Consumed: A Sci-Fi Alien Romance (Fated Mates of the Kalixian Warriors Book 6)

by Presley Hall

  Shortly after finalizing the blueprint for the bombs, Rok delivers a device to us that allows us to upload a simulation to the ship to practice. Tycran explains to me that it will allow me to go through the process of sighting the reactor and dropping the payload exactly on his signal. The simulation will let us do it again and again until we get it right.

  I’ve never felt under so much pressure. Tycran, for his part, is patient and determined, walking me through the steps every time with the same calm patience that I’ve seen him display with the other warriors. But in the back of my head, the thought never leaves me that if I fail, we’ll die.

  He’s kind, but he’s not easy on me. The practice is grueling and hard, and Tycran treats me like an equal, like one of his warriors. He’s never harsh or punishing, but he pushes me, encouraging me to do it over and over. He’s always respectful, always careful in his tone and words, but he trains with me as hard as he would with any member of the Alpha Force. And in a way, I’m grateful for it. This isn’t the time to go easy, for either of us. This is life and death, quite literally, and I don’t want him to do less than he would with anyone else.

  On the third day, though, he urges me to take a break. “Let’s just get some lunch,” he says, seeing me near tears after failing the most recent simulation. “It’s just practice, my sweet one. Let’s eat, and then you’ll be able to focus better.”

  We’ve managed to procure a few supplies here on Hak Gavar that are better than the food packets on board the ship. At the very least, they’re solid food from the start, not powders activated with water. While I take a break, Tycran steps out and picks up some actual street food—kabob-like things made of some alien meat with grilled vegetables, and even the jam and cream bread that I miss from Kalix.

  “Every planet seems to have these now,” he says with a laugh when he sees my eyes go round as he sets the food down. “I don’t know who visited Kalix and adapted the concept, but everywhere I go, I find them.”

  “We have something like these on Earth too,” I tell him, dipping a chunk of meat into a creamy, spicy sauce and taking a bite hungrily. “We call them crepes. They’re just thinner. Yours are like… a cross between a cannoli and a crepe. Except cannolis usually have chocolate, not jam.”

  “Chocolate?”

  “It’s amazing.” I moan at the memory. “If we ever find some way to get supplies from Earth, I’ll make sure chocolate is on the list. I miss it.”

  “I look forward to trying it,” he says with a laugh. He takes a few bites of his own food and then pauses, looking at me. “You know, my Irisa, I’m very proud of you.”

  I blink. “You are?”

  Honestly, I don’t particularly feel like there’s anything to be proud of. I’m not doing all that well on the simulations, no matter how hard I try. It’s never been more clear that I don’t have the same warrior’s training that Tycran does. My reflexes seem to be just off, and I haven’t figured out how to time the drop on the payload with any kind of consistency.

  “You’re one of the most intelligent people I’ve ever met,” he says, his eyes shining with sincerity. “Your mind is quick and sharp, you pick up on things others don’t, and you’re brave. Those are qualities I admire. I’m lucky to have found them in a mate.”

  “That means a lot,” I say, swallowing hard. “Back on Earth, it wasn’t like that.”

  “No? Is that not what human males seek in a mate?”

  “Some do.” I shrug. “But others… well, there’s a stigma there, about my job. What I did back on Earth.”

  “Stripping, you mean. Dancing for money. Naked.”

  “Yes,” I say with a laugh. “All of those things. Some men see that, and they think they can take advantage of you. They think women are either smart or sexy. If you strip to pay the bills, then that’s the only worth you have. So they just saw me as a nice pair of tits and a fine ass and didn’t bother trying to find out about the rest.”

  “Those are nice,” Tycran says with a small smile. “I love filling my hands with your tits, as you call them. But I love what’s in your mind more.”

  I grin at him. My warrior mate saying the word “tits” is both the sexiest and most adorable thing I’ve ever heard. Then I shake my head, my expression sobering as I return to our conversation.

  “I always knew I was more than that. More than my job, more than the way others saw me. But I spent a lot of time being reduced to that anyway. Even someone who that I thought loved me… well, he turned out to have a ‘real girlfriend’ on the side.”

  I grimace, and Tycran narrows his eyes, looking angry. “So he had another mate, in addition to you?”

  “Humans date around,” I explain. “Even if you decide to be exclusive, it doesn’t necessarily mean you’re forever.”

  “I’ve heard of this, from what the other Terran females have said,” Tycran says cautiously. “It’s very strange to me.”

  “But once you’re exclusive, even if it’s not forever, you’re expected to stay faithful to each other. And even though I would go and dance for work, and take off my clothes, I would never be intimate with someone other than my partner. But he thought, somehow, that it was okay for him to cheat.”

  Tycran frowns, anger flashing in his eyes. “This man sounds like a coward and an idiot. Not worthy of you.”

  I laugh. “Yeah. I agree. But even though I knew I deserved to be treated better, and that I was better off without him… it still broke my heart. That’s why it took me so long to come around to the idea of being your Irisa. Being in love, having something so serious… it seemed terrifying. I was scared to risk my heart in that way.”

  “I can understand that.” My mate nods. “Although I cannot understand his actions in any way.”

  “I guess he liked the idea of dating a stripper,” I murmur, gazing down at my half-eaten food. “He liked the attention. It made him feel good to have a beautiful girl that others wanted and paid to see nude, but that only he got to sleep with. But he didn’t really intend to be serious about it. He said he loved me, but he didn’t, not really. He thought I was beneath him because of what I did for work. He saw me as a hot body, a trophy, and nothing more.” I bite my lip, looking up at Tycran. “I love that you see me as more,” I whisper. “I love it more than I can tell you.”

  “I do.” He moves closer to me, setting his food aside, and he takes both of my hands in his. “I love so many things about you, my sweet one. I love your strength, your courage, your bravery. I love your mind and your vivacious spirit, your determination and your strength. I love that you are my equal, that you will speak up and tell me what you think, that you will encourage me but always tell me the truth. If I make a mistake, you will let me know. If I am right, you will cheer me on. If I am wrong, you will tell me why. I can always trust you to be my partner in all things, and that means more to me than anything else.”

  He pauses, as if searching for the right words. “I desire you above all things. Every part of you. I want you every moment of every day, and the pleasure I find in your body is beyond comparison. But it’s your inner beauty that captures me as much as your outer appearance.”

  He leans forward and kisses me, one hand going to my hair. The kiss is sweet, soft, and gentle, a promise of love and things to come. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted and never had.

  A rush of emotion fills me as I realize that I’m truly, fully in love with him. It happened slowly, and then all at once, like a rushing tide that sweeps over you and carries you away.

  But I know it’s real. It’s overwhelming and passionate now, and in time it will be steady and secure.

  Determination fills me all over again, and I mentally vow to get this right, to master the simulation and make sure we survive the mission.

  Because I want the steady and secure. I want the lifetime. I want everything with Tycran.

  And I’m going to make sure we have it.

  24

  Tycran

  As we continue with
our training, Lucy attacks the simulation with a renewed focus that surprises even me.

  We have only a day or two left—the bombs are almost ready, and we can’t afford to wait too long. The minute Rok delivers, we have to be ready to go. If the Orkun somehow get even the slightest hint that an attack is being planned, they’ll fortify their protections, and all of this will have been for nothing. Any chance we have will be lost.

  I can see the frustration in Lucy’s face every time she fails the simulation. She’s getting it right more often than not now, but I can feel the tension in her. After she fails another time, she grits her teeth and blows out a harsh breath, her eyes glittering. I can tell she’s trying hard not to cry from frustration and fear. Fear that she won’t succeed, that she’ll get it wrong, that we’ll die in this attempt.

  I’m afraid of failure too, and of her death most of all. But I know that I have to believe in her… and I do. If there’s any chance of this mission succeeding, it will come from us working together. I know she can do this.

  “Breathe, Lucy,” I tell her gently on our fifth day of practice. “Your tension is making you hesitate. You’re pausing for a fraction of a second after the signal, and it’s causing the delay in the drop to lengthen, meaning the payload just misses its mark. Breathe the whole way through and relax. I know it’s counterintuitive. It took me a long time to learn these techniques in the training arena. But if you’re tense when an enemy strikes, if you falter, they find your weakness and strike. You have to go through the motions like water, flowing from step to step and always anticipating what comes next. You can do this. Think of it like a dance.”

  She puffs out her cheeks as she releases a long exhale. Then she nods. “Okay. Let’s go again.”

  I watch her throughout the next simulation. Every time her muscles begin to tense up, she draws in a breath, and I see them loosen again. Her chest rises and falls with a steady flow, and her eyes gleam with concentration as she goes through the motions of flipping switches and preparing the payload. She settles in front of the scope, gazing at the simulation of the reactor Rok built for us. And then, as I give the signal, she smoothly pulls the trigger to drop the bombs.

  There’s no hesitation. Not a single wasted movement.

  She moves the same way she dances. The same way I fight. Gracefully, with confidence and purpose.

  The simulation beeps, flashing the sequence of lights that shows it has been successfully completed.

  “Target destroyed,” the AI drones, and Lucy leaps into my arms, grinning widely.

  “I did it!” she breathes, leaning up to kiss me. “I nailed it. I could feel the difference. You were right!”

  I close my eyes as her lips touch mine, breathing her in. There’s danger and fear ahead of us, but I want to remember this moment—the weight of her body in my arms, the soft silkiness of her hair under my palm where it rests against the back of her head, pressing her mouth more tightly to mine. I want to remember the taste and the scent of her, the elation of this moment as we feel, for a moment, entirely victorious.

  “It’s time,” I tell her when we finally break our kiss. “Rok called me this morning on the comms to tell me the bombs are ready. I wanted to let you go through the simulation again before I told you, but we’ll need to go tomorrow. We can’t wait any longer to make our move.”

  A flicker of fear burns in Lucy’s eyes, and I stroke her hair gently. “I trust you,” I tell her, looking deep into her eyes. “I know we can do this.”

  She grimaces. “I know I just ran through a good one, but I’m only getting the simulations right fifty percent of the time, Tycran.” Her lips press together, and I can tell she’s angry with herself. “I hate those odds. That means we die half of the time.”

  I pull her closer to me, wrapping my arms around her. Terror fills my heart at the thought of her dying, but I force it down. Fear won’t help us now—the decision is made, the plan is set. Lucy is coming with me, and in the end, I wouldn’t have it any other way. She was right in her argument, and beyond that, the idea of leaving her alone in the universe is heartbreaking in its own way.

  And at the end of it all, she has the right to make her own choice, just as I do. That choice has put her here, with me.

  “Even with those odds,” I tell her, my lips close to her ear as I hold her tightly. “We’re together all the time.” I tilt my head back, looking into her eyes. “And I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but with you.”

  25

  Lucy

  The next morning, we’re up earlier than usual. Most mornings, we stay in bed long after the lights have come up, enjoying each other until one of us gets too hungry or tells the other reluctantly that it’s time to start running the simulations for the day.

  But this time, we both rise before the lights in the cabin even come on.

  Tycran kisses me and then reluctantly swings his legs out of bed, tying on his loincloth. I get up and dress too, pulling on my new clothes.

  My mate came back from the market yesterday not only with lunch, but with a surprise for me—a pair of loose linen pants and a cropped silk top for me to wear. I protested that we didn’t have the money to spend on clothes, but he insisted that the red dress I was wearing when I first snuck on board the ship was getting far too worn from too many washes—and he wasn’t wrong. It seemed like an extravagance, but it was a sweet one. It’s been a long time since anyone has bought me a gift, and I love these clothes more than any other present I’ve ever gotten.

  Rok is waiting for us when we arrive at the warehouse. The minute Tycran and I walk in, he takes one look at us—walking more closely together than before, our steps in sync with one another, our hands linked—and gives us both a knowing look.

  “Ah. I see now why she’s willing to venture into such danger with you, brother,” he comments, cocking a brow at Tycran. “And why you took such pains to make sure she would have safe passage earlier. A mate bond is a powerful thing, is it not?”

  There’s a teasing tone to his voice, but as we walk to where Rok has bundled up the bombs in plain burlap-like sacks to make them look less suspicious, I can see a hint of jealousy in his eyes—and something almost like sadness.

  I can’t help but wonder what his story is, sequestered away on this rotten planet, working day and night in his warehouse alone. Does he have someone he loves? He must not, from the look in his eyes as he glances at me and Tycran. And he must want it, as evidenced by that same look.

  “These should get the job done,” the broad-shouldered alien says, securing the last bundle. “Good luck to you. I hope you succeed and make it out safely.”

  “Me too.” Tycran nods, his expression grave. “Thank you. And thank you for the simulation as well. It’s helped us immeasurably in our preparations.”

  “Of course.”

  We gather up the bombs and leave quickly. Rok stands at the door watching us go, and I glance back over my shoulder as we head out into the streets. I’m not sorry to leave Hak Gavar, but he seems decent enough, if a little rough around the edges.

  I wonder if he’s happy here.

  Shaking off thoughts of the mysterious alien who helped me and my mate, I turn my attention back to Tycran and the bombs we carry, refocusing on the task ahead of us.

  It takes a bit of time to carefully load the bombs into the ship, setting them into the payload’s casing so that they’re ready to go when we reach Oryn. Better to do it right the first time and not have to worry about it when we’re closer to our target.

  Tycran looks outwardly calm as we head to the control deck, but I’m jittery with nerves. There will be a week or so of travel between here and Oryn, but the small, anxious voice in the back of my head keeps telling me that if I fail, that means we only have one week left to live.

  One week for Tycran and me to spend together.

  I’m not going to fail, I tell myself firmly over and over. Just remember what he told you before that last simulation. You can do this. You’ve d
one it before.

  And the week en route to Oryn, as it turns out, is some of the best time we’ve spent together.

  There’s nothing left to do or plan—everything has been laid out already. We know our destination, and we’ve studied the model of the moon until I could trace the tunnels we’re going to take in my sleep. The bombs are ready to go on Tycran’s signal when it’s time. And although I run the simulation a few more times, Tycran is insistent that I shouldn’t wear myself out.

  “You need to be fresh, not exhausted and burnt out,” he tells me. “You’ve done it dozens of times. At this point, every failure is just making you more jittery and anxious.”

  Grudgingly, I have to admit he’s right. It’s like over-studying for a test or cramming the night before. I know what to do, and if I’m being entirely honest with myself, running the simulation over and over isn’t how I want to spend these last days before we arrive on Oryn.

  I want to spend them with Tycran.

  So that’s what we do, more than anything. We work our way through the food we bought before leaving Hak Gavar, eating in the common room as we share stories about our lives before we knew each other.

  Tycran, unsurprisingly, doesn’t have many stories that don’t have to do with war or battle. But he tells me things about his childhood, memories that he says he couldn’t talk about before without it hurting too badly. “But now, telling you,” he adds thoughtfully, “it feels like something to cherish and share, rather than something painful.”

  He tells me about working in the garden with his mother, how he loved the feeling of dirt between his fingers and under his nails, and that it’s something he misses to this day. He tells me laughingly that as a five-year-old, he developed a close friendship with a baby ghala on their tiny farm—an animal that from his description sounds a lot like a goat—and convinced his entire family to stop eating meat for a year because he couldn’t bear for the animals to be killed for food.