Page 18 of Deserted

I’d even made a list of possible symptoms of heatstroke, just in case this entire “alien warrior fate-mate” thing was a sunbaked hallucination. The list included “vivid hallucinations,” “inappropriate sexual attraction to non-humans,” and “believing you’re on another planet.” Then I deleted the list because it wasn’t helping, especially when the weight of Rhaekar’s body against mine had felt far too real to be a figment of my imagination.

I dragged my hands down my face, groaning. “Focus on something else. Literally anything else.”

So I tried cleaning my boots—what was left of them—and organizing the ration packs by color rather than nutritional value. I attempted to decipher the alien writing on the equipment panels, which was about as productive as trying to read cat memes in Sanskrit. I even tried meditating, but every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was Rhaekar’s golden gaze, intense and hungry as he moved above me in that dream.

“Nope!” I shot to my feet, pacing again. “Not going there.”

But my mind went there anyway, replaying the dream in high-definition detail. The way his claws had lightly scraped my skin without drawing blood. The raw power in his muscles as he’d held himself above me. The taste of him—wild and exotic and somehow perfect. The word he’d called me—kassari. Whatever it meant, he’d said it like a prayer, like something sacred.

And then there was the way we’d fit together, his body filling mine completely, the strange sensation of him swelling inside me, locking us together as we?—

“Okay, that’s it!” I clapped my hands together, trying to shock myself out of the memory. “Inventory. For the third time.Because that’s totally normal and not at all the behavior of someone losing her damn mind.”

By the time the bunker door finally hissed open, I’d graduated from stir-crazy to possibly unhinged. I spun toward the sound, relief warring with irritation as Rhaekar ducked through the entrance.

He looked...incredible. Sweat glistened on his copper skin, making the cheetah-like markings seem to move with each breath. His hair—longer than a human’s would be, almost mane-like—was windblown and wild, framing his sharp features in a way that shouldn’t have been attractive but absolutely was. Sand clung to his boots and the lower part of his Legion-issue pants, which did nothing to hide the powerful muscles of his thighs.

I mentally slapped myself. Focus, Jas.

“Well, look who finally decided to return to the land of the living,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “Did you get lost, or were you just avoiding me?”

His golden eyes narrowed slightly. “The perimeter needed checking.”

“For six hours?”

He stepped further into the bunker, the door sliding shut behind him with a soft hiss. He smelled like sun-warmed stone and something spicy I couldn’t identify—distinctly him, distinctly alien, and distinctly driving me insane.

“There was damage to assess. Equipment to salvage.” His gaze swept over me, quick but thorough, as if making sure I was still in one piece. “You are well?”

“Well?” I echoed, incredulous. “No. I’m confused. And I’m pissed. And also a little aroused, which is very inconvenient, thank you.”

His tail twitched sharply behind him, the only betrayal of his otherwise calm exterior. That tail had featured prominently in several of my more creative daydreams during his absence,and seeing it move sent a jolt of heat through my core that was entirely inappropriate for the serious conversation we needed to have.

“The storm has passed,” he said, moving toward the monitoring station without meeting my eyes. “I needed to ensure the perimeter was intact.”

“Oh, sure.” I followed him, refusing to be ignored. “But no time for the ‘why am I dreaming about you wrapping that tail around me like a weighted blanket from a sex dungeon’ conversation, huh?”

That got his attention. He froze, one clawed hand hovering over the control panel. I saw his back muscles tense beneath his thin shirt, his shoulders going rigid. When he finally turned to face me, his expression was carefully neutral.

“Dreams are not always literal,” he said, each word measured and controlled.

“I think these are,” I countered, stepping closer. I jabbed a finger at his broad chest, feeling the solid heat of him even through that small point of contact. “You’ve been avoiding me. And don’t think I didn’t notice how you won’t even sleep near me anymore.”

Rhaekar remained silent, his jaw clenched tight, those alien eyes giving away nothing. But I could see the thoughts wrestling behind them, calculations and considerations that he wasn’t sharing. It was infuriating.

“The comms are down,” he finally said, turning back to the control panel. “I’ll need to repair the long-range uplink to contact Command.”

“Oh, that’s what we’re doing? Swapping topics now?” I narrowed my eyes, planting myself between him and the console. “Because I’m not a threat, Rhaekar. I’m a grown-ass woman who just wants the truth. What was that dream? Why did it feel so real? Why did you call me... what was it... kassari?”

The word hung between us, charged with significance I didn’t fully understand. His eyes widened fractionally, pupils contracting to slits before expanding again.

“I am protecting you,” he growled, the words rumbling up from his chest.

“From what? Your feelings?”

That earned me a deep, gravelly sigh and a glower aimed at the sand-crusted floor. For a moment, I thought he might actually answer me. His tail swished behind him, betraying his agitation even as his face remained impassive.

But then he stepped around me, careful not to touch me, and began checking the diagnostics on the monitoring station.

---