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Chapter Twenty-Five

MAYA

“M aya…”

I hold my breath as Volan leans closer to me. His pale blue eyes search mine, flickering between them as if he’s gathering courage. For once, my fierce warrior looks uncertain, vulnerable even. Honestly, I get it. This moment feels huge between us. My heart pounds so hard I swear he must hear it. I grip my skirt to hide my shaking fingers.

“Yes?” I manage to whisper, my voice barely audible.

Is he going to ask me to be his mate? I’ve spent my whole life keeping people at arm’s length, never allowing myself to be vulnerable after being betrayed by my father. But with Volan... I want to trust him. I do trust him.

“Maya, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you,” Volan says, his voice deep and husky. He pauses, drawing in a steadying breath. “I want to be completely honest with you. After spending the last few days with you, I’ve realized you mean a lot to me and...”

My breath catches. This is it. After everything we’ve been through together—the scampers, the hot springs, the shared intimacies both physical and emotional—he’s finally going to ask me. A part of me can’t believe I’m here, in this moment, actually wanting an alien to claim me. He’s given me hope, a reason to believe in the future. I can actually see myself happy, rather than this desperate and scared person I’ve become.

All because of him. Volan isn’t just any male. He’s proven himself over and over again.

“Maya, I’m not?—“

The heavy door to the room suddenly swings open, slamming against the wall with a loud bang. Within moments, Volan’s standing in front of me, knife in hand, his body a shield between me and whoever just interrupted us.

I scramble to my feet, though far less gracefully than Volan. His massive cloak that I’d been using as a blanket tangles around my legs, and I nearly trip.

Peering around Volan’s broad back, I spot two aliens in the doorway. More aliens. Because apparently Atraxis is crawling with them despite what Earth told us. One is covered in blue iridescent scales that catch the light, while the other is a massive green giant that reminds me of the harkcana that attacked the colony.

Neither looks all that impressed to see us.

“You!” Volan exclaims, pointing his dagger at them. He shifts his stance wider, clearly trying to hide me from view.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Endearing as his protectiveness is, I’m not some delicate flower who needs constant shielding. Haven’t I proven I can hold my own by now?

“Ohhh, I remember you!” The green alien replies, sounding delighted. He nudges his companion excitedly oblivious to how close he comes to impaling himself on the blue male’s spikes. “Hey, Melvall, this is Vulgar, the one I told you about.”

Vulgar? I bite my lip to keep from laughing. The expression on Volan’s face is priceless.

“Volan,” he corrects, his lip curling with distaste.

“Are you sure?” The green alien asks, looking genuinely confused.

“What?” Volan sounds completely baffled. “Am I sure? About what? My own name?! Of course, I’m bloody well sure!”

“Zoran, I’m pretty sure he’s not called Vulgar,” the blue alien—Melvall—says with a shake of his head.

“I mean, maybe his parental unit disliked him. I could see it happening!” Zoran defends, his green cheeks darkening. “Are you certain your name isn’t Vulgar?”

“My name is Volan. Volan,” my sulthari repeats slowly, as if talking to a child.

I watch this exchange with growing disbelief. Are they seriously arguing about Volan’s name? We’re in a secret underground lab, just discovered by two strangers, and they’re debating whether his parents were in their right minds when they named him. Worse, Zoran doesn’t seem to be taunting Volan; he genuinely seems quite confused. There’s no point arguing; it’s like playing a game of chess with a bird - it’s just going to walk around knocking everything over, shitting on every argument Volan makes. From now on, we shall call him Vulgar, whether he likes it or not.

“What are you doing here?” Volan demands, finally getting to the point.

The green one—Zoran—looks at his feet, shuffling them. The picture of a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“We have agreed to not talk about that moment,” Melvall sighs, patting Zoran on the back. For someone who appears slender next to the bulky green alien, he sends Zoran stumbling with that casual touch. Mental note: don’t underestimate the blue one.

“It’s not my fault! They had a Tangler!” Zoran exclaims. “I didn’t sign up for that sort of challenge. That’s just ridiculous.”

Volan sucks in a breath, which immediately puts me on alert. Anything that makes Volan nervous is something I definitely should be worried about.

I slip out from behind Volan’s protective stance, ignoring his disapproving glare. “What’s a tangler?” I ask, stepping up beside him.

Zoran’s eyes light up at my question.

“A tangler is a massive beast,” he explains, gesturing widely with his hands. “It lives almost exclusively underground. It’s got these long tentacles that snake out through the tunnels searching for prey. It lies in wait until you are most vulnerable, and then bam it’ll catch you and drag you to its waiting mouth, which is filled with thousands of teeth and...”

“And they are rare,” Volan interrupts, shooting Zoran a look. I appreciate the intervention; my imagination was already conjuring up nightmare fuel. “There’s only one that I know of, and last I heard from our scouts it’s closer to the Drakoon settlement than here. Thankfully if you know what to look for, which I do, it’s easily avoided.”

I exhale slowly, leaning against Volan despite myself. The warmth of his body against mine is reassuring, and I catch his chest puffing out slightly at my show of trust. Men—well, males—really are all the same across species, aren’t they?

“You didn’t actually answer my question,” Volan says, turning his attention back to the two aliens. “Why are you here?”

“Medicine, why else?” Melvall replies with a casual shrug.

“I thought this was a secret place,” I say, giving Volan a pointed look. “Or is this like one of those places where every kid swears it’s secluded and elusive, despite the entire town calling it make-out point?”

Volan opens his mouth to respond, then closes it. Clearly, dealing with the intruders takes priority, but I still can’t help that little voice in my head that points out that Volan didn’t immediately deny my accusation. It’s something that we will apparently need to discuss later.

“How long have you been stealing from us?” he asks the pair.

“Stealing?” Melvall’s spiked brow ridge arches upward. “It’s not like you made it.”

I scowl. No, because Volan’s employers made it. Taking something that isn’t yours is still stealing…

“It doesn’t matter!” Volan replies, frustration raising his voice. “The lab is inside Sulthari territory, therefore it is ours.”

Melvall snorts. “Next thing you know, he’s going to start telling us all about the agreement our ancestors made, like we are younglings hearing of it for the first time.”

“The treaty is important!” Volan growls, taking a step forward.

I grab Volan’s arm, halting him in his tracks. The last thing we need is a fight right now. These aliens outnumber us, and even though I’ve got my slingshot, I’m pretty sure I’ll be useless in this kind of fight. Disgusting, creepy, and non-sentient bugs will not strategize a battle like these guys will.

I’m starting to get the feeling there’s a lot more history between these species than Volan has let on—has he kept something from me? That little voice, that doubt, is starting to really sing inside now, really catching my attention.

“Oh please, your people forced the ‘treaty’ on us,” Melvall replies bitterly, crossing his arms across his chest. The sharp fins along his elbows glitter dangerously in the low light.

Is this male’s entire body built for warfare? Yeah, we definitely want to avoid a fight if we can.

“If it wasn’t for the sulthari, none of your people would have found their way to the surface,” Volan snaps back.

I watch the argument unfold, trying to piece together the fragments of information. There’s clearly some conflict between their species—something major that’s potentially shaped the entire dynamic of this planet. Something no one bothered to tell the human colonists about when they sent us here.

So why didn’t Volan tell me? He’s had plenty of chances.

Volan runs a hand over his face, looking exhausted. For the first time, I notice the tired lines around his eyes, the slight droop of his shoulders. He’s carrying a burden I don’t fully understand.

“Is that what your people have told you, Prince Volan? Because the harkcana tell of a different tale,” Zoran states casually, like he’s discussing the weather.

Wait. What?

“Prince?” The word escapes me in a small gasp.

Time seems to freeze as Volan slowly turns to face me, his luminous eyes flashing brilliantly. The floor beneath my feet feels unsteady, like the solid rock has suddenly turned to sand.

“Prince?” I repeat, my voice stronger this time, demanding an answer.

The guilt that crosses Volan’s face is unmistakable.

“You’re a prince,” I say flatly, backing away from him. It’s not a question anymore. The truth is written all over his face, in the guilty pulse of his luminae.

Not some random warrior who happened to cross my path in the marketplace. Not just any sulthari male looking for adventure. A prince. The betrayal cuts deep, reopening wounds I thought had begun to heal.

The trust I’d so carefully built with Volan—that I’d fought my own fears and past traumas to offer him—begins to crack. All this time, he’s kept this from me. Let me believe he was someone else. Someone I could trust as an equal.

I’d opened up to him, told him things I’d never told anyone. I’d shared my body with him, my fears, my quest. And he couldn’t even tell me who he really was?

I feel like such a fool. Again. How many times will I let myself be betrayed before I learn? My father. James. Walter. And now Volan. Always men hiding their true intentions, always using me for their own purposes.

No one ever cares about me!

I wrap my arms around myself, feeling suddenly cold. I’d thought Volan was different. I’d started to believe that maybe, just maybe, I could trust someone again.

I should have known better.