Captured By her Alien Mate by Ava York

Kator

“Hold still, Kator.”

Riley’s faux-impatient voice drifted over my shoulder and a smile touched my lips. She was busy taking careful instruction from Camilla and changing my bandages and was proving to be an anxious but careful nurse. I wasn’t worried. Under Camilla’s patient tutelage, Riley was responsible for half of my healing. Insisting on helping, Riley had anxiously fluttered around me while Camilla explained what salves and treatments she was administering, and eventually grew so impatient to be of use that she demanded she do it herself.

I couldn’t help it, but the knowledge of her worry was almost as healing as the actual ointment she was reapplying.

I closed my eyes. I could only feel the tender touch of her fingers tracing one of the scars on my back with a cooling lotion. It was a delightful take-over of the senses. The biggest and only consolation to having spent such a long week recovering from my wounds was that Riley was almost always there.

“That’s great, Riley,” Camilla said. She patted me on the shoulder. “Your Riley is quite the nursing natural.”

My Riley. I liked that our connection was known and acknowledged.

“She is,” I said, practically purring.

“There,” Riley said with finality, withdrawing her fingers. I suddenly ached to feel them on my back again. But soon enough it was Camilla’s no-nonsense and skilled hands re-wrapping the bandage. I opened my eyes and Riley’s face was swimming in front of mine. When our gazes met, her face broke out into a nervous smile.

“You’re fretting again, aren’t you?” I murmured, grinning.

“It’s really looking so much better,” she said with encouragement. “You’ve come so far in just a week.”

“You have,” Camilla agreed, finishing up and coming around to face me. She was wiping her hands of the salve on her apron and smiling, albeit faintly. “I’m impressed, Kator. You really do look worlds better.”

“Just like I said,” Riley added happily.

“But now is not the time to go off gallivanting again—you still need to rest,” Camilla warned, speaking more to Riley than me.

“Kator’s not going anywhere,” Riley said quickly. She sat at the edge of my bed and thread her fingers into mine. She seemed so certain.

“Not if you two have anything to say about it,” I quipped, though my heart sank. I laid back gingerly onto my pillows. My wounds may have been looking better, but they certainly didn’t feel healed yet.

“See?” Riley smiled broadly at Camilla. “He’s staying put.”

My heart tore in two as I watched Riley’s happy face. She was so excited by the prospect of my long-term stay in Tahkath that I couldn’t bring myself to remind her that eventually, I would have to leave again. I wanted so badly to stay with her for as long as I could—but I also knew that I couldn’t stop until I had completed what I had always set out to do. Find my father… and avenge my mother.

Camilla watched me carefully, and I avoided her eye. Perhaps because she was a healer, or perhaps because she was not clouded by Riley’s feelings, I sensed she understood that my mind was partly elsewhere. Rather than expose me, however, she nodded respectfully and left the room where I had been laying for the past week, often with Riley by my side.

Riley turned to me as Camilla closed the door behind her. My love’s glimmering hazel eyes were blazing with a steady heat I knew well.

“We’re alone,” she said pointedly.

I chuckled and sat up again, moving carefully so as not to strain myself. “We are, indeed, Riley.”

Riley’s lips found mine. The kiss was deep, and in it I could feel her air of celebration. Why shouldn’t she celebrate? As far as she was concerned, I was on the mend and the two of us were looking at a long, uninterrupted future ahead of ourselves. I returned the kiss, relishing in the sweet taste of her mouth, but stopped just short of any further temptation. Riley withdrew and looked at me quizzically.

“What’s up?” she asked. “Are you still feeling sore?” Her face transformed from yearning to sudden concern. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I’m jumping the gun here.”

“No, no,” I replied quickly, drawing her close to me. “You’re not jumping anything. I want nothing more than to… ah…” I felt a heat fly up to my cheeks. “I want nothing more than to make you writhe with pleasure again,” I whispered. Unbidden, her face broke out into a mischievous smile. “But I’m still recovering,” I continued, taking her hands in mine.

“Of course,” Riley said easily, squeezing my hand in hers. “I totally understand.”

I wasn’t lying—my body was still healing from my injuries, though it longed to be with her. Riley and I hadn’t laid with each other since the night out in the desert. Thinking about being with her made me feel almost drunk, but I had to be responsible. The next time I touched her, I wanted to touch her with all my strength. The next time I drank from her sweet cup, I needed to be healed.

“I knew you would,” I replied, feeling a twinge of guilt. Riley was so energetic and caring. How could I not tell her how I couldn’t plan to stay with her in Tahkath forever?

Distracting me from my internal spiral, Riley insisted we descend from my tower room down to dinner. She led me down to the meal at a shared table between her, Sofia and King Dojak, Isabella and Vokar, and Camilla and Troko. My D’Tali brothers cheered at the sight of me walking slowly in Riley’s hand to the table. Through the courses, I ate my fill and delighted in watching Riley’s animated face chatting cheerfully with the others. I was almost able to eat and be merry along with the rest of the group.

But something pulled me back to my room. Though the food had long been digested, it didn’t look like the conversation was winding down, and so I quietly excused myself from the meal, citing my exhaustion.

“He’s right,” Camilla nodded. “He should go rest.”

Riley automatically stood to come with me, but I waved her down. “No, Riley, you’ve been too good to me,” I said quickly. “Sit, enjoy yourself. I promise all I’m doing is going to sleep.”

Riley’s concerned eyes studied my face carefully. I tried my best to look earnest. In the end, she squeezed my hand and placed a kiss on my cheek before letting me retreat to my room.

When I returned, I tried to do exactly as I promised Riley: I climbed straight into my bed and attempted to sleep. But sleep was a fool’s errand in this moment, as I could have guessed. I couldn’t rest, knowing that what I had for years longed to learn was bound in leather, just feet away from me.

It was time. I had to know who my father was. I rose from my bed and went straight to the ledger lying on the table. All week it taunted me, but there was always something else I could distract myself with—Riley, or my healing, or Riley again.

I stood over the ledger and opened its weathered cover. My heart screamed for me to scramble through the pages but I knew that if I didn’t move slowly, I might miss it, and I couldn’t bear the thought of not discovering who I was tonight. I scanned each page carefully until my eyes stopped on a familiar name.

Nerema.

There she was—my mother, her name scrawled messily in the ledger of an Aetamian war tome, busily describing all of the prisoners and collateral to this ancient war between them and the D’Tali. I followed the line under her name where the note taker had added a brief message. I had to squint in the flickering candlelight on the table to read it.

D’Tali woman. Now with child. Recommended swift disposal of both mother and fetus.

My heart stopped. My mother’s rape and my inception were recorded. But neither of us were supposed to live. She bought herself months by escaping—I never did discover where she had found safety—but she bought me my lifetime.

I had to know, and I was so close.

The last columns of the row listed the D’Tali victims’ captors and their interrogators. I recognized some of the names in the columns listed next to countless other D’Tali prisoners, but there was only one name that I wanted to know.

My breath caught as my eyes slid over to that final box.

I blinked. I re-read the name.

Only one person had constant access to my mother.

My ears started to ring.

Rage coursed through my veins and I felt no pain, no tenderness in my muscles nor sore tightness around my scars. I stumbled backwards from the table and found myself breathing heavily.

It can’t be.

Without thinking, I took the ledger and threw it as hard as I could. Not hearing a satisfying enough crashing sound, I threw the candle after it, watching as the flame flickered to a wet stop as the hot wax slopped over the wick, and the candle and holder broke apart and clattered to the floor. The room was dark, alight with nothing but my rage.

I picked up the table and threw it at the wall. One of the legs broke in two and the table fell with a CRACK to the ground.

My knees hit the floor, and I screamed into the night.