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The scent of burning plasma filled my cockpit, thick and acrid, curling in the air like the dying breath of a beast. I bared my fangs, adjusting my grip on the controls of my Reaper Prowler as enemy fire strafed past me, the heat rippling across my shields.

My targeting systems screamed warnings, red flashing sigils marking multiple bogies closing in.

Ambush.

I curled my tail tightly against my seat as I dove hard, cutting between the debris of a destroyed freighter. My Rodinian instincts sharpened, my battle focus narrowing to a pinpoint. The fur along my spine bristled with anticipation.

They had thought they could outmaneuver a Reaper.

They had been wrong.

I twisted, rolling the Prowler into a tight spin, letting the ship’s sleek wings slice through the wreckage field.

The g-force pressed against my muscled frame, but my body—built for the hunt across generations of evolution—absorbed it without strain.

I was on them in a breath, claws tapping a rhythm on my console as I locked onto the closest fighter.

A purr rumbled in my chest as I fired, my plasma cannons tearing through the enemy ship in a spray of molten wreckage. The explosion bloomed against the void, a beautiful death that satisfied the predator in me.

One down.

My ears flicked forward, catching the subtle changes in the engine’s pitch as I banked hard, already seeking the next target. These ambushers—pirates or mercenaries, it didn’t matter—thought they had cornered prey. They didn’t realize they had attracted a hunter.

But before I could shift to the next target, my sensors shrieked in alarm. The sound grated against my sensitive ears, and I flattened them instinctively against my skull.

An attack from above—a second ambush.

I threw my Prowler into a defensive spiral, my claws extending and retracting with tension as I worked the controls.

But the enemy’s trajectory was already set.

The first hit shook my ship, rattling my bones.

The second overloaded my shields, the protective barrier crackling and dying in a flash of blue energy.

The third—a direct shot to my wing—sent me spinning out of control.

I snarled, baring my fangs at the empty space before me as my systems went dark. Warning lights bathed the cockpit in crimson. The emergency power kicked in, but it was too late for recovery. Too late for anything but survival.

Rodinians did not fear death.

But this?

This was unacceptable.

I forced my voice through the crackling comms. “Zehn to Legion Command. I’ve been hit. Going down.” My voice remained steady, betraying none of the rage coursing through my veins. Legion Reapers didn’t show weakness, even when falling to their deaths.

No response.

Just silence.

Damn it.

With a violent jolt, my ship broke through the atmosphere of the unknown planet below. The Prowler’s hull screamed as it tore through the upper layers, friction building until the temperature gauges exploded in a shower of sparks.

Heat ignited across my hull, flames licking at my wings as I fought to stabilize my descent. The jungle world rushed up to meet me, the terrain a blur of violet trees and glowing rivers. Strange, alien landscape. Unknown threats.

I had seconds.

Reaching for the emergency release, I punched out, my body ripped from the Prowler as the escape systems launched me away from the wreckage. The force slammed against my chest, crushing the air from my lungs as I was ejected into open sky.

For a moment, I was weightless, suspended between death and survival as I hurtled toward the surface. The wind tore at my armor, whipping against my fur. The planet’s scent hit me—rich soil, unfamiliar flora, the tang of minerals I couldn’t name.

The impact was brutal.

I hit the ground hard, rolling through tangled underbrush before my body finally skidded to a stop. My claws dug deep furrows in the earth as I tried to halt my momentum. Pain lanced through my shoulder, my ribs, my thigh—nothing broken, but battered to hell.

Everything ached.

My vision swam, my muscles burned as I forced myself upright. The scent of smoke and scorched metal filled my nostrils. In the distance, my ship—my Prowler—was nothing but flaming wreckage, a funeral pyre for advanced technology.

Gone.

I exhaled sharply, running a quick body check. My claws slid carefully over my limbs, testing for major injuries. My tail lashed behind me, still responsive despite the pain. I wiped blood from my muzzle—a minor cut compared to what could have been.

Bruised, battered, but alive.

That would have to be enough.

My ears flicked as the jungle around me stirred. This planet was alive with sound—creatures chittering in the canopy above, the rustle of vegetation in the breeze, the distant call of something large and likely dangerous.

Strange, humid air. The low pulse of unseen creatures watching from the shadows. The light here was different—a lavender tinge to the atmosphere that made my fur look purple where it should have been gold.

No immediate threats. That was something.

I scanned the horizon, marking the location of my crash. The sun—larger and paler than I was used to—was descending. Night would bring its own dangers. I would need rest before I could plan my next move.

Using my claws, I climbed the nearest tree—easily twenty spans high, thick and sturdy. My Rodinian heritage served me well; my ancestors had hunted from the high branches of ancient forests. My claws sank into the bark, finding purchase even in this alien wood.

It would hold my weight. My people had been built for the hunt, for the prowl, but even the strongest hunter needed rest.

I wedged myself in the crook of the massive tree’s branches, tail coiling loosely around the limb for stability. My back pressed against the trunk, giving me a clear view of the surroundings. From here, I could spot any approach, any danger.

Survival protocols engaged automatically. I steadied my breathing, letting my enhanced senses catalog this new environment. Threat assessment. Resource identification. Escape routes.

But exhaustion tugged at me, the adrenaline of battle and crash fading to leave bone-deep weariness. My eyelids grew heavy, my muscles relaxing incrementally as I let my body heal itself.

Sleep came swiftly.

And with it?—

The dream.

Water.

Sunlight had kissed the surface of a shimmering lagoon, golden rays rippling across sapphire blue. The air had been thick with the scent of sweet citrus, lush flowers in bloom. This wasn’t the violet jungle I had crashed in—this was somewhere else entirely. Somewhere perfect.

And her.

I saw her—a female unlike any I had known.

She stood at the water’s edge, her skin warm as bronze, soft as silk.

Dark, shining hair spilled down her back, curling slightly at the ends.

Her body was smaller than mine, curved in ways that made my pulse quicken.

Her scent carried to me on the breeze—a tantalizing mix of sweetness and musk that made my cock stir against my leathers.

She turned, her eyes finding mine, and she giggled.

A soft, teasing sound. A lure.

My body reacted instantly, instincts sharpening. My pupils dilated, my nostrils flared. Every muscle tensed, ready to spring.

Terran.

I knew her species, though it had been centuries since Rodinians had traded with Terra Prime. The old alliances were distant memories, faded records buried in Legion archives.

Yet there she was.

My mate.

I knew it with absolute certainty. The recognition burned in my blood, a primal knowledge that transcended rational thought. She belonged to me. I belonged to her. It had been written in the code of my genes, in the ancient magic of my people.

She laughed again, daring me to chase.

So I did.

I lunged, my body powerful and fast, leaping over smooth stones and mossy earth, following the sound of her breath, the warmth of her presence. My tail extended behind me for balance as I moved on all fours, covering ground with predatory efficiency.

She ran—but only to tempt me, her pace playful, meant to be caught. Her bare feet barely touched the ground as she darted between trees, glancing over her shoulder to ensure I followed.

And I did.

I caught her at the edge of the lagoon, sweeping her up as she gasped, her legs wrapping around my waist instinctively. Her skin was hot against mine, her small hands pressing against my chest, feeling the coarse fur that covered my torso.

She was perfect.

I pressed her down onto the sun-warmed stone, her body arching as I held her beneath me, my claws lightly tracing her curves.

I was careful not to break her delicate skin as I explored her, learning the terrain of my mate’s body.

She was so much smaller than me, so much more fragile, yet I sensed her strength.

She sighed my name. Zehn .

The sound made my blood burn, my cock throbbed painfully against my leathers. I’d never heard my name spoken with such want, such need. It had made the beast inside me roar with triumph.

I lowered my head, tasting her skin, dragging my tongue in long, slow strokes along her collarbone, down between her breasts, tracing the delicate lines of her abdomen. Her flavor was intoxicating—salt and sweetness mixed with something uniquely her own.

She trembled, her scent intensifying, her body pliant beneath me. Her hands moved to my shoulders, nails digging into my fur as I tasted more of her. I growled against her skin, the vibration making her squirm beneath me.

I spread her thighs with my hands, exposing her to me, and her breath hitched. She was wet, glistening, her body preparing itself for mine. The scent of her arousal made me dizzy with want.

“Please,” she whispered, and it was the sweetest command I had ever received.

My mouth found her.

She gasped, her hips bucking as I feasted on her, tasting the salt of her sweat, the honeyed musk of her arousal. My rough tongue explored her folds, circling her clit with deliberate pressure. I held her thighs apart, keeping her open to me as I devoured her.

Her cries filled the jungle, her fingers gripping my hair as she came, her body shaking beneath my tongue. I drunk her in, greedy for every drop, every tremor, every sound she made.

But I wasn’t finished.

I moved over her, locking her gaze with mine, holding her down as I freed myself from my leathers. My cock sprung free, thick and heavy, the head already slick with pre-cum. Her eyes widened at the sight of me, but there was no fear—only hunger.

“You’re mine,” I growled, my voice rough with desire.

“Yes,” she agreed, spreading her legs wider. “Yours.”

I positioned myself at her entrance, the blunt head of my cock pressing against her wetness. With one slow thrust, I slid inside.

She was tight, wet, utterly mine, her body made to take me, to hold me, to claim me as hers. The sensation nearly undid me—the perfect heat of her, the way she gripped me from within.

Her nails raked down my back, dragging through my fur to reach the skin beneath. The slight pain only intensified my pleasure, making me thrust deeper.

I growled, my hips snapping forward, burying myself fully inside her, and she shattered around me. Her walls clenched tight, pulsing around my length as she came again, crying out my name like a prayer.

I set a relentless pace, claiming her over and over, my claws digging into the stone on either side of her head. The slap of flesh against flesh, the wet sounds of our joining, the mingled scent of our arousal—it was perfect. Primal. Everything.

My name on her lips?—

My mate beneath me?—

The universe aligning in one perfect moment?—

I roared as my release built, my thrusts becoming erratic, more forceful. She took everything I gave her, urging me on with whispered pleas and broken moans. When I finally came, it was with a shattering force that tore through me, emptying me into her welcoming body in hot spurts.

I woke with a snarl, my body rock-hard, drenched in sweat and my own release.

For a long moment, I panted, my chest heaving, my heart slamming against my ribs. The reality of my situation returned slowly—the alien jungle, the crash, the isolation.

But the dream remained vivid, seared into my memory with perfect clarity.

The dream had been real.

Not a fantasy. Not an illusion.

Rodinians only shared dreams with their fate-mates—a truth written in our blood, in our bones, in our very souls. It was our most sacred connection, the way our ancestors had found their perfect matches across vast distances.

She was here.

Beyond all logic, beyond all reason.

There should have been no humans for light years in any direction. The odds of finding a fate-mate on a random planet after a crash was astronomically small.

And yet?—

My mate was on this planet.

Waiting for me.

I bared my fangs, a slow, satisfied growl rumbling deep in my chest. My purpose was clear now, my path forward certain in a way it hadn’t been moments before.

I would find her.

And nothing— nothing —would take her from me.

I checked my gear, assessing what had survived the crash. My combat knife was still secured to my thigh. The emergency beacon on my wrist was functional, though who knew when the Legion might receive it. My armor had protected me from the worst of the impact.

It would have to be enough.

The light was fading as night approached, but I wouldn’t wait for morning. Every moment separated from my mate felt like agony now that I knew she existed. I dropped from the tree, landing in a silent crouch, my senses alert.

I raised my head, testing the air for her scent. Nothing yet, but the dream had given me purpose. The lagoon, the specific flora—these would be my guides.

I moved through the alien jungle with renewed strength, my fatigue forgotten, my injuries ignored.

My mate waited.