Page 9

Chapter9

THE SHIP veered hard to port, alarms screaming through the cockpit. Anya slammed back into her seat, the restraints biting into her shoulders as the floor tilted beneathher.

Tor’Vek’s fist smashed into the control panel, asharp crack of metal giving way under the blow. Sparks erupted from the console, ajolt of static electricity shooting up his arm as the ship shuddered in protest. Asnarl tore from his throat, low and vicious. The rage he’d barely held back for hours surged dangerously close to the surface, and for a moment, she thought he might rip the entire console apart with his bare hands.

“Stabilizers offline,” the ship’s AI droned, maddeningly calm as another series of red lights flared tolife.

Anya fought the impulse to fling herself at Tor’Vek, her muscles straining against the restraints as desperate need and fear waged war inside her. The craving tore through her, sharp and urgent, almost impossible to resist. Her body screamed to fling herself at him, to bury herself in his heat and strength, but the belts across her chest and waist pinned her firmly in place.

“Tor’Vek!” she gasped. “Can you—?”

“Iknow,” he barked, his hands flying over the remaining operational controls. His fingers moved with brutal precision, fighting the ship’s erratic spins.

The deck pitched again, the restraints digging deeper into her body, bruising her ribs and shoulders with every violent jolt. Tor’Vek yanked at his own straps, one arm snapping free just in time to slam a stabilizer lever back into position.

“Brace,” he ordered, his voice a hard command.

There was no time to argue. No time to think. The ship jerked erratically as he fought for a controlled landing, guiding the crippled vessel toward a clearing below.

They hit the deck with bone-jarring force, the impact reverberating through every part of the ship. The emergency dampeners kicked in at the last second, absorbing most of the shock, but not enough to prevent the vicious blow that whipped Anya against her harness.

Sparks rained from damaged panels, and the smell of burnt wiring filled the air. Systems groaned under the strain, the deck vibrating beneath their feet as warning lights flashed erratically across the console, the sharp stench of burnt metal heavy in the air. But the core engines held. Life support remained intact. The ship was battered, scorched, and leaking in places—but it was still whole. Damaged, but repairable.

Anya gasped, the breath knocked from her lungs. But she was alive. Shielded by Tor’Vek’s quick actions, by the ship’s final desperate efforts to protect its passengers.

His body moved in the seat beside her, massive and trembling with exertion. The bond between them vibrated with frantic, pulsing energy.

For a moment, neither of them moved, locked in their seats. The world tilted back and forth around them, the ship settling deeper into the earth with creaks of protesting metal.

Then, slowly, Tor’Vek disengaged his remaining restraint with a sharp jerk. His hand reached across to Anya, fingers working the release mechanism on her harness with brisk, competent efficiency.

“You are intact?” he demanded, his voice rough with strain.

“Y-yeah,” she managed, her voice shaking. “Thanks toyou.”

He said nothing, but his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. He rose to his feet in a smooth, predatory motion and offered hishand.

She took it without hesitation, her fingers curling around his. His grip was firm, steadying her as he pulled her from the chair.

Outside, something exploded far off in the distance, sending a fresh vibration through the deck beneath them. Tor’Vek’s head snapped up, his expression darkening.

“We mustmove.”

Anya nodded, adrenaline sparking through her veins. Whatever had forced them down wasn’t finished with themyet.

Tor’Vek hesitated, scanning the cracked control panel. His fingers moved swiftly, activating what systems still responded. “Ship, atmospheric analysis.”

“Processing,” the AI replied. Amoment later, it added, “Breathable. Slightly elevated particulate matter from crash debris. No toxins detected.”

Tor’Vek gave a short nod and turned back to Anya. “We can breathe theair.”

Without releasing her hand, he led her toward the hatch. Despite the ship’s battered state, the core systems whirred to life at his command, the door sliding open with a heavy hiss. Damaged but salvageable.

Afaint tremor vibrated through the scorched floor beneath their feet, and somewhere beyond the broken hull, steam hissed into theair.

The hatch groaned as it lowered, aplume of acrid smoke curling into the cockpit.

Before stepping out, Tor’Vek paused and crossed to a storage compartment near the hatch. With swift efficiency, he retrieved a lightweight field jacket—the smallest he could find—and a pair of durable leggings designed for flexible movement, and boots. Without a word, he handed them toAnya.

“Put these on,” he said, his voice rough. “You will need protection against the elements.”

Anya yanked the field jacket over Tor’Vek’s shirt and shoved into the leggings, her fingers fumbling in haste. The boots followed, abit too large, but serviceable. She coughed against the pungent smoke, pulling the jacket’s collar up over her mouth and nose, blinking against the sting in her eyes. The outside world looked even worse up close—an endless stretch of jagged, blackened earth, churned and scarred as if by countless impacts.

The air was heavy, almost greasy, filled with the scent of scorched metal and something sharper, more organic. The gravity here felt slightly skewed, each step oddly weighted, as though the planet resented their presence.

Tor’Vek descended first, scanning the terrain with sharp, predatory efficiency. He reached back, his hand closing firmly around Anya’s wrist, guiding her down the ramp after him. The contact sent a shudder down her spine, her craving flaring to life like a flash fire, searing through her nerves with alarming speed. Her heartbeat skittered, not entirely fromfear.

She stumbled as her boot caught on a twisted piece of wreckage. Tor’Vek caught her again, yanking her flush against his body with a speed that left her breathless.

“Stay close,” he said, his voice low and rough in herear.

No need to tell her twice.

The bracelets pulsed, heat radiating from them in slow, rhythmic waves that matched the frantic pace of her heart.

They moved quickly, weaving through the debris field scattered around the ship. Every breath Anya took tasted like smoke and iron. Ahigh-pitched whine echoed in the distance, followed by another distant explosion. Whether it was lingering environmental instability from the crash or something else entirely, Tor’Vek stiffened beside her, his instincts sharpened. Something was wrong—and whatever it was, it was still out there.

Tor’Vek steered them toward a craggy outcropping of rock—the only shelter visible in the barren wasteland. Systems aboard the ship were failing rapidly. Unstable reactors could trigger a secondary explosion at any moment. Alow overhang of stone jutted outward, barely big enough to shield them from view, but offering the only available protection in the open wasteland. It would have todo.

Anya scrambled under the outcrop, crouching low. Her limbs trembled from more than exertion. The bond between them vibrated with chaotic energy, her own emotions amplified by his proximity—fear, exhaustion, and a yearning so intense it made her dizzy.

Tor’Vek knelt beside her, his large frame half-curled around her in a way that felt fiercely protective, even as tension radiated off him in waves.

She sucked in a breath, battling a sharp spike of panic that tried to take hold. Fear clawed at the edges of her mind, but she forced it back, latching onto a thin thread of determination. She had survived this far. She could survive a little longer. She had to. “Yourship...”

“Damaged but repairable,” he confirmed, checking a watch-like device on his wrist before scanning the sky. Was it connected to the ship’s AI? Areasonable assumption, all things considered. “Hull breaches minor. Engines stable. Life support operational.”

Anya exhaled shakily. That was something, at least.

She shifted slightly, and that’s when she saw it—athin line of blood trailing down Tor’Vek’s side, disappearing beneath the torn edge of his uniform.

“You’re hurt,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

He dismissed it with a curt shake of his head. “Superficial.”

But she didn’t miss the way his jaw tightened.

Without thinking, she reached out. Her fingers swept over the warm, blood-slicked skin just above his hip. The bond flared so fiercely it stole her breath—his pain, his need, his restraint all slamming into her atonce.

Tor’Vek went rigid.

“Do not,” he bit out, his voice a low, broken growl.

She snatched her hand back as though burned, her chest heaving.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

He closed his eyes for a long moment, fighting for control. When he spoke again, his voice was rough but steadier. “It is... not your touch that wounds. It is thebond.”

Her heart twisted painfully in her chest.

They crouched in silence, the air between them thick with unspoken things. The heat of Tor’Vek’s body pressed against her side, and the slow, ragged draw of his breath filled the small space between them, each sound a reminder of the volatile need they both struggled to contain. Around them, the world crackled with distant threats. But here, beneath this battered outcrop, the greater danger felt terrifyingly close.

And it was not out there.

It was insidethem.

Tor’Vek shifted slightly, his thigh contacting hers, and the bond pulsed again—hot, hungry, and impossible to ignore. Anya’s breath hitched, the shock of sensation slamming through her so hard she had to lock her knees to keep from lunging at him. Every nerve ending screamed for more, for touch, for release.

Anya bit down on a whimper. She squeezed her hands into fists, nails digging into her palms. It didn’t help. Nothing helped. The desire tore through her like a living thing, curling low and hot in her belly, flooding her with an ache that was no longer just fear or adrenaline.

She neededhim.

Not rationally. Not sensibly. Her body, her soul—whatever the bracelet had touched inside her—screamed forit.

He felt ittoo.

She could see it in the strain rippling through his massive frame, the way his hands flexed against his thighs, the way his breath sawed in and out of his lungs like each inhale was a battle. His eyes—still faintly lit with that impossible violet glow—locked onto her, and for one harrowing second, she thought he might lose the last thread of control holding himback.

Tor’Vek shifted closer, his movements sharp and deliberate. His large hand came up, hovering near her jaw but not touching. His restraint was palpable, carved into every tight line of his body. But the bond between them pulsed harder, demanding, aching.

Anya swallowed hard. “What’s happening tous?”

His voice was a ragged rasp. “The bond is escalating.”

“Ican feel it,” she whispered.

The need clawed at her, raw and unrelenting. She wanted to touch him, to press against him, to ease the roaring ache tearing throughher.

His hand dropped to his side, fingers flexing once before tightening into a twitch of barely suppressed violence, atremor of rage running through his entire arm. He exhaled a hard breath through his nose, the effort of holding back evident.

“If I lose control,” he said, his voice low and vicious, “there will be nothing gentle aboutit.”

She knew. God help her, sheknew.

Still, she whispered, “Then don’t.”

The words cracked something insidehim.

With a growl that sounded ripped from his chest, he closed the distance between them. His hands found her waist, his grip rough but trembling with restraint. He yanked her closer until there was no space between them, the heat of his body searing through the thin material of her borrowed clothing.

Anya gasped, her fingers flying up instinctively—not to push him away, but to steady herself against the solid wall of his chest.

Tor’Vek dropped his forehead to hers, his breath hot and ragged against her skin. “You calm it,” he whispered. “When you arenear.”

Her heart thundered against her ribs. “Then stay close.”

A low sound escaped him, half anguish, half triumph. His arms tightened, hauling her more firmly against him as though sheer proximity could relieve the storm of rage still burning beneath hisskin.

Anya’s craving surged so violently it left her breathless—abrutal, desperate need to tear away the last barriers of clothing between them and feel him, all of him, skin to skin. She wanted to drag him down over her, have him take her again and again until the hunger inside her was nothing butash.

The bracelets pulsed again, adeep throb vibrating through their bodies, syncing heartbeats and breaths into a chaotic rhythm that crashed through them like a tidalwave.

Anya squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the world, the danger, the terror—and the staggering need building between them. Aflash of guilt twisted through her, fear whispering that if she surrendered to this craving, she might lose more than her body—she might lose herself.

Tor’Vek’s lips brushed the shell of her ear, atouch so light it sent a shiver skimming down her spine. “If I give in…” he began, but the words broke off, as if he couldn’t voice the fear clawing insidehim.

“We survive first,” she whispered back. “Everything else... later.”

For a moment, neither moved, their need to endure pressing down on them harder than the gravity of this alien world. Then, reluctantly, Tor’Vek loosened his hold, enough to shift them into a more defensive position beneath the rocky outcrop.

Anya sagged against him, her body trembling from adrenaline, exhaustion—and something deeper. Something terrifyinglyraw.

Tor’Vek remained alert, his arms partially around her, every muscle tense in readiness. The heat of his body radiated against her side, and the slow, ragged pull of his breath grazed her ear, each sound a sharp reminder of the tension pulsating just beneath the surface. Protecting her. Centering himself.

Their battle wasn’t over. It had barely begun.

“We must find a safer location,” Tor’Vek said at last, his voice low and rough against her ear. “This position is too exposed.”

Anya nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Her whole body still hummed with want, but the urgency of survival gave her a tenuous grip on focus.

“How far?” she managed to croak.

He tilted his head, activating the comm link to the ship’s AI. His hand remained firmly wrapped around her waist, as if the idea of letting go even for a second was intolerable. “Status on immediate surroundings,” he commanded.

“Visual obstructions detected. Elevation required for optimal mapping and threat assessment,” the AI responded calmly.

Tor’Vek’s jaw tightened. “We climb.”

Her stomach twisted. She hated climbing—especially now, when every ragged breath and trembling muscle threatened to send her hunger spiraling out of control—but she nodded tightly, knowing they had no choice. “That means we go up, right?” she managed tojoke.

Tor’Vek’s mouth quirked—amicro-expression, almost invisible. Atiny spark of warmth flared in Anya’s chest, absurdly out of place given their situation, but impossible to deny. For a heartbeat, it was just the two of them—no crash, no enemies, no fear—only the fragile thread pulling them closer.

“Affirmative.”

Anya blew out a breath, willing strength into her limbs. “Then let’s move before we both turn into sitting ducks.”

He helped her to her feet, his hand never leaving her body. The second they broke full contact, the bracelets pulsed harder, sending a wave of destabilizing heat between them. Anya stumbled, and Tor’Vek yanked her back into his side without hesitation.

“Contact stabilizes,” he muttered, half to himself.

They moved cautiously across the broken terrain, the ship looming behind them like a wounded beast. The terrain was treacherous—craters, jagged rocks, patches of unstable earth that crumbled beneath theirfeet.

Several times, Anya faltered—sometimes from sheer physical exhaustion, sometimes from the desire clouding her senses and making her limbs clumsy. Each time, Tor’Vek caught her, steadying her with a touch that grew rougher, less restrained. His instincts, sharpened by the bond, were no longer purely protective. There was a possessiveness to them now, aclaiming that bled through every gesture.

When they reached the base of a sharp incline, Tor’Vek paused, scanning the horizon. He cursed softly in a language Anya didn’t recognize.

“What?” she gasped.

“Movement. Unknown entities. Approximately six hundred meterswest.”

Anya’s blood turned to ice. “Marauders? Selyr used Marauders.”

“Doubtful. More likely natives.”

He turned to her, the faint glow in his eyes intensifying. “We climb. Faster.”

He boosted her upward first, his strength a terrifying contrast to the gentleness with which he handled her. Once she scrambled onto a ledge, he followed with fluid, predatory grace.

They climbed in silence, the bond between them burning hotter with every agonizing foot. Sweat slicked Anya’s palms, her muscles trembling, each step a battle against her own weakening control. When Anya slipped near the top, Tor’Vek caught her again—this time pulling her flush against him, her back against his chest, one arm locked around her waist.

She felt his breath against the curve of her neck, the brutal tension in his body barely contained.

“Tor’Vek—”

“Move,” he rasped. “Before I forget myself.”

Heart hammering, she surged forward, scrabbling over the lip of the incline. Tor’Vek hauled himself up behind her in one swift movement, immediately positioning himself between her and the threat below.

They crouched low, hidden by a natural rise in the terrain. Below them, indistinct figures moved through the wreckage—scavengers or worse.

Anya pressed closer to Tor’Vek, instinct overriding caution. His body tensed, vibrating with the effort to stay still.

“Endure,” he whispered.

She nodded, swallowing the frantic pulse of want tearing throughher.

They stayed like that, silent, as the figures drifted further into the distance.

The desperate need didn’t vanish. It clawed deeper under her skin, simmering hotter with every heartbeat.

But survival—together—came first.

And for now, it was enough.