Chapter 22

I wake in Viz'en's arms and shiver, remembering the night's activities. We completely skipped first base and slid firmly into second and then third. I've decided I'm not counting the kiss by the riverbank as our first kiss, considering its aftermath.

Squinting in the dim light, I find the shape of Viz'en's jaw and study it. It's firm. I almost can't remember what he looked like with tusks. His scruff is thicker than ever, almost a beard at this point, and I marvel because he doesn't seem to have hair elsewhere on his body at all, aside from the hair on his head, which is currently wildly tousled. With his face relaxed with sleep, he appears younger to me. Less harsh.

The baby kicks hard. I squirm. I need the bathroom. But when I try to get up, Viz'en's hands clamp around my hips, his claws pricking my skin.

Pinned in place, I smile down at him.

He doesn't smile back, his gaze searching as he scans my face. I wait for him to eye my breasts, bobbing at eye level, but he doesn't look down.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his morning voice a rasp.

I nod and blush at the same time, cursing my fair skin. My nipples pebble. I'm tempted to lean forward to scrape them across his hard chest. My blush deepens.

His eyes drop to my lips. Reflexively, I lick them, and he surges up, capturing my mouth with his.

I open for him immediately, my heart beginning to thunder in my chest. He keeps one hand firm on my jaw and one on my neck, holding me in place for his explorations, and the sensation of being held still for our mutual pleasure sends heat straight to my core.

His lips graze and suck, his tongue a hot, slick force, until I finally rear back, gasping for breath.

We stare at each other, and I realize he's panting, too. Our faces are only inches apart, and I try to interpret his expression. Conflict? Worry?

Does he regret starting things with me? Does he not want to be here? I'm the one who asked him to join me in the bath, and to stay the night.

My stomach swoops. I try to sit up, and this time he lets me.

I grab my robe and hurry from the room, stupid tears welling in my eyes. I'm overreacting. I know it, but I can't help it. Stupid pregnancy hormones. I brush my teeth, dashing the wetness from my cheeks at the same time, and then rinse my face with cold water.

When I finish, I examine myself in the mirror. My eyes are a little red, the tip of my nose pink, but otherwise, I look like my normal self. My cheeks have rounded, and the freckles on my nose have darkened in the Lustra sun. I don't see anything that would tempt a handsome alien.

There's a beard burn on my neck. I stare at it, remembering how Viz'en nuzzled me in the bath at the same time his busy fingers wrung that incredible orgasm from me.

I'm overthinking things. I need to relax into the moment. I smooth my hair back from my face and try to smile at my reflection confidently.

When I exit and immediately run into Viz'en's looming form, however, the shock of it sends my hands reflexively over my head. I'm immediately back in Aezok's lab, waiting for the blow to fall. I yelp, cringing. My heart explodes into a galloping rhythm.

After just a moment, I remember where I am. My breath whooshes out. I lower my arms, feeling both sheepish and defensive.

Viz'en's watching me, his face unreadable in the dark hall. Then he turns away.

I follow, my uncertainty returning and growing until I realize I'm wringing my hands. I tuck them behind my back as Viz'en pulls on his boots by the door. He's leaving. He's not offering to make me breakfast.

Maybe I'm not reading too much into this at all. Maybe he's decided that, baby or not, he's just not that into me.

I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear and straighten my shoulders. This is fine. I've been doing fine without him. I'll keep doing fine. A couple of orgasms does not a family make.

But when he reaches the door, my heart shrivels, and I can't stop myself from blurting out, "I have a medical appointment today at the clinic. Do you want to come with me?"

"Do you want me to come?"

I frown at him. What kind of answer is that?

His expression softens. He runs a fingertip down my cheek. "Yes, I would like to come."

I tell him when and where and then he's gone.

Afterward, I lean against the door, staring into space for a long time. I was so happy last night. Tingly and excited. Hopeful.

And now I feel like a kicked puppy.

There's a barrier between the two of us. A cultural barrier, and a trauma one. Can I trust him with my heart? A few hours ago, I might have said yes, that's a distinct possibility. Now I'm not so sure.

I need to talk to him. Be honest about my fears regarding his Wrath, his memories, his intentions. I'm strong Mara again, not the weak version of me from the lab. And I deserve his honesty.

After the appointment, I'll do it.

Afew hours later, I regret my hasty invitation. Something's wrong with Viz'en, and I don't know what to do about it.

I'm in the medical pod at the clinic, little robot arms scanning my pulse, oxygen level, blood sugar, et cetera . . . everything they scan whenever I come in. And Viz'en's pacing back and forth in front of the Csevadian doctor with violence in his eyes.

"Stop touching her," he growls as Dr. Omir tries to place an ultrasound pad on my lower stomach.

I'm nude, draped in a gaping, pale blue robe—you would think, in a medically advanced society a million light years from Earth, there would be a better system for hospital gowns?—But you'd be wrong.

"I have to touch her to provide medical care," Dr. Omir says patiently. He's already said it three times, but it's not penetrating. He's a short man, with bright blue skin and the hint of scales at his cheekbones. He doesn't have any cybernetic enhancements, which I've been told is unusual for his Csevadian species. I'm thankful for it, since it means he doesn't look anything like my old nemesis Dr. Inde.

Shaking his head, the doctor looks at me, "You should have told me the baby's father is an unbonded Kral male. I would have scheduled a female doctor."

"Unbonded?" I repeat stupidly. "What's that?"

"He has an unreciprocated mating bond."

Mating bond? My brow furrows in confusion. This is the first I've heard about mating bonds. Viz'en and I aren't married, um, mated. We're dating. Kind of. Is that what he means?

And what does unreciprocated mean? Can the doctor tell that I'm way more into Viz'en than he's into me? Oh God. I feel a blush start to burn at the tips of my ears.

Dr. Omir shakes his head, muttering, "I keep telling you Terran females, you've got to read the literature. Every species has different mating customs. And the Kral, with the Wrath, they can—"

"Stop talking," Viz'en orders.

A chill runs down my spine.

Dr. Omir shrugs but moves on.

Viz'en growls again, his skin darkening to a deeper shade of red, as the doctor moves the pad slightly lower.

"Viz'en? What's he talking about?"

He doesn't answer me, his jaw visibly tightening and flexing as he stares at Dr. Omir's hands.

"Viz'en!"

My shout finally draws his attention away from the doctor. He focuses on me, his eyes like coals. The muscles under his shirt flex, and my voice is squeakier than I intend when I ask, "What bonding? What mating customs?"

He shudders, then visibly calms, his expression turning masklike and calm. The crimson leaches from his skin until it returns to its normal burnished maroon color. He takes a long step back from the medical unit and crosses his arms.

I don't like his closed off stance. It tells me he has no intention of answering my questions. He has no intention of being honest with me.

Disappointment burns under my skin. "Is this a game to you?" I ask, ignoring the doctor sneaking from the room. Good for him for getting away while Viz'en's distracted. How was I supposed to know this scenario was a problem?

"Is it funny, when your Kral instincts react to a situation, and I'm ignorant? Is it amusing when everyone knows what's going on but me?"

I shake my head, dashing away the tears under my lashes. God, how many times am I going to cry today? "I'm pregnant. It's not your fault. It's not my fault. You could have just gone on your way. But you tracked me down. Why?"

He still doesn't answer, and his silence begins to infuriate me.

"You say you want to be with me, but then you keep secrets. How can I trust you? How can I trust you're not going to hurt me when everyone knows more about your instincts than I do?" My voice cracks. "How can I trust you're going to stay?"

"Do you even want me to stay?" he finally asks, crouching abruptly so we're at eye level. "You weren't going to tell me about the baby. I tracked you down solely by chance."

"Because I was scared of you!"

"Are you still scared?"

I bite my lip, scanning his fierce expression, his horns only inches from my head. His clawed fingers rest on the pod's rim. My heart is beating fast, but I'm not scared. I want him to answer my questions and then kiss me again. I want him to reassure me he's choosing to be here with me. That it's not just instincts or whatever related to the fact I'm carrying his son.

"We barely know each other," I whisper. "It would be foolish to say you don't scare me. What happens if I trigger another flashback and your Wrath takes over?"

"I could never hurt you. I would rather die."

Taken aback, I narrow my eyes. "That sentiment didn't stop you in the jungle."

"I didn't know what you are to me. But if I hadn't caught up to you, hadn't killed that gnaar and rescued you, I would have died alongside you."

"Why would you die?"

He sighs, rocking back on his heels. His expression is so worried, I have to restrain the urge to rest my hand on his tousled hair.

"I don't want to tell you. I don't want to affect your choices."

"Tell me what? And it's affecting me anyway. Your secrets are driving a wedge between us. They're making me uncertain. Mistrusting."

He winces then seems to come to a decision. He stands up and starts to pace in front of the pod. I brace myself, my stomach churning with anxiety and dread.

"You know about the Wrath?"

"Yes, I think so."

"When Kral find their fated mates, the one other being in the universe who is made for them, it creates a living bond. A tether between them. A Kral who is bonded to their mate will hurt when they hurt, will go insane with Wrath when they're threatened, and will likely die when they die. My mother, when my father died, she didn't speak for five years. She didn't leave her bed for another three after that."

"How terrible," I murmur.

I watch him pace, my chest hurting for the little boy he was. No wonder he's not close to her anymore. He must have felt completely abandoned. I can't imagine being so consumed with grief I forgot about my child.

But I'm not a Kral. I know it's not fair for me to dismiss how her physiology compelled her to respond to the death of her spouse. Just like it's not fair for me to condemn Viz'en for the Wrath he can't control.

A thought niggles. "But what does that have to do with us? We're not bonded. Or mates. I'm not a Kral."

Viz'en shakes his head. "You're not bonded. But I am. I know you're my mate, Mara."

My jaw drops.

"And I know you don't feel that way about me. Not yet, at least. Maybe never. And I would never force you." Grabbing the back of his neck, he gives a short shrug. "So now I'm an unbonded Kral male. And my Wrath is killing me."

"What?" I gasp. "You're dying?" Panic floods my body with adrenaline. I can't stop myself from clambering out of the pod and wrapping the flimsy robe around my body, shivering.

Viz'en watches me, the placid expression back on his face.

I want to punch it. How dare he say that to me so calmly?

His lips quirk as he watches me try to cover my belly and then give up. I cross my arms instead. "I thought the Wrath was a violence thing? Like, you're in danger, and it makes you stronger."

"It's more of a stress response, I guess you would say. It protects me. It also protects those I care about. My Wrath is aware you're my mate. And you're not allowing me to care for you like a bonded female. So the toxin is replicating in my blood, preparing me to defend you, without the outlet comforting you would give me. We call it the "soothing," when the focus of your Wrath allows you to succor them. It leaches the Wrath."

My mind reels as he continues.

"It's not too bad yet. I'm discharging a lot of it at my job. Orix and I spar daily. And you and I are spending a lot of time together, and you keep letting me feed you. I'm not in danger yet."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Now that you know if you reject me, I will die, how will I ever be able to trust your feelings? How will I know you chose me? Your mate. Or if you succumbed to your soft heart because you didn't want to watch me go mad?"

His tone is vicious at the end of that question, and I can't stop myself from flinching.

Mouth twisting, he dips his head. "Too often you expect violence at my hands. You would not choose me of your own free will."

I wrap my arms tighter around my waist, my forearms resting on my belly. Too many thoughts churn in my head. I can't speak them. It's like a tornado inside of my skull.

Eventually, one concept crystallizes. "You can't hurt me? Your Wrath is meant to protect me?"

Viz'en nods, his sharp horns catching the light. But for once, the sight of them doesn't increase the pace of my pulse.

"If you have a flashback, your Wrath will still recognize me. And even if your brain tells you to hurt me, you won't be able to do it?" I clarify.

"I will never hurt you," he confirms, moving to stand in front of me. His broad chest is at eye level, and he rests his hands on my hips. I lean until my head presses against his shoulder and close my eyes. His scent, roasting coffee, and the warmth of his body heat, flood my body with happy hormones. In my belly, the baby kicks.

My brain is turning over his words at the same time my body sags against him. He's just so solid.

His voice rumbles in my ear as he adds, "Mara, this changes nothing. I will not take another choice away from you."

I shake my head, my voice wobbling when I answer. "It changes everything." I press my face into his shirt, letting the warm cloth catch my tears. "I can trust you with me. You won't hurt me. You can't. It . . ." My breath hitches. "I. . ."

I clear my throat hard and let go of my tight grip at his waist to flutter my hands in the air.

"One of the hardest parts of living at the lab was not knowing the rules. I could do everything right and still get punished. I could shirk my jobs, hide in my cell for a week, and no one would notice. I could walk past Aezok and get a beating. When you know the rules, you can avoid pain. But the rules kept changing."

I clear the rasp from my throat again. "And if I refused to work on the beasties, Aezok would use physical pain to gain my compliance. I folded every time. That was a rule I understood."

Viz'en growls, and I wring my hands harder.

"And now I have a trigger response to everything. Is this new person going to hurt me? I don't know. Is this new situation going to hurt me? I don't know. With you, with your Wrath, I wasn't sure if there were rules. I wasn't sure if you would snap and hurt me, just because."

My chest feels tight, like a thick rubber band is squeezing around my lungs. "I panic about being hurt all the time now. It makes me feel weak."

"You're not weak."

"I am! I am weak. I will do almost anything to avoid more physical pain." I shiver. "And that terrifies me. I'm bringing a baby into this universe, and I won't be strong enough."

"I will never let any harm come to you or our child. I will be strong enough. And you are also underestimating your own strength, my Mara."

Maybe it's the hormones. Or that rich coffee scent reminding me of home. Maybe it's the solid hold enclosing me. Maybe it's my stupid heart cracking open. But I believe him. I believe this horned, brutal alien a billion miles from Earth will keep me safe. Will love me, if I give him the chance.

I don't care if his biology is making him do it. I'll take it.

I lift my face to brush my lips against his. He growls a little, then tightens his arms around me, molding me to his body, and deepens the kiss. It's both gentle and devouring at the same time. Something tight uncurls in my chest, and I lose myself in the sensation of being held so close by this man, this man who would die for me.

Like his promise has unleashed all of my self-restraint, it's all I can do not to climb him like a tree. To bear him down to the ground and kiss him until I can't breathe.

As if he can read my thoughts, he picks me up, his forearms under my rear, and continues to suck at my lips as he walks backward. The backs of his knees hit the low cot along the wall, and he sits abruptly, tugging me onto his lap.

The keen edge of desire slices through me.

I can't stop myself from tracing my hands across his broad shoulders, tucking my fingers under his shirt to find his warm skin. He growls again, his kisses growing harder and more heated. His own hands slip inside of my robe until he's gripping my hips, grinding me into his hardening length.

I gasp, my head falling back, as the seam of his pants hits my pussy and scrapes across my clit.

"Please, Viz'en," I moan. I want him inside of me. I want to feel that thickness moving inside of me more than I want my next breath. My body feels lush, throbbing with want. The wetness pooling at my core is making my thighs slick.

"What do you need, my mate?" he murmurs, his mouth leaving mine to drop sucking kisses along my jaw, my neck.

"You. I need you. I want—"

He palms his erection, thrusting it against my vulva again. "This? Is this what you want?"

I start to babble as he presses us closer, my bare breasts heaving against his firm chest and my nipples hardening to puckered tips. "Yes, exactly. That. That's what I want."

"Take me out, dshe mordren."

My hands tremble as I loosen the ties at his waist. When I free his cock, stroking my hand down its heavy, red length, I moan. He's thick, a little wider at the base than the tip. His hands encircle mine. We trace the shape of his shaft together before he slips a finger through the cream on my thighs and coats himself in it.

"I need you," I breathe. But when I try to maneuver onto my knees to guide him inside of me, my belly gets in the way. I let out an embarrassing whine that turns into another moan as Viz'en lifts and turns me.

"Ahh," I gasp, my back against his chest, my knees on either side of his thighs and my hands braced in his. He balances me as I bear down, his cock nudging against my entrance and then breaching my flesh with a sweet burn.

With shallow thrusts, he works his way inside until I'm panting, my hips rocking in time and my skin burning, heating. He lets go of one of my hands to press against my lower back, bending me forward. I hold onto his knees as he slips his palms up my belly to massage my heavy, aching breasts.

My thighs start to shake, my insides melting, as he rocks his hips at that shallow angle, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure down my spine.

"More, I need more."

He plucks at my nipples, his claws digging into my skin, before his mouth finds my nape and he bites down. My spine bows. My hips snap faster, the friction of his thickness inside of my quivering flesh sending wave after wave of pleasure through my entire body.

He moves a hand to my throat, encircling it, his thumb pressing against my pulse.

Stars start to explode across my vision. My pussy walls contract, bearing down on his thick heat.

Groaning, Viz'en moves both hands to my waist again, holding me still as he begins to pump his hips harder. My head falls forward until, over the curve of my belly, I can see his red length, slick and veiny, pistoning inside of me. The visual nearly sends me over the edge.

I move one hand from his knee to my clit and start to rub, my knuckles brushing his cock with his every hard thrust. After just a few strokes, I'm coming, breath seizing as a burst of rapture rockets through me.

Viz'en's hips buck. He sinks to the hilt, his cock pulsing inside of me, bathing me in a wet heat. His growl at my nape makes my channel flutter again, and he groans, "Mara. Mine. Mara," over and over again.

Contentment washes through me at the same moment my knees weaken. I lean back, knowing he'll hold me up.

His hands gentle, turning caressing. His cock slips free, causing a shiver, and I turn in his arms, nuzzling at his throat. His skin is sweaty under my lips.

While I work to recover my breath, he runs his fingertips lightly over my back, my stomach, his low voice still murmuring the litany of my name.

My eyelids flutter closed, and I ignore the unease building again in my brain now I'm not drowning in pleasure. Viz'en's worried he's taking my choice away from me. But I'm worried about the same. He didn't get to pick his mate. His Kral biology forced it on him.

A biological imperative isn't love.

Can I stay with him, raise our son with him as a family unit, if there's no love?

But if I send him away, I'm condemning him to death. So really, neither of us have a choice at all.