The Alien’s Claim by Zoey Draven

Chapter Five

“I…I think we need to come to some sort of understanding.”

Her voice was quiet yet unyielding.

Jaxor stilled, his gaze flickering over his home base, looking for stray kekevir. He had a shield in place over their tunnel entrance, invisible to the eye, one repurposed from an old, unusable hovercraft he’d come across a couple rotations ago. Sometimes, however, the power on it failed and a brave kekevir slipped past. He’d been meaning to install a metal gate as a failsafe, but had yet to get around to it.

Seeing none, sensing none, his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, relief coiling in his belly. He was safe. She was here. The Mevirax hadn’t caught onto his trail. The kekevir were assuredly held back for the night with the help of the fire if the shield malfunctioned, as it often did.

In the walls of his home, he finally felt stable. As stable as he could possibly feel.

“I need sleep, rixella,” he growled. He hadn’t slept in…three—nix, four spans.

“And I want these off,” she said. When he turned to her, she held her bound hands for his inspection. Something tightened in his gut when he saw red marks around her wrists. He’d tied the scraps of her tunic tight and they were chaffing her delicate skin.

He ignored whatever displeasure he felt. He needed to sleep so he could think clearly—about her, about the Mevirax, about what he would do next. He needed to eat. He needed to plan. He needed…

He growled, turning from her.

“Nix, it stays.”

Jaxor had only taken two steps from her when her voice stopped him cold.

“I know what I am to you.”

His fists tightened at his sides, his claws pinching his skin. He’d wondered how much she knew of Luxirians, about the beasts inside them, about their mating customs. She was a species from a planet called Earth—in the Fourth Quadrant, an almost unfathomable distance to him. But with the help of Luxirian crystals, not an impossible distance. The Mevirax had seen to that.

He wouldn’t have believed it was possible to be bound to a different species had he not seen his own blood brother bound to his human mate. Then the other Ambassadors found their human mates. Jaxor hadn’t seen those humans for himself, but he’d heard the gossip when he’d last traveled to an outpost.

The Fates always had a plan. The Fates had chosen human females to help carry on the Luxirian line. In choosing the Prime Leader and the Ambassadors beneath him, the Fates had crafted a certain future. They had made it not only certain, but powerful. Luxirian history would forever be changed.

Circumstancehad changed. That much was clear. But why had the Fates given Jaxor a human mate?

Jaxor turned to the female. The golden-haired female—Crystal, he guessed—had called her Erin. He’d heard it numerous times after he’d taken them both from the Golden City yesterday morning, but until now, he hadn’t acknowledged her name.

Erin.

He thought rixella better suited her, especially since she was staring at him with a relaxed expression, though searing fire burned in her gaze. When she saw him watching, her chin rose, ever so slightly. Her lips parted. The small hollow at the base of her throat bobbed when she swallowed.

Realization hit him. She was affected by this too. By him.

He ignored the way his pulse sped. He ignored the way his cock further thickened with that knowledge. He ignored the dark, wicked need that flowed beneath his skin, hot like his roaring blood.

Jaxor stepped towards her until he could touch her. He hoped she understood it for what it was: a warning.

“What is it that you think you are to me?” he questioned. “Other than my captive?”

She didn’t even blink. She simply said, “I’m your mate.”

“You seem certain,” he murmured, reaching out to thread his hand around the back of her neck. Her breath hitched at the contact. He pulled her closer, scenting her. If he listened closely enough, he swore he could hear her heartbeat, thundering in her chest, in time with the pulse that flickered in her neck.

“Aren’t you?” she asked, her voice quiet.

Jaxor stilled. He caught her eyes and though her voice was steady and strong, it was there that he saw the uncertainty. The fatigue. The fear. She put up a strong front, but inside, she was vulnerable. Soft. How easily he could fix this. How easily he could get inside that mind and make her think something different.

His hand flexed around the back of her neck.

“You are,” he confirmed, seeing no reason to deny the truth. It was obvious.

She didn’t blink. “Even still, you were planning to give us to those males, weren’t you? Why?”

Jaxor almost laughed. And he hadn’t laughed since…he couldn’t remember.

Why?

It was strange to hear another voice in his home base. He’d lived there for so long, alone. It was a foreign sensation—the nearness of another—one he craved and one he hated.

“I need sleep,” he repeated, leading her to his main shelter. His base was large and sprawling, but he slept in one of the caves that tunneled into the crater. It wasn’t large, but he’d lined it with furs to help with the cold and he’d blocked off the opening with a door that bolted shut.

He opened that door now, snagging one of the lanterns he kept just outside and lighting it. He ventured in, holding the lantern with one hand and holding the back of Erin’s neck with the other. The cave was tall enough that Jaxor could stand without crouching and wide enough that it doubled as his sleeping space and his emergency storage—water gourds, dried meats, cold season clothing—complete with a handful of weapons.

He set the lantern down within, illuminating the room, and bolted the door behind them, ensuring it was secure. Paranoia from his time living with the Mevirax still hadn’t left him in the last five rotations. It was probably for the best.

Erin stiffened under his touch when she saw the furs rolled out on the cave floor. He knew what she thought, but he didn’t bother to assuage her fears. Any other male would’ve soothed her, especially if it concerned a fated mate. He felt that impulse even now, deep within, to calm his female’s fears.

He released her, pushing her towards the furs. He felt the loss almost immediately, the loss of contact with her. Pushing it from his mind, he dropped down by the door, leaving the lantern lit. He made sure it had enough fuel to burn through the night. There was nothing he hated more than waking to darkness. Because then he would remember that place.

Erin was still standing, watching him as he unhooked his travel sack from his shoulders and tossed it into an empty corner. The furs he’d lined the floor with tickled his bare flesh as he stretched out on his back. The dim light cast deep shadows on the cave walls. Her shadow did not move once.

“Sleep, female,” he murmured, deep, drugging drowsiness already tugging on his eyelids.

A moment later, he slept.

* * *

Jaxor woketo a serrated blade at his throat.

Enemy near my mate, he thought immediately.

Acting on instinct, he grabbed the wrist attached to the blade handle, his mind still in a deep fog. He heard a startled gasp. When he touched smooth skin and registered delicate bones, he growled, his heart stopping, his grip easing. His jerky motions caused the knife to press into his neck, a thin line of blood no doubt appearing in its wake despite the thickness of Luxirian skin.

His gaze flashed up to Erin, who was kneeling over him. Her bonds were cut. Her eyes were wide, but her lips were set in a stern line.

“Are you out of your mind?” he rasped. “I could have killed you!”

Anger and frightened realization made his hands shake. His heart thundered when he realized he could’ve broken her bones with a simple twist of his fingers. He’d been about to! Vrax!

“I want to go back to the Golden City,” she informed him, her voice slightly breathless. From fear? “You will take me back.”

Jaxor’s gaze narrowed and he tilted his chin, baring his throat for her. “I will not, so you may as well cut my throat now, rixella.”

“You don’t think I will?” she whispered, looking down at him. Jaxor took note of their position now that his mind was waking up. How long had he been asleep? Through the crack of the door, he saw it was still dark outside. He still felt tired, his energy extinguished. He couldn’t have been asleep for longer than an hour, he decided.

And his little mate had already gone snooping and found herself a weapon in his stores. He’d been too tired to even consider that she would take one, or wield it against him. An oversight he would not make again.

She was kneeling at his side, her knees dug into the furs. Close enough that the tops of her bare thighs were pressing into his arm. Jaxor could easily roll her over and loosen the blade from her grip, but he was curious to see what she would do.

He didn’t answer her. To spur her on, he snaked his hand, the one lying closest to her legs, up her left thigh. Her flesh was warm and soft, supple. He gripped her hard, pulling her closer, ignoring her surprised gasp. His hand was only inches from her cunt. Frustration tore at him. Tension ran from the tips of his horns all the way to the hardened soles of his feet.

His sleeping quarters were quiet. The lantern flickered. Her eyes were wide and soft and Jaxor thought, strangely, that he could look into them forever.

“Why couldn’t you be like the others?” she whispered. Then her brow furrowed, like she didn’t understand her own words.

His hand spasmed on her upper thigh, surprised, disturbed, cowed by the question. Because he thought he knew exactly what she meant.

“You wish for me to be kind?” he murmured. “You wish I were a gentle beast and completely besotted with you?” He pressed his neck further into the blade, beginning to rise up from his supine position, forcing her to ease her grip. “You are the one with a knife to my throat making demands, luxiva.”

Luxiva. Fated one.

He used it mockingly and he saw her flinch at the word. So, she knew what it meant. She heard the way he twisted a sacred word into a joke. For a moment, Jaxor felt guilty. Then he steeled his resolve.

His voice was rough as he growled, “Make the cut or take the blade away from my fuckingthroat!”

It was better this way. If he didn’t give into the Fates’ decree, then it would be easier to live without her. He could still make good on his deal with the Mevirax. He could still secure the vaccine. He could still take his revenge.

She wanted to do it. He could see it in her eyes. Her hand shook, making the knife tremble. He dared her with his gaze. Perhaps, he pleaded with her too.

“It doesn’t matter,” she finally said quietly, lowering her eyes from him. “I would have never chosen someone like you anyways.”

The words stung but Jaxor didn’t react to them. Who would she have chosen, if given the choice? He couldn’t help but ponder that question as she tossed the blade at his side and slipped from his grip.

A male more like my brother, he concluded, ignoring the ensuing jealousy from the realization. Someone stable. Sane. Someone who didn’t get off on arguing at knifepoint. Someone who could treat her well, who would protect her at all costs.

“Don’t ever tie me up again,” she tossed over her shoulder. His gaze strayed to the reddened marks around her now-bare wrists. Even he had the decency to hate the sight, to feel the rumble of discomfort from his Instinct.

With a growl, he turned over, facing the door.

It would be easier if she hated him. That way, at least she wouldn’t be disappointed.