Page 47 of Saved By the Alien Hybrid (Hybrids of Yulaira #1)

“There’s nothing else I can do,” Haerune said, his tail lashing. “Elten spoke of withdrawal from the mating bond, as you know. I’m certain that is what this must be.”

“Then just sedate me,” he grated, knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the medpod.

He was alternately thrumming with violence and battered to weakness by smothering waves of fatigue. It felt like his body was at war with itself, and his mind wasn’t faring any better. He swung wildly between anger and despair, hardly able to focus on anything else.

“I can’t keep sedating you,” Haerune said with exasperation. “You’ve had twice the safe dosage today, already.”

“I don’t care,” he spat, that irrational anger rising again. “Give me five times the dose if you must, but make this stop.”

Before I do something I regret.

Haerune seemed to hear the plea even though he hadn’t spoken it aloud. His expression softened with pity, and that only irritated Rentir more.

He had battled for so long with the things the other hybrids said of him.

That he was a faithless, dangerous creature infiltrating their ranks, one who could never be trusted, one who chipped away at Thalen’s authority with his mere presence.

Most of the others thought Thalen a fool for his mercy, but they had served together on the Gidalan for years, and he had insisted that he knew Rentir’s character.

That his character, in fact, had been the reason he’d hesitated to join his brothers in rebellion.

All the while, Rentir had told himself that they were short-sighted and narrow-minded. They could not conceive of his motivations, that was all. They did not know his heart.

Now, as he struggled not to fight every male who crossed his path, obsessing every moment over whether one of them might be the male that Cordelia turned to next, he could not help but feel they had the right of it.

He had simply been the last to know. At night, he lay awake, staring at the ceiling and battling the urge to climb all seven levels and beat on her door to beg her for attention.

He did not sleep. Try as he did to eat, he was only choking down about half the calories he needed.

There was no joy in anything. His energy flagged worse with each passing hour.

And yet the aggression never faded; his mind seemed to have an endless reserve of energy for brooding and anger.

With no way to direct it constructively, it turned back on him, picking apart at his sense of self.

By the end of the week, he expected it would be left in unrecoverable tatters.

He hung his head, scrubbing his face. The weight of his horns, something he’d never even noticed, was ponderous upon his head.

He wanted to lie down, close his eyes, and let exhaustion pull him under.

But it would not. His mind would only cycle endlessly through his precious few memories of Cordelia, urging him to get up and find her at any cost.

Desperately, he began to purr in a last-ditch effort to soothe his inner turmoil. Haerune sighed, just as miserable and helpless in this situation as Rentir was. His brother had never been able to stand to see him suffer.

“I will sedate you,” Haerune said with defeat. “Wait here. I’ll need to get more from storage. You’ve been burning through my stock.”

Rentir didn’t bother to look up as Haerune left the room.

He lay sideways on the rarely used exam table, trying to ignore the soft hum of electricity and the stark lighting that leaked through his eyelids.

His tail wound around his middle as he purred, an embarrassing habit from childhood when he’d longed for the comfort of being held.

Then, he’d longed for someone that had never existed—a mother. Now, it was Cordelia he imagined.

Shame shattered the illusion, and his tail went slack.

She would not like that. Not with the way she had looked at him that day, the way she had pulled away.

She would be disgusted that he dreamed of her soothing away his fears.

Fears he had earned through his own inadequacies.

He purred harder, trying to swallow the lump in his throat that threatened to choke him.

The door hissed open, but he didn’t bother to lift his eyelids. The footsteps that followed were not Haerune’s even, long stride. He sat up so abruptly that his head spun.

For a moment, he could only stare blankly, sure he was hallucinating. Then she spoke, and her voice flowed through him like a current of life-giving energy. His lungs filled with his first full breath in days.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her arms folded over her chest as she leaned against the console of the medbay’s computer.

When he said nothing, lost in drinking in her presence, she cleared her throat and shifted her hips.

“Um… Pandora said you’ve been spending a lot of time here, so… What is it? Are you sick or something?”

“Sick,” he murmured in agreement, his hands shaking from the effort it took not to reach for her.

Her hands fell to her hips, and she looked down at her boots, nudging some invisible dirt on the floor.

“I, uh… I just wanted to make sure that it wasn’t something that would compromise the mission.

I think we’re nearly ready to kick off phase one of the plan, so…

if you’re not up to it, I’d rather know that now. ”

“No,” he blurted, sliding off the table to stand. “No, I’m not compromised. I will be there beside you, at any cost. I will not fail you, Cordelia.”

She looked even more discomforted by his words. His heart squeezed. Why could he not figure out the right thing to say? It was an unforgivable weakness, the same that had put them in this predicament in the first place.

An awkward silence fell between them, and they both tried to break it at once.

“I should have told you—” he said.

“We don’t need to talk—”

They both fell silent again. Before they could decide who would speak first, the door slid open, and Haerune wandered in as he read something on his comm, a bundle of sedative hypos tucked under his arm. He nearly dropped them all in surprise when he looked up and saw Cordelia standing there.

Rentir’s tail moved of its own accord, whipping hard enough to nearly dent the exam table. An unfathomable fury welled in him at the intrusion, at the challenge of another male approaching his woman.

His woman. She was his. She was—

No.

He forced himself to turn away, to wrap his tail with numbing tightness around his own thigh before he tried to kill his most beloved friend with it.

“Rentir?” Cordelia called as he paced to the far side of the room.

He pressed his head against the metal wall and sank his claws into it, scratching deep into the surface as he struggled to catch his breath.

“Give him a moment,” Haerune said softly, his voice grating across Rentir’s nerves.

His shoulders bunched as he battled the urges riding him, pressing his head harder into the bitterly cold metal. The chill sting grounded him.

He’s your brother. You love him. Be reasonable. You do not want him dead.

Yes, I do.

No!

“What’s wrong with him?” Cordelia asked.

Haerune sighed, allowing a long moment for Rentir to intervene before he answered. He did not. “He is experiencing withdrawal.”

“Withdrawal? From what? Are you saying he was using?” She barked a bitter, angry laugh. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You got any other secrets you want to share with the class?”

That last question was directed at him.

“Using what?” Haerune asked, taking the words right from Rentir’s mind.

“I don’t know, drugs? Alcohol?” Cordelia cursed under her breath. “The whole betrayal thing is bad enough, but you were going to let me take you on a mission, risking lives, while you were impaired?”

Something thunked hard behind him, a sound of violence he could not resist. He whirled toward it, lips peeling back from his fangs as he looked for the threat to his woman.

It was Cordelia who had lashed out, smacking the load of sedatives out of Haerune’s arm.

He took a quick step back, holding up his hands in surrender, his gaze on Rentir.

“You’re supplying him?” she demanded, jabbing a finger in Haerune’s face. “What the fuck kind of friend are you supposed to be? Where do you get off acting like you care about him, huh?”

She advanced on him, and he retreated, his eyes still locked on Rentir, though carefully avoiding direct eye contact.

“Rentir,” Haerune pleaded.

“Cordelia.” His voice came out like gravel. “Come away from him.”

Cordelia stiffened, then turned toward him in indignation. Her eyes were bright with anger and narrowed to slits as her chest heaved. “You don’t tell me what to do. Not ever, but especially not right now.”

“Please.” He begged, gripping the edge of the exam table to keep from advancing on Haerune the way his instincts howled to.

She faltered, frowning. Her eyes darted between the two of them, clearly trying to catch up to the situation.

“He is not withdrawing from medication,” Haerune said, speaking slowly. “It is the effect of his bond to you.”

“I’m making him sick?”

Rentir growled at that, flashing a warning glare at Haerune. If he made her feel responsible…

“Your absence,” Haerune said, flattened against the door. “It appears to be an auretian trait, one we likely all share. Some combination of proximity and interest has triggered a physiological change in him, and now if he goes too long without contact…”

She looked back at him incredulously. “He gets the shakes? You can’t be serious.”

“I’m afraid I am.”

Rentir couldn’t meet her gaze. “Leave me. I am driven to… to pursue you, and I know it is unwelcome. I cannot contain myself much longer. Haerune will sedate me.”

She didn’t listen—of course she didn’t. She just stood there, taking his measure in silence.

“You’re no use to me like this,” she said at length.

The shame spearing him twisted, rending him further.

“I will be fine once I am medicated,” he said. “I told you I would not fail you, and I meant it.”

“What does he need to make this stop?” she asked Haerune, ignoring him.

Rentir bit back a snarl.

Haerune rubbed the back of his neck, looking as uncomfortable as Rentir had ever seen him. “I cannot be certain, but… if it is distance from you that is making him ill, proximity will likely cure it. The, ah, closer the better?”

“Shut up,” Rentir told him.

Cordelia didn’t shudder in disgust at the idea. Instead, she said to Haerune, “Give us a minute.”

Hope, lust, and desperation became a maelstrom inside him.