2. Terra

TWO

TERRA

This was bad. Really bad.

Worse than any of us could have imagined.

The feral roar of the alien’s voice rumbled through the air just as Vega ducked a perfectly timed swing of a serrated, glowing blade. I could barely hear myself think over the clanging of makeshift weapons and the reverberation of Vega’s curses alongside Kira’s sharp orders.

Every fiber of my body told me to keep fighting—to plant my boots firmly in this hellscape of molten debris and give everything I had to protect the others. And yet …

I couldn’t.

Not because my body felt weak—it didn’t. Despite our ship's crash and the oppressive heat and the boiling haze of this hell planet threatening to pull me under, I had strength left in my hands, surging through my muscles like a coiled snake ready to strike.

But when the alien male stalked toward me, his massive wings flaring wide like a predator closing in on cornered prey, I hesitated.

My chest burned as though something fiery and alive had been ignited beneath my ribs. My mouth felt as dry as this red desert while, weirdly, watering at the same time, a sensation that left a metallic tang on the back of my tongue.

And then, there was the scent.

Hot, sharp, masculine—it seared through the chaos, cutting through the smoke and sweat. It should have terrified me, should have sent me scrambling backward in retreat. Instead, every nerve in my body tightened in reckless, traitorous awareness, dragging me forward toward him .

This wasn’t just a what the hell is going on moment. This was an entire what the hell is wrong with me .

“Terra, move!” Vega’s sharp voice yanked me back to reality. My head whipped around just in time to see her block a blow with what was left of a metallic railing, the impact sending sparks skittering across the heated stone.

Adrenaline surged.

“Vega, fall back!” I barked, my voice hoarse but steady, even as my gaze slid traitorously back toward him.

He wasn’t just watching me—I could swear he was freaking claiming me with just his eyes.

Golden irises pinned me in place, holding me as solidly as if his claws had already locked around my neck. The intensity there didn’t match the mess of the scene around us. This was something else entirely.

Something wild.

A flash of movement had me pivoting, avoiding a sidelong blow. Another alien, large but leaner than mine—no, not mine , what the hell—angled in my direction with his blade raised. His scales shimmered faintly with the planet’s fiery light, but I barely had time to register his features beyond the immediate recognition of him not being him .

Hawk’s sharp whistle drew his attention just long enough for me to swivel behind him, a desperate swing of my improvised weapon enough to knock his blade off course. The ground beneath us groaned, steam rising in violent hisses as nearby geysers threatened another eruption.

“Terra!” Kira shouted, her panic-tinged voice cutting through the haze. “We’re outnumbered! Selene and Lexa have the civilians covered, but if we don’t?—”

I cut her off with a harsh gesture because I already knew her point deep inside, the same way I recognized no number of clever maneuvers were going to help us now.

We’d drawn our line in the sand, but this hell planet’s blistering winds had long since erased it.

“Stand down!” I ordered, my voice firm, clearer than I felt inside. My gaze swung to Vega next, who was already cornered closer to where Hawk tried to angle yet another hurl of debris. “ Stand. Down. ”

The reluctance in Vega’s eyes mirrored my own internal struggle, but she nodded stiffly before stepping closer. As the others abandoned their positions one by one, scrambling for what little cover the terrain allowed, the shame of surrender twisted through me like jagged glass.

I hated this. Hated every fiber of my body for even considering it. And yet …

Some part of me was oddly at peace with the decision, if only to prevent more harm.

I dropped my weapon and raised my hands, slow and deliberate, forcing myself not to meet the infernal heat of his gaze as he approached. Before I could speak—or gesture more clearly—he rumbled something low in his impossibly deep voice.

The sound carved its way through every level of my being, sinking into places I didn’t know existed.

A wild flush rose to my throat before spreading upward, the betrayal of my own reaction coloring my complexion as my knees hit the ground.

The scorch-pain that had radiated dully in my chest spiked.

Then, he touched me.

It was a grip—not gentle but restrained power, claws not bared, hand unyielding but careful. His warmth enveloped me even through those reinforced tactical fibers of my cryo gear.

Except warmth was wrong. Wrong and far from describing the molten flush centered just below my ribcage.

The growl he gave then—alien threats or promises—I didn’t know nor care which. Everything about those tonal complexities was vivid and sent heat straight to my core .

I had to be going crazy.

His voice was a brand, searing itself onto me. I couldn’t understand the word he spoke, but its intention carried through the air like heat off the lava banks. It resonated with something primordial in me, silencing even the rippling hiss of geysers and shouts of my people.

I swallowed hard, my mouth watering in a way that was distinctly unnatural given the situation. His scent—the fiery, predatory warmth of it—fanned the flames of my confusion, nudging my focus away from my team’s safety toward something far more personal, far more dangerous.

The alien squatted lower, his physicality looming over me like something I could feel. Those golden eyes, their slitted vertical irises narrowing slightly as though in calculation, locked onto my face.

“Stop,” I bit out, my voice cracking but firm. Around us, the sounds of Vega growling her defiance and Hawk and Kira shifting to regroup were a distant murmur, as if the two suns above had dipped closer and drawn the alien and me into our own private storm.

He tilted his head at my outburst, his wings shifting behind him in a cascade of webbed black and faint sparks of glowing orange veins, like magma running beneath the surface. It should have been the stuff of nightmares, a predator crouched above me without the barest hint of human softness.

Instead, the burn within my chest pulsed, an undeniable urge to lean closer to him—which was precisely why I grit my teeth and tightened every muscle in defiance.

“I said stop !” I barked again, emphasizing the words with a shove against his hand where it gripped my arm. It didn’t move; his strength was absolute. He could have crushed the bone beneath his hold, but I could feel the control.

Instead of retreating, I met his gaze with every ounce of fury and confusion swirling inside of me, forcing the trembling of my fingers to still.

He murmured something again, softer this time, as though coaxing a wild animal out of hiding. There were no harsh consonants in his alien tongue, just a series of low, rolling syllables that wrapped around my senses like a smoldering caress.

And then—oh god, then —his claws brushed along the bare skin of my wrist, light enough to skirt the surface but heavy enough to light up every nerve beneath it.

Heat rippled down my spine, a supernova of sensation erupting unseen between us. My lips parted in a quick inhale, the air thick with heat, sweat, and him . My body betrayed me again, shifting forward as though drawn, even as my brain screamed at me to pull away, now, before it's too late.

"Get your hands off her!" Vega's voice shattered the narrowing fog, sharp as shattered glass and laced with rage. My head snapped toward her in time to see her jerking a metal shard upward, but she was too close to one of the other warriors—a scarlet-scaled beast whose fangs bared at the threat.

“No! No, wait—stand down ! I’ve got this!” My voice tore out of me again, this time larger than just the alien and me. It broke Vega's motion with a half-second pause, long enough that when the blade-armored tip of my assailant’s tail flicked toward her, the alien didn’t run her through.

The alien never took his eyes off me. His golden stare narrowed slightly, the predator in him assessing me —not for my fragile position on my knees, not as prey, but as something else.

Something I was scared to examine too deeply.

I didn't know what I expected—some grand gesture of violence, a moment where he would crush me beneath his power and leave no doubt about where his people and mine stood in this bizarre standoff .

Instead, his grip softened even more, claws grazing my skin in a way that felt uncomfortably … intimate. It was as though he had heard the unspoken plea for control in my voice and answered with a show of restraint so deliberate it made my breath hitch.

His mouth moved again, the alien syllables wrapping around each other like molten metal. I couldn’t make sense of the words, but something burned through the language barrier, something deeper than intent. It wasn’t just what he said—it was how . The way it traveled through the humid air between us and curled itself into my subconscious.

I tried to yank my arm back, but his fingers tightened just enough to hold me still. His scent hit me again, wild and fiery, dragging my attention back to him.

"You don’t understand what surrender means, do you?" I hissed, my voice low enough for only him to hear. Anger laced my words, but it wasn’t the pure fury I’d leaned on for survival before. This was too tangled—too infused with something else to be simple rage.

His slitted gaze flicked over my face, calculating. He tilted his head to the side, lips pulling into something that wasn’t quite a snarl but wasn’t entirely neutral either. The motion distracted me for one dangerous second, enough for Vega's voice to cut through the heated haze between us.

“Terra, let me fucking fight!” she snapped, her ragged breath giving away how close to the edge her own reserves were. I could feel her tension radiating even as Hawk moved in beside her, both of them too battered and too smart not to know the inevitable conclusion if this dragged out.

But I couldn’t let their lives end here.

“Stop it,” I said again, louder this time, feeling the weight of every word grind against the raw edges of my pride. My jaw clenched as I spoke, as though physically forcing the surrender from my throat. “All of you. Now.”

Hawk, Kira, and Vega hesitated, unsure, searching my expression for answers. And why wouldn’t they? I hadn’t exactly briefed them on “kneeling in front of fiery alien dragon men” as part of our survival strategy. But they had been in enough impossible situations with me to recognize that this wasn’t a bluff—they just didn’t have to like it.

The alien male made a deep sound in the back of his throat, almost a purr, as his gaze lingered on my face. It wasn’t a kind sound—not quite mocking, but close. As though he saw that moment—my humility, my defiance, and my desperation—and enjoyed how it tasted.

“What?” I snapped at him, my own patience wearing thin under the weight of his attention. “You think this is funny?”

His response was to move even closer. I barely registered the shift before I felt the heat of his breath on my cheek. His other hand, the one not firmly locked around my arm, hovered near my face for the briefest of moments before withdrawing again.

The sharp tang of his scent—the alien fire and molten embers—deepened, igniting that physical insanity that had taken root inside me. The pulse beneath my ribs burned hotter. My teeth and tongue ached again, and for one horrifying second, I jerked my lips shut as though that would keep whatever was happening to me at bay.

His rumble deepened, the vibration crawling into my chest and settling there like an inferno. He wasn’t laughing. There was no mockery there, not really. What I heard in that sound—what I felt in it—was darker.

Hungrier.

And I hated that some part of me was hungry too.

“Terra,” Hawk called again, the concern in her voice sharpening. She wasn’t used to seeing me like this—none of them were. And why would they be? Leadership, decisiveness, composure—that was what they knew of me. That was who I was . I didn’t lose myself. Not in combat, not in isolation, not even kneeling on a battlefield under dual alien suns while some hulking predator branded my soul with his gaze.

Except right now, I wasn’t sure that was entirely true.

The alien tilted his head, considering me—or maybe simply savoring whatever curse-bound connection had glued me to him. His wings fanned wide with a slow, deliberate stretch that made their sheer size unavoidable. In any other context, I might have called them magnificent, the veins glowing faintly in the hell planet's heat. But all I could focus on was the fact that his body had shifted to block me further from the others.

Possession.

The thought made me shiver in a way I hated. Not just because it felt accurate, but because it didn’t feel entirely unwelcome—and that terrified me.

As though sensing the shift in my thoughts, his claws flexed lightly around my arm, a silent acknowledgment that sent another unwelcome flush of heat coursing through my body. I yanked harder this time, pulling back with everything I had, but his grip didn’t waver. It didn’t tighten, either.

He rumbled something else, those alien words rumbling in his chest more than his throat, and leaned just a fraction closer. This time, his scent overwhelmed me completely, leaving no room for coherent thoughts beyond my own confused, traitorous reactions.

“I don’t know what you want,” I hissed, my voice sharp but uneven thanks to the inexplicable sensation building inside me. “But I’ll make this real simple: The others? They’re not part of this. You deal with me and only me.”

Behind me, I could hear my team shifting uneasily. I didn’t dare try to meet their gazes, not when I couldn’t guarantee the calm facade I always wore would hold. Letting them see would be worse than whatever these creatures decided to do with us.

The alien didn’t move at first. His eyes burned into me, searching, weighing something I couldn’t see. Words slipped through his lips again—low, deliberate, foreign—and his claws eased, if only just.

Then, without warning, he pulled me closer. Not roughly, but with the kind of demand that left no room for negotiation. His presence dwarfed mine, even without the physical reality of his size towering over me.

And then, he spoke the first word I understood—not from language, but from the resonance in my very bones.

“Luvae.”

Mine.