Page 12 of Risking Her Heart (Red Planet Fated Mates #9)

11

ZAS’TU

T he epis seems to have handled her body for which I am grateful. The fear I felt when I could not wake her was overwhelming. I was losing her. Again. It was as if my heart had been ripped out, leaving nothing but an empty hole in my chest.

She is now well and seems happy. We’ve been traveling for four days since she passed out. My thoughts drift to our lovemaking. We haven’t done that since that first night, but that’s okay. I am not going to push myself on her. She needs time and space to come to terms with what I know. That my heart is hers.

My brothers have talked of this. The humans are from the Stars. The running theory, among the more philosophically inclined, is that their souls are of Tajss, but their genetics are of the Stars. Some of them know, some of them come to realize later, each of them is unique. I know, in my heart, that she is my wife returned. Knowing is enough, for now. In time she will come to terms with the notion. Besides none are better than mine.

We ride alongside one another in easy, comfortable silence. When I glance over, she turns her head and smiles. My hearts speed up. I love the way her smile lights up her face. Her eyes dance with intelligence and joy. On impulse I reach over and take her hand. It’s small, soft, and delicate. I rub my thumb on the back, and we ride.

There are few landmarks in this part of the continent. I study the sparse markings of the desert, looking for the points I memorized. Spotting a few, I am sure that we’ll be in sight of our destination by the time the suns set.

If the information from the captive is correct. He could be lying.

The sudden realization causes a coldness that creeps out of my chest. Worry fills my head, and I look at Katarina. I am riding into danger with her. I knew this, of course, but I wasn’t thinking about the entire journey being a trap.

“What?” she asks.

For the briefest of moments, I’m distracted by the way her forehead wrinkles when she frowns. Her thin eyebrows pull together and her eyes narrow while her nose scrunches. It’s cute, intriguing, and makes me want to kiss that crinkle away. But this is not the time. I shake my head.

“Danger,” I say.

She nods understanding and then looks around. I do the same. I don’t see anything wrong, but my mind plays out dozens of possible scenarios. Things I would do if I were setting a trap. New ideas come, even as I constantly scan our surroundings.

“Zas,” she whispers, jerking my attention to her.

She is pointing off to the far side. I follow her indicating finger. The rolling dunes look off. I close my protective lenses to filter the suns’ light, frowning. At the top of one of the dunes is a strange shape. It’s too blocky to be natural. The Order would never leave something like that exposed.

“See it,” I say, pulling on the reins to stop my mount.

Her mount shuffles to a stop following the alpha’s lead. I rub the back of my head, debating the best thing to do. It could be bait. Designed to pull us in. Or it could be something else. What though?

“Look?” she asks, twisting in her saddle so she’s facing me.

I shake my head, wishing that I could shake out the tingling sensation of worry that covers my scalp. It’s not very far to the object. I could gallop the guster and get there in very little time. But what if it’s a trap I’m riding into?

And do I take her with me? Or leave her here? Is that part of the trap? To separate us?

My thoughts spin fast. I play out the different paths, trying to decide which is the most likely result of all of every possibility. In the end, only one path makes the most sense. Right or wrong, I make my decision.

“Ride to,” I say, nodding towards it. “You come.”

I do not want her away from my side. If it is a trap, which it very well might be, I want her close enough to protect. The idea of her being in danger and my not being there makes the bijass surge. If they attack, so be it, I will put my faith in my own ability to keep us safe.

A half smile flashes on her face as she nods. I tap the guster with my heels, getting it into motion. Her mount falls in alongside. I keep the pace slow, scanning the desert sands for any hint of a threat.

The smart thing to do would be the hunter’s trick of burying yourself in the sand, leaving only your eyes free. Ready to leap on your prey. It’s a highly effective method of hunting in the desert. One I had forgotten until now because I’ve been down in the jungle so long it had faded.

I am thankful for my Order training. The bijass is strong and eats memories like that. Covering them over with the fog of time as it tries to revert a Zmaj’s thinking to purely primal. Such tactics aren’t necessary if you’re the apex predator. The bijass accepts nothing less.

The Order taught me that radiation caused by the Devastation lies behind the regression and gave me techniques to keep it at bay. Not gone, no one has ever figured that out, but enough to keep it from dominating my mind. Daily training. Exercising, both physical and mental. Mantras. Diet. All play a role in controlling the bijass.

I keep looking, but nothing happens, and I don’t see anything. Pulling the guster up at the object, I climb off my mount. When Katarina moves to dismount as well, I hold up a hand and shake my head. She drops back onto her saddle without a word. I smile, appreciating her.

Stepping around to the side so that I’m as far from her and the mounts as I dare be in case this is a trap, I crouch and study the shape. It is covered with sand that the breeze has moved enough to reveal the shape.

Standing, I turn a slow circle, one last careful look to try and spot any outpoint. Anything that will reveal a trap before I spring it.

Nothing.

I pull my lochaber off my mount while staring at the object which I still do not understand. Walking towards it, my scales itch in anticipation. Any moment I expect something to happen. There are too many possibilities, and I need to be ready for anything.

An arm’s length from the object and still nothing happens. I turn my lochaber, placing the blade behind me, and poke at the object with the end of the shaft. It’s solid, but still nothing happens. Whatever it is has been buried in the sand.

I look over to check on Katarina. She sits astride the guster, watching me, but also looking around regularly. I smile. She is beautiful and brilliant. Returning my attention to the object, I move next to it and crouch.

I brush the sand aside to reveal metal. Frowning, I continue clearing the sand. This is not something made by the Order.

“Oh,” Katarina says. “I think that’s part of the ship.”

“Ship?” I ask and then realize she must be talking about the human’s ship that carried them to Tajss.

I work to clear more sand, revealing even more steel. The box shape is only the top. As I brush more aside it becomes clear that it goes down further.

“Can I come?” Katarina asks, keeping her voice low.

“Yes,” I say after a quick look around.

She joins in the effort to clear the sand. After some time, we have a large section of metal. There is a window, but it is too scratched up to see through. I think it might be on a door but, am not sure of the human design. If it is a door, it’s partially open, as if the seal were already broken.

“It’s an escape pod,” Katarina says.

“A pod?”

I sound the unfamiliar word out but do not know what it means.

“Yeah,” she says, then she is talking too fast with too many words I do not know.

I am distracted by the sound of her voice but have no understanding of what she is saying. She must realize it because she trails off. I smile, shrug, and she smiles.

“Sorry,” I say. “Important?”

I nod with my head towards the thing we’re unburying. It seems to me it’s a distraction at this point.

“No,” she shakes her head. “Open.”

She points at the broken seal, and I nod in understanding. The suns are dipping to the horizon already. We don’t have long until full dark and we’re far enough into the desert I worry about sismis attacking.

“Sleep,” I say, motioning at the sky.

She frowns as she rises, dusting sand off her pants. She walks to the guster, and I take the moment to enjoy the view. She has an amazing ass. When she reaches the beast, she realizes I’m not with her and looks over her shoulder. She interprets my gaze perfectly well; I know it when her cheeks turn a soft pink, and she drops her eyes.

“Really?” she asks.

“Beautiful,” I say.

“Thank you.”

I stand and go to set up the tent for the night.