by Webster, K
When we’re alone, Draven turns to me. “Don’t ever do that again,” he says, pulling me into his arms. “My brave, sweet mate. You took the life straight from my heart.”
I squeeze him tight. “Does this mean you’ll let me keep Eileen instead of eating her?” I ask.
14
Draven
“Her name is Eye-lean, and no, you can’t eat her!” Molly gripes, swatting away Hadrian’s hand as he reaches for her rogcow.
Her rogcow.
That’s the absolute truth.
My mate treats that walking, ronking, meaty beast as though it’s her very own mortling. I’m beyond salivating over it because she made me see reason.
We need it for Sokko.
The rogcow ronks and kicks out her hind legs as Theron hoses her down in the large Decontamination Bay. Galen’s already checked her R-Levels, took a sample, and bounded off to the lab with Avrell and Calix. She’s clean, and frankly, edible. But most importantly her milk is safe for them to work on a special formula for the mortling.
“But you say there’s more?” Hadrian probes. “A whole herd?”
The starved glint in his eyes has Molly whacking at him again.
“They’re her family. Go eat some green bunches, and leave her cousins alone!”
Hadrian chuckles, clearly amused at riling my mate up. I give him a fierce glare that has him slinking away to pester someone else.
“We need to see Avrell,” I urge Molly. “He’s expecting us back to check us over.”
She goes back to arguing with Hadrian, and I rub at my temple. When Lox threw the handheld explosive, I’d been knocked on my rump. Hit my nog pretty hard on the ground. Ever since, I’ve been slightly dizzy, and the throbbing is incessant.
“Hey,” Molly coos, suddenly close, both hands sliding to my cheeks. “You don’t look so well. Let’s get out of here. I’ve threatened Hadrian’s life if he so much as dares look at Eye-lean funny.”
I simply nod at her and allow her to guide us out of the Decontamination Bay. We walk down the hall to the medical bay and into Avrell’s lab.
“Ahh, there you are,” Avrell says, giving us a tired smile.
“Check to make sure my mate is safe,” I grumble. “Please.”
Molly shakes her nog. “I’m fine. But you’re not fine. Hop up on that table, and let Doc have a look at you.”
Begrudgingly, I sit on the table before stretching my body out. The lights are bright, and I wince against them. Avrell’s brows furrow as he sets to running a series of tests on me.
“Draven.”
I blink away my daze and find Molly seated on the edge of the table, holding my hand. “Mmm?”
“He said you have a concussion, and you need to stay awake. Come on, big boy,” she says. “Sit up.”
“The dizziness and confusion will come and go,” Avrell says. “I’d like you to stay awake until it’s time for bed. Just so we can make sure nothing strange occurs. But with rest, you should be fine. I’ll give you some ghan-dust tablets.”
“What are ghan-dust tablets?” Molly asks.
“Ghan are rock-like roots found in the underground wells that can be ground to dust and used for certain ailments,” Avrell explains. “Like rekking nog-aches.”
I swallow the ghan-dust tablets dry and shoot Avrell a firm look that says, “My mate. Now.”
Instead of chuckling, per Avrell’s usual demeanor, he simply nods, his lips forming a firm line. Worrying over Sokko is taking its toll on him.
I slide off the table then pick my mate up. She lets out a little squeal until I set her down on the table.
“I’m not hurt,” she says with a huff. “I’m tired and sore, but just fine.”
Avrell bypasses the machines he used to check me over. After a quick scan to check her R-Levels—which are thankfully not present—he grabs the wegloscan. I tense and lock eyes with him. Hope flutters inside my stomach, not helping my dizziness whatsoever. Molly is completely oblivious to Avrell’s intent.
Please…
Please…
Please…
Days ago, I would’ve laughed if I saw myself standing here silently begging. Now, I’m not laughing. I’m rekking hoping.
Avrell waves the wegloscan over her abdomen, and it beeps. A green light flashes. Both Avrell and I let out a sharp breath.
“What?” Molly demands, her voice shrill.
“Are you certain?” I ask Avrell.
He nods rapidly, a smile stretching across his face. “The wegloscan is one hundred percent accurate. One hundred percent, Draven. This means—”
I wave off his words. “My mate and I need a moment.”
He frowns but acquiesces. “I’m going to peek in on Calix and Galen to see how the formula is coming along. I’ll be back to check on you both.”
As soon as he leaves, Molly regards me with tears welling in her pretty brown eyes. I stroke my claw gently along her jaw.
“When I was locked in a reform cell, I was hopeless, Molly. Everything was so dark and painful and horrifying.” I squeeze my eyes shut, shuddering at the memory. “I barely made it through. The Rades not only ravished my mind and my body, but it shredded my soul.”
A tear leaks out of her eye, and her bottom lip wobbles. “Oh, Draven…”
“But then, hope came in the form of a beautiful alien with a voice of magic,” I tell her, astonishment in my tone. “She stumbled right into my arms. As though she were my gift. A gift I didn’t know I wanted until I realized it’s all I ever wanted.”
She sniffles and swipes away the wetness on her cheeks.
“With your smiles and your hugs and your fierce disposition, you threaded those pieces back together with you, Molly, my mate. We’re completely woven together now. Together, we’re stronger than we ever were apart.” I pull her palm to my mouth and kiss her flesh. “We both know unimaginable loss. And through our mutual pain, something wonderful has grown between us.”
“Do you really think?” she whispers as her other palm splays over her stomach.
“One hundred percent certain,” I tell her. “It is our gift.”
More tears leak out.
“But I’m a terrible mother,” she rasps out, choking on a sob. “I let them take my little girl. She is three years old, Draven. Lost. Out there without her mother.”
“She lives in your heart,” I assure her. “And she will live in the heart of our mortling because we will make sure our little one knows all about sweet Willow.”
She sits up and throws her arms around my neck, pulling me to her. My nog-ache subsides as my heart thrums wildly in my chest.
“We can do this,” she says as though she’s trying to assure herself more than me. “Together.”
“You’re rekking right we will. Never apart. Just like how you insisted trekking through The Graveyard with me on a rogcow hunt. I’ll keep trekking through this life with you until one day we meet The Eternals together.”
She laughs and kisses my neck. “You’re so dark sometimes, but I understand the sentiment. And I love you too. Until the end, baby.”
“And then some, my mate.”
* * *
“Explain it to me again,” Galen says, marveling at my words.
I go through all of our findings. The cave. The valley. All the plants that seemed to be thriving in our otherwise harsh climate. I brought back some samples, and I’ve never seen Galen grin so much in all my life.
“You know what this means,” Galen tells Breccan. “I’m going to Gunteer Channel.”
I expect Breccan to argue, but he gives him a clipped nod. I think he’d agree to anything right now. His son suckles from a nipple—fashioned from the same material our minnasuits are made from—that’s attached to a rogstud horn. Between the supplement Calix created from Emery’s colostrum, mixed with the rogcow milk, Sokko is finally getting the nutrients he needs. It’s been three solars since we came back from our journey, and the little mortling is finally growing. For a spell th
ere, everyone was certain he wouldn’t make it.
“Boo,” Aria says, sneaking up behind me.
I jolt in surprise and glower at her. Now that I have Molly, my mind isn’t a mess. I don’t fret about shadows and darkness and bad memories. I don’t count exits or have to keep open spaces behind me. All I see is Molly. When my eyes are open and when they are closed. She has cured me.
“How’s my little piggy?” she coos as she comes to stand in front of her mate.
Breccan kisses Sokko’s head. “Hungry.”
“Well, good news,” she says with a slightly crazed laugh. “My milk came in. I’m leaking like a damn rogcow. So engorged now. Let me see him.”
When she tugs at her minnasuit to reveal a breast, Galen makes a choking sound, and I drop my gaze to the floor. Breccan growls, and his sub-bones start cracking.
“Oh my God, Breccan,” Aria chides. “I’m not getting naked for your friends. I’m about to feed our very hungry baby. You’re going to have to get that protectiveness in check. You all are. You’re breeding us females left and right. Where we come from, the women feed their babies whenever and wherever. I won’t cover myself or hide because you think someone might catch a peek.”
Breccan growls as he hands Sokko over. “Yes, Madam Commander.” His voice is tight, and I nearly chuckle as he uses his body as a shield anyway to protect her from Galen’s curious stare.
I leave them to seek out my mate. She’s sitting in the sub-faction chatting with Emery and Sayer. Jareth is in a chair nearby with his long legs stretched out in front of him as he fiddles with a piece of metal. It’s a thick ring and it makes me realize that both Aria and Emery wear something smaller but similar proclaiming they are taken by their mates. I stalk over to him.
“I need that,” I growl.
He lifts a brow. “My cock ring?”
My jaw unhinges slightly. “W-What?”
“This is my cock ring. You need it?”
I take a step back. “I need for you or Oz to make me a zuta-metal ring for my mate. She is mine, and I want everyone to know it.”
Jareth laughs. “Oh, we all know it. We know it all night long. You never let us forget it.”
When I growl again, he holds up a hand in surrender.
“Don’t worry, Lieutenant, I’ll get you one.”
I give him a nod of thanks. Then, I tilt my nog to the side, curious about his cock ring. “What’s it for?”
He straightens in his chair and tears his gaze from mine to look down at it. “Just looks rekking awesome.”
“You wear it around it?”
He scoffs. “You think my cock is that small? It’s a piercing, Draven.” He makes a motion of pinching his claws of one hand and indicates on his other finger where it goes.
He pretends to poke a hole through the tip of his cock.
No.
Who would do such a thing?
I stumble back, my stomach roiling in disgust. “Why?” I demand.
His shoulders shrug. “It feels good.”
“Feels good with what? You don’t even have a mate.”
Pop! Pop! Pop!
His sub-bones start cracking as he jumps to his feet. Calm Jareth is now snarling at me. Does he suffer from The Rades? What is this madness?
Molly’s arms wrap around me from behind, and Sayer steps between us to break up a would-be altercation.
“Molly needs a nap,” Sayer tells me. “Why don’t you go on and take her back to your quarters?”
Jareth glowers at me from over Sayer’s shoulder. I frown in confusion but give him a nod. Jareth storms off without another glance back. Sayer claps a hand down on my shoulder.
“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll go check on him. He’s had a rough time at it lately.” He offers his elbow to Emery, who stands nearby with a worried look on her face. “I can escort you back to Calix if you want the company.”
She leaves with him, and my mate comes around to stand in front of me.
“You’re tired?” I ask her, brushing her hair from her pretty face.
Her grin is devious. “No, I just wanted an excuse to get some alone time with you. Plus, I heard toxica is good for the baby.” She waggles her eyebrows at me.
I don’t give her an answer.
Just scoop my mate into my arms and run straight for our quarters, nearly knocking down a few morts on our trek.
Her laughter forever chases away any lingering darkness.
She is my light, my mate, my future, my love.
Mine.
15
Molly
Three Weeks Later
“That’s good,” I call out. “Take it nice and easy, don’t spook her. Hold your lasso up at the ready. In a few seconds, toss it how I taught you, and aim for Eileen’s head—nog.” I’m still getting used to the alien lingo. “She might be angry at first, but hold steady like you do when you’re hunting the sabrevipes.”
Hadrian raises the braided rope Ozias and I had manufactured for this specific purpose. He’d shed his shirt at the beginning of our practice when the brilliant Mortuuian sun began to rise high in the sky, painting the lands with red and gold streaks. On his bare skin it had the curious effect of being absorbed instead of bouncing off or shimmering like it did on mine. I’ll have to ask Avrell why that is. Hadrian, like the other morts, is incredibly fit. While he may be younger than the others, he could probably hold his own. Maybe not against Draven or Breccan since they are the biggest dudes around here, but definitely with someone like Oz.
“Like this?” Hadrian asks.
I smile and shout, “That’s it. You’ve got it!”
“Next time, bring Aria,” Hadrian suggests, his eyes on the rogcow. “I want to show her what I can do.”
Oz and I exchange a knowing look. He talks a lot about Aria. To the point I think he has a serious crush on her. Unfortunately for him, her husband would crush Hadrian if he knew.
“He looks like a wifflebird,” Ozias says from beside me, his shoulder-length hair fluttering a bit in the breeze. “So gangly.”
“What’s a wifflebird?” I ask. One thing I love about living on Mortuus is discovering something new each day. There are always surprises. Sometimes they result in challenges, but with my new family at my side it feels like there isn’t anything we can’t conquer together.
He scratches his jaw as he thinks. “If a bird and a…leezard?”
“Lizard?” I ask with a smile.
I’ve been telling him about the different animals on our planet, specifically the ones I’ve encountered, trying to find similar animals on Mortuus. Kind of like the rogcow is similar to our cows. Just one-eyed and a little creepy. And they…
“Ronnnnk!” Eileen blinks her one eye at Hadrian as though he’s annoying her.
“Yes,” Oz says with a grin. “If one of your birds mated with a lizard and then was stretched to six feet tall, you’d have the general idea. They flock to the south plain during the warm season, when the geostorms are less violent.” He cups a hand around his mouth and shouts, “THEY’RE ALSO THE UGLIEST THING ON MORTUUS!” To me he says, “Not to mention they’re not that intelligent. Theron calls them fool birds.”
Hadrian, who turns at Oz’s shout, merely grins, retrieves his rope, and chases Eileen down for another go. If he’s not careful, she’ll trample him like she trampled Lox.
It’s nice being outside, free of our gear and masks.
Of course, it’s pretend outside, but it certainly has the farm feel that makes my heart fuzzy. When Oz built a vacuu-room pen that was virtually all windows and plenty big for Eileen to roam about freely, also equipped with a fan, so she won’t get hot, I’d been more than impressed. I swear, these morts are frickin’ geniuses.
Hadrian, Oz, and I bonded over building the temporary pen attached to the east side of the facility in the weeks since Draven and I returned. Galen and Theron would’ve also helped, but they’d gone on an expedition to collect a male rogcow and possibly another female, in additi
on to gathering more data about the conditions in the cavern we’d discovered. Draven had gone with them after many protests. He hadn’t wanted to leave me, not when our own life was growing so rapidly.
As I watch Hadrian and Oz argue, I press a hand to my stomach. Avrell says the baby is growing on schedule. That we’re both as healthy as can be, but I still worry. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night in the throes of nightmares about our baby being taken like Willow had.
I laugh at myself, pushing the thought from my mind. Not only would the would-be kidnappers have him to reckon with, but all the other morts and their mates too.
My family, all of them, would never let anything happen to us.
“Hadrian, come back.” Oz’s voice draws me back to reality.
“What is it?” I ask.
“They’re back,” he says, nodding to the kick of dust. Then I hear the roar of the terrainster.
* * *
I never thought I’d be the type of woman who relied on anyone else. For as long as I’ve been alive, I’ve taken care of myself knowing there was no other way. When Willow was born, I did what I had to do to take care of her, too. I prided myself on my self-reliance.
As I dart through the facility to the decontamination bay, I realize relying on someone else isn’t a weakness. Trusting and believing in someone you love makes you stronger together than you are alone.
With Draven, I am stronger.
The doors to the decontamination bay slide open, and he walks through, his minnasuit caked with dust and grime, his helmet dangling from his hand. He’s talking with Theron, who practically swaggers through the door, grinning. At the sound of my footsteps slapping against the floor, he looks up.
My heart stumbles in my chest, and maybe I imagine it, but I swear I can feel the baby move. It’s probably too early, but a smile splits my face at the thought. When I get close enough, I launch myself into his arms, knocking him back a step.
The scent of antiseptic and something akin to leather fills my nose, but underneath is the spicy reassuring note of Draven. It suffuses my senses and my muscles relax. Home, I think. With him, I’m home.
