Page 43 of The Alien Warlord's Fated Mate

“We will know more once our warriors scour the jungle. Now we must get you safely home. I have sent for a conveyance.”

“And that’s it? We just…go home and wait?”

“That is it,” Jyrak agreed solemnly. “Your mate will ensure that if what you saw was avyirkolen, it will not survive the night.”

Mia sat straight up. “Zoran! Oh, God.”

“He is a fierce warlord, Mia, one of the best fighters among us. Do not fear for your mate’s safety.”

“How can I not?” Mia forced herself upright, locking her knees until her legs steadied and held. “Maybe it was nothing.”

“Perhaps. But Mia, if you ever find yourself face to face with such a creature, remember: no sudden movements, no running. Climb, if you can, and be wary of their strength.Vyirkolenare good jumpers, their bite is fierce and deadly, but they cannot climb. Remember that.”

Mia nodded shakily. Sure, she’d remember that. Not that she intended to come face to face with a predator except the one who’d attached himself to her. She’d gladly sacrifice her highly anticipated daily walks between Zoran’s apartment and the science center if it meant keeping herself in one piece.

Chapter Twelve

A few days later, Zoran stepped into his home and secured the door behind himself. Wearily, he shrugged out of his robe and raked a hand through his hair, smoothing it behind and around his horns. He’d had parties out combing the surrounding jungle since the night Mia caught a glimpse of something. Parties comprised of his finest warriors, his best trackers. What she’d seen, he couldn’t say, as they’d found no trace of the vicious predators that had once preyed upon his people. They’d wiped out thevyirkolenafter eliminating the Var’Kol. Native predators with that coloring seldom strayed far from their natural habitats.

Was his mate seeing ghosts among the trees, or had something else caught her eye?

Mia glanced up at him and smiled. She was sitting on a cushion in the sunken area below the kitchen, a bright spot among the paper scattered around her. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders, gleaming richly, and he gritted his teeth against the urge to stalk across the room and bury his face in her throat.

She beckoned him forward. “Come sit with me.”

“I have been in the jungle, mate.”

“Want me to help you clean up?”

A growl worked its way out of his chest. Would that he could accept her innocent offer. “What are you working on?”

Her eyes glinted knowingly at him as she dropped her hand. “Several things, to be honest. I’ve got a list.”

Her humor drew him forward as surely as a rope fastened firmly around his heart. He found himself yet again standing before her without having a conscious memory of moving. To distract himself from the heat kindling low in his gut, he squatted beside her and picked up one of the papers. It was a hand drawn sketch of a local tree, carefully labeled in her own language.

“We have these diagrams aplenty, Mia,” he chided gently.

“Labeled in Xeruvian,” she responded, seemingly unoffended. “Dissecting plants this way helps me learn. It fixes the information in my mind.”

“If you drew me, would it fix me in your mind?”

She laughed lightly and took the paper from him, setting it aside. “You’re already fixed in my mind. How was your day?”

“My day went well, thank you. And your own?”

“Busy, as usual. There’s a million things to do.” She leaned forward and brushed her fingertips along his jaw. “Are you sure you don’t want to sit with me for a while?”

And taint his mate with the sweat and dirt accumulated during his long day? “I need but a few moments, then I am happy to comply.”

“Good. I waited supper for you.”

He bit back a reprimand, clearly remembering how upset she had been when he suggested that she take the evening meal without him. “Families eat together,” she had stated, as fierce as any warrior he knew. That she considered him family had hit him so hard, his rebuttal had died on his lips.

Once he bathed and pulled on a fresh set of loose trousers, he padded barefoot back to her. She had put away her papers while he showered, pulled together their meal, and set it on the low table in the seating area.

He joined her there, sitting on a cushion beside her. They ate silently for a while, companionably, and he had to admit that she was right. Eating together was far better than the solitary meals he had endured before meeting her. It had been many years since something had drawn him home at night. Their food was different, but that was of no consequence. What mattered was this, sitting beside her, feeling her limbs brush his, eating a meal she had prepared for him with her own hands.

He had not yet provided a meal for her, a lack his mother would scold him over. Was it not his duty to see to his mate’s wellbeing? Yet, he knew such could not always be helped and raised a silent prayer to the Fates that Earth bred such self-sufficient women as his mate.

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