Page 86 of The Commander

CHAPTER 29 - BASTAIN

Bastian kept Kitten talking while he tried a new series of commands to access the map. “How did you get to Dalewood from that other town?”

“Springfield?”

“It is more than a day’s walk,” he clarified. All the human towns were separated by design.

“Andy and his guys had a car with a corn engine,” she said.

He hadn’t considered it before, but he recalled her mentioning a ride to Dalewood. A frustrated growl escaped him as he pieced together the timeline. Kitten hadn’t been in the area long, and he’d disabled a corn engine some time ago. Undoubtedly, the grunts had defied his orders to eliminate the rest of the makeshift transport, further proof of pre-programmed sabotage. How much trouble had Control used them to inflict while he staggered through his haze of constant irritation?

It occurred to him that the duty, discovering Kitten’s DNA status, might have captured her under orders, kept her alive so he would scent her, and dragged him across his senses like bait. They had wanted their turn with her, but who knew what promises the priestess had made to motivate them?

He’d been manipulated. He should feel more outrage, but his only regret was not taking the time to rip out Eld’s jugular before he left her behind.

After they left the scattered trees around Dalewood, the road opened into miles of flat, unremarkable landscape. Leftover stumpsof a few cities lay ahead, interspersed with the other settlements he’d controlled. The nearest base with another acting Prime

Commander was hundreds of miles off. He didn’t expect interference from that direction. If Control bothered to send a recapture team, they would come from the sky. This open road left him feeling like a target.

Kitten distanced herself from him, both in mind and body, leaning toward the door as she looked outside, her mouth set into a straight line of distress. “Do you hurt?”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you ask me to help you?”

“Would you?” she asked back without missing a beat.

“Of course? You are my mate.” Her irritation reminded him of the double mindedness of Sarrian females. She wanted help. Expected help. Would never ask for help.

“I don’t know. What would you do?”

“The autopilot is currently offline, but as soon as it is safe I plan to check your wounds, get you nutrients.”

“I’m fine,” she lied. Her blood and her disrupted physical systems stained the air.

Resisting the impulse to touch her, make her look at him, and pull her into his arms caused his hands to clench on the steering wheel. “We are tied, Kitten. Bonded. It is a young tie. I know you don’t understand it, you are not Sarrian, but I can’t betray you, won’t leave you, and will do all I can to see to your health and wellbeing.”

“I know. I feel that. I feel it—the tie thing. It’s like a cord pulling me to you,” she answered, not sounding very happy about it.

Having observed her trying o carry all the responsibilities of her fellow humans on her shoulders and then proceed to wear them like one of her layers of clothing, he had no idea how long she would be upset about the town and how they had to leave it.

Too many clothes. Too many layers. All for people who did not deserve it.

“You said Brenda was your only friend. You had no family. Your father died You’ve always been alone?”

She shook her head, not answering.

“Use words, Kitten.”

“Do you know my name?” Her head snapped towards him, green eyes blazing with a sudden intensity as her mood shifted again.

Bastian met her gaze, his tongue tracing over the points of his teeth. Her eyes flicked away, but not with fear. They’d passed that point. She was fierce, this one. Since their mating, she faced him with defiance as natural as breathing.

She’d run, fought, resisted his commands, yet underneath it all, there was trust—a trust he could smell and feel, as tangible as her skin. He relished the savory notes of that complex paradox.

“I gave you the name of Kitten because of your cute little claws.” His gaze flicked to her hands, remembering the feel of those blunt points against his skin.

“That’s not my name. My Dad always called me Cara. Cara Mia.”

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