Page 20 of Bound to the Bounty Hunter

The question caught me off guard. Most people didn’t care about a human’s history, let alone how we achieved any measure of success.

“I... I had a talent for botany,” I explained. “A Zeqnid scientist noticed and fought for me to get an education. It wasn’t easy. Lots of discrimination, lots of people who thought I didn’t belong.” I shrugged. “But I proved them wrong.”

“Discrimination?” Arkon asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “People didn’t really believe a pathetic human refugee from a failed planet could amount to much of anything. I mean, think about it. You think of a human female and you either think she’s a whore or a waitress. You don’t think of her as a scientist”

“I suppose you’re right,” Arkon said matter-of-factly as I winced. “But you got through it.”

“I had to study harder than everyone else,” I said. “I couldn’t just do well in classes, I had to be better than everyone else to get the same amount of respect that others were just handed for showing up.”

Arkon nodded, a flicker of something - respect? - in his eyes. “And now you’re here, trying to save the galaxy.”

I laughed humorlessly. “If I don’t screw it all up first.”

“You won’t,” he said with surprising conviction.

I looked at him, and in that moment, I felt the weight of everything unsaid between us. The kiss we shared. The growingbond neither of us acknowledged. I looked away first, suddenly overwhelmed.

“We should get some sleep,” I murmured.

As I lay in the shelter, sleep eluded me. The flood of mental noise drowned out everything else around me. The mission, the kiss, the uncertain future that stretched before us. The memory of Arkon’s lips on mine sent a shiver through me, desire warring with practicality.

I tossed and turned, the events of the past days playing on an endless loop. What if I couldn’t synthesize the counteragent? What if we were too late? What if-

Exhaustion finally dragged me under, but my dreams offered no respite.

The darkness pressed in, suffocating. I blinked, trying to orient myself, but the inky blackness remained impenetrable. My pulse hammered in my chest, each beat louder than the last.

Where was I?

Then it hits me. The cell. I was back in the Consortium’s cell.

No. No, no, no.

I reached out, my hands trembling. Cold metal met my fingertips. The walls. Too close. Getting closer.

Panic clawed at my throat. I spun around, feeling the edges of my prison. Smaller. It was getting smaller.

I spotted a faint green glow. My breath hitched. The mind control plant. Its tendrils curled towards me, reaching, grasping.

I ran to the far wall, but there was nowhere to go. The cell shrank, the plant grew, and I couldn’t escape.

“Please,” I whimpered. “Don’t take my mind. Don’t take my will.”

The tendrils brushed my skin. I screamed.

“Samira?” Arkon’s voice cut through my terror. He knelt beside me, concern etched on his face.

I opened my mouth to reassure him, but a sob escaped instead. Without a word, Arkon gathered me into his arms.

His hand stroked my back in soothing circles as I cried silently against his chest. He didn’t offer empty platitudes or useless questions. He simply held me, a solid anchor in the storm of my emotions.

As my tears subsided, I was suddenly aware of our closeness. Arkon’s warmth enveloped me, his scent filled my senses. I should have pulled away, maintained some professional distance. Instead, I burrowed closer.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Don’t be,” Arkon replied, his arms tightening around me.

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