Her Alien Protector: Voxeran Fated Mates #6

by Hall, Presley

  Bohrir’s chest vibrates against my back as he makes a low sound, then he rises up onto one elbow to look down at me, trailing his fingertips over my cheek.

  “You are my friend, Willow. You are my mate. You are my everything. You.”

  Reaching up, I slide my fingers through his shaggy hair and pull him down for a kiss. His lips find mine eagerly, his arms sliding around me again as I wriggle a little in his embrace, trying to get even closer to his warm, solid body. I don’t want even an inch of space between us.

  Not now. Not ever.

  It would be so easy to roll onto my back and let him settle between my legs. My core is aching and empty, desperate to feel him inside me. But it would be too risky. Although we’re a good distance away from Gornok’s camp, I’d be worried about making too much noise. I’m not used to holding my sounds back when Bohrir worships my body, and my mind is so focused on tomorrow that I don’t know if I could enjoy it anyway.

  Still, I kiss him for a long time before we finally break apart. His dark blue eyes look nearly black in the shadowy light, and he looms over me as he presses one more sweet kiss to my nose.

  “Sleep, my kira,” he murmurs. “I’ll make sure nothing harms you.”

  My gentle giant.

  My fierce protector.

  With a deep sigh, I give myself over to his embrace, allowing my eyelids to fall closed.

  Tomorrow, I’ll face the demons of my past. But for tonight, my thoughts are only on the present.

  21

  Bohrir

  I wake long before the sun rises, rousing from a light sleep as my eyelids snap open. Willow is still wrapped tightly in my arms, her small body soft and yielding against mine. I drop my head to the crook of her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair and skin.

  My heart throbs in my chest, an ache that’s pleasant and painful all at once.

  I adore this woman. I would kill for her, even die for her, without thought.

  And if I lose her?

  It would kill me more surely than any blade ever could.

  I can’t let that happen.

  Like a man possessed, I rise quickly, careful not to disturb her sleeping form. Stepping out from beneath the shelter of the tree, I forage in the nearly dark woods, careful never to stray too far. I gather everything I can find that will help us carry out our attack on Gornok and his men, then get to work fashioning the traps we’ll use. For smaller animals, the ropes don’t have to be thick at all, but I want these ones to be sturdy and strong.

  Sitting beside Willow beneath the drooping branches of the tree, I twist and braid long vines together, working quickly and dexterously.

  Every once in a while, I glance over at her sleeping form, my gaze tracing over the dip of her waist and the curve of her hips, the way her hands rest beneath her head to pillow it.

  She looks so small, so fragile. Lovely and far too breakable.

  The sight of her, so vulnerable and soft in sleep, makes me want to hide her away somewhere to keep her safe. To keep her as far away from the coming fight as possible. But I can’t do that. The look on her face yesterday when she said she wanted to help me stop Gornok told me everything I need to know.

  She needs this. She needs to face her old captor—not to prove something to him, but to prove something to herself.

  Perhaps I could keep her physically safe by forbidding her from joining me in this battle or sneaking off to attack Gornok’s band on my own. But that would only allow the wounds in Willow’s heart to keep festering. It would make her feel weak, when the reality is, she’s anything but. She’s as strong-spirited as any warrior I’ve ever known, and just like a true warrior, she deserves the chance to face her enemies.

  I can’t stop her from doing that, but I can stand by her side and fight with her, doing everything in my power to keep her alive.

  That thought reverberates through my mind like an echo, repeating over and over as I work feverishly to prepare our weapons and traps. I’m barely aware of the gray sunlight beginning to stream through the small gaps in the branches as dawn approaches, looking up from my work only when Willow stirs and blinks.

  She yawns, her eyes soft and fuzzy with sleep for a moment. Then she catches sight of me, and she sits up straighter, a look of surprise crossing her face. “Oh my god, look at all of this. Have you been working all night?”

  “No.” I shake my head, allowing myself a small smile. “Just since very early this morning.”

  “You should’ve woken me up. I could’ve helped.”

  “Thank you, my kira. But I wanted you to be well-rested. And we’ll need to get an early start walking if we want to get ahead of Gornok and his men.”

  She crawls over to me and rests her hands on my thighs, tilting her head up to kiss me. I kiss her back, relishing the way she comes to me so easily, with no hesitation or fear. It’s almost impossible to remember the way she used to look at me with such wariness. So much has changed between us, and I’ll always be grateful that she’s placed her trust in me.

  Now I just need to make sure I’m worthy of it.

  “Are you ready?” I ask softly when we break apart.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.” She gives me a little smile, although her green eyes remain serious.

  I take a few moments to show her how the traps will work. It doesn’t take long, since I’ve already spent a good amount of our time together in the wilderness instructing her on the basics of trapping and hunting. She’s a quick learner.

  We pick up the long, coiled ropes, and before we leave the shelter of the tree, I press the handle of my knife into Willow’s palm.

  She looks up at me in surprise. “I can’t take this, Bohrir. You should have it. You’re the better fighter.”

  “I made myself a spear.” Reaching down, I pick up the long, straight stick that I’ve sharpened into a point at one end. It’s rudimentary and crude, but it will do. I gesture to the knife. “Please keep it. I’ll feel better knowing you’re well-armed.”

  Willow hesitates for just a moment before she nods. “All right.”

  I grin. I love that about my mate too. She’s stubborn and strong-willed, but she’s also practical and savvy. I’m sure those qualities helped keep her alive while she was being held captive by Gornok and the other pirates, and I hope they’ll keep her alive today as well.

  Holding the branches to one side, I step through and then wait for Willow to follow me, scanning the forest around us as the sky lightens to a soft blue-gray. Once she’s standing beside me, I let the drooping branches fall back into place, and the two of us set out.

  We creep closer to the pirates’ camp, arriving just as they’re setting out for the day.

  Good.

  We wait for them to get moving, and once I’m fairly certain I know which direction they’re heading, I lead Willow off to one side, skirting around the band of criminals and trying to get ahead of them. I know we’ll have to work fast once we’re in place, because we won’t have long before they catch up to us, but I didn’t want to risk starting out before they did and getting too far ahead of them. Our plan hinges on them stepping into the traps we set for them, which means we need to be directly in their path.

  Willow’s breathing grows faster as the two of us nearly jog through the woods, but she doesn’t complain, keeping up with me despite the punishing pace. Before long, I veer back toward the route Gornok and his men should be taking, slowing down as I search for the perfect place to lay our traps.

  “There,” I murmur, satisfaction rippling through me. I jerk my chin, and Willow glances in the direction I’m indicating.

  Up ahead, there’s an area where the forest grows more dense, the trees all clustered close together with thick, brambly bushes taking up most of the space between them. There’s a narrow pathway through the trees that’s slightly less crowded, and it will serve as the perfect funnel, drawing the pirates to right where we want them.

  I stride down the pathway quickly, scanning the tr
ee branches overhead. When I see a spot that looks good, I stop, and Willow draws up beside me.

  “Quick. Help me get these set up,” I say.

  The two of us work together, stringing two of the long, thick ropes over two sturdy tree branches, leaving their looped ends hidden in the wild grass that covers the forest floor. While I make sure the traps are well hidden, Willow takes the third length of rope and heads a little farther down the path with it.

  When she returns, she’s holding my knife in her hand, her expression grim. Sunlight glints off the blade as it shakes slightly.

  I catch her around the waist, my heart aching at that small sign of fear in her.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask, cupping her face in my palm.

  “Yes.” She bites her lower lip but nods decisively. “I have to.”

  “I understand.”

  I kiss her once, just a brief press of our lips. If I allow it to go on any longer, I’ll never want it to end, and we need to get in position to be ready.

  We break apart and melt into the thick foliage surrounding the somewhat open pathway, hiding behind the large tree where the rope traps are slung. Our speed paid off, and we got a good way ahead of Gornok and the others. As we wait for them to appear, my shoulders tighten with worry.

  Did I misread their trajectory? Has something diverted them from their path? Was I wrong about this?

  With every moment that passes slowly by, I grow more and more anxious.

  But then the sounds of deep voices reach my ears, and a not long after that, I hear the telltale crunch of twigs snapping under heavy feet. Unlike Willow and me, the pirates are making no effort to disguise their passage through the forest, so it’s easy enough to hear them coming.

  I tense, glancing over at Willow as she bends her knees, ready to leap into action.

  Just as I hoped, the gang of pirates heads right toward us, following the easiest path through the thick trees. My gaze darts from them to the looped ropes laid out on the ground, counting down the steps until they’ll reach our traps.

  Wait for it.

  Wait…

  Wait…

  “Now,” I hiss as the two pirates in the lead—Gornok and the one she called Hexa—begin to move past us.

  I yank on the rope just as Gornok steps into it, and Willow does the same with her rope as Hexa steps into the other loop. Gornok’s leg sweeps out from under him, flying upward as he’s hauled upside down into the air. Willow doesn’t have the strength to lift Hexa from the ground, but her pull on the rope trips him and sends him down to his back.

  The other pirates all react, staggering backward with surprise as they swivel their heads, searching for the threat.

  “There! You dirty gref!” The flat-faced one with gray skin points to us, catching sight of us through the trees, and his friends all turn in our direction.

  “Go,” I whisper to Willow. I think she nods, but I don’t have time to look. I’m already readying my spear as I release the rope that holds Gornok, sending the pirate leader crashing headfirst to the ground. He lands with a sickening crunch, his body bent at an awkward angle.

  Willow sprints away from me, and I hear another one of the pirates bellow angrily as he follows her toward the trip wire she set up with the third length of rope.

  I step from the trees, hurling my makeshift spear at the flat-faced alien. At close range, and with the amount of power I put into it, the sharpened stick goes right through him, entering his torso and emerging from his back as he makes a gurgling sound. I reach down to snatch up a rock, employing Willow’s favorite tactic as I hurl it at another one of the pirates. I’m aiming for his head, but it strikes his shoulder, doing less damage than I’d hoped but sending him stumbling sideways.

  The pirate who was caught in Willow’s loop trap struggles to his feet, lunging for me with the rope still wrapped around his ankle. His blade slashes toward me, and I pluck my spear from the fallen pirate and use it to block the blow.

  In the distance, I hear a low, harsh death cry, and a feeling of vicious satisfaction rises up inside me.

  Another pirate has gone down.

  Just as we planned, Willow must’ve led him to the trip wire, avoiding it herself and taking him out when he went sprawling.

  That makes three dead. Three more to go.

  I throw myself into the fight, holding off the red-skinned alien and his two comrades as they surround me, trying to find a weakness in my defense.

  “Hey!”

  A light, female voice calls out, and one of the pirates turns toward it—just as a heavy stone hurtles toward his head. It hits his nose with a crunch of bone, and his head whips backward. I use the opening to end his life, impaling him on my spear and swinging his body around to block an attack from Hexa. Hexa’s blade sinks into his dead friend’s arm, and I almost laugh at the disgruntled look on his face, but then a new sound chills my bones.

  A scream.

  My head whips toward the sound, and my heart stops beating as I see Gornok advancing on Willow, a large, dark bruise marring his forehead.

  I was wrong. I thought the fall had broken his neck, but he’s not dead.

  And now there’s nothing between him and my mate.

  22

  Willow

  Gornok’s slitted eyes are bloodshot, and one of his arms hangs limp by his side, but he’s still as massive and imposing as he’s always been. His good hand holds a long, curved blade, and the look of fury on his face turns my stomach to ice.

  For a moment, everything that’s happened since I escaped his den is erased, just like my past was for so long. I can’t remember anything but the fear and helplessness I felt as his prisoner.

  As his pet.

  His possession.

  All the strength and bravery I’ve found in my time with Bohrir seems to drain out of me, and I hear my mate bellow in rage and fury from somewhere nearby. But the sound seems muted, as if it’s coming from underwater. The only thing that’s in perfect focus is Gornok.

  Those cruel eyes.

  The vicious curve of his lips.

  The way his braids sway slightly with every step he takes.

  “I thought I taught you not to run, little one,” he growls. “I thought I taught you not to fight.”

  My heart is beating so fast it’s nothing but a painful hum in my chest. The knife handle slips a little in my grip, slicked with sweat from my palm.

  Dimly, I’m aware that Bohrir is trying to get to me. I can hear the sounds of him battling the other pirates ferociously, trying to break through their ranks. But he won’t reach me in time. I know it.

  How can I fight Gornok on my own? How can I win against him?

  You don’t always have to win. But you have to try.

  The words filter through my head suddenly, as clearly as if someone had spoken them aloud. And it’s not my voice that speaks them in my mind, but an older woman’s voice—sweet and warm, but firm too.

  My grandmother.

  She used to tell me that, whenever I was worried about failing or afraid to do something. It was the advice she gave me before softball games, and when I applied to college and worried about not getting accepted. It was one of the last things she ever said to me before she died.

  Her parting gift.

  Her hope for me.

  I blink, and when my eyes open again, it’s as if the whole world has snapped back into focus. Gornok is still striding toward me, but I no longer feel trapped in place as if I’d been tied to a set of train tracks.

  When he reaches me and swipes out with his knife, I dodge to one side. But instead of stumbling backward, I lunge forward, slashing my own blade in a wild arc. I catch Gornok on the side, right below the leather armor that covers his shoulders, and a blood wells from the gash as he lets out a startled, pained grunt.

  His eyes narrow, his nostrils flaring. “That was a mistake, little one.”

  I don’t even bother to answer him, darting out of his reach and whirling ar
ound to face him again, my knife raised. I don’t know if I can truly beat him in a fight, but just like Mimi always told me, I have to try.

  Gornok looks almost rattled, his lips curling as he stares at me as if he’s never truly seen me before. I guess he hasn’t, in a way. He’s never seen this version of me. The one who would rather die than give up.

  With a savage growl, he lunges forward again, his injured arm hanging by his side as the muscles of his other arm bulge. He swings his curved blade toward my torso, and I slip backward, blocking it with my knife.

  The reverberations of the blow ripple up my arm, sending pain howling through my shoulder, and I let out a harsh cry. He swings again, and I don’t have time to get my blade up to block, so I throw myself back, avoiding the vicious tip of his dagger but going down hard on my butt.

  Gornok grunts victoriously, advancing toward me as I crab walk backward.

  Bohrir’s knife is still gripped in my hand, but Gornok is too far away for me to try to attack him. And he’s got an advantage on me now, towering over me while I scrabble over the grass.

  Unless…

  Oh fuck. This is a really bad idea.

  The thought flits in and out of my mind in a flash, but I don’t even take time to debate or worry about what will happen if I fail.

  I just act.

  Lifting my hand, I hurl the knife at Gornok, aiming for the center of his torso right below his shoulder armor. It’s unprotected, his bare skin gleaming in the light, blood seeping from the wound I already gave him. Time slows as the knife hurtles toward him, flipping end over end as it wobbles slightly from my awkward throw. I’ve got good aim, but I’m used to throwing softballs, not knives.

  The expression on Gornok’s face changes slightly as he realizes what I’ve done, surprise morphing into fear—and then pain.

  Somehow, my blade has found its target, burying itself in his stomach.