Alien Mate

by Cara Bristol

  Was I masochistic or sadistic to confess such a thing? Torg knew the basic facts now; he didn’t need to know how little I cared when I first arrived, that I hadn’t planned to stay. It didn’t matter how I got here or why I came, I loved him now.

  “It’s true I didn’t have a choice like the others, but once I met you, I wanted to stay. You’re my mate. Nothing can change that.” I hoped nothing could change that.

  He turned away. “You didn’t want me.”

  “I do want you!” I grabbed his arm.

  He shook me off like I was something dirty and stared over my head. “We need to get back to camp.”

  “Um, wait.” Darq wiped a hand over his face. “There’s something else you need to be aware of.”

  I braced for more bad news. Darq was a messenger of joy today.

  “Icha has gotten the camp riled up, and they are demanding you banish Starr or step down as tribal chief. They’re going to confront you.”

  My heart thudded. This was the last thing I needed. Would Torg banish me? I’d committed Dakon’s ultimate taboo, and I’d lied to him. His tribe wanted me gone. He had every reason to exile me.

  He cursed and stomped down the path. I ran after him and grabbed his arm again. “Please, Torg. Let me explain.”

  “Do not speak to me. I don’t want to hear any more lies.” He shook off my hold and took off. I had to trot to keep up.

  “I’m not lying. I’m telling you the truth.”

  “Everything you said since you came here was a lie.”

  “No, it wasn’t! I just didn’t tell you the whole truth.”

  His scathing look cut to my heart.

  “Can’t you judge me on my behavior and not what I said?”

  “I am judging your behavior. You murdered a man. And you lied to me.” He stomped toward camp.

  Yes, I had lied, and for that I was sorry. But while my actions had led to a man’s death, I hadn’t intended to kill him. I had struck him in self-defense—my life or his. Torg’s refusal to give me a fair hearing twisted despair into anger. An eruption of red-hot fury burned through remorse.

  I jumped in front of him, forcing him to stop. “What about your behavior? Huh? Mr. Holier Than Thou! I’ve done every damn thing I could to adjust to your Stone Age lifestyle, but do I get credit for that? Your life hasn’t changed one iota since I came—but mine has gone downhill.” That was true unless you counted that Torg nearly had been killed most likely because of the exchange program—and I was a free woman instead of a life-term prisoner, but those were quibbles, and I was pissed.

  He tried to skirt around me, but I barricaded the path. “I remember your shock and disappointment when you came to redeem your chit! What right do you have to feel rejected? You didn’t choose me, either. If I hadn’t been the last woman left, if you’d had any other option, you wouldn’t have picked me. If I’d told you at the start I’d been convicted of a serious crime, you would have forfeited your chit. You would have gone without a female rather than take me.”

  He reddened, confirming my read of his initial reaction, and it further fueled my anger and hurt. “And don’t you dare lecture to me about criminals! Armax damn near beat Yorgav to death. Icha poisoned me, and now you have some sociopath terrorist serial killer running around booby trapping that makeshift excuse for a town.” I jabbed his chest with my finger but avoided his injury. “You’re not perfect!” Poke. “Your people and your fucking frozen wasteland of a planet aren’t perfect.” Jab. “And you have no fucking idea what the hell I’ve been through.” I jabbed him extra hard then ran for the camp so he wouldn’t see me cry.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Torg

  Shame scalded my throat. I’d hurt Starr terribly, and suddenly the pain she’d caused me didn’t matter anymore. I was horrified that she had known of my shock when I’d first laid eyes on her. She was beautiful to me now, and I loved her to the depths of my being. That’s why I’d felt so betrayed by her lies.

  If I expected honesty from her, shouldn’t I demand the same from myself? If she had told me the truth in the beginning, I would have rejected her. Just like she guessed.

  But now I loved her, and I knew her. If Starr said the killing was self-defense, then I believed her because I did judge by behavior, and everything Starr had done since she’d arrived revealed what kind of person she was. My Starr was good and kind.

  I had to apologize and mend the rift. I started after her, but Darq grabbed my arm.

  “Let her go. When females get angry, the best you can do is stay out of the way until they cool down. I suspect Terran ones aren’t much different.”

  “She’s not just angry, she’s hurt.”

  “Which you can’t fix in the time you have available.” Darq’s expression was worried. “The situation is serious. They are talking about expelling you from the tribe whether or not you banish Starr. They’re furious you exiled Icha because of Starr who is a murderess—or not,” he amended after glancing at my face. “I’m only telling you what they’re saying.”

  Starr was about to disappear around the bend. We weren’t more than a quarter tripta from camp. “All the more reason to go after her. I don’t want her to march into camp with everyone in an uproar.”

  He nodded. “She would rile them further, and there’s no telling what state they’ll be in. Icha was whipping them up into a frenzy when I left. You have to deal with them now. I’ll intercept Starr and escort her to the cave. We’ll circle around to the rear so no one sees.”

  I sighed. That was the best solution, but I didn’t like it. Sometimes I hated being tribal chief. “All right,” I agreed. “Tell Starr I’m sorry.”

  “I doubt she’ll listen to me. Tell her yourself when you see her. I’ll keep her safe.” Darq jogged after my mate.

  * * * *

  “Not fit to be chief!”

  “He should be banished—and the Terran, too!”

  “Criminals, all of them.”

  Angry voices filtered through the trees. Darq hadn’t exaggerated the rancor, and I was grateful for the warning and for him taking care of Starr when I couldn’t. A deep breath shored up my fortitude, and then I strode into the clearing where I’d introduced her to everyone. If anyone from the tribe was missing, you couldn’t tell. It appeared as though every male and female had gathered. They faced the dais upon which Icha and her new mate stood.

  “Terra is sending their criminals to our planet!” Icha shouted. “Are those the kind of females you desire? A murderess who might kill you in your sleep?”

  Her mate nudged her, and Icha spotted me. “There he is!” she shouted.

  Half the people scowled at me, while others avoided my gaze like naughty children caught misbehaving. I pushed my way through the crowd and stomped onto the dais, forcing Icha and Frokel to make room for me. I’d met Frokel at council meetings. I hadn’t liked him then, and the present situation didn’t improve my estimation. “What is the meaning of this?” I demanded.

  Before either of them could answer, someone shouted from the crowd. “Is it true? Are the females murderers?”

  At least someone had the sense to ask, but unfortunately, the answer would not have a positive effect. How I wished Starr had confessed sooner so I had time to prepare, to meet with the others who had Terran mates and come up with a plan.

  Icha smirked with triumph. Terra had sent us the women they didn’t want. If the exchange program had allowed a reciprocal arrangement, I’d personally escort Icha to the first ship to Earth.

  My tribe stared at me, waiting for a response. Words had to be chosen carefully. “I recently learned the women who volunteered to come to Dakon had broken Terran laws.”

  “Sounds like criminals to me!” someone yelled, and a cacophony of agreement buzzed through the crowd.

  At the edge, I spied Darq. Why had he left Starr alone? What if she ventured out? Her presence would be like dumping kel oil on an open flame. Unable to signal him without drawing attention, I could only
hope he’d return to the cave soon. I wished I was there. Starr and I had much to settle; we’d parted in anger and before I’d shared my true feelings, that I loved her and would stand by her no matter what.

  One arm still in a sling, I raised the other to try to quiet them. “People, please!” I shouted over the din. “Listen to me!”

  “Send the females back to Terra!” a man shouted.

  “Nobody is going back to Terra!” I snapped. “How many of you have broken rules? Or failed to contribute to the storehouse? Or taken more than your share? Perhaps drunk too much ale and started a fight? Or attempted to woo another’s mate?”

  Several men shuffled their feet.

  “Or caused dissension in the camp by inciting rivalries.”

  Gazes shifted to Icha, but then a man pushed his way through crowd. One of Icha’s many lovers, Bork and I had butted heads over the running of the camp. “You cannot equate those wrongdoings with murder.” He tore off his hood. A heavy forehead shadowed his eyes, but I could see his gaze flick to Icha before he turned to me. “Tell us, what crime was your mate convicted of?”

  “She was falsely convicted. She is innocent of any and all crimes.”

  “Murder!” Icha shouted.

  Bork bounded up onto the dais, overcrowding the platform. “The female must be banished!”

  “Banish! Banish! Banish!” the crowd chanted.

  Exile amounted to a death sentence. Starr couldn’t survive the vast winter. She wouldn’t be like Icha who’d been sheltered by the first tribe she approached. With the circumstance of Starr’s arrival circulating at the camps, none of them would accept her. No one could survive for long in the frozen wilderness without a tribe.

  “Expel the Terran! Expel the Terran!”

  The animosity sparked a horrific thought: had one of my own tribe members set the traps at the meeting place? Had they tried to murder my mate?

  “Stop!” I roared. “My mate’s name is Starr!” They had talked with her, interacted with her around camp. And now they called her “the Terran?” Public sentiment shifted faster than the wind, and blew even colder.

  The greatest shame was that I, too, for an instant, had felt the same way. Hadn’t I condemned her at first?

  I did not have time to convince my tribe with reason or merit. Anger intensified with every second. I could use the power of my position to control the outcome. Later, when emotions cooled, I could begin to win their hearts again. “I am tribal leader, and I will not banish Starrconner. If anyone disagrees with that, you are free to find yourself another tribe.”

  “You have banished others,” Bork said.

  “I exiled them knowing other tribes would shelter them.”

  “Then you must step down as leader.”

  “I won’t do that, either. I have led this tribe nobly and capably.” If I stepped down, the new chief would banish Starr. We would leave together, then, but I would not allow it to come to that.

  “Then you leave us no choice.” Bork squared his shoulders. “I challenge you to a muta!” He jabbed me twice in the upper chest—my bad shoulder. It wasn’t a full-on punch, but he put more power into the ritualized gesture than required to signify a formal challenge of leadership. From the first chant, I’d expected a challenge, so I braced for it and took the blows without a wince, but it hurt.

  “In accordance with our custom, the muta must occur before sundown,” Bork said.

  I peered at the midday sky. “I will rejoin you here in one hour.” Better to face this head-on, get it over with, and return to normal. But, first, I needed to see Starr to reassure myself she was all right.

  Bork didn’t fool me. He’d challenged me as much for the banishment of Icha as Starr’s supposed crime. But I would win this. My injured shoulder wouldn’t help, but it wouldn’t hinder me, either. Stovak the healer would have to patch me up again afterward.

  Darq shook his head and slipped away. I hoped he had the sense not to tell Starr about the muta. If she got an inkling I planned to strip to my leggings and knuckle it out in the freezing air, she’d have a fit. At least I hoped so. I wanted to believe she still cared about me, despite my poor behavior.

  “We will fight,” I told Bork, and then addressed the tribe. “When I win, you will accept the results.”

  Winning the challenge was only the first step. I would still need to earn back the support of my tribe and patch things up with Starr. Then I had to work with Enoki, Groman, and Loka to capture whoever had set those traps and prepare for the arrival of more females. Would more of them improve the situation or worsen it? Would the men still be as eager for mates? Would they hold it against the ones who were?

  The crowd began to disperse. Bork shot a look of longing at Icha. I’m doing this for you, his glance seemed to say. How could someone as perfidious and fickle as she inspire such loyalty? The men longed for females; until Starr had come along, I’d been filled with as much yearning as any of them. They had to understand that Terra offered our civilization hope. I couldn’t let someone like Icha destroy our chance.

  I needed to prepare for the future. Starr and I would have a long talk. There could be no secrets between us. To ward off future confrontations like this one, I had to have all the information.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Starr

  I was still seething when Darq reentered the cave.

  “What’s happening out there?” I asked. We’d heard rumbling and shouts, and, after securing my promise to stay put, Torg’s brother had gone to investigate.

  “He has been challenged to a muta,” Darq replied.

  “What’s that?”

  “A competition to determine who will lead the tribe.”

  “Are you saying he could lose the chiefdom?”

  “If he loses the fight, he will no longer be leader.”

  “It’s a fight? What kind of fight?”

  “Two men strip down to their leggings and battle it out. The last one standing wins.”

  “That’s how leadership is determined? That’s crazy.”

  “Not so crazy. Simple. The challenge rarely occurs, but it is respected. The people will accept the result.”

  “When is the fight?”

  “In an hour.”

  I shook my head. “Torg can’t fight. He was shot with an arrow.”

  “I wondered why his arm was in a sling.” Darq paced. “Bork is one of the brawlers in the camp. He is rash, and not very smart. Torg could beat him, but if he’s injured…Bork would make a terrible leader.”

  “This Bork is the challenger?”

  Darq twisted his mouth and nodded. “One of Icha’s former paramours.”

  Her again. “What did I ever do to her? I didn’t take her man; she already had one when I showed up!”

  “Torg banished her because of you. It rankled that he didn’t take her to warm his kel, but accepted you. Icha had objected to the exchange program. Without competition, she is the queen, and all the men are her subjects. She dislikes losing.”

  “Well, she might have a second chance. Torg doesn’t want me anymore.”

  “He still wants you. That’s why he’s fighting for you.”

  “He’s trying to keep his tribe,” I muttered. Torg had made his feelings about me crystal clear.

  “The people demanded he expel you. He refused. And because he refused, he was challenged.”

  He refused? Maybe we had a chance after all! “He can’t fight with one arm. He could be injured.” What if he hurt himself over me? His arm might never be the same, and he would lose control of his tribe. I wanted Torg to love me, believe me, but not at this cost. “I can’t let him do that.”

  “Do what?” Torg stood there. He looked at me, his gaze searching, no longer angry.

  “You can’t fight Bork.”

  He glowered at Darq.

  “You have one good arm—” I said.

  He slipped off the sling and threw it. “Now I have two.”

  “Taking off the sling doesn’
t fix your arm,” I snapped. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Darq slipping away. Smart men and cowards knew when to vanish.

  “There is nothing wrong with my arm.” He flexed it, and I winced even though he didn’t.

  “Your shoulder, then.” Spare me the male ego. “At least postpone the fight.”

  “I can’t. When a chief is challenged, the muta must be settled before sundown.”

  “That’s a stupid custom.” Why couldn’t he see reason?

  “I didn’t come to fight with you, Starconner. I came to apologize. I’m sorry for the way I reacted in the wood. You are not a murderess.” He moved close to me, peered into my eyes, and stroked a gentle finger across my cheek. “Of that, I am certain. I was blindsided, and I acted badly. Can you forgive me?”

  “Oh, Torg!” I flung my arms around him, avoiding his injured shoulder. Regardless of his insistence, he had been hurt. “Of course, I do.” I sniffed tears. “I should have told you the truth at the start. All of this could have been prevented.”

  “Perhaps, perhaps not. We cannot undo the past; we can only move forward.”

  I hugged him, burying my face against his kel. Through the thick fur, I could hear his heart thump. He was such a good man. Forgiving. Kind. Brave. Strong.

  And stubborn and injured. I lifted my head. “Are you sure the muta can’t be postponed? Surely, being wounded is a mitigating factor.”

  He snorted. “The injury was a decisive factor. Bork believes he’ll have an advantage.”

  “But—”

  Someone cleared his throat. “Excuse me…” A tribe member of Loka’s stood there. Seriously, Dakon needed some doors. Walking in unannounced had to stop.

  Torg and I broke apart. “Did you find more traps?” he asked.

  “No. We’re certain we got them all. The meeting place is safe. I came with a message for Starr.” He held out a piece of parchment.

  I frowned. “A message? From who?”

  “Groman’s mate.”

  “Andrea?” I took the parchment and unrolled it.

  Starr,