Page 18

The stars glittered above us like someone had scattered diamonds across black silk as we lay tangled together on the cooling desert sand.

Rhaekar’s body radiated heat against my skin, his powerful arms cradling me against his chest while his knot kept us physically joined in the aftermath of our claiming.

Through our newly forged bond, I could feel waves of his satisfaction and protectiveness washing over me, mingling with my own sense of completion and wonder.

I’d never felt so connected to another being in my life—so seen, so wanted, so completely accepted. And yet...

My thoughts drifted beneath the vastness of the alien sky.

We’d paused just beyond the shelter’s perimeter, neither of us quite ready to begin our journey after the intensity of our bonding.

The physical need to remain close had overwhelmed the urgency to depart, and Rhaekar had spread his thermal cloak across the sand, drawing me down with him for this brief, stolen moment of peace.

I traced my fingers over the claiming mark he’d left on my collarbone, feeling its subtle heat, the raised edges of skin where his teeth had broken through.

It pulsed with a gentle rhythm that matched the golden threads of energy I could now sense flowing between us.

His marking on me. My marking on him. Equal. Connected.

His tail tightened slightly around my thigh, the tip flicking with contentment. One large hand splayed possessively over my hip while the other stroked my hair with surprising gentleness. The contrast between his raw power and his tender touch made something twist in my chest.

“I can feel you thinking,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against my back.

I smiled faintly. “That’s going to take some getting used to.”

“The bond?”

“Having someone actually in my head.” I shifted slightly, careful of our still-joined bodies. “Someone who can feel what I’m feeling.”

His chest expanded against my back as he inhaled my scent. “Does it bother you?”

“No,” I admitted, surprised by my own certainty. “It should, but it doesn’t.”

We fell silent again, the desert winds whispering secrets across the dunes.

I stared at the unfamiliar constellations, wondering what stories the Rodinians told about them, what legends shaped their understanding of the universe.

So different from my world, and yet the stars themselves—distant, burning, eternal—felt somehow familiar.

“You know…back home, I was always a lot,” I said finally, the words spilling out before I could reconsider them.

His rumble was curious, low. “A lot?”

I huffed a small laugh, but there was little humor in it.

“Too loud. Too opinionated. Too bold. Too brown. Too much.” My fingers traced idle patterns on his forearm.

“Every guy I ever dated made it clear I was something they needed to tone down or tuck away. And I tried, for a while. Tried to make myself smaller. Easier.”

Through our bond, I felt his immediate reaction—a flash of something hot and protective that bordered on anger, though none of it was directed at me.

He shifted, adjusting our bodies so he could see my face while keeping us joined. His amber eyes glowed in the starlight, vertical pupils dilated as they focused on me with unnerving intensity.

“That was foolish of them,” he said, his voice carrying a sharpness that surprised me.

I blinked, unprepared for the vehemence in his tone. “What?”

“The males of your world,” he clarified, one clawed finger gently tilting my chin up. “They were fools to make you feel that way.”

The bond between us flared with the strength of his conviction, washing away any doubt that he might be simply offering platitudes.

“You are not too much,” he continued, cupping the side of my face with a tenderness that stole the air from my lungs. His eyes never left mine, fierce and certain. “You are everything. Your voice. Your fire. Your truth. I would not change one breath of you.”

The words hit harder than they should have. They soaked into my chest like balm, smoothing over scars I hadn’t realized I still carried. For a moment, I couldn’t speak, could only stare into those alien eyes that somehow saw me more clearly than anyone on Earth ever had.

“You can feel that I mean it,” he added softly, his thumb brushing my cheekbone. “The bond doesn’t allow for lies between us.”

And he was right—through our connection, I could sense the absolute truth behind his words. There was no hesitation, no reservation, no hidden wish that I might become something else for his comfort. Just acceptance. Complete and unconditional.

“You mean that,” I whispered, not quite a question.

I felt the slight easing of pressure as his knot began to recede, our bodies gradually separating in the natural conclusion of the claiming process. He gently shifted us, gathering me against him so we lay face to face, my head tucked beneath his chin, his arms wrapped securely around me.

“I do,” he said simply, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Among my people, the universe gives us only one fate-mate. One heart’s match. You are mine, Jasmine Navarro Cruz. Not despite your fire, but because of it.”

I closed my eyes, savoring the weight of those words, letting them sink into places that had been empty for too long. The voice that had whispered I was too much grew quieter, fading beneath the steady pulse of the bond between us.

For the first time since I’d fallen through that portal in the Sahara, I felt something close to peace.

Not because the dangers around us had diminished—we still needed to leave before dawn, still needed to evade whatever Legion tech was stirring beneath the dunes, still faced an uncertain reception at the outpost.

But those concerns seemed less overwhelming now. Whatever challenges awaited us, we would face them together—bound not just by fate or circumstance, but by choice. By recognition of something in each other that neither of us had found elsewhere.

I nestled closer into Rhaekar’s embrace, letting myself believe that maybe, just this once, I could be exactly who I was and still be exactly what someone needed.

The ground shivered beneath us. So subtle at first that I might have missed it if not for the heightened awareness our bond had given me.

A faint tremor, barely more than a whisper through the sand, like something large taking its first breath after a long sleep.

I stilled, my body tensing against Rhaekar’s, my fingers digging slightly into his arm.

“Did you feel that?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might draw the attention of whatever stirred below.

Rhaekar was already moving, his body transitioning from relaxed to alert in a heartbeat. “Yes.”

He sat up, pulling me with him, our bond thrumming with sudden vigilance that replaced the peaceful contentment of moments before.

His eyes scanned the horizon, pupils narrowing to thin vertical slits as they adjusted to the darkness.

I felt his senses sharpening through our connection—smelling, listening, analyzing in ways my human capabilities couldn’t match.

Another tremor followed. Stronger this time.

A distinct ripple that made the sand beneath my palms shift and resettle.

The dunes around us seemed to sigh, sending cascades of fine grains sliding toward the lower basin.

Tiny avalanches of silver-blue sand caught the starlight as they fell, beautiful and somehow ominous.

“That wasn’t just my imagination,” I said, scrambling to my feet.

“No.” Rhaekar stood in one fluid motion, his massive frame casting a long shadow across the sand. His tail lashed behind him, a sure sign of agitation I was learning to read. “Something’s waking.”

My heart kicked into high gear, blood rushing in my ears. “Is it the storm again?” I asked, though I already knew the answer from the tight coil of dread forming in my stomach.

“No.” He reached for me, helping me gather our scattered gear with practiced efficiency. His movements were controlled but urgent, his focus absolute. “It’s coming from beneath us.”

I didn’t need him to explain further. The tech he’d found earlier—the buried Legion weapons systems, the ancient war machines—they were stirring more fully now, responding to something. To me. To my alien presence on this world.

Through our bond, I caught flickers of Rhaekar’s knowledge—broken images of mechanical sentinels emerging from sand, of metallic tendrils seeking unknown targets, of automated systems designed to contain and examine anything they deemed a threat.

The images weren’t memories but fragments of reports, briefings, warnings passed among Reapers tasked with monitoring the desert’s deadly secrets.

A third tremor rolled beneath us, strong enough that I had to widen my stance to maintain balance. The vibration hummed through the soles of my boots, up my legs, settling in my chest like a second, discordant heartbeat.

“How much time do we have?” I asked, fastening my pack with trembling fingers.

Rhaekar’s eyes met mine, his gaze intense in the starlight. “Not enough.”

The ground shifted again, and this time the movement was accompanied by a sound—a deep, resonant hum that seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere at once. It raised the fine hairs on my arms, set my teeth on edge. Not mechanical, not quite. Something between organic and artificial.

“We need to move.” Rhaekar handed me the sand-pulse rifle, ensuring I had a secure grip before releasing it. “Now.”

I nodded, slipping the weapon’s strap over my shoulder as I’d been taught. My hand automatically checked that the power cell was properly seated, the safety disengaged. The training he’d given me earlier felt more vital now, less theoretical.