Page 36

CHAPTER 36

S he woke slowly, drifting up from sleep like surfacing through velvet water, feeling warm and thick and strange. Her body felt heavy: limbs loose, muscles languid, the kind of weight she only remembered from the rare nights she'd slept deeply and safely—before all of this.

The first thing she registered was the warmth.

She was still swaddled in the thick fur he’d draped over her. It cocooned her against the cold, soft as a cloud and impossibly plush and smelling of him . Beneath her, the pilot’s seat cradled her frame, and despite its alien design, it was comfortable and supportive.

She was alone.

Her eyes fluttered open.

The cockpit was bathed in low amber light, the kind that didn’t come from outside, but from the ship’s internal systems. Outside, the view was black, mountains still hidden beneath a blanket of snow and mist, with the occasional gust of wind ghosting across the window like a shiver.

He wasn’t there.

The enormous armored presence she’d grown accustomed to—silent, watchful, coiled in constant power—was gone.

But she could still feel him.

On her skin.

In her bones.

And somewhere deeper.

A faint tingle danced down the insides of her thighs as memory came rushing back: fingers tracing fire across her skin, the soundless dominance of his touch, the way he’d undone her with so little effort. Like he’d known her body better than she did.

Her cheeks flushed instantly.

God.

She hugged the fur tighter around her, burrowing deeper.

Had it been a dream?

For a wild, fleeting moment, she almost believed it.

But no.

Her body remembered.

Too clearly.

There was no mistaking the heavy warmth between her legs, the dull ache in her thighs, the hum still echoing somewhere low in her belly.

That actually happened.

And now she was… here.

On an alien ship. Somewhere on a godforsaken planet. Wrapped in the remnants of wild things, tingling from the aftershocks of being pleasured by something that wasn’t even human.

She swallowed hard.

What the hell was her life now?

She sat up slowly, still wrapped in the golden-white furs, the heavy warmth grounding her as her mind caught up with the waking world.

Outside, the view had changed.

The snow no longer drifted lazily across the cockpit window—it howled . Flurries whipped past in vicious, swirling currents, blotting out the distant peaks she remembered seeing before she'd drifted off. The mountains were cloaked in fog now, their jagged edges softened by snowfall and distance, the air thick with blowing ice.

A full-on storm.

Shit.

She leaned forward, brow furrowing as she tried to peer through the thickening blur beyond the glass.

The wind was screaming now. A constant howl that rattled faintly through the metal bones of the ship. Somewhere beneath the fur, goosebumps prickled over her skin.

She was still alone.

Where is he?

The thought came quietly, instinctively. And… uninvited.

Surely, she wasn’t concerned for him?

That goddamn metalhead?

She glanced around the cockpit, expecting, maybe, to find him standing silently in some shadowed corner, watching her with that unreadable stance of his.

But he wasn’t here.

No armor. No footfalls. No presence.

Just absence .

Treacherous tendrils of worry began to curl through her thoughts.

He was massive. Lethal. Covered in weapons and scars. A walking fortress.

That big, stupid, infuriating metalhead.

Nothing could hurt him, surely.

But even so…

Even he wasn’t immune to the elements… or whatever else lurked out there on this cursed planet.

She hugged the furs tighter.

Had he gone hunting? To scout? She remembered the holo-display—so many systems flashing frantically, indicating failure.

He had a plan of some sort: she remembered him doing something… sending a communication of some sort.

But what if something had happened?

The thought chilled her faster than the storm outside.

Don’t be stupid. He’s fine. He’s built like a tank. He could probably survive anything.

He was probably out there now, wings slicing through the wind, a shadow among shadows.

Still—

Sylvia stared out into the storm,

For the first time since she’d collapsed in his arms, warm and sated and too tired to think, she felt small again.

Vulnerable.

And very, very alone.

Then, she saw it.

At first, it was just a blur—shadows shifting within shadows, the snowstorm slicing violently across the cockpit window in sharp streaks of white.

Then, she saw him.

Tall. Towering. A dark silhouette cutting through the blizzard, unmistakably his: wings folded tightly, massive strides carrying him forward with startling ease. The storm seemed to part around him, as if nature itself feared his presence.

Her breath snagged in her throat.

He was back.

Relief surged through her chest, fierce and unexpected—but it vanished in the space of a heartbeat.

Because he wasn't alone.

Shapes emerged behind him—indistinct at first, mere distortions in the violent swirl of white. But then they sharpened, resolving into figures: faceless, armored in silver, moving swiftly, low to the ground with predatory grace. Her pulse quickened, dread slithering through her veins like ice.

Who were they? Where had they come from?

Inhabitants of this planet, or pursuers from space? The ones that had attacked this ship?

There were more than she’d first thought: ten, maybe twelve, possibly more hidden in the blinding chaos.

And they weren't merely trailing him.

They were hunting him, closing in fast, flanking from all sides, eerily silent even as they approached. Blades ignited in their hands, glowing swords of blue-white light that sliced through the darkness, illuminating the shadows like veins of lightning.

Energy blades?

Fear tightened her chest, trapping her breath as she sought his large figure in the maelstrom. She wanted to warn him, to shout through the glass, to run outside… but she couldn’t move, couldn’t do a thing.

The storm would destroy her. The aliens would kill her.

The ship… she probably couldn’t even get the doors to open if she tried.

And… the male she wanted to warn…

She didn’t even know his name. What a ridiculous situation.

Still, the attackers advanced, but he had already stopped, his entire body going rigid. He knew.

He sensed them even before he saw them.

She watched as everything shifted: his posture, the muscles rippling beneath dark armor, his stance widening. Wings unfurled in a sudden, breathtaking rush, powerful limbs stretching out and up, spreading like the terrifying silhouette of an ancient war-god, ready to wreak destruction.

This wasn't the silent guardian who had held her close, who had touched her with quiet reverence.

No, this was something primal.

Something dangerous.

A predator.

Her pulse raced in panicked bursts as she stared at him—this alien, who had touched her so gently—transform into something utterly deadly.

His armor shimmered, weapons she hadn't even noticed before now emerging into clear view. Blades glinting ominously, guns and strange devices secured against armored plates. He raised one large weapon with effortless confidence, a sleek gun that crackled menacingly with energy.

Her blood ran cold.

Oh god, what's happening?

One of his wings snapped outward like a battle cry, and the armored figures charged, moving as one lethal unit. He didn't retreat, didn't hesitate.

He lunged forward.

In a flash, brilliant bolts of red energy exploded from his gun, streaking through the blizzard. She gasped sharply as two attackers dropped instantly, helmets shattering, bodies flung back into the snow. They collapsed, lifeless or unconscious—she couldn't tell—but her protector was already pivoting fluidly, wings slicing through the blizzard like sharpened blades, momentum unbroken.

Deadly precision. Terrifying speed.

Another attacker fired back, wielding a weapon that erupted with vibrant blue blasts of electric force. Two bolts slammed into his armor, crackling violently. She watched in horror as he reeled backward, staggering slightly, a hiss of pain audible even through the howling storm.

No! she gasped, shocked by the terrible violence unfolding before her.

But just as quickly, he recovered, steadying himself, unfazed by the sizzling burns across his armor. His wings flared wider, snapping aggressively, sending a wave of snow and ice blasting outward.

He advanced again, fury radiating from every deadly step.

Several more armored figures surged forward, a pack of four moving with terrifying speed, their forms blurred by the driving snow. They attacked simultaneously, coordinating their strikes from both front and rear.

He countered instantly. His wings became weapons, whipping out like bladed edges, slamming brutally into those approaching from behind, sending them sprawling through the snow. In the same breath, he shot the advancing front attackers, red bolts piercing the storm, striking them down with lethal precision.

It was like witnessing a battle between gods or demons. Outnumbered yet relentless, he handled them with frightening efficiency.

Sylvia's heart hammered painfully as a grim realization seized her: If these beings ever discovered Earth, humanity wouldn't stand a chance. Her family. Her friends. All the innocent people, oblivious to the terrifying potential threat lurking beyond their world. The thought made her feel utterly powerless, completely vulnerable.

Yet, amidst that suffocating fear, another realization sparked fiercely in her mind.

This fierce, deadly being fighting out there—he was fighting to protect her.

And she could do nothing but stare helplessly, heart hammering, as the fight unfolded, knowing her fate rested entirely in the hands of a dangerous being whose name she didn't even know.

These strange, silent attackers… it was clear they were dangerous: that they intended to kill him, and probably her, too—or worse.

But now, he was gaining the upper hand. His wings were a clear advantage, his massive form matching their speed blow for blow. Their blades couldn't penetrate his armor, making her wonder what it was made of, why it was so impossibly strong. What was its true significance? Why had he never removed his helm?

What was he?

A killer.

Out there, amidst the blizzard and battle, the dark armor suited him perfectly—he was death incarnate.

Suddenly, he drew a sword—gleaming silver-white metal, so pale it nearly vanished against the snow. A crimson shimmer streaked down the blade, and then he attacked, his movements a mesmerizing dance of lethal precision. To Sylvia's shock, his sword sliced effortlessly through their gleaming armor, cutting them down without pause.

He was brutal.

Blood flew, gushing from wounds, crimson and shockingly human-like, staining the snow around them. The attackers staggered back, stunned by his relentless fury. He didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate.

She shuddered, wondering just how dangerous he really was—what he was truly capable of. It made sense that he was alone; he didn't need an army.

The tide was turning.

Despite the death and terrible violence surrounding her, relief surged sharply through her. These attackers wouldn't take her.

He would keep her safe.

The intensity of the relief she felt—it bothered her. People— aliens, whatever they were— were literally dying before her, cut down by her captor as if they were made of styrofoam, blood spurting everywhere.

She should have been horrified. If she was back on Earth, she would have.

But out here, in the wilds, on a strange planet, the rules of survival were different.

This really was survival of the fittest, the dominant one reigning supreme, and all of that. And the being that had claimed her as his truly was the dominant one.

At last, the final attacker fell, collapsing face-first into the snow.

Down.

Dead.

Holy crap.

Sylvia’s heart thudded loudly in her ears. Her lips were parted, her breaths coming in short, sharp rasps.

The alien— her alien—turned to look at the cockpit window.

As if looking straight at her.

He was a dark silhouette amidst the snow and the flurry of the white-flecked wind. She swore she saw a faint red glow where his eyes should be in his featureless helmet.

With a fluid movement, he sheathed his sword.

And… her heart beat faster.

Her body was heating up again. Why now? It wasn’t the time nor the place. And yet… her attraction to him was undeniable.

She was so screwed.

He started walking toward the ship, and Sylvia watched in fascination, mesmerized by the sheer power radiating from him.

Suddenly, the strange console before her flashed, alien characters spilling rapidly across the screen, and a panel on the instrument dashboard started glowing urgently, pulsing with light.

It had never done this before.

Sylvia felt a stab of anxiety. Was this something important? Would he miss it? What if it was a communication—a chance to escape?

She hesitated, glancing out the cockpit window. He had disappeared from view. She had no idea what she was doing.

"Hey!" she shouted, hoping he'd appear, but there was no response. No sign of him.

Heart pounding, driven by a surge of urgency, she did the only thing she could: she reached out and pressed several of the flashing buttons.

Instantly, the screen flickered, resolving into an image. Sylvia froze as a face appeared: alien, stern, and utterly unfamiliar.