Page 29

ALICE

The days passed without us being able to further sort any of the puzzle pieces that still refused to fit together. When we came closer to Darlam, a woman named Hannah made contact with us. She claimed to be the mate of one of the other Space Guardians, Tharaax. Xyrek kept me a secret from her; neither one of us trusted her words. What if this was another trap the Ohrurs had laid?

"For what it's worth, I think she is genuine," Xyrek said after ending another comm with her.

"I hope so," I agreed. Without Hannah knowing, I had watched their conversation, and I liked her. She, too, had been close-mouthed, as if uncertain Xyrek was telling the truth.

"I'm going to meet her and find out if what she says is true," Xyrek said when we were only a day's journey from Darlam.

She had warned us about the forcefield surrounding the planet and the possibility of a strong Ohrur presence. The other Space Guardians and their mates were waiting for someone named Vraax and another human woman named Sloane, who, according to Hannah, had some important cargo aboard. It seemed like we would arrive only a day or so after them.

"I won't let you go alone," I argued.

He shook his head. "It might be a trap." His eyes fell on one of the cleaning drones. "What in the name of the Black Abyss did you do to it?"

"Do you like it?" I beamed, taking in my latest invention—well, invention might be pushing it; I had only slightly enhanced it. The drone hovered over the ground as we watched it, lifting up like a helicopter.

"Now it can clean the ceilings, too."

"It was already able to do that by crawling up the wall, Alice," Xyrek huffed, shaking his head. "And why does it have to have eyes? It's creepy."

"It was creepy before. Now it's cute. And watch this," I turned my head. "Hey, Lux, when will we arrive at Darlam?"

"In twenty-two hours, fifteen minutes, and four seconds," Lux replied.

"Isn't she great?" I beamed.

"How does she know this?" Xyrek's brows moved together as he regarded me suspiciously.

"Because I gave her the gift of intelligence," I hedged.

"You wired it to the ship's main interface?" he accused.

I shrugged. "It's handy."

"It's going to get us crashed," he grumbled. "Disconnect it."

"Killjoy." I glared at him.

"Now, Alice," he insisted.

"Where's your trust?"

"Oh, I have trust. But I'm not willing to risk your life," he retorted. "I remember everything about you, Allisaahn."

I wasn't sure I liked it when he called me by her name. I still hadn't quite made peace with the whole reincarnation thing. There were parts I might have been able to believe in, but some of the others only created more questions. Like, why did we always have the same names? And if we did, why in the hell didn't we remember who our partner was and put an ad in the paper like: Allisaahn looking for Xyrek ? Xyrek had explained how the names of Darlam males indicated their town. Like Xyrek was Xy of Rek. So, did that mean he would always be reincarnated into the same town? What if he decided to move to like Ax, would he then go by Xyax? These questions alone were confusing enough, but when you added that I had been born on Earth… it reached a whole new level of weird.

Let's say, for starters, the Arkhevari were all-knowing entities, the gods of the universe—something I wasn't willing to believe—and they had populated Darlam. Created little Darlams in their image… if you wanted to get biblical here… Which I also wasn't inclined to do. But fine, let's assume that, just for argument's sake. So they decided Allisaahn mated Xyrek—over and over again. Through every life, they ensured we would meet. Fine, if that happened on one planet….

But it wasn't just Xyrek and me; no, there were thousands of millions of others they watched over. Why? Like I said, wouldn't it have been easier to tell Mom and Dad your baby's name is Allisaahn, and she is the mate of Xyrek?

Fine, let's assume free will and all that crap come into play…

I still didn't see why, for thousands of years, this worked perfectly fine on Darlam, but suddenly—drumroll please—the fated mates were strewn all throughout the universe. From what I understood, Earth had been undiscovered by outsiders until the Cryons came. So were they, too, some tool the Arkhevari had used? That only made me hate them because so many people had died. And for what?

No, I shook my head. None of this made any sense. There was no logical explanation for it, not even a highly doubtful illogical explanation.

"Remember when you invented the brilliant flour mill?" Xyrek grinned at me.

I hated when he did that. No, I didn't remember. I didn't remember ever having lived anywhere else but on Earth. It creeped me out when he did that. No, more than that, it confused me, and it hurt me. Worst of all, I hated how his face fell when I shook my head like I did now. "I'm sorry. No."

"It's okay." He turned, but I felt his sadness coming off in waves.

So, like the times before, I sighed quietly to myself and requested, "Tell me, please."

He turned back to me, his eyes alight, and I couldn't take this joy away from him. I wasn't sure if his memories were really memories or something else, but he did enjoy these moments—a lot more than I did. I steeled myself to listen for his sake.

"You created a town-wide flour explosion. Everybody was covered in white." He smirked.

My lips twitched. I loved this man so much—more than I had ever thought possible, and despite myself, I found myself intrigued. "Now you’re making things up," I accused.

He smirked. "You think so?"

"There’s no way I caused a town-wide flour explosion in my past life."

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "You did. It was even worse than it sounds."

I groaned, torn between laughing and calling him out, but strangely drawn to the story now, kind of like when someone told you something you did as a kid but didn't remember.

"You were always trying to fix things," he said, "even when the people around you weren’t ready for it. Even when it went boom." He raised his hands in the air, imitating an explosion, making me laugh.

"The people of Darlam ground their flour manually. You hated it—said it was inefficient, outdated, and that if we are going to live like primitives, at least we should be efficient primitives .” He smirked. "So you built a wind-powered mill that would grind the flour."

I could actually picture myself doing that. Only wind-powered mills had already been invented on Earth. "Okay, that doesn’t sound that bad?—"

He let out a sharp laugh. "It worked. At first. Then the wind picked up. The millstone spun too fast, the friction built up, and then—" he spread his hands wide, mimicking another explosion. "Boom. Flour shot into the air. The wind-powered system was still going. So instead of the flour coming down over the mill, the wind blew it all across town."

My lips twitched. That sounded… funny.

Xyrek was chuckling, too. He stepped closer to me until he nearly caged me in. "Most of the town was covered in white dust. Streets, houses, animals. We found flour everywhere, even months later."

I looked up at him. He was so close now. "I should hate you for telling me this."

"You were always like this, you know. Stubborn. Brilliant. Absolutely infuriating." He smiled, his head moving down, his lips brushing mine, sending electrical fires through me.

"Well," I whispered against his mouth, "at least I was ambitious."

"You still are." He said, then claimed my lips with his. I melted into him.

His lips were warm, insistent, consuming, moving against mine with an urgency that stole my breath.

His hands slid down my waist. Calloused fingertips ignited a fire up and down my skin. He pulled me closer until there was nothing between us but heat and breath. His weight and solid strength pressing against me made my knees weak. I clutched at his shoulders, feeling the raw power coiled underneath his skin, the tension thrumming through him like he was holding back.

Like he always was.

"Xyrek," I whispered, not a question, not a demand—just his name. Just me giving in to him.

His answering growl sent a delicious shiver down my spine. His lips moved from my mouth to my jaw, then lower, tracing the curve of my throat with aching slowness.

"I love you so frygging much," he murmured, his breath hot against my skin.

A shudder wracked through me as his hands slid up my sides, fingers mapping every inch of me like he was memorizing it. Like he was claiming me all over again.

"I love you too," I whispered, tilting my head to give him more, to let him in, to let him take.

I reached up, cupping his face, feeling the sharp edges of him—the warrior, the survivor, the man who had waited lifetimes for me.

"Don’t stop," I whispered.

"Never," Xyrek exhaled sharply like he’d been holding that breath for centuries. Then he was kissing me again, but this time it was slower, deeper—less desperate, more reverent, like he was afraid to break me. His hands moved with aching patience, sliding beneath my shirt, skimming bare skin, making me tremble.

I arched into him, needing more, needing everything, pressing closer until I felt the pounding of his heart against mine.

"Frygg," he breathed against my mouth, his forehead resting against mine, his hands flexing against my waist. "You feel… just like I remember."

I swallowed, my own heart stuttering at the rawness in his voice.

"Then don’t forget me again," I whispered.