Page 18 of Alien Prince's Fated Mate

The meat needed preparation. I sliced it into strips with precise cuts of my claws, arranging them on clean stones near the fire. No need to advertise how I’d made the kill.

The aroma of cooking meat filled the cave. Niam stirred, her nose twitching. She blinked at the fire, then sat up straight.

“How long did I sleep?”

“Not long enough.” I turned the meat. “But food’s almost ready.”

She stretched, joints popping. “Did you find something to hunt?”

“Rock tserna. Common enough in these mountains.” Moving casually, I slid the bloody scraps under leaves.

“With what weapon?”

I shrugged. “I managed.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t press. Instead, she watched the meat cook, stomach growling loud enough for my enhanced hearing to catch.

I passed her the first cooked pieces on a flat stone. “Careful, it’s hot.”

She took a bite without hesitation. No questions about preparation or safety. Just pure trust.

My pride was undeniable. My mate, accepting my provision. The Valti preened.

“This is good,” she said between bites. “Really good.”

I added more meat to the fire, pretending her praise didn’t affect me. But inside, beast and man both glowed with satisfaction. I’d provided for her, protected her. Maybe earned a fraction more of her trust.

She finished her portion and licked her fingers clean. The sight of her tongue...

I focused very hard on cooking the rest of the meat.

NIAM

Iawoke to the warm glow of embers in the cave’s depths. Gone were the chill metal walls and ominous beeping machines of the Temple’s alcoves. My eyes opened not to harsh artificial light, but flickering flames dancing across rough stone.

Two mornings now. How many more could I wish for?

A profound sense of freedom washed over me. No longer was I tethered to the Temple’s will, my mind an open conduit for its systems. I breathed deep, savoring the musty cave air - a stark contrast to the stale, recycled atmosphere I’d known my entire life.

As my senses fully returned, I became aware of a heavy weight draped across my body. Blinking in the dimness, I realized it was Tharon’s thick cloak covering me. The soft fur lining held his rugged, earthy scent that stirred something primal within me.

We’d lost all our supplies when that rockslide hit, burying our bags and leaving us with only the clothes on our backs. Yet Tharon had given up his sole remaining warmth to ensure my comfort through the night. The selfless act of caring filled me with a tenderness I hadn’t experienced before.

Close by, Tharon tended to a small fire, its crackling the only sound in our secluded shelter. He moved with disciplined efficiency, laying out strips of meat from last night’s hunt on flat stones to dry into trail rations. His powerful frame and fluid motions mesmerized me.

With our packs gone, we’d need to get resourceful about carrying provisions. My fingers ran across the edges of the device secured inside my robes - the device I hoped held the key to ending the Temple’s atrocities forever.

I must have stirred, for Tharon’s intense eyes locked onto mine. “You’re awake,” he stated simply, giving me a brief nod.

Rolling onto my side, I shrugged off his luxuriously soft cloak. “I am. Thank you for that.” I nodded toward the fur bundled beside me.

A ghost of a smile played across his full lips. “You were shivering. I required it less than you.”

With the cloak off, the cool air prickled over my skin, raising goosebumps along my arms and back. I suppressed a slight tremble, stubbornly refusing to ask for its return. Bad enough I depended on this shakai warrior’s strength - I wouldn’t allow myself to seem frailer than I already was.

“I preserved what I could of the tserna.” Tharon gestured toward the meager pile of drying meat strips.

Tharon wrapped the strips of dried meat in broad leaves, his fingers deft as he wove stalks of grass to bind the makeshift packages. The meat would keep us fed for a few days at least.

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