Page 22 of Survivor (A Space Pearl’s Treat #2)
Lucy
I woke to the melodious symphony of birds heralding the dawn, their cheerful chorus piercing through my dreams. That was the trouble with living in the treehouse. The feathered alarm clocks perched far too close, stubbornly refusing to let anyone savor the luxury of sleeping in.
My body felt heavy with exhaustion, eyes gritty and muscles lethargic as though I’d been swimming through molasses. A dull ache throbbed in my leg. I’d clearly slept too long, but the more pressing question lingering in my mind—why wasn’t I nestled against Vraxxan’s warm body?
I forced my reluctant eyelids open, wincing as golden streams of late morning light flooded through the uncovered windows, making my eyes water with their brilliance.
Vraxxan sat beside me in one of the intricately carved wooden chairs, a testament to his father’s craftsmanship.
His posture depicted bone-deep exhaustion: broad shoulders slumped forward, elbows resting on his knees, head bowed low.
Yet something else about him seemed different, a change I couldn’t quite identify through my hazy consciousness.
I attempted to shift for a better look, but the movement sent a ripple of pain cascading along my leg, tearing a gasp from my lips.
Vraxxan’s head jerked up instantly, his teal eyes wide with concern—an expression that softened visibly when he realized I was awake and watching him.
“You’re awake,” he breathed, the words carrying the weight of anxious waiting.
I tried to speak, but my parched throat produced only a raspy squeak.
He reached for a pitcher on the bedside table, pouring crystal-clear water into a wooden cup.
When my trembling fingers proved too weak to hold it, Vraxxan gently cradled the back of my head, his touch impossibly gentle as he held the cup to my lips.
I drank greedily, my eyes tracing the contours of his muscular arm to his torso, and then—
Holy shit!
The brilliant teal and purple scales that had adorned his body were gone, replaced by shimmering obsidian scales that covered him entirely, catching the sunlight like polished onyx.
“You shifted!” I exclaimed, my voice still rough despite the water. I attempted to sit up, but my body betrayed me, debility washing over me like I hadn’t felt since my last round of chemo.
“Shhh, be still, my sweet. You need rest.” Vraxxan’s warm, strong hands pressed gently against my shoulders, easing me back onto the mattress.
Relief shone in his bright teal eyes, but redness rimmed them, and the scales beneath were puffy.
While I felt as though I’d slept for an eternity, he looked as if he hadn’t closed his eyes in days.
“What happened?” I whispered, reluctantly acknowledging the profound weakness coursing through my body.
“What do you remember?” Vraxxan settled back into his chair, his hands sliding down my arms to envelop mine, his touch a comforting anchor.
I searched through the fog of my memories, finding patches of clarity amid the haze.
“I remember being with you by the creek,” I said, a smile blooming on my lips. Vraxxan’s answering smile mirrored mine, both of us lost momentarily in the recollection of passionate moments.
The mist in my mind began to clear, and another memory emerged.
“We were walking back to the treehouse. You went to check your snares while I picked fruit.” Suddenly, the image of the beast burst through the fog with terrifying clarity, making me flinch involuntarily. “That thing... the alligator T-Rex!”
“Alligator T-Rex?” Vraxxan’s brow furrowed before understanding dawned. “Oh, you mean the quasat.“
“It tried to eat me and....” Panic rose in my chest as the memories flooded back, hot tears spilling down my cheeks. “You fought it. I thought it had killed you, and....”
“Shhh.“ Vraxxan soothed, his hands tenderly cupping my face as he pressed a feather-light kiss to my forehead. “It’s okay, my heart. The quasat is dead.”
“How?” I asked, not wanting gruesome details but needing to understand. My last memory had been of Vraxxan lying broken and bloodied on the ground, with me not faring much better. The phantom sensation of the quasat’s claw tearing into my flesh made me shudder violently.
“I killed it,” he said simply.
“But I thought you....” The haunting image of his broken body refused to leave my mind.
His broad shoulders—noticeably broader than before—rose in a modest shrug. “I was hurt... dying, but then I heard you scream, and it... it awakened something within me.” A kaleidoscope of emotions flickered across his expressive eyes. “And I shifted.”
“Looks like all that training finally paid off.” I placed my palm against his cheek, though training hardly described the torture he’d endured at his mother’s hands in her attempts to force him to shift.
“Training had nothing to do with it.” Vraxxan leaned forward, his lips brushing mine in a kiss as delicate as butterfly wings. “I shifted because of you.”
“Me?” I blinked, utterly bewildered.
“All I could think about was protecting you,” he murmured, his thumbs caressing my cheeks with infinite tenderness. “When you screamed out in pain,” he shuddered visibly. “Everything after that is a blur until the creature lay dead and my father arrived.”
“Where is Vysar?“ I asked, suddenly aware of his absence.
“He has gone with the Peecha to remove the quasat’s carcass before it attracts other predators.”
I trembled again, remembering the monstrous size of the beast. Disposing of such a body would be no small feat.
“How does your leg feel?” Vraxxan asked, his voice laced with concern.
I flexed my foot experimentally. It ached like an overworked muscle after an intense workout. Curiosity drove me to pull back the blanket, revealing my injury. “Is that a leaf?”
“Yes.” Vraxxan’s long fingers played delicately at the edge of the verdant covering.
“Ceeka, the Peecha healer, treated you with a special poultice. The quasat’s claws carry a bacterium that can be deadly.
” His eyes met mine, raw emotion laid bare.
“You nearly died. The fever consumed you for two days. I thought....” his voice broke, “I thought I was going to lose you forever.”
“I’m here,” I reassured him, capturing his hand and bringing his knuckles to my lips.
Vraxxan sighed deeply, leaning forward until our foreheads touched. “I have never been so terrified in all my existence.”
“I’m here,” I promised again, though the residual weakness in my body testified to how close I’d come to slipping away. “I guess I need to get Ceeka a gift for saving me. Do Peecha like jam?”
Vraxxan chuckled, but there was something mysterious glimmering in his eyes that intrigued me. “What?”
He inhaled deeply, choosing his words with careful deliberation. “I’m not certain the poultice was the only thing that saved you.”
“What else did Ceeka give me?” I braced myself, determined not to recoil if Vraxxan mentioned some kind of ground-up, fermented creature guts. Whatever she did, it apparently saved my life. I’d had straight up poison injected into my bloodstream to fight the cancer.
Vraxxan drew another deep breath while a tentative, worried smile played across his lips. “My blood.”
“Excuse me?” I shook my head in disbelief. Surely, I had misheard. “Did you say your blood ?”
He nodded solemnly, and I fought the instinctive urge to gag.
I loved Vraxxan with every fiber of my being, but drinking blood—my teenage crush on Edward Cullen notwithstanding—was beyond my comfort zone.
I ran my tongue over my lips, relieved to find no residual taste, though I wasn’t entirely sure what blood would taste like.
“Exactly how much of your blood did I drink?” I asked, morbid curiosity getting the better of me.
“Drink?” Vraxxan’s face contorted in disgust. “Gross! You did not drink my blood. I applied it directly to your wound.”
I glanced down at my leaf-covered leg again with newfound fascination.
“I didn’t know Zarpazian blood possessed healing properties.
” During my adventures in space, I’d encountered countless oddities—aliens who could mesmerize with a mere wink or maim with a snap of the fingers.
The concept of a species whose blood held healing powers wasn’t so far-fetched.
After all, vampires did it all the time.
“Normally it does not, but with you... it is special,” Vraxxan admitted with a strange glint—almost worry—in his teal eyes, which seemed to shimmer like the surface of a tropical ocean.
“Special, how?” I pressed, my breath catching in my throat as I waited for his answer.
The grip Vraxxan held on my hands grew tighter. A faintly sheepish smile curled his sculpted features. “The legends appear to be true.”
I frowned for a moment, not understanding, but then remembered the stories that Vysar told us of Zarpazians shifting because of their true mates. My eyes went wide, my heart hammering with a mix of excitement and hope, sending butterflies dancing through my stomach. “You mean?”
“You are my true mate, Lucy.” Vraxxan’s smile was soft and tentative, and the hands that still held mine squeezed gently, his touch sending waves of warmth through my body.
“When I heard you scream in pain, something happened to me, and I just... changed. I didn’t even realize I’d shifted until my father pointed it out.
The only thing that mattered to me was protecting you. ”
“And the blood thing?” My heart was hammering so loudly in my ears that I barely heard my own voice, the sound like thunder in the intimate space between us.
“Another legend that a shifted Zarpazian’s blood can be used to heal his mate. Thankfully, a true legend.” The teal eyes focused on mine, deep and mesmerizing, and he sighed, an almost regretful sound that caressed my skin like a gentle breeze. “I’m sorry, Lucy.”
“Sorry?” I barked, almost laughing, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside me. “What for? You saved my life.”