Chapter 14

Wyn:

“You know, my family probably thinks you have me chained to the bed,” Wyn said.

Lorran huffed, sounding amused. “I would never. Your skin is far too delicate.”

Wyn rolled to her side. Seeing as the standard-issue bunk had been too narrow for both of them comfortably, they put two mattresses side by side on the floor and made a nest out of pillows. “What is on the agenda today?”

His eyes swept over her, and before she knew it, he had her pinned to the mattress. She opened her legs wide enough for him to settle into place. He rocked his hips forward and she had a fairly good idea of his agenda. The man ate pussy like a champ. Practice made perfect.

Sometime later, they cleaned up. While she pulled her hair back into a ponytail, he brought in a mug of steaming tea. “I would like to hunt today.”

“I thought you said the island was too dangerous.”

“I said I needed information on native predators. I have conducted a survey and believe that there is nothing in the forest that I cannot best.”

“So long as you’re the big bad monster, huh?”

He flashed that self-assured grin. “The biggest and the baddest.”

“Really? I thought that was Mylomon.”

With a growl, he lunged, and they tumbled back down to the mattress. Their initial kisses were playful and quick, a peppering to stop her laughter. Kisses grew heated, and touches lingered, turning to caresses.

Heaven above, this man was too tempting. If she weren’t careful, she’d die dehydrated but with a satisfied smile on her face.

“The spirit is willing, but the flesh really wants some fresh air,” she said, finally breaking away. “What are we hunting? How warmly do I need to dress?”

Her wardrobe was limited to her one suitcase, and she didn’t pack a hike in the woods. She walked on her knees to the suitcase and dug through, setting aside a pair of heavy jeans and a hooded sweatshirt.

“You misunderstand. I am hunting.” Lorran closed the lid of her suitcase.

“Oh.” Wyn sat back on her heels. “I’m not helpless.”

“I know you are not, but there are too many unknowns.”

Wyn looked up at the water-stained ceiling and tried her best to keep her cool, because while she felt disappointed and upset, she refused to throw a tantrum. “So you want me to sit in here all by myself while you go do your thing.”

“Correct. I am pleased that we are in accordance.” He nodded, as if that settled the matter.

She wrapped and unwrapped a stray curl around her finger, trying her best to keep her cool, but this was not cool. “You just decided that? On your own? No discussion or compromise? You’re the man and you make all the decisions?”

Her tone must have tipped him off about the serious uncoolness of the situation because, bless him, he finally looked concerned. “There is nothing to discuss. You will remain here, where it is safe.”

Alone. Again.

The first few days, it was nice, like a vacation in a spooky old hotel, but Wyn needed noise, people, and sunshine. Being stuck in this room was suffocating, but that wasn’t the point. Lorran just arbitrarily decided for her. It felt uncomfortably similar to him drugging her for her own good back on the ship.

She wanted to sneak out just for spite, but she wasn’t that short sighted. She understood that the surrounding area had critters that would happily consider her a light snack, and she had no weapons to defend herself. Sneaking out would be an act of selfishness just to score spite points.

Still, being locked up inside a smelly room was less than awesome.

“Because I’m a fragile human? You just get to decide these things for me?” she asked.

Oh, so not happening.

“Yes.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. She flinched back, causing sorrow to flicker over his face. “Because you are precious. Invaluable. I know we have not known each other long, but my heart belongs to you. If anything were to happen to you—”

His unexpected sweetness took away the sting of her frustration, but his high-handedness remained a problem.

“Look,” she said, “I don’t want to be difficult. This is a crappy situation, and we’re dealing. I get that, but this place is barely habitable. I’m not trying to be a princess, but I’m tired of being cooped up in here. I know you don’t trust the others. I get it. And it’s not safe for me to go wandering around the island. Let me go with you.” He looked unconvinced, so she added, “I’m getting cabin fever here.”

The color drained away from his face, leaving him an ashy lavender gray.

“You. Have. What?” He pressed a hand to her forehead. “You require a medic. I am not a medic. Is this fatal? Is it from our current lodgings? Mylomon said the building was habitable, but he was wrong. Now I will have to challenge him because he injured my mate. I knew this base was unacceptable, and now you are ill.”

As he spoke, his eyes clouded over with panic. Wyn grabbed his hand, “I’m fine. Don’t go challenging people.”

“You are not fine. You have the cabin fever.” He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “I will bring you a medic.”

“I’m not sick. It’s an expression. It means I’ve been stuck inside too long.”

“Another idiom?” His eyes narrowed, as if he caught her fibbing. “Terrans have too many idioms. No one can be expected to know them all. And you have words that make no sense that I believe are a long-running joke.”

Wyn wanted to ask for examples of humanity’s confusing words but did not want to lose the point. “I’ll stay if you want me to stay. Fine. But I’d really like it if you discussed these things to me, rather than telling me how it is.”

He scratched at the base of his horns. “I sense a compromise. Let us practice shooting on targets.”

Wyn’s entire body perked. “I’ve never used a Mahdfel firearm before.”

“That is one such word! A proper weapon would not set the user’s arm on fire.”

“It probably has something to do with the early firearms using gunpowder, which was combustible.”

“Crude but effective,” he said. “Once you are proficient, we can decide how to proceed. And you will wear your armor.”

The armor suit wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the universe, but they worked through their first couple-problem without drama, so she’d take the compromise. “Deal,” she said.

Lorran:

“Your stalking technique leaves much to be desired.”

“I thought we were doing target practice, not hunting,” she said, crashing through the undergrowth with no regard for stealth.

“You have given away our location.”

“To what? The birdies?”

“This environment is unknown. Any number of predators could be alerted to our presence.”

Fierce determination settled over Wyn’s face and she stomped her feet on the ground, creating more noise.

“You are still upset with me,” Lorran said.

Wyn threw her hands in the air. “I’m trying, but I’m not a ninja.”

The translator chip informed him that a ninja was an elite warrior from Earth’s ancient past, rivaled in prowess only by pirates. Interesting.

“Oh my God, are you preening?”

He was, but he said, “No. The sun was in my eyes.”

Wyn pushed aside leafy fronds with more force than necessary. She crashed through the undergrowth. Good thing they were not hunting. “I thought there was a path,” she grumbled.

“If you moved with deliberation instead of blundering through like a—”

Her posture stiffened, as if fearing an insult from him. “Like what?”

“Like an impatient youth,” he said.

The irritation in her seemed to drain away, but she still lifted her chin and held her shoulders back, stubborn as ever.

“I’ll allow it,” she said and continued on. If she moved with caution and stomped her feet less, he made no comment. Eventually a path emerged, the pavement broken and nearly swallowed by weeds. An equipment shed, rusted and leaning precariously to one side, sat at the far side of a clearing. The grass was knee-high.

The area suited his purpose. “Stay, and I will set up the targets.” He released three drones, each equipped with holographic targets. The drones could be programmed to move in random directions, but he imputed the command to remain stationary.

Wyn sat on the ground with the rifle case across her lap. She removed her gloves and tugged at the collar of the suit. “I’m sorry for losing my cool. I’m not feeling particularly graceful in this thing and, well, you know.”

“I do not know.”

“Women my size…people think they have to tell us we’re fat, like we don’t know. It wears you down. I thought you were making a fat joke.”

“I would never. My mate is perfect,” he said, crouching down to meet her at eye level. When she did not meet his gaze, he gently lifted her chin with a finger. “Perfect,” he repeated.

“Your mate is sweaty and gross at the moment.”

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Perfect because she is a female with moods and opinions and makes snuffling noises in her sleep. She is not flawless, and I like her even more because of it.” He had already expressed how much he admired and desired her physical form. He would continue to show her until she believed him. “I also like that my mate has paint on her nose.”

“Oh my God.” Wyn scrubbed at her face. “This place doesn’t have a mirror, and that’s been there since yesterday. Were you ever going to tell me?”

“No. It is cute.”

“Cute,” she repeated, as if she did not believe him.

He liked many things about his Bronwyn, but he did not like that she doubted her own attractiveness. She was a female made for a warrior, her softness the ideal antidote to burdens he carried. A playful spirit burned within her, calling him. Her sharp mind—and sharper tongue—challenged him.

Perfect.

“What makes you doubt yourself? Was it your faithless male?” She had skirted around her former mate, making vague statements about not working out.

“Oscar?” She sounded surprised.

“Yes. Him. I dislike him on principle. Tell me he said damaging words. I will seek retribution.” Lorran could not take back any hurtful words the male said, but he could break a few bones.

An unexpected laugh tore from her lips. “No. I mean, sort of. Oscar made lots of little digs, mostly about my painting and lack of artistic vision, but he didn’t really say anything rude about my love handles.”

“I adore those,” he said, voice heated. “They are perfect for holding you while I fuck you.”

Her face reddened, and she stared down at her lap, playing with the fasteners on the case. “The things you say.” Then, “Fuck, I can’t believe I wasted years on that man. Let’s shoot something.”

He liked this plan.

Taking the rifle from the case, he demonstrated how to operate the weapon. When he was satisfied that she understood the basics, she accepted the rifle with practiced ease.

“This isn’t going to explode in my face if I hit the wrong thing?” she asked.

“The power level is on the lowest setting.”

“The lowest setting? What is that, like a tickle? Also, you didn’t answer my question.”

“The setting is enough to incapacitate a foe, and the rifle will not explode unless the power core is damaged. That is unlikely to happen today.”

She lifted it to her shoulder and raised the barrel to aim, adjusting her stance.

Her first shot went wide, missing the target. Grumbling about the weight of the rifle, she took aim again. This time the hologram flashed from red to green, indicating a hit. She hit all the targets, each progressively smaller and more difficult.

“Excellent,” he said.

“Told you I could shoot.”

He accepted the rifle for his turn and set the targets to an advanced program of random movements. The drones hid in the grass.

One burst up like a winged beast. He followed the motion, judging where it would go, and pulled the trigger.

A hit.

Pleased, he returned the rifle to Wyn.

“Are we gonna keep practicing on the baby targets or is this going to be interesting?” she asked.

“You desire a challenge. I can make that happen.” Using his comm, he programmed the targets to drift slowly to and fro in the grass.

“I want the same setting as you,” she said.

“The drones are quick. I have superior reflexes and hand-eye coordination.”

She rolled her eyes in that Terran gesture he had seen several times from his brother’s mates. “The same, unless you’re worried about a human making you look bad. I can hit anything you can hit.”

“Unlikely.”

“I dare you.”

Well, he had no choice. It was a dare.

“One question,” he said. When she nodded, he asked, “Does this count as a date?”

“You bet your sweet tuchus this is a date. Now, make with the targets. The same setting as you.”

Wyn knelt and watched the drones through the rifle’s scope. Patiently, she took her time, waiting for the drone to rush up from the grass. The barrel followed the drone, and she pulled the trigger. Her first shot did not disappoint. A satisfied grin spread across her face.

His female was a huntress.

He adjusted himself and his hardening cock.

“Oh my God, did you really just do that?” Wyn asked, laughing.

“You are exceptionally attractive like that.”

“This isn’t some sort of weird gun fetish, is it? I mean, I love you and I won’t judge, but ew, Lorran.”

That sounded suspiciously like judging, but he kept his teasing to himself because he had more important matters to address. “You love me,” he said.

“I, uh, guess that’s a thing I said,” she said slowly, as if fearing his reaction.

Lorran took the rifle and set it aside on the ground. “You love me.”

“It’s not a secret. I like you.” That blush again, reddening her face.

“That is not what you said. You love me.”

“Yeah, I do.”

Joy surged in his chest. “Tell me again.”

“I love you.”

He picked her up in an embrace, swinging her around, tight enough to never let go. “That is fortunate, because I love you.”

“Can you set me down? I’m getting dizzy.”

He did as she asked, but he refused to release her.

After a few minutes, she said, “The best two out of three. Again.” She patted his chest and stepped back.

He gladly complied.

The next round involved the two targets moving through the grass, randomly rising like startled birds taking flight. Needless to say, he hit both targets.

As did she.

For the final round, Wyn hit two of three, her last shot going wide.

Lorran watched the top of the grass wave as the drone moved. He hit the first and second. If he made the third, he would win their dare.

“If I make this shot, I win the dare,” he said, not taking his eyes off the target.

“Thems the rules.”

The drone broke for the sky. He overestimated its trajectory and missed. “We are tied,” he said, recalling the drone.

“You missed on purpose.”

“Incorrect. We both win.”

“Is that so?” She planted her hands on her hips. A breeze stirred her hair. He loved the way she stood, all determination.

“What do the rules say in the event of an even score?” Lorran stalked toward her.

“It’s unclear. I guess we do what we want.”

“I intend to collect my prize.”

She licked her lips, so succulent and inviting. Lorran cupped the side of her face, leaning in for his prize…

A growl pierced the silence.