Page 16 of Chased by the Alien Mercenary (Monster Mercenary Mates #6)

Lyra

When I slept, intellectually, I knew I must also dream.

I was, however, one of those people for whom sleep was a black hole.

Eyes shut, time passed, and I woke again knowing hours had passed but not recalling a single thing.

Not so this time. When I blinked open my eyes that morning, my mind was filled with the images of the dreams I’d had.

They were vivid and sharp, not that foggy, confused stuff that made people ramble incoherently and then give up, unable to properly recollect.

These dreams were so real they felt like memories.

They were memories, I was certain of it.

But they were memories mixed with fantasy, where my presence changed how events unfolded.

Just like that time inside the cell, when Solear had dreamed and pulled me into his nightmare-scape of death and destruction.

I’d seen him there again, in the same devastated landscape.

But I’d found him more quickly because I’d known he was there.

A young boy, an Asrai, as he’d told me, since the dreaming version of him could talk just fine.

Solear. I murmured the name under my breath, still wondering if that was truly him, or if all of this was some crazy delusion brought on by stress.

A mental break after being chased across the Alpha Quadrant by the UAR’s Shadow Unit, and then waking in a house of horrors.

Barely dressed, sold out, and sold—literally—by my own government.

My body was warm and relaxed, cradled against another body and surrounded by blankets.

Finally, truly toasty warm, though hungry and thirsty again.

I could push those needs aside to focus on the present and on the comfort I found in lying cuddled against another person.

I had never realized how lonely I was until I met one lonely, feral alien.

Everywhere I’d gone, all my adult life, I’d been alone.

Surrounded by strangers or strange places, but never truly connecting.

My feral guy, however, did not let me do anything but connect—in the most intimate ways.

Through our minds and his dreams. Dreams of his traumatic past that showed me the heart of him, the lonely, scared boy inside.

My alien, he was even lonelier than I was, and I didn’t want that for him; never again.

Rolling a little closer, I snuggled my chin onto his still armor-clad chest. It was not exactly soft to lie on, but there was a certain amount of give and warmth.

He had an arm tossed above his head, his chin tipped back so his throat was arched.

That exposed bit of neck was surprisingly vulnerable and soft, and his sleeping position was cute, childlike in its abandon.

He was sleeping very deeply, the kind of deep sleep beyond dreams: full rest. A hint of surprise lingered on his face, making his skull-like markings look softer, as if he couldn’t believe he’d fallen asleep.

Letting him get all the rest he needed seemed prudent, and even when I began to feel the need to pee, I still lay there, watching him sleep.

He did not look so feral in rest. He looked sweet.

And I knew that he was sweet, to me. Though I had only to glance at the corner of the small cave and spot the dismembered hand to know that, to anyone else, he was not.

That hand would have to go as soon as he woke, but I had the feeling we’d need to get our butts into gear regardless.

The small dream boy I’d spoken to while I slept had told me that rescue wasn’t coming and that we’d have to save ourselves.

It had been very odd to hear a confident plan outlined by such a skinny, sickly-looking child, but he’d been very insistent that we’d have to find our own ride off-planet—to his ship.

His ship, with his mercenary friends and—apparently—his twin brother.

I was still trying to wrap my head around the idea that there were two of him when he finally roused.

If that information was even real. I was starting to believe that it was.

Blinking sleepily, it took him a long minute to come to full alertness.

Then he twisted his head and groggily met my eyes, confusion on his face.

“Welcome back,” I said. “You slept very soundly.” That only seemed to confuse him further, but he must not be the type to dwell on such things.

His brow smoothed out, and then he cupped my chin, leaned in, and kissed me.

Not a gentle peck, but a full assault on my senses, just like last night.

I twisted against him, arousal stirring in my veins.

His hand dropped down to my breast, rubbing me through the shirt with a bold, possessive claim.

“Yes,” he growled against my lips, rolling us until I was pinned beneath his massive body.

That abruptly put pressure on my full bladder, and I yelped.

He rolled off me so fast I got whiplash trying to track his movement.

He crouched across the cave on the balls of his feet and his fists, shaking his head, eyes wide with fear and worry.

“It’s okay,” I told him, raising my hands.

“I just really need to pee,” I added, a little more sheepishly.

“Really, really—like, right now…” I continued when his expression smoothed, but he made no move, continuing to watch me with utter focus.

I spun my finger through the air, urging him to turn around, but he didn’t until I finally said it out loud.

Maybe he wasn’t a mind reader after all.

I awkwardly did my business in a corner, wiping up with a bit of cloth torn from the corner of the thin, by-now-ratty blanket from the cell.

I told him he could turn around as I tried on the clothing he’d stolen for me last night.

Socks, pants in various sizes, there was plenty, though all too big.

Considering how cold it had been outside, I was more than happy to double up on things, especially the socks, to make the too-large boots work.

“Now what?” I asked him as I wriggled my feet into the boots and wondered if they’d belonged to the same guy the hand was from—a Krektar, given the shade of the skin—which was honestly a little disgusting to think about.

Unlike the warty aliens, the boots did not stink.

He rolled a shoulder, cocked his head, but remained crouched across the cave, watching me but not speaking.

I felt warmth against the back of my skull, crawling over the top until my forehead and brow tingled.

I rubbed at it, frowning. “Are you trying to talk to me telepathically? Is that how your species communicates?” He nodded empathically once, then abruptly began shaking his head no.

Confused, I tried to clarify. “Yes to the telepathy, no to the species thing?” His satisfied huff told me I’d gotten that right, but it still didn’t feel like super helpful information.

“Did we really talk in our dreams? Was that young you I saw?” I asked him.

For a moment, he looked confused, and he rose so he could start pacing back and forth inside the small cave.

Acting like a trapped tiger again, as if his frustration simply couldn’t be contained.

I wasn’t getting an answer; that much was clear.

So I finished tying the laces on the boots and shrugged into the thick, also-too-big coat he’d brought.

As a finishing touch, I took the communicator and checked that it still worked.

He must have keyed it to me, or just permanently unlocked it, because I could activate it this time without a problem.

Solear had piled what remained of our supplies onto our blankets and tied them into an improvised satchel.

He was quick to strap it to his back, then stalked to the narrow cave exit and waited for me, his head expectantly turned to look over his shoulder my way.

When I caught up to him, he held out his hand, and I folded mine into his big palm without hesitation.

He was warm, he was safe, and I was relieved to be at his side, relieved that he wasn’t going to run off again to solve things on his own.

“Let’s go,” I told him, and we edged through the opening.

It was daylight, but well past dawn, and I was almost sad to have missed the no-doubt spectacular sunrise.

I raised the com to its camera setting anyway and snapped a few images.

Then I faced the rocky, glass- or quartz-shard-strewn terrain, hoping that these boots were good enough protection.

My companion looked uneasy as he appraised the situation himself and seemed to come to the conclusion that he wasn’t taking any risks.

I was in his arms, cradled against his wide chest before I could blink twice.

His long legs and black boots ate up the distance in a few strides, crossing from barren rock and glittering shards to the thick, lush grass on the mountainside.

“Okay, then, thank you,” I told him, and I reached up to pat his cheek.

“You can put me down. I can walk now.” His eyes sparked at me, a deep scarlet that glowed from the darkened eye sockets.

He was silently laughing at me, I knew it, even though his expression hadn’t changed.

Then he bared his razor-sharp teeth at me, snapping them together as if it were a stern warning.

“I guess not?” I muttered, when he started down the slope without putting me down.

“Stubborn male,” I told him, and now he did huff a sort of husky noise that came very close to a laugh.

Pleased, I smiled up at him and slung my arm around his thick neck to hold on, settle in for the ride, so to speak.

“I’ll just watch the lovely view and take pictures,” I agreed.

If there was one thing I was certain of, it was that he made up his mind and did not change it.

Like with fetching supplies, like with protecting me.