Chapter 9

By the time the female has reached the canopy, I've scoped the nearby branches for threats. At this height, they overlap each other to create almost a webbing. It's easy to navigate, and I can see pretty far in every direction with my nighttime vision. Watching the mass of limbs ripple and sway in the breeze, I drink some water from a large, curved leaf and snag another handful of pizon berries from my pocket. They're tart but refreshing.

I munch them, absently swatting away a flying insect. The water and the berries, in combination with the fresh air and the day-long hike, have done much to improve my mood. My muscles are warm and the deep ache of pain in my jaw has eased. The Wrath is completely absent from my bloodstream for the first time in weeks. Every breath I take without the toxic burn is a delight.

It's an odd sensation to be so high off the ground though. And the gently moving limb under my feet keeps my balance uneven at the same time it rocks me. In the deepening dark, the purple blossoms lining the branch by my shoulder are closing. The noise of insects, buzzing all day in my ears, finally quiets.

My ancestors slept in nests in the treetops like this. Maybe I'm being fanciful, but I can almost see it in my mind's eye. In my imagination, I'm a Kral hunter returning with food for my family. I'm a provider for my mate.

I frown, breaking the train of thought. I don't intend to find a mate. I don't want the responsibility, the burden of caring for someone. My mother cared for my father, and when he died, she might as well have died, too. That kind of connection makes you weak. And I hate being weak.

Eyeing the stars, I decide I'm definitely still on Hofterin. I recognized too many plants and animals today for it to be a different planet. It's a weight off my shoulders to know I just have to get out of this jungle. On the coast, it'll be easy to find a relay to charge my comm and call for help. Then I can report what happened to me and help the Feds track down Aezok.

My fists tighten, claws pricking into my skin as berry juice drips down my wrists. I want to kill him. I want to rip out his throat the way I did to the Csevadian doctor. But unless he's tracking us through the trees, he's probably long gone. Hiding out or erasing the evidence of his illegal lab. I shake the juice from my skin. It doesn't matter. My testimony will convict him. And then it'll have to be enough for me to know he's jailed on some prison planet, hopefully the one where the convicts work the mines. It's a fate no one deserves, but I'll make an exception for Aezok.

With a loud huff, the female sprawls onto a broad branch a few feet away. Her breath saws in and out of her lungs and her pale face is pinched with pain. There's blood on her mouth.

My stomach churns, the berries spinning unpleasantly. Watching her climb without assistance wasn't as fun as I'd expected. She worked too hard at it. There's blood on her hands.

I turn away, crossing my arms and finishing the last of the berries with a determined swallow.

As I contemplate the rapidly disappearing sunset, just barely visible through the thick canopy overhead, I acknowledge that I don't know what I want to happen to her. I'm determined to march her out of the jungle and into the arms of the Feds. She's complicit in Aezok's crimes, I have no doubt.

But she's also weak and small.

I reach for a memory of watching her pass back and forth in front of my cell bars, letting it feed my anger anew. She doesn't deserve my mercy.

Resentment bites as I listen to her pant behind me. Is she trying to make me pity her? After a few moments though, she quiets. From over my shoulder, I watch her curl into a ball, her breaths slowing with sleep. The climb tore her clothes, and, in the gloaming, I can't help but stare at the sight of her thin forearms.

Frowning, I crouch beside her. She's so deeply asleep, she doesn't feel me move her. There's a ridge under the skin of her left one, and her arm twists below it, the muscles noticeably smaller. My fingers encircle the ridge, squeezing a little. She moans but doesn't wake. It's a bone-deep deformity, one that probably made it painfully hard for her to climb.

My chest burns. She didn't ask for help. I wouldn't have given it to her, but I don't like that she didn't ask. She's a secretive mordren. I wonder what else she's hiding from me.

I turn away from her still form. It's safe enough for her there. The branch is broad, and I can see in every direction if a gnaar approaches. And I don't want to rest near her. Though smothered by the stronger odors of sweat and blood, her underlying waterdyas scent follows me as I stalk away.

Reclining against the trunk of the verdanya tree, I watch the twilight deepen into night. With my sharp vision, I can see far across the canopy in all directions, this layer of branches like a rolling, brown sea. If a gnaar scents us, it will come from above. They live at the tops of the trees and only descend to hunt. The female and I are larger than their typical prey in this ecosystem, so I'm not worried.

I keep watch for several hours, my eyelids drooping but my senses sharp before I start to flag. My body grew weaker during the weeks of my captivity. But I'll soon strengthen it again. Moving to wake the female for her turn to keep watch, I pause in thought, then grab a low-hanging vine and tug it free from the branch. I tie it around her right ankle quickly, but she wakes as soon as I touch her. It's a good thing I already have a hold of her leg because she flails so suddenly, she almost tips over the edge.

"No!" she shrieks.

"I have you," I warn her, finishing tying the knot before I pull her back on the branch and let go of her leg, but she must not hear me because she swings her arms wildly in the air, still making a high-pitched fear noise.

"Quiet," I warn just as her small fist connects with my chest. She does it twice more before I realize she's attacking me. I grab her hands and hiss again, "Quiet."

She's squirming and writhing, yanking at her hands to try to free them. She's still making the fear sound. She's going to attract a gnaar for sure.

I debate knocking her out, but I'm not confident I wouldn't snap her neck if I hit her.

When she opens her mouth to scream again, I tug her against me, smushing her face into my chest and binding my arms around her so she stops hitting me.

"Quiet," I warn a third time. "You must be quiet."

Finally, her frantic movements slow until they stop. She shivers in my arms, and her hot breaths against the skin of my pectorals turn from pants to steady, slow inhales and exhales. This close, I'm drowning in her waterdyas scent.

"Be calm, female. I'm not hurting you."

She shudders one more time before whispering, "Sorry. I didn't realize it was you. I can't see very well in the dark." She clears her throat. "You can let me go now. I promise I won't scream."

I'm strangely reluctant to loosen my arms, but I force myself and inch back. "You can't see?"

Shaking her head, she says, "Not very well. It's too dark."

Well, there goes my plan of her keeping watch while I sleep. I frown, feeling fatigue beat at my eyes and my brain. I have to rest. We'll probably be walking all day tomorrow.

I contemplate her as she cocks her head, squinting around us. She's made her eyes as wide as she can, but it's obvious she can't see past my arms.

I'd intended to tie the other end of the rope to the branch to keep her from running away while I slept. Instead, sighing, I tie it to my own ankle. Then I lean back on the branch and mutter, "We'll both sleep. If a gnaar comes, it won't be able to drag us both off."

I close my eyes, ignoring the female's worried murmurs. After a few minutes, she quiets, and I assume she's fallen back asleep.

It takes a while for sleep to claim me, however. I didn't like the sensation in my stomach when I realized the female was afraid of me. I'm shitty at revenge, I admit to myself regretfully. I should want her to fear me. But in the peaceful dark, high above the ground and smelling the scent of her warm skin, I don't want that at all.

IN the morning, I see the tracks of the gnaar close to where we slept—the slim grooves of its path encircling the trunk of the tree. It's a bad sign it snuck so close without waking me.

It must have scented us and descended to investigate. The female is still covered in blood, I notice in the soft early morning light, both hers and Inde's. If we sleep in the canopy again tonight, we should wash first.

Hopefully that won't be an issue. Hopefully we'll find the coast today.

I untie the vine roping our ankles together, but the female doesn't wake. Staring at her sleeping face, I notice the faint freckles on her slim nose, the high arch of her brows. She's beautiful, whatever her species. Her dark hair is thick, tangled with leaves and dirt. Her form, under the shapeless drape of her clothes, is pleasing to me as well, with wide hips and a slender waist. When I held her last night and felt the firm press of her breasts against my chest . . .

Shaking my head, I stand and turn away. While she may have no problem touching an unwilling male, I am burdened with a conscience. I will not touch her in lust when she is in my power. The sooner we get out of this jungle, the better. She deserves to be punished for her crimes, and I deserve peace from her presence.

After nudging her awake, I tug on vines until I find one that will bear my weight and climb down to the jungle floor. The morning air is still and cool, and I'm anxious to start walking. I've been herding us west, and even if we're on the largest of the hundreds of islands dotting this planet, we should be out of the jungle in another day or so at most.

I shake my arms loose, then stretch my back. Sleeping on a tree branch did nothing to soothe my aches and pains. Running a hand down my face, I push gingerly against my jaw. The pain of my stolen tusks is almost gone. It's odd to feel my lower lip without the razor-sharp teeth in the way. I swallow hard, trying to dislodge the knot in my throat. Regrets are for the weak.

The vine I climbed down snakes its way toward the canopy, so I assume the female is preparing to descend. I relieve myself against the nearest tree, then take a deep sip of water from a leaf at eye level. My stomach grumbles, and I look around for more pizon berries, but I don't see any flashes of red. I'm sure I'll find more when walking today, so I tell my hunger to settle. There's other food I know how to find as well.

My mouth waters when I think of catching some meat. Or even a fish if we cross a stream.

After a few more minutes of waiting, the vine drops, and I see the female has knotted it every few feet. It sways as she climbs down, her pace slow but steady. She's using the knots to compensate for her weak arm, I realize, and admiration sparks in me. She's resourceful, this female.

She smiles at me when she reaches the ground, her pride shining from her like a beacon.

"Let's go," I say gruffly. Her face falls, and I turn away.

I walk at a brisk pace, both to distance myself from her scent and to force her to chase after me. It soothes my irritation. I can hear her panting and stumbling behind me, but I don't check on her. It won't hurt her to be uncomfortable.

Listening to the bird calls, parsing them for the trill of a water bird I remember from my youth, I turn a little north and pick up my pace. I want to find a stream. I haven't been able to stop thinking about eating fresh fish.

It takes a few minutes to realize I can't hear the female behind me anymore.

When I turn, she's nowhere in sight. My heart rate speeds up. Did she sneak away while I was distracted, searching for water?

Or did something happen to her?

Gnaars don't hunt in the daytime. Or at least, I don't think they do. It's been a long time since I explored the jungles of this planet.

My long strides eat up the ground as I backtrack. A tight band surrounds my chest and squeezes. If she's hurt, it's my fault. I'm the one forcing her to accompany me. Or maybe she decided to head back to Aezok's lab. Could she find her way there alone?

A faint burn threads through my bloodstream. My Wrath is stirring.

Again, for the female? I ruthlessly suppress it, forcing calm into my thoughts. I don't care about her. If she returns to the lab, she'll be there when the Federal police raid it, and she'll be captured then. The ache in my blood deepens.

I stumble over a root, and my breath catches when I find her slumped on the ground. Dropping to my knees, I quickly feel for her pulse at her neck. It's thready, but there. She's very pale, and exhaustion shows in the bruises under her eyes.

Scratching the base of my left horn, I consider what to do. Did she fall and hit her head? I feel her skull for a bump, but don't find anything. I arrange her limbs so she's flat on the ground. None of them appear to be broken, aside from the odd twist to her left forearm I noticed last night.

Did she poison herself? I check her hands, sniffing them for foreign scents, and then peek inside her mouth, but I only smell the female. She hasn't eaten anything.

Oh, shit. She hasn't eaten anything. I'm an idiot. Of course she hasn't eaten anything. She doesn't know this jungle. She has no idea what she can safely eat.

Guilt curdles the pizon berries swimming in my stomach. She hasn't eaten since yesterday morning, at least. Is she drinking water? I don't know. I haven't paid that kind of attention to her. Surely, she would have asked for my help if she didn't know how to find food or water?

I think back to the way she climbed the vine last night, the time it took and the blood on her palms when she finally collapsed on the branch. This female will not ask for my help. Is she so proud? My lip curls. I shake her shoulder roughly, my voice hard. "Wake, female."

She coughs, a weak, dry sound, and croaks, "Mara. My name is Mara."

I remember Inde calling her that. He didn't pronounce it the way she does though. Mar-uh. My tongue moves in my mouth like I should repeat the pretty cadence, but I stomp on the urge.

"Are you hungry?" I ask instead. "Thirsty?"

Nodding, she tries to sit up, but I push her body flat again. "Rest for a minute."

The corners of her eyelids crinkle as she frowns at me before I turn away and stand, glancing at the nearby trees. We're surrounded by water-pooling leaves. This jungle collects water like a sieve, from the tops of the trees down to the roots, and every flat surface is meant to pool it before it drains to the earth. How could she not find water?

Carefully, I strip a large leaf from the nearest branch and curl it into a bowl. Then I tilt the leaf next to it so the rainwater pours into the bowl and settles. But when I offer it to the female, Mara, she wrinkles her nose.

"It could make me sick," she says, pushing feebly against my arm.

Sick? How could water make her sick?

"It could have bacteria," she clarifies, staring at the liquid with a desperate expression. "Or microorganisms."

Ah, I know those words. But her childhood immunizations should protect her from all of those dangers. Does she not know that? Ignorance of basic healthcare is odd, given the nature of her employment at Aezok's lab.

"It will not make you ill," I say firmly. "You are inoculated against such things."

Brushing my hand away, she sits up carefully. Her eyelids flutter and she sways before she clears her throat. "No, I'm not."

Abruptly, frustration moves through me. Why is she lying to me? Is she purposely delaying our journey to the coast? With quick fingers, I pinch her nose and tip the water into her mouth. She tries to jerk away from my grip, then sputters and coughs as the water hits the back of her throat.

She swallows, then glares at me. The fire in her hazel eyes sparks and sizzles, and I can't stop myself from grinning back. She looks like a mordren in truth, a female wildcat from the Kral home planet with sharp teeth and a nasty disposition, and a tendency to eat the male cats who would try to mate with it.

This female would be a prize indeed for the male who succeeded in claiming her.

But, I remember abruptly, Mara is not a wild and intriguing Kral female; she is a deceiver. A villain.

I stand abruptly, turning away from her hunched form. I can't forget she is my enemy.

"Come," I bark, pointing to the north. "There is a stream. You will drink more water and clean the blood from your clothes. We're being hunted by a gnaar. Your scent will call it to us again tonight."

She scrambles to her feet and looks around. "A what? What's hunting us?"

Ignoring her question, I point to a small pizon bush. "The berries growing on this bush—see the serrated leaves? The thorns? The purple veins? These berries are edible."

After staring doubtfully at the bush, Mara shakes her head.

Irritation nags at me. She distrusts me. I snatch a handful of the berries and eat them, then shove another handful at her face. "I'm not lying to you."

Her reluctance obvious, she takes the berries from me and nibbles on one of them. Then a grin splits her face, and she devours the rest, her pink tongue licking her fingers when she finishes.

The sight sends a bolt of heat to my loins. I can't stop myself from imagining that pink tongue on my skin. The vision sends me reeling backward. What is wrong with me?

Mara watches my recoil with raised brows.

I flush and turn north, muttering, "Let's go."

I don't turn around to check to see if she's following me. Her steps are noisy and uncoordinated as she stumbles over the roots. I point at a few pizon bushes as I pass them, and I know she's grabbing handfuls of berries to eat because her soft, hungry moans follow me.

Hunching my shoulders to my ears, I make my stride longer.

ITtakes another hour before we reach the stream I've been tracking. To my gratification, it turns out to be a wide, slow-moving river with crystal clear water. Numerous water birds float along the surface, bobbing up and down over ripples, and small fish move in the shallows.

Grinning, I admire the beauty of the scene for a few moments before I start to salivate. What will taste better? A bird or a fish? Stroking my chin, I decide that given the fact I have no means of making a fire, the fish are the better idea.

With a muttered curse, Mara erupts from the undergrowth to stand beside me, panting and swaying. I'll need to catch some fish for her, too. I highly doubt she'll be capable of doing it herself. Oddly, the thought of feeding her isn't upsetting anymore.

"You need to wash the blood from your clothes," I say, pointing at the river. It's easier to maintain my aloofness when I don't look at her. "Stay downstream from me. I'm going to catch some lunch, and the blood in the water will scare the fish."

From the corner of my eye, I see her nod, and I stride to the rocky beach. I have some of Inde's blood on my pants, so I strip them off and scrub them under the water for a few moments before stretching them on the rocks to dry. Then I move a few feet farther upstream and take off my boots. The weight of the spare comm, still present in my heel, reassures me my ordeal is almost over. I'm almost back to civilization.

My stomach growling, I wade into the shallow water and then stop. The water is cool, the riverbed lined with soft mud. I curl my toes in it, enjoying the squelching sensation before I stop wriggling and wait. The warm sunlight presses against my skin, heating me to my bones.

From my right, I hear splashing, so I assume Mara is washing up. She probably stripped to rinse her clothes first. Now, her hands are scooping water to cool off her forehead and nape. Droplets shine on her breasts, her nipples tightening as she strokes her fingers across them. My imagination presents such a vivid interpretation of the various splashes I'm hearing that I shudder even as my cock stirs. A sudden urge to look in that direction, to see if she's doing everything I'm envisioning, is almost overwhelming, and my head is halfway turned before I catch myself.

A fish darts between my legs, the silver flash of its scales catching my attention, and I refocus on my task. It's none of my business what Mara looks like bathing. Over the next few minutes, I concentrate on spearing a handful of small fish on my claws and tossing them onto the bank behind me. Svanti fish are tasty cooked or raw, their flesh pink and sweet. While some Kral will swallow them whole, I dislike the sensation of scales in my throat.

Keeping my back to Mara's too-intriguing splashes, I climb out of the water and start fileting the small bodies with my claws. Salivating at the sight of the fresh protein, I pop the pink flesh into my mouth almost as fast as I carve it free. It's sweet and delicious. And I'm ravenous.

I eat and eat until I'm stuffed, and then I carve out a few more morsels and place them on a rock to bring to Mara. I listen for splashing, and when I don't hear any more, I call out, "Are you hungry?"

"Yes," she calls back.

I tug on my damp trousers and then my boots before I turn. Mara's wearing her waterlogged shirt, but she's stretched Inde's pants on the rock beside her. The shirt molds to the shape of her chest at the same time her bare legs, slim and pale, are beacons for my eyes. The droplets of water on her skin are like dew on the petals of a night-blooming flower.

I look away.

When I start toward her with the fish, she crosses her legs and sits up straighter. Her wet hair is dark, almost black, and it's even more tangled than before. She smooths it self-consciously as I stare.

"I don't have a brush," she mutters.

Then her eyes widen as they trail down my chest. Her cheeks flush, and her legs shift in place under her body.

I again force my gaze away from their restless movement and hand her the rock with the fish. I will not think about what those legs would feel like wrapped around my waist.

She bites her lower lip as she stares at the food, then shrugs and says, "Like sushi, I guess. Thank you."

I'm feeding her so she doesn't faint again and slow me down. Still, I can't stop the sensation moving in my chest when I watch her eat the food I caught and prepared for her. It's a primitive feeling, and it wakes a new spark in my chest. If I were an ancient Kral, a hunter, I would have prepared a meal like this for my mate.

Except Mara's not my mate. I will never take a mate.

Exhaling, I force myself to turn away. I need to put some space between myself and this female. She's too enticing, and I've been too long without sex. The months on Geshan X, an all-male prison planet, were solitary for obvious reasons, and my hurried flights to Hofterin to rescue Radeel left no time for seduction and romance.

The reminder of my desperate feelings as I traveled through space, frantic to save my mentor, does much to cool my ardor. Mara might or might not have had anything to do with Aezok's murder of my oldest friend, but her connection to Aezok's lab and his plans for me can't be ignored. She may be beautiful; she may entice my instincts; but she's rotten in her core and I can't forget that.