Her Alien Rebel: A Sci-Fi Alien Romance (Voxeran Fated Mates Book 7)

by Presley Hall

  Ren looks at me again, that same curiosity gleaming in his jade eyes. “Did you help a lot of people?”

  That makes me go quiet for a moment, my chest suddenly aching.

  I wanted to, I almost say. I wanted to, but I kept fucking it up. Because I had my own issues.

  But I don’t say that.

  I omitted my gambling addiction on purpose when telling him about what I did back on Earth, and I don’t want to explain it now.

  I haven’t told anyone here about that part of my history, not even the other women. If there’s anything that crash-landing on Nuthora has given me, it’s a chance to start over, to make a new life for myself without my past haunting me. And now, talking to Ren, I feel as if I especially don’t want him to know. I don’t know why. It’s not like I care what he thinks of me. He’s already made his opinion of me, and of the human women in general, very clear.

  But still, I don’t want to see the inevitable disappointment in his eyes that I’m sure would follow if I told him the whole truth.

  “I’d like to think I did,” I say softly instead. “I tried to help as many people as I could.”

  We lapse into silence for a moment. The only sound comes from the rocks crunching under our feet as the climb becomes a little more intense.

  “What about you?” I clear my throat and change the subject, wanting to shift it away from my life back on Earth. “What did you do on Vox?”

  “I served my prince,” Ren says stiffly. “I fought at his side and helped him to lead the other men. That has been, and always will be, my purpose.”

  I frown. “But what about, like… hobbies?”

  “Hobbies?” The look of confusion on the muscled warrior’s face would be amusing if I weren’t so determined to be annoyed by him.

  “Yeah, hobbies. Leisure activities,” I push, not wanting to let it go. After all, he got a good bit out of me about my life. Turnabout is fair play, and although I don’t want to admit I’m curious about him, I really am. “I mean, what did you do for fun? On Vox?”

  Ren still looks confused, as if the concept of “fun” is beyond him. Maybe it is.

  “I trained,” he said finally. “In the arenas with the other warriors, and on my own, building my strength and endurance so that I could better serve—”

  “—your prince. Got it.” I can feel my mouth twist as I try not to laugh. “What about friends? Someone special? Someone you love?”

  “My family is dead. The other warriors are my brothers. And as far as love…” He looks away. “I don’t have a mate, if that’s what you’re asking. And I doubt I ever will. Even if the bond—”

  He breaks off, and his hand lifts to touch his scars.

  “How did you get them?” My voice softens a little as I nod toward his face.

  “The rebellion against Drokar,” he answers tightly, as if he doesn’t really want to talk about it. “There was an explosion that knocked me out, so I wasn’t seen when the others were captured. I was badly burned in the flames.” He tilts his head slightly as he speaks, as if he’s subconsciously trying to take attention away from the marks on his face, and I can tell he’s self-conscious about them. “These scars are the result of that.”

  My stomach knots with guilt.

  It’s clear that he’s led a life with only one purpose, one that he’s given himself: to serve Droth as best as he can. It sounds as if his life has been almost ascetic, cold and barren other than his passion to fight and serve, and it makes me hurt for him.

  Not only that, but I feel awful about the comment I made about his scars to the other women.

  I felt guilty about it already, when I realized he overheard me, but now that I know how he got them, I feel almost sick. I’ve never been a cruel person, and I should never have said something like that.

  I want to say something to him now, to apologize better, to make up for it somehow. I open my mouth to do exactly that, but before I can, he pushes forward, clearly finished with the conversation as he strides ahead of me again, leaving me in his wake with the other warriors catching up.

  It’s for the best, I tell myself, ignoring the tightness in my chest.

  That kiss in the woods notwithstanding, I know that Ren doesn’t like me. He didn’t want me here, and I’m sure a part of him still resents my presence on this mission.

  I don’t need to soften things between us. It’s better this way, if there’s a clear divide between our roles, if I don’t try to make friends with him.

  But still, as he strides away with his shoulders set, I wish I had never said a word about his scars.

  10

  Ren

  As much as I don’t want to admit it to myself or anyone else, I’m impressed with Felicity after the first day of travel. She’s hardier than I expected, and she doesn’t complain.

  Our “campsite” for the night is a stand of trees where we find some shelter, but there’s no soft grass to use as bedding like we did in the forest at the base of the mountain. I wonder what her reaction will be as she glances at our surroundings. She’s been living rough with the Voxerans for a while now since they left the village they built, but this is a new level of primitive camping.

  She doesn’t utter a word of complaint, though. After our meal, I snuff the fire, and she joins the others in pulling a cloak from her pack to spread out on the ground for a bed, not saying a thing about the cold or the hardness of the ground beneath it. She just curls up, closing her eyes with one arm tucked beneath her head, and I’m inclined to think that Kaide was more right than I wanted to believe about the Terran women.

  They’re stronger than I’d thought—or at least, Felicity is. But even seeing that, as I curl up on my own cloak, I find myself starting to worry about her.

  What if she’s too cold? She’s smaller than us.

  She’s still wearing more clothing than we are, with pieces of leather wrapped around both her torso and her hips, but her skin is pale and fragile compared to ours.

  What if the ground is too rough?

  She felt so soft when she was pressed against me, so yielding, plush and sweet under my hands—

  I push the memory away sharply before it can become an ache, before I can feel the hungry need that she aroused in me when we were in the forest. I don’t need that sort of distraction. She’s already caused me too much.

  Sleep comes easily for me, but I rest lightly nonetheless, alert to any threat that might come our way—either from other aliens or creatures in the forest. The higher we get on the mountain, the more dangerous it will be, but even here, I don’t want to let my guard down. I’ve seen all too often how a moment’s complacency can be the reason that men are lost, killed, or injured.

  To her credit, Felicity doesn’t say anything about our early start the next morning, either. She’s up early with the rest of the men, repacking her supplies and eating the simple, quick breakfast of dried meat and fruit that we brought along with us.

  We set off in a similar formation as yesterday, with me leading the way and Felicity and the other four warriors following behind, sometimes in a cluster and other times in a line, depending on the terrain.

  That terrain is more arduous today, with a steeper incline and more uneven ground, pitted with holes and large rocks and branches fallen from the forest as it hems in around us. The result is that Felicity talks far less than she did yesterday. I can hear how out of breath she is behind me. I tell myself that I’m grateful for that, for the peace and quiet instead of her chatter and laughter.

  The truth is, though, I miss the sound of her voice. I don’t want to admit it, but it was pleasant hearing her tell her stories about life back on Terra and joke with the other warriors. It lent a certain lightness to an otherwise serious mission, which isn’t something I’m used to—and something that I would normally call frivolous and an unnecessary distraction.

  But now that it’s gone, I do miss it.

  We travel for about half the day before we stop for a midday meal. The
men talk quietly among themselves as we eat, but Felicity is quiet, her face still a little flushed from the walk. The pink hue of her skin reminds me uncomfortably of the way she flushed when I kissed her, the way it crept up her neck and into her cheeks, and I have to push the thought away before it makes me hard.

  Instead, I mentally plot out the potential route ahead, thinking about the plan of action for when we reach the towers—anything other than Felicity and the way she felt in my hands.

  The next leg of the journey isn’t quite as difficult to traverse, but I’m careful not to let that lull me into complacency. I’ve heard enough stories of the creatures and prisoners who inhabit this planet to know that any sense of safety here is an illusion. There is always the possibility of a threat lurking just around the next bend.

  And as it turns out, I’m right to be wary.

  As a few clouds drift through the sky above us, cutting off our view of the ring that circles Nuthora, a large creature comes springing out of the woods. It’s massive, its head as high as my shoulder, with four long legs and two arms with pincers at the end. It has a cracked black carapace that oozes green slime out of the gaps, and mandibles that snap wildly as it charges toward us.

  It moves incredibly quickly, heading straight for Felicity, clearly thinking she looks like the easiest target.

  With a startled yelp, she snatches up the blaster she’s carrying at her hip, aiming and firing toward the creature as it rushes her. Slime drips from its jaws as its antennae twitch wildly, eager for its meal.

  The bolt hits its target, striking one of the creature’s legs and singeing the waving hairs that run down each leg and over its belly. But that hit isn’t enough to stop it. It keeps coming, and Felicity’s eyes go wide as she lets off another shot, scrambling backward as her second bolt ricochets off the creature’s hard outer shell.

  She trips over a large rock, going down hard on her shoulder, and the blaster clatters out of her hand.

  The other warriors are already leaping into action, but I move faster than any of them. Drawing my twins daggers in a smooth motion, I charge toward the attacking monster, ducking under one of its arms as it advances on Felicity with its mandibles clacking. I strike in a sharp, quick motion, my trained eyes gauging my enemy’s weakness in a heartbeat, almost unconsciously.

  The blade of one long dagger slides into its stomach between the cracks in its shell, and I twist hard.

  The creature’s high-pitched screech seems to split my skull, ringing in my ears. Beside me, I catch a glimpse of Strome stabbing it with his spear, driving the point into the creature’s mouth. It screams again, and I stab it deeply with my other blade, dragging both weapons down as I split the beast open.

  The creature sags, its death cry trailing off as it crumples to the rocky ground, black blood and green slime pouring out over the soil and soaking the rocks.

  Xevar wrinkles his nose. “Akhi, that’s disgusting.” He steps away from it, coughing at the rank odor that fills the air.

  I hardly notice, though. My heart is pounding in my chest, harder than usual after a fight. Turning away from the felled creature, I find Felicity struggling to stand, cradling her bruised shoulder.

  I reach her in three long strides, helping her up off the ground before the creature’s fluids can touch her or her clothes, pulling her aside as I skim her body with my eyes, looking for any signs of injury. She looks mostly unharmed, and she feels unharmed too, her soft skin only slightly scratched from the fall.

  Her rich brown eyes flick up to meet mine, and for a moment, I feel her relax into my arms, exhaling a shaky breath as she sinks into my embrace. My arms tighten around her, and I feel a throb deep in my gut, the same rising desire that I felt before.

  One of the other warriors is saying something to me, but I can’t seem to hear it. Everything around us fades away as I look at her face.

  I should be examining the dead creature, checking the trail for any other dangers, listening to my men. But instead, my mind feels fogged with Felicity’s scent, her softness, the aching need to hold her to me, to shield her, to make certain that nothing else can harm her.

  “Are you all right?” I ask quietly.

  “Yeah.” Her voice is soft too, and her gaze stays locked on mine. “I’m… I’m okay.”

  “That was too close.” I shake my head, my lips pressing together. “That beast almost killed you.”

  She blinks, her head jerking back a little. Then she pulls herself out of my arms suddenly, breaking the connection between us. The loss of her feels almost like a shock as she stares at me, her face pale and drawn.

  “Maybe you were right,” she says. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this.”

  And then she turns away, walking a few feet from where the other men and I are standing, her arms wrapped around herself as she stands with her back to us.

  All I can do is stare after her, dumbstruck by her words.

  How can she think that?

  She faced down a beast without flinching, reacting the way any warrior would. Before some of us, even.

  I feel a new respect for her growing within me as I look at her, admiration swelling my chest. She’s as brave as any of my fellow warriors, and in a way that I’ve rarely seen.

  She has the kind of bravery that is innate.

  A kind that can’t be taught.

  I didn’t see it in her until this moment. But even more startling is the realization that she doesn’t see it in herself.

  11

  Felicity

  We stop to make camp a bit earlier tonight than we did last night, in a similar tree-lined area as last time, and I immediately volunteer to build the fire. I want to show them that I can be useful, just as I insisted I could be when I asked to join the mission.

  I’m incredibly embarrassed about what happened on the mountain today.

  All that big talk about being part of this, about being an asset to the team, and I almost died on the second day.

  Building the fire at least gives me something to focus on, to do, so that I can avoid having to look at or talk to the other men. I haven’t been able to meet their eyes since Ren and Strome finished off that awful insect-like thing that attacked us. I can’t help but feel that I should have helped more, done a better job of fighting it, instead of just letting off a couple of shots and then falling like a clumsy idiot.

  Xevar, Strome, Rhesk and Talix are huddled a little farther off, talking amongst themselves—probably something to do with tomorrow’s hike, since they’re pointing up the mountain as they speak—but when I glance the other way, I see Ren walking toward me.

  Fuck.

  I duck my head, poking at the slowly growing flames.

  The last thing I want to deal with right now are his cutting remarks about my ability to handle this mission, or pointed jabs about how I could have avoided my near-death experience if I’d just stayed back at camp with the others. I know all of those things already, and I don’t need any more reminders.

  Ren squats down next to me, his powerful thighs gleaming in the dim firelight, his blue skin appearing even more pearlescent in the glow. I try not to stare, jerking my gaze away the moment I realize my attention is lingering on his muscled legs a second too long.

  I used to wonder if the Voxerans wore loincloths back on their home planet, or if that was just an outfit choice that they adopted out of necessity here. But considering that Ren showed up wearing similar garb, I’ve gathered that it’s pretty much the way they’re all used to dressing. I guess it makes sense, considering Vox is a sand planet. It’s probably scorching hot.

  And it also explains why none of them seem at all shy about their bodies.

  The Voxerans wear their simple loincloth coverings as if it’s natural to be clothed in nothing but a scrap of leather draped around your waist, but to someone raised on Earth, it’s still startling how casual they are about it. Even with the animal-hide cloak from his pack draped over his shoulders, there’s still so much of Ren that�
��s bare, all rippling blue muscle that makes it hard not to stare.

  Shit. Cut it out, Felicity.

  Like a magnet drawn toward true north, my gaze keeps sliding back to him. I don’t want him to catch me staring, especially when I’m pretty sure he’s about to tell me I don’t belong here.

  To my surprise though, the broad-shouldered warrior doesn’t say anything at all. He doesn’t make a remark about what happened today, or even make a comment about me looking at his legs, which I’m sure he noticed. I don’t think very much, if anything, escapes him.

  Instead, we just work together in silence, adding kindling to the fire little by little until it’s built up to the point where it will warm us—for a while, at least.

  As the silence drags out, I feel as if I should say something, even if it’s just the one thing I didn’t say earlier. I was too shocked and embarrassed to do anything more than answer him breathlessly as he asked if I was okay.

  Biting my bottom lip, I glance sideways at Ren.

  “Thank you,” I tell him softly. “For saving my life earlier.”

  He looks over at me, surprise passing through his features. “Of course,” he says. “I would have done the same for anyone on this mission. We have to look out for one another.”

  “You know,” I murmur, poking an errant piece of wood back into the fire, “maybe it isn’t a bad thing that you weren’t banished here with the other Voxerans.”

  I’m not sure why, but I have the urge to do more than just simply thank him. I want to give him some kind of comfort, or reassurance. I could tell from our brief conversation yesterday when he mentioned the explosion that it bothers him that he was left behind. That he escaped punishment, while the others received theirs.

  “If you hadn’t still been on Vox,” I continue, “who would’ve come for us now? Even once Rhesk and Vael got the inter-planetary communicator working, we still weren’t sure we’d be able to contact anyone on Vox, because Droth couldn’t risk contacting someone who wasn’t loyal to him. But he trusts you. And the fact that you were there to answer his transmission is what made this rescue mission possible. So…” I turn toward Ren, looking him fully in the eyes. “Maybe this is the part you were meant to play all along. Maybe there was a reason for what happened.”