Page 88 of The Commander

In his mind, humans fell into two categories: those who sought the safety and comfort of Sarrian-managed towns, and those too lazy or stubborn to recognize the benefits. Sometimes humans moved between the towns, trading goods, skills, searching for better work or partners. For those, the guides were a benefit. He assumed those who didn’t want to live in the towns were rebels, and the guides would keep them away from Sarrian occupied areas.

“Why didn’t your father want to live in a township?” Bastian asked, casting a sidelong glance at Cara. She’d said they weren’t rebels, but he still didn’t understand the motivations.

Cara’s expression softened at the mention of her father, the pinch between her brows disappearing. “He was a stubborn man. He believed in independence, in not being controlled by anyone, not even if it meant a hot meal and a roof over our heads.”

Bastian grunted. “Independence like that is an idea from the past.”

“Maybe.”

“It can be very lonely,” he said.

Cara fell silent, her gaze shifting to the ruined landscape outside. Bastian let her be, focusing on navigating the desolate terrain. He spotted a faded red wall on a crumbling building, a bleak reminder of the radiation that still plagued the Earth. He drove them clear of it, his mind drifting back to Cara’s words.

“I can get us to the Appalachian Mountains. I think,” she said as they passed it. “We hid there when I was a kid. There weren’t any aliens, no muzzle heads. No one like you, for sure.”

Her voice gained an airy quality that made him think she liked the idea of fewer alien kinds. That was fair. As long as she understood her place was beside him, the biggest alien in the room.

“Why aren’t there any muzzle heads there?”

“A combination of magnetic issues and mineral deposits interfere with many of the Sarrian power cells running the core data interface systems. Why did you leave?”

“Without aliens, where do you think most of the rebels are? Dad didn’t trust them. I don’t trust them. There were a lot of men like Danov and Andy out there.”

“I’m not worried about humans, Kitten. We will make a place for us until matters with Control have settled.” He didn’t tell her that he had enough weaponry with him to take down a town, or five, the size of Dalewood.

“What does that mean? When my people are all dead and your Control decides it’s not worth it to punish those responsible?”

“Keep talking like that, my pet,” he warned.

She released a hiss of air like steam off a pot.

Glancing down, Bastian checked to see if the autopilot was available. The screen stayed unresponsive. Perhaps the lack of a map had disabled it. He’d have to stop, then.

“Your arm needs attention.”

“It can wait.” She smoothed a hand over her sore arm, her body stiff all over. She couldn’t hide the hurt, even when she tried.

“It has waited long enough.” Before she could argue further, he cut her off with a low growl. “My mate. My responsibility.”

Cara muttered, “I’m not some helpless kitten.”

“No. You are my Kitten. There’s a difference.”

She rolled her eyes. “You are such a Dude.”

“Are you mocking me? Injury or not, I won’t tolerate disrespect. Perhaps I should teach you the ways of mate discipline.”

“Mate discipline?”

“Indeed. Rope and paddles might be involved. Or perhaps another game of chase.” He waited for her reaction expectantly.

A small line appeared between her eyebrows, and she bit her lower lip, as if holding back a retort. At the same time, a new arousal response tickled Bastian’s senses. Her reactions to him awed him. From their first encounter, despite her hesitations, she couldn’t resist their compatibility. Licking his lips, he recalled how her compatibility tasted on his tongue, how he drank it down and fed on it.

“That’s barbaric,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction.

“Barbaric, perhaps. But you cannot deny the thrill, the excitement. I can smell it on you, Kitten. Just as you cannot deny our bond.” He inhaled deeply for emphasis.

Cara’s cheeks flushed, her breath hitching slightly.

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