Page 58 of An Alien for the Farm

A look of horror passes across his face as he staggers back some more. “Go.”

“Zynar, tell me what’s happening. I can help. I—”

“Go, Liora!” His shoulders heave and I step back. Slowly, he disappears into the shadows of the barn, only the sounds of ooga emanating from the inside and the soft roll of thunder from the skies above.

I turn, my heart in bits as I storm toward the house. I fling the door open, not caring to close it or not as I run to my communicator. My fingers are a wet trembling mess as I activate the screen.

“Call Varek. Call Varek.” But I’ve never contacted his brother before. I don’t know if I even have his ping code. FUCK!

“Computer, do I have Varek’s contact details?”

“Please specify the designation or ping code of the resident you would like to contact.”

I run a hand through my hair, pacing till I find myself at the front door. My gaze finds the barn immediately and it’s still locked. Zynar has still barricaded himself inside.

“Uh, Varek uh…” Shit. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. I can’t remember his name. I’ve fucked his brother, was basically planning my life with him, and I don’t remember his name? What the hell is wrong with me?

“Varek of the Korruk line?” There’s hope in my voice as I see the computer recognize my words.

“Sending ping.”

The screen flashes and goes dark as I continue pacing. My eyes are wild in my reflection on the device’s surface. My hair like a wild bird’s nest. When the screen flashes again and Varek’s face fills it, a wave of both recognition and trepidation hits me. He looks so much like Zynar, yet he’s clearly not. Because Zynar’s currently in my barn going through something. I have to lean back against the wall in relief and for some support.

“Human female,” Varek greets me. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this ping?” Then he growls. “Do not tell me my siblingkin has been caught in some kind of trouble.”

I swallow hard. “Trouble, yes. But not the sort you think.”

18

ZYNAR

Ilean against one of the outbuilding’s pillar supports, forcing myself to breathe. My entire body hums as I stare at the doors.

I want to go to her. I must.

The vibration rising within me, the rhythm, gets louder as I take the first few steps, an energy rising inside me that no gods can tame. My whole body sings. My whole being is on fire. My every sense alight.

Like a cord leading me back toward Eleanor, something tugs me closer to those doors. Even though I’ve locked myself in with the last of rational thought, my resolve is quickly crumbling. I have to plant my feet firmly, digging claws into the earth to anchor myself. For I have found my kahl. My mate. Orbits thinking such a thing was impossible, but here I am, my core-rhythm rising in my chest, binding around my core-beat with such intensity it’s taking my breath away.

My fangs ache, my claws extend and retract, my muscles bunch. I’m coiled tight, like I’m about to pounce. The primal urge to hunt, to claim, to rut consumes me. Rational thought slips away, replaced by a singular, overwhelming instinct.

Find her. Take her. Claim her until she is undeniably yours.

The transformation is agonizingly slow. My senses sharpen, every sound amplified, every scent magnified. I can catch remnants of her scent lingering by the doors where she’d pounded her fists and demanded that I let her in. And, in my state, I almost did. Now I can hear her voice.

My head tilts and I’m at those doors, ready to tear them off their hinges at just the faint sound of her song. She’s on her communicator, all the way in the lodge, and I can hear her. The world narrows to a point, centering only on Eleanor. My vision tunnels, the edges darkening as I stare at the wood as if I can see through it, as if locking onto my prey.

“He’s burning up and there’s this strange sound, a vibration coming from his chest!” She sounds frantic. “He ran away from me before I could even check his temperature. I don’t know what’s going on.” There’s a tremor in her tone and I growl at her distress even though I’m the one causing it. I am to make her cry out in want and need, not in sorrow. My hard cock slaps against my chest, encouraging me to do just that. “Please, Varek, can you come? I’m afraid…” She hesitates. “I’m afraid something very wrong is happening.”

Her words bring some clarity to my mind. Through the clouds darkening my senses and telling me to do one thing and frakk the consequences. Because my mate is human. Not Kari. She has no clue what I want to do to her. What I need to do to her. This is why I must stay away. I must prevent myself from going to her and damaging what little foundations we’ve just built, because if I leave this outbuilding, she will be beneath me, impaled on my cock over and over again and there will be nothing either of us can do about it.

I can barely think, barely hold on to the last shreds of my control as I turn and head farther into the outbuilding. There are chains here, lying on the ground in one corner, and I grab them now. The beast within me roars, thrashing against its cage at the first realization of what I’m about to do. Gripping one of the pillar supports, I throw the chains around it before bringing them around myself. My muscles tense, my claws digging into the stone as that beast within me resists. I am becoming something primal, something ancient. An untamed force of nature driven by raw, animalistic desire.

I want Eleanor. I need her.

But there is one thing I didn’t explain when I told her the story of my past. That the Tasqals didn’t simply want our virility. They wanted our power. This monster that rises with the insatiable urge to rut. That when a Kari finds his mate, the urge turns him into an uncontrollable beast with a singular focus. That many female Kari have died during the rut. That I thought it would never happen to me because of the Tasqal’s experiments. No displaced Kari has found his mate since. I thought we were broken. But then I never imagined a little fluttering bird to perch on my arm and awaken something inside me I long thought dead.

Her wings are finally reopening after being tied down for so long. The last thing I want to do is break them again. And so I bind myself. Each rotation of the chains around me is a struggle, a losing battle to maintain even a semblance of control. At the final turns of the chain, I secure it with the last of my logical mind. For my mind fragments, thoughts shattering under the pressure of instinct. Images of Eleanor beneath me, writhing in pleasure, fill my mind, fueling the fire raging within, eclipsing everything else. I can almost taste her, smell her, feel her, and I’m dimly aware of my body reacting. Of my knot swelling. Of spend seeping from my tip to soil my thighs and the ground beneath me. The anticipation is maddening, the desire an all-consuming inferno.

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