This warrior had fashioned himself a Swiss Family Robinson life in the trees. The structure was large for a treehouse, at least two hundred square feet. The door lowered like a drawbridge, and he carried me across it until we were inside. There, he immediately strode toward a pallet of furs against the far wall. He laid me down and immediately reached for my ankle.
The minute he touched it, I cried out in pain. I couldn’t help it, but the damn thing hurt like a sonofabitch. He immediately stopped and studied me. I could tell he was conflicted. His aura pushed and pulled like he warred with himself. Finally, he leaned toward me, his movements halting, which was in direct contrast to the confident way he killed and climbed.
His hand closed around my neck, and the warmth of his palm seeped into the delicate skin there. My pulse, which had been pounding in my ears, slowed. I blinked at him, thoroughly baffled at my response to him. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want a mate, or loks, or to have to decipher a male’s feelings. I wanted to go home to my girls and my little room with all my plants…
But when he took a deep breath and pressed our foreheads together, I closed my eyes. A soft wind blew through his aura, and I could just detect a solid structure there, begging for me to lean on it, to give it my weight, to give up my control for a moment.
As much as I wanted to sink into him, I jerked back. The fear was too much, and I hadn’t let anyone prop me up in … well, ever. I was the only person I needed: a motherfucking island. I didn’t need anyone, especially not some warrior who lived in a treehouse.
He must have sensed my resistance—well, of course he did as he had my own aura in his mind—because his eyes darkened again and his lips thinned.
He didn’t speak, but when he reached for my ankle again, his movements were rougher. I gritted my teeth and let him rip my pants up to my knee to expose the injury. I’d let him give me some physical relief, but that was it. I couldn’t give him my emotional load, my fear over what could have happened and my worry over what was to come. I’d deal with that when I didn’t have to grit my teeth in pain.
He worked quickly, ripping the leg of my antella-skin pants that Naomi had bled over when she stabbed herself with the animal-bone needle. Oh, sweet Naomi. My heart ached at just the thought of her. She’d taken to this life well in her quiet sort of way, but everything about her made me want to shelter her. Despite everything we’d gone through and seen on this planet, she maintained an innocence about her. I hoped I got to see her again.
I wanted to get back, more than anything, but there were several major complications. I forced myself to think clearly rather than act on emotion and scream, cry, and flee.
First, I couldn’t communicate with this warrior. He didn’t understand me, and he didn’t talk.
Second, I didn’t know his story. I assumed he was a lonas, but what if the Night Kings were his enemy? I didn’t want to do anything to harm them by leading him toward their compound.
And third, I had what was likely a broken ankle. Even if I knew my way back, I couldn’t climb down this freaking tree and track all the way home on one good leg. That was asking for something terrible like a salibri to eat me as I limped home. There was also the minor problem of me not having any idea how to get there…
And fourth—we were connected now. I didn’t know everything about the loks, but I knew both of us would experience pain if separated as part of the mating bond. I wasn’t eager to be in more agony, and I didn’t want to put this warrior through that. So far, he hadn’t hurt me.
He’d killed the Kulks, carried me to his home, and right now, seemed to be working on my leg. He prodded it with a gentleness I wouldn’t have expected him to possess. After placing two flat boards on either side of my ankle, he lashed it all together with a thick vine. After that, he left. Just … walked out. No words, no nothing.
With my hands braced behind me, I took stock of my surroundings. He had carved a round window on each wall and the ceiling even held a skylight. As far as furniture, he didn’t have much. A small stone structure sat in the corner with a crude spit with a bowl over top, so I assumed that was where he made food. Other than that, he had a few boards stacked in the corner, as well as several jugs of liquid.
As I sat there alone, fatigue set in. It’d been a long damn day, and my muscles ached as I fought through the dull aching throb in my ankle. I didn’t want to fall asleep. That was the ultimate act of letting my guard down, and I wasn’t there yet with my warrior. I stifled a yawn.
The sunlight beamed down, making the golden marks on my wrists sparkle. I still couldn’t believe it. The Drixonians said Fatas chose our mates, and the bond began when a female’s blood was spilled. Which, in my case, had been when the Kulk punched me.
I tongued the raw skin on the inside of my cheek.
The bond locked into place when the warrior killed the one responsible for our injury. So, when this warrior of mine snapped the Kulk’s neck, that was it. We were mates, and now he lived in my head. Freaking great.
His aura pulsed with a steady determination, and I felt a stir of excitement from him just before he walked in the door, holding a large leaf cupped in his two palms. As he drew closer, I saw he had a mess of green mud inside. He knelt fluidly and began to lather the mud on my ankle.
I watched with interest as the mud dried quickly and seemed to form a kind of cast. When he was finished, he sat back on his haunches, decorated wrists braced on his knees, and watched me.
I didn’t want to squirm under his gaze, but it was intense. Finally, he reached behind him and flicked his fingers through a small, crude box. He pulled out a pouch made of a large leathered leaf and reached inside. With his thumb and index finger pinched together, he gathered a small bit of brown powder.
He tapped me under the chin and held his fingers toward my mouth. I jerked back, eyeing him. “Uh, I don’t know what that is, so I’m not putting it in my mouth. Never take candy from strangers is like Earth 101, man.”
His eyes narrowed and he gave me a small huff. With his other hand, he placed it on the side of his face and then tilted it with his eyes closed.
“That’s going to make me sleep?” God, I was tired. All I wanted to do was lay back on these furs and rest my eyes. But what if I fell asleep and he sold me somewhere or took me to some cannibals? Anything could happen on this damn planet.
He watched me for a minute, like he was trying to work out what I meant. He pointed to my leg too, then made the sleep gesture again. His aura was insistent.
“So, you’re staying it’ll help with the pain and let me sleep?” I tried to disguise the tremble in my voice, but I missed my girls. I was tired and scared. “That’s nice, but I don’t know I can trust you.”
He blinked slowly, and then his muscles went lax. Purple bled into his black irises and he leaned forward. After a slight hesitation, he picked up my arm and rubbed his thumb along the mark on the underside of my wrist. He stared at the marks there, and then he visibly swallowed before he stretched out his neck and placed my palm on his scarred throat.
I sucked in a breath at the movement. For the Drixonians, exposing their throat was the ultimate vulnerability. In their fighting stance, they crossed their arms in front of their necks, and unleashed their machets, which were the bone blades that rose like daggers from their forearms, head, and down their backs.