Page 8 of Charmed by the Alien Warrior (Spirit Mates of the Laediriian Exiles #2)
Sorrin
After failing to find any signs of the crashed ship in the Vex Grasslands, we leave early the next morning to make our way to the Bitter Forest.
As my hands encircle Mara’s waist to help her into Kaja’s saddle, I notice the way her body stiffens. Her reaction is subtle but unmistakable, and it stirs my curiosity once more about her prickly nature.
I’ve seen her smile during this journey, though rarely in my direction. Isabella can coax warmth from her with shared conversation, and even Enosir had her laughing earlier with one of his absurd questions. Hearing her soft laughter ripple through the camp this morning made my jaw tighten and my fists clench.
I had to stop myself from striding over and silencing Enosir with his own blade. He meant no harm, I remind myself. But the way Mara’s smile lit up her face, how her guard fell for just a moment, stirred something within me. I wanted to claim that smile, to be the reason for it. Instead, I was left to grit my teeth and wrestle with the irrational urges that keep building inside me.
Maybe it’s the flicker of vulnerability she showed last night when she thought no one was watching. Or perhaps it’s the challenge of navigating the rough edges of her personality. Whatever the reason, I silently vow to unravel the mystery of Mara and to discover why she has become lodged inside my mind like a thorn I can’t remove or ignore.
I don’t think it’s the amoris bond. If it was, there would be unmistakable signs. My eyes would turn gold when my emotions grow strong. My second heart, the heart that beats only for an amoris mate, would awaken. Instead, it lies silent and still in my chest.
So why am I drawn to this one female?
Perhaps it’s simply my spirit reacting to the presence of females after so long. That would be logical, even expected. But if that were true, why doesn’t Isabella make me feel this way? She is kind and clever, yet her smiles stir nothing within me. And none of the other females in the village stir my thoughts the way Mara does. No, it is only her. Only Mara.
The question twists within me as we press onward, the quiet between us filled with the rhythm of Kaja’s steps.
By midday, the Bitter Forest looms ahead, the pungent, sour odor that gives it its name reaching my nostrils long before the trees come into view.
The trees of the forest are unlike any others on our planet. Their twisted, gnarled trunks are dark green in color, appearing almost black from a distance, with bark that is nearly as hard and impenetrable as stone. Roots spread across the forest floor, twisting and turning as if they are some sort of writhing creature of the water, and slowing our progress through the forest. Small purple needles spring from the trees, dropping to the floor of the forest as they age, providing a soft cushion that muffles the sound of our mounts.
The dark sap that oozes from the trees is what gives the forest its name with the sticky fluid releasing an aroma that is so potent, I can feel the burn of it against my tongue. It drips down onto the forest floor, coating the dead needles.
“No wonder it’s called the Bitter Forest.” Mara mutters under her breath before pinching her nose between two small fingers.
I chuckle at her action and murmur, “It is said the Bitter Forest grew from dicro dung. Personally, I think a forest this noxious could only have come from an unattended latrine. One used by many warriors and left to grow in the heat.”
She coughs, her lips twitching in what I think might be the beginning of a smile. “That bad, huh?”
“Worse,” I reply, lowering my voice conspiratorially. “Many warriors have burned their boots after stepping in the sap. No amount of scrubbing could rid them of the smell.”
She chuckles, a quiet sound that somehow settles in my chest like a warm ball.
As we venture deeper into the forest, my mount, Kaja, snorts and steps sideways, the muscles along her neck quivering with unease. I grip the reins tighter, scanning the shadows for signs of danger. At the same time, Mara gasps at Kaja’s skittishness and reaches back to cling to my thighs. The warmth of her touch shoots through me like an electric charge, momentarily distracting me from the tension coiling in Kaja’s frame.
Then, the first Pugj emerges from the trees, followed quickly by more.
My head swivels, looking for an escape route, and with dawning horror, I realize we’re surrounded on all sides. There are ten of the hairy creatures, with most of them carrying heavy spears with shafts made from long, thick bones. Not that they really need weapons. The claws that glint menacingly from the tips of each finger and the sharp teeth that sprout from their deadly jaws are weapons all on their own.
Time seems to freeze, and then with a startled shriek from one of the eponirs, everything snaps back into motion, and the Pugj attack.
“Mara, stay with Kaja!” I bark as I launch myself off my mount and into the fray. A split second later, a heavy spear comes flying at my head and I bat it away with my drawn sword.
The fight is a blur of steel and blood. I lose myself in the rhythm of combat—the weight of my blade, the spray of red as it finds its mark, the snarls and screams of the dying Pugj. They’re fierce, but we are Laediriian warriors and we’re trained to fight from the first moment we pick up a wooden sword as kitlings.
We easily cut through the weaker fighters, their bodies falling to the forest floor, staining the purple needles with their blood. But there is no time to revel in victory. The stronger Pugj step forward now, their eyes flashing with a predatory gleam.
I realize with a chill that they’ve been holding back letting their weaker companions tire us out.
Around me, the forest seems to close in. The pungent sap burns in my nostrils and the shadows press closer as I tighten my grip on my sword, sparing a quick glance toward Mara. She’s still seated on Kaja, her eyes wide with fear, but she hasn’t fled.
The Pugj in front of me lunges, his claws slicing the air too close for comfort. I twist, countering with my blade, the clash of metal against his thick claws vibrating up my arm. Around us, the sounds of battle crash like a storm—grunts, the metallic clash of weapons, and the guttural roars of my tribesmen fighting their own foes.
He snarls and swings again, but he leaves his midsection exposed. I seize the opening, thrusting my sword deep into his stout abdomen. He lets out a gasp before crumpling to the ground in a heap.
But before I can draw breath, another male steps forward, bigger and younger than the last. He towers over me, his heavy frame radiating brute strength. My lips curl into a grin, one I don’t quite feel this time but know will unsettle him.
He blinks, confused, before lunging with his spear. As his spear darts forward, I’m vaguely aware of a sharp pain low on my side but I ignore it. My sword slices through the air with a whistle and eventually, I manage to use my blade to sling his spear aside, stripping him of one weapon, but he still has more weapons.
His deadly claws and teeth.
My heart races as I continue to fight. I dodge a vicious blow and swing my sword wide to slice into his arm. Blood drips from the wound, staining his hairy hide, but he only snarls, his eyes gleaming with rage.
The forest floor is slick with sap and blood from the already dead Pugj, and my boots slide through the dead needles. His head darts forward and his teeth snap at me, but I twist away, narrowly avoiding a bite to my shoulder. I continue to fight with all I have in me. There’s a constant refrain in my head urging me to keep going. To keep fighting.
I cannot let them win.
I have to protect the humans.
I have to protect Mara.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the other males in my tribe battling alongside me. Enosir, Yarik, Warrix, and Vrenner. Vrenner roars as he knocks one of the males down, his sword cleaving through the hairy hide in one swift swoop and killing the male.
Enosir is locked in battle with one of the Pugj, the male bigger and stronger than the young warrior, and his blade goes flying through the air with a powerful spear block. He’s vulnerable now to the claws and bone-crushing teeth of the male he faces.
But just then, Yarik finishes off the hairy beast he faced and he races over to intervene. With one decisive swing through the air, he lops off the head of the Pugj Enosir was struggling against.
The male I’ve been battling lunges at me, the clash of metal against his claws resonating through the forest. He’s relentless, pushing me back step by step. My heart races, and I curse the tangled roots that threaten to trip me.
He releases a grunt as my sword makes brief contact with his chest, leaving behind a wound that pulses with dark blood. But the wound doesn’t weaken him, instead the fight seems to only grow more intense as we grapple against each other. My sword is a hard bar against his large hands, his claws reaching forward trying to stab me.
The Pugj narrows his eyes at me and sneers, “You think you can best me, weak Laediriian vermin?” Spittle flies from his mouth, splashing on my face. “I will use your bones to pick my teeth.”
Somewhere behind me, a muffled shriek pierces through the noise of the battle, a sound that sends a jolt through my chest. For a split second it distracts the male I’m fighting. A distraction I immediately take advantage of, and with a burst of strength that I manage to muster from somewhere deep inside me, I plunge my blade into his chest and then jerk it upward.
His eyes widen as his hands grow weak against me. Bloody froth spills from his slack mouth before he sinks to his knees and drops to the ground dead.
The forest falls silent save for the ragged breaths of my tribe. Pugj bodies litter the ground, their blood pooling beneath the twisted roots of the trees. But then a cry shatters the stillness.
“Mara!”
It’s Isabella. She’s still sitting atop the eponir Vrenner left her on and she’s gesturing wildly through the trees, back the way we’ve already traveled. Back to the grasslands.
“She’s gone!” Isabella shouts.
My blood runs cold as the absence of both my mount and Mara hits me like a blow to the chest, and I realize exactly what the shriek was from before. The one that made my heart feel as if would tear itself out of my chest it was beating so hard. It was her.
When the Pugj ambushed us, I counted ten males. But there are only nine bodies on the forest floor. Which means, one of them somehow managed to slip away unnoticed, and he took Mara.
And with that one realization, my heart clenches with a fear like I have never felt before. I try to focus on Isabella’s words as she frantically babbles, but it’s hard to understand all of them.
Isabella’s voice trembles as she recounts what happened. “That sasquatch-looking thing jumped on your horse and took her. He was going to take me, too, but Mara was fighting so hard, he could barely keep hold of her.”
She fought. Of course she would. The stubborn female I’ve come to know would have fought fang and nail. She wouldn’t give up. But it wasn’t enough.
Vrenner strides over to me, his eyes immediately dropping to my abdomen and his heavy brow ridge drawn in concern. “Sorrin, you’re wounded.”
I finally notice the pain in my side and the blood seeping from the wound.
I crash to the ground, the world blurring around me. I grunt, fighting against the darkness that threatens to engulf my senses.
The twisted trees of the forest loom over me, casting shadows over the ground. The scent of their sap and death hang heavy in the air, a bitter reminder of the battle we fought and the female I just lost.
One thought echoes inside my head. Hold on, Mara. I’ll find you.