Page 33

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

X ara paced at the cave entrance, her heart hammering against her ribs. Every shadow in the jungle seemed to stretch toward her, every rustle of leaves made her flinch. The pups sensed her anxiety, their bioluminescent patches pulsing with agitated light as they huddled together on the bed.

“He’s coming back,” she whispered to them. “He has to.”

Hours had passed since he’d gone to confront Vask.

The Zarkari commander’s threats still rang in her ears—cold, clinical words that reduced her to a specimen, a resource to be harvested.

She’d seen the change in Ash’s eyes when Vask spoke of her that way, watched something ancient and terrible awaken in his silver gaze.

A flicker of movement at the jungle’s edge caught her attention. She grabbed the makeshift spear she’d fashioned, her knuckles white around its shaft.

Then she saw him—his massive silhouette emerging from the crimson foliage, moving with purpose despite the obvious pain in his gait. Blood streaked his torso, some of it his own, some not.

“Ash,” she breathed.

He looked up at her voice, those silver eyes finding hers across the distance.

She dropped the spear and ran to him, ignoring the ache in her own bruised body from her earlier fight. When she reached him, her hands moved instinctively to the worst of his wounds—a deep gash across his shoulder, another along his ribs.

“You’re hurt,” she said, gently guiding him toward the cave.

His tendrils brushed her face, a soft, questioning touch. “Dravak?”

“Gone,” he rumbled, the word vibrating through his chest. “Won’t return.”

The simple statement carried the weight of liberation. She felt tears spring to her eyes, unexpected but impossible to hold back. She pressed her forehead against his chest, feeling his heartbeat—strong, steady, alive.

“Let me take care of you,” she whispered.

Inside the cave, the pups greeted them with excited chirps, rushing to climb Ash’s legs despite his injuries. He allowed it, his expression softening as Dot nuzzled against his palm.

She gathered her supplies: the healing moss that grew near the thermal spring, clean water, strips of fiber she’d salvaged from the trees. She carefully cleaned each wound, frowning at the damage.

“Some of these need binding,” she murmured. “The moss will help, but it’s not enough.”

He watched her work, his eyes never leaving her face. There was something different in his gaze now—a clarity, a presence that hadn’t been there before. As if in confronting Vask, he’d confronted the last of his ghosts.

“You fought well,” he said quietly as she pressed a moss poultice to his shoulder, and she smiled

“I had a good teacher.”

His hand caught hers, stilling her movements. “You were already strong.”

The simple statement warmed her more than any elaborate praise could have. She leaned forward, pressing her lips to his—a gentle kiss, an affirmation of life.

A soft chiming sound interrupted them. She pulled back, startled, as three figures appeared at the cave entrance—Tal’shai, their slender bodies glowing with subtle bioluminescence, their eyes reflective in the dim light.

“They’ve come,” he said, making no move to rise despite his wounds.

The tallest of the Tal’shai stepped forward, carrying a woven basket. Their movements were fluid, almost musical, as they approached and knelt before them. The basket contained what looked like ribbons—iridescent, semi-transparent strands that caught the firelight.

“What are those?” she asked.

“Resin bindings,” he explained, his voice low. “A recognition.”

The Tal’shai spoke then, their language a melodic series of clicks and chimes that Xara couldn’t understand. But she recognized the reverence in their gestures, the way they presented the bindings with both hands extended.

Ash translated haltingly. “They say... the forest has witnessed our bond. That we fought as one against those who would harm this place.” He paused, something like wonder crossing his face. “They accept us as mates.”

The word ‘mates’ sent a shiver through her. It felt primal, ancient—and absolutely right.

The Tal’shai continued, and his eyes widened slightly. “They wish to share knowledge with you. They say you have... the heart of a healer. That you should know their ways.”

She looked at the delicate beings, then back at Ash. “Tell them I would be honored.”

As he translated, the Tal’shai’s bioluminescent patterns brightened with what she interpreted as pleasure. The tallest one approached, taking one of the resin bindings from the basket. With ceremonial precision, they wrapped it around her wrist, then Ash’s, binding them together.

The resin was warm against her skin, almost alive. As it settled, it seemed to mold itself to her, becoming a perfect fit—neither too tight nor too loose.

The Tal’shai spoke again, and this time, she thought she caught fragments of meaning—protection, unity, growth.

“What did they say?” she whispered.

His voice was rough with emotion. “That we are now part of their protection. That they will watch over us, as we watched over each other.”

The Tal’shai completed the ritual by placing small pouches of what looked like seeds or spores near the fire, then bowed deeply before retreating. Their departure was as silent as their arrival, leaving only the faint echo of chimes in the air.

She examined the binding on her wrist, marveling at how it caught the light. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s a living resin,” he explained, his fingers tracing the pattern. “It grows with the wearer, strengthens over time. The Tal’shai consider it sacred—they rarely offer it to outsiders.”

“Yet they gave it to us.”

“To you,” he corrected. “They saw what I saw from the beginning—your strength, your compassion.” His hand moved to cup her face. “Your light.”

The pups had settled on their bed, watching them with curious eyes. Soldier yawned, his tiny fangs glinting in the firelight.

She finished tending his wounds, binding the deeper ones with strips of fiber. Her touch lingered on each scar, each mark that told the story of his survival. When she was done, she pressed her lips to the largest scar—the one that ran across his chest, old and dark against his silver skin.

“We’re safe now,” she whispered.

His arms encircled her, pulling her against him. The resin binding on her wrist pulsed gently, as if responding to her quickening heartbeat.

“Safe,” he agreed, his voice a rumble against her ear.

They moved together to their bed, careful not to disturb the sleeping pups. His tendrils curled around her, stroking her skin with exquisite gentleness. His silver eyes glowed in the dim light, watching her with hunger and reverence.

She undressed slowly, her movements deliberate. There was no need to rush now—no danger lurking beyond their walls, no enemy hunting them through the jungle. Just this moment, this connection.

Ash’s hands traced the curves of her body, his touch both worshipful and possessive. When his mouth found hers, she felt the last of her tension melt away, replaced by a building heat that coursed through her veins.

They made love with a new kind of freedom—unhurried, exploratory. His strength contained, channeled into pleasure rather than survival. Her fear transformed into trust, into surrender. The resin bindings on their wrists glowed softly in the darkness, pulsing in time with their joined rhythm.

Afterward, they lay tangled together, her head resting on his chest, his tendrils wrapped protectively around her. The pups had migrated to curl against their legs, their soft chirps blending with the ambient sounds of the jungle beyond.

She traced lazy patterns on his skin, watching the bioluminescent markings that rippled in response to her touch.

The cave that had once seemed so alien, so temporary, now felt different.

The bed they’d built together, the fire that never fully went out, the small treasures they’d collected—bits of crystal, interesting shells, tools they’d crafted.

The realization settled over her like a warm blanket: this was home.

Not the sterile laboratory she’d left behind on Earth, with its fluorescent lights and white walls. Not the crowded apartment where she’d lived alone among thousands. This place—wild, dangerous, beautiful—had become her sanctuary. With him. With them.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, his voice soft in the darkness.

She smiled, nestling closer. “I’m thinking that I never expected to find home on an alien planet.”

His arms tightened around her. “You miss your world.”

It wasn’t quite a question, but she answered anyway. “I miss certain things. Books. Coffee.” She laughed softly. “Indoor plumbing.”

His chest rumbled with amusement. “I can build better facilities.”

“I know you can.” She propped herself up on one elbow to look at him. “But I don’t miss my old life. Not really. It was... empty. I had my work, my research, but nothing else.” Her fingers traced the line of his jaw. “Nothing like this.”

Dot crawled up between them, demanding attention with insistent chirps. He gently scooped her up, cradling her against his chest where she promptly fell back asleep.

“The Tal’shai will teach you,” he said. “Their knowledge of this world’s biology is vast. You can continue your work here.”

The thought filled her with unexpected excitement. “A whole new ecosystem to study. New species, new adaptations.” She grinned. “I might need to start keeping notes.”

“I’ll find you materials,” he promised.

She settled back against him, watching the firelight dance across the cave walls.

Outside, the jungle hummed with life—dangerous, yes, but also vibrant, complex, fascinating.

Inside, wrapped in his arms with the pups nestled against them, she felt a sense of belonging she’d never experienced before.

This wasn’t just survival anymore. This was living.

As sleep began to claim her, her thoughts drifted to the future they might build here—expanding their home, learning from the Tal’shai, raising the pups, perhaps even...

She placed her hand over his where it rested on her stomach, imagining possibilities she’d never considered before. The resin binding on her wrist pulsed gently, as if in agreement.

Home, she thought again as her eyes closed. Not where I was born, but where I belong.

In the last moments before sleep took her, she felt his tendrils curl more securely around her, his heartbeat strong and steady beneath her cheek. Safe. Protected. Loved.

Home.