “You must. If anything happens to you…” My voice falters, the thought striking me like a lightning bolt to the chest. The pain is sharp and unrelenting, and I shove it aside . “I will protect you, but I need to know you’re safe.”

Her green eyes glisten with unshed tears, their color deepening to a stormy hue, like the River Elbi swollen after a heavy rain. She blinks the tears back before drawing her shoulders back. Despite the fear tightening her features, her expression hardens with resolve.

Finally, she gives a single nod. Trust, fear, and something else—something I dare not name—swirl in her gaze. Unable to resist, I lean forward and seal my lips with hers in a quick searing kiss that leaves us both breathless.

Then, it’s time. Mara slips behind the crate, crouching low and disappearing into the shadows. I swiftly cross the corridor on silent feet coming to a stop beside another stack of crates. My hiding place doesn’t offer as much concealment as Mara’s but it should be enough to allow me to surprise the Pugj fighters.

The scrape of a claw against metal drifts to me, and my grip tightens on my blade as I find a small crack at the back of the crates to peer through, allowing me an almost unobstructed view of the corridor.

Both of my hearts pound in my chest, sending a surge of adrenaline and mateblood to my veins. Mateblood that will strengthen my muscles and allow me to fight harder and longer—all to protect my amoris. The air is thick with anticipation like the calm before a storm. The nauseating stench from the Pugj is stronger, now, and burns my throat, forcing me to swallow the bile back.

My breath stills in my chest as the first figure rounds the corner and steps into view.

The Pugj fighter is massive in size with a hulking frame covered in matted gray hair that hangs in clumps. His eyes glow in the dim light as he lumbers forward.

Behind him, another Pugj moves into the space followed by two more smaller but no less dangerous figures who are clearly not Pugj. Even in the dim light of the corridor, I can make out the distinctive features of Laediriian warriors.

The sarding traitors! My hearts race, but it’s not just adrenaline and mateblood now that surges through me. Betrayal sharpens my focus, cutting through the fear and disgust.

The first Pugj fighter steps deeper into the corridor, his gaze scanning the dimly lit area and running over the empty crates and discarded machines. There’s no mistaking the menace in his stance. His claws flex at his sides as if in preparation to slice across the first victim they find.

That person will not be Mara.

I steady my breathing and tighten my grip on my sword, ready to lunge, when a voice cuts through the silence, drawing my attention back to the Laediriian warriors.

“Come out, wherever you are, human.” The voice sends an involuntary chill down my spine, freezing me in place for a brief, breathless moment. My pulses roar in my ears, and the old memories of my past threaten to pull me back into the dark pit I thought I’d escaped so long ago.

But I’m not that young, frightened hunter anymore. I’m a warrior with a sharp sword in my hand and a mate to protect.

Sevvern will not win. Not this time. Not ever again.