Serna
We left the cave at first light, when the twin yellow suns hung low on the horizon. Walking higher we climbed into the foothills, the more the temperature dropped. The jungle gradually gave way to scrubland, then rocky terrain dotted with hardy vegetation that clung to life in the thin soil.
Cullen walked beside me, his makeshift machete slung across his back, his eyes constantly scanning our surroundings for threats. He didn't seem to favor his ribs any longer and the cut above his brow was nearly healed thanks to the dermal regenerator. We moved in companionable silence, the kind that comes from trust and understanding rather than awkwardness. Every so often, his hand would brush mine, and I'd feel that spark of connection—electric, undeniable.
We'd made love twice more during the night, sleeping in each other's arms between. The first time had been slow, exploratory—learning each other's bodies in the dim light filtering through the cave entrance. Cullen had traced every ridge of my pelt with reverent fingers, mapping the places that made me gasp and moan. I'd discovered that the hollow of his throat was sensitive, that he made a low sound in his chest when I kissed the scar on his shoulder, that his hands were strong enough to grip my hips but gentle enough to make me shiver.
The second time had been urgent, desperate—both of us reaching for each other in the darkness, needing to confirm thatthis was real, that we hadn't imagined the connection between us. He'd pulled me on top of him, and I'd ridden him slowly, watching his face in the starlight that filtered through the cave mouth. The way he looked at me—like I was something precious, something worth fighting for—had made my chest ache with an emotion I couldn't name.
Afterward, we'd slept tangled together, his body warm against mine despite the cooling night air. I'd woken once to find him watching me, his fingers tracing idle patterns on my shoulder. He'd smiled when our eyes met, then kissed my forehead and pulled me closer. I'd fallen back asleep to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my ear.
Now, walking beside him in the morning light, I could still feel the ghost of his touch on my skin. Could still taste him on my lips. My body was pleasantly sore in ways I hadn't experienced in years—maybe ever.
With Cullen, everything was different.
But something else was happening. Something I couldn't quite fathom.
My heart felt... different.
Not wrong, exactly. Not painful. But strange. Like it was reaching out, searching for something just beyond my awareness. Every time I looked at Cullen, every time our eyes met or our hands touched, I felt it—a pull, deep in my chest, as if my heart was trying to synchronize with something outside myself.
I'd felt nothing like it before.
I'd heard stories. Every Vaktaire child grew up hearing them—tales of true mates, of the moment when two souls recognized each other across the vastness of space and time. When one bonded with their true mates, your heart would stop. Just for an instant. And when it started again, it would beat in perfect unison with theirs. Two hearts, one rhythm. A bond sodeep that distance became meaningless, that you could feel each other's emotions, sense each other's presence even worlds apart.
For a long time, the priestesses of Vaktaire had claimed that only another Vaktaire could survive the stopping of heartbeats—that the bond was too powerful, too sacred for an outsider's physiology to withstand. They'd said that attempting to bond with someone from another species would kill them, that the moment of synchronization would simply stop a non-Vaktaire heart permanently.
It had been doctrine. Law.
But Charick and others had proved that false.
The humans females they'd mated had thrived, their bond as strong as any pure Vaktaire pairing.
The bond didn't care about species or bloodlines. It cared about souls. And if your soul recognized its match, your heart would follow—regardless of whether that match was Vaktaire or not.
I'd always believed myself unworthy of such a bond. That my duty as Prime superseded any such gift.
But now...
Now I couldn't stop thinking about the way my heart had stuttered when Cullen kissed me in the jungle. The way it had raced when we made love in the cave. The way it felt now—like it was listening, waiting, reaching for something.
For someone.
Could he be—?
No. I pushed the thought away violently, focusing on the rocky path ahead. I couldn't afford to think about that. Not now. Not when Riuondo was hunting us, when every moment could be our last. True mates were a luxury I didn't have time for.
Survival first. Everything else later.
If there was a later.
"You okay?" Cullen asked, his voice low and concerned.
I glanced at him and found him watching me with those gray-green eyes that seemed to see straight through every defense I'd ever built. He knew something was wrong. Of course he did. He always knew.
"Fine," I said automatically. Then, because he deserved better than my usual deflections: "Just thinking."
"About?"
