Page 63 of An Alien for the Farm

I ease up on my elbows, blinking away the pain in my head. “I don’t understand.”

When Varek doesn’t move, urgency fills my tone. “Varek, please, I’m starting to freak out here.”

Varek meets my gaze for a few moments before looking away. Whatever this is, whatever he’s not telling me, it’s hard on him. I can see that. But it’s becoming terrifying for me.

“This is not how you should learn about this, kahlesta. It is all too soon. Too abrupt.” He runs a claw over his face—a gesture so humanlike that it almost distracts from the fact that the male I’m falling in love with is stuck in my barn while his brother is here, obviously with a burden he doesn’t even know how to articulate.

Love? There’s that word again. Only, it doesn’t make me want to run. Doesn’t make me want to hide. Each second that passes with Varek’s silence makes my heart beat harder. Makes something deep inside me ache. Makes a fear I didn’t think I’d be feeling start to grow in my gut.

When he finally continues, his voice is low and somber, a stark contrast to the raging storm outside.

“Zynar will view any male, even his own kin, as a challenger if he senses they’ve had contact with you. I am no exception to the danger.”

His words echo in a way I didn’t expect, leaving me able only to blink at him in stunned silence. “I…don’t understand. Why would that happen?”

“Zynar made you ping me for one reason. He was himself enough to realize what was happening. And so I am here.” He faces me now, yellow eyes unreadable. “My sole purpose here is to protect you—from him. You are his kahl…” He bows. “And my kahlesta.”

“I—.” My heart is thumping so hard, it’s as if it understands something I don’t. “Kahlesta?” I whisper. The same word he’s been calling me all along.

“Varek…” His gaze shifts to mine. My heart thumps as we stare at each other, the weight of whatever’s hanging around us like an invisible cloud more present than at any other instance. “What does kahlesta mean?”

20

ELEANOR

“I’m his what?” I’m in dry clothes. Varek refused to continue talking until I changed, repeating fears of me getting ill by remaining in my wet tunic. He kept stating he refuses to let anything else happen to me. And since I declined his well-intentioned proposal to help me change into dry attire, I struggle to do it myself. It takes me way too long to pull on a dry tunic and underwear with my head still feeling heavier than it usually does. And the entire time, the nervous energy building inside me has not quelled, only increased.

It feels like I’ve suddenly stepped into territory in which I didn’t expect to find myself. But whether it’s dangerous territory or not, I’m not sure. Instead, there’s a strange sort of anticipation mixed with unease. Solely from the fact that what Varek said to me is the last thing I expected him to say.

Mate.

He said I’m his brother’s mate.

My heart does that strange ski-boop thing at the thought, but I push the feeling down. I have to be real with myself. We had sex, and maybe, somehow, Varek knows. But that doesn’t make me his brother’s mate. Disappointment swells within me so swiftly I can’t even hide it.

Now, sitting on the bed with fresh, dry sheets, I stare at Varek from where I rest upright, a pillow braced at my back so I can rest my head against it. The headache hasn’t gone and so I try to ignore the pain. It’s not hard. My mind fixates on Zynar instead. My frown deepens as worry dominates my thoughts—worry about the male chained in my barn and the fact that no one has checked on him in hours.

I’ve gone from having the best night of my life, excited about what comes next, to now wondering what the future holds for the male I spent that night with. Frustration mingles with my concern. I’m so worried about him that I can’t focus on anything else.

And Varek? Well, Varek dropped that bomb on me just before the medic arrived.

My focus on Varek is briefly interrupted by the medic as he leans forward. Using a device to press on different sections of my skull, he checks the extent of my injury. He’s some type of avian. I can’t quite be sure what type because he’s dressed in his own version of the suit Varek’s wearing. Glimpses of feathers show through the transparent section that he can see through.

“Varek,” I shift my focus back to the male standing like a guard at my bedroom door. “I need you to say that again.”

“You’re his mate, kahlesta.”

Once again, the word silences me. His mate? I want to tell him exactly what I’m thinking. That though the idea of being Zynar’s mate thrills that part of me I’ve tried hard to fight, it doesn’t mean anything. But that’s not a conversation I can have with the medic right between us.

“Tilt your head back for me…” the medic hums. He ignores our conversation, seeming to be completely engrossed in his examination.

“I’m not the one that needs all this attention.” I shift my eyes to the medic.

He emits a huffing sound I interpret as mirth. “While the blow you sustained poses no mortal danger, summoning medical aid was prudent. The force of the impact was substantial.” He eases back and searches in the trunk he has resting on the bed. Taking out a vial, he instructs me to tilt my head back as he administers some fluid. It’s bitter and my face scrunches.

“I have never worked with a human before, but I assure you, this will assist in your recovery.” He gets a needle and lifts it up to the light. A spurt of fluid squirts from the tip and he hums appreciatively in his throat.

“What’s that for?” I eye the thing.

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