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I tip my head back so I can see his face. “You didn’t?”
“No. There are ten of us and only five women. I want a mate, of course. All morts yearn for a family of their own. We all want mortyoung. For a long time, I never thought it would be a possibility for any of us. After losing so many due to sickness, I had given up hope. When we found you, I was happy enough to have the possibility of more for one of my brothers. I was certain I would give up the opportunity if I was selected to breed with one of the females. Certain, until I saw the cryotubes. Until I saw you. Then I knew you were mine and I would do anything to keep you.”
“But what if I’m not who you think I am?”
“I think you are kind and gentle. More beautiful than a Mortuus sunset. I think you are stronger than you give yourself credit for.”
I sigh, because I want to be the woman he sees. “Is that why you’re helping me? Because you want a mate? Babies?”
“I am helping you because it is who I am, what I do. I could not save my people from The Rades, but I will figure out how to fix your lungs. Then, I will show you that you are meant for me.”
Back home we used to have a saying about seeing someone’s soul in their eyes, but I’d never really given it any thought until I locked eyes with Calix. His are vastly different from any man I’ve ever known, but when I look into them, I feel more connected to him than I ever have to anyone else.
Despite my earlier hesitation, I find myself leaning closer, needing to become a part of him, one with him. I don’t have words for the need that pulses through me, so I don’t try to explain it.
“Kiss?” he asks, so close that our lips brush together.
I answer with a moan, which morphs into a screech as a mad banging begins at the door.
Calix leaps to his feet, his teeth bared and claws extended.
“What’s happening?” I ask, my chest tightening with an all too familiar anxiety.
4
Calix
It was only a matter of time.
When I stole her away, I knew they would come for us. What I did was against the rules. But I followed the rules. At first. I foolishly followed them for many solars, hoping against all odds that Emery would pull out of her poor health all on her own. Avrell had plenty of opportunity to heal her if it was within his abilities.
He didn’t.
She lay there, her breath rattling in her chest, pleading for me to save her.
So that is what I am rekking doing.
Bangbangbangbangbang!
“Open up, you piece of rogshite!”
Emery’s terror filled eyes widen. “W-What do they w-want?” Her dulled teeth chatter away and I cock my nog to the side. It is rather unnerving, but I recall reading in Breccan’s notes about this clattering noise in the sub-faction alien book that Sayer started in an effort to help us all understand them better. It is not a battle cry or a defense mechanism. It merely means they are cold.
I storm over to a closet and pull out a blanket that is much thicker than the warming sheet. Once I have wrapped it around her, I give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before making my way over to the door. I am not one to keep my door closed, but when I brought Emery in, I closed it behind me. It is preprogrammed with a code they will never break. The only way those morts are getting in here is if I let them—which I will not—or if they force their way through.
“Let me in,” Hadrian growls.
The youngest mort in our faction thinks that now that he is Aria’s hand and protection when Breccan is unavailable, that he is the fiercest mort here.
I will tell you what is fierce.
When an empty-nog runt tries to interfere with the healing of my mate.
I will show him rekking fierce.
“No,” I bark out, watching him through the small window. “I am searching for a cure.”
He looks past me. “When Aria finds out, she will be furious.”
“It is Aria’s fault she is dying,” I snarl.
His eyes widen. “The commander will not be pleased.”
“I realized that risk before I took her.”
He slams the door with his fist and storms off. I make my way over to a table near the bed and pull a freshly sanitized needle from the tray. Her eyes are drooping with drowsiness. It sends alarm racing down my spine, making my sub-bones crack along the way. I quickly attach a tube to the end of the syringe and then kneel in front of her.
“It will only feel like a pinch,” I assure her. “I am going to draw some blood so I may test it.”
