Page 26 of Deserted

It hadn’t worked yet.

“You look terrible,” she said, reaching up to brush something from my face. Her fingers grazed my cheek, and I flinched like she’d burned me. “When’s the last time you slept?”

“Reapers require minimal rest.”

She gave me a look that said she wasn’t buying it. “Uh-huh. And I’m the Queen of England.”

I blinked, momentarily confused. “You are not royalty.”

That earned me a laugh—a quick, bright sound that sent warmth spiraling through my chest. I cataloged it instantly, adding it to my growing collection of her reactions. My tail flicked with pleasure before I could stop it.

“It’s an expression, Fuzzball.” She moved past me to check the now-silent recycler. “It means I don’t believe you.”

The nickname should have irritated me. No one in the Legion would dare address a Reaper with such familiarity. But from her lips, it sounded like an endearment. Like something intimate. Private.

Mine.

I shook my head, forcing my thoughts back to the task at hand. “The communications array still needs calibration,” I said, keeping my voice level. “I’ll need to check the exterior components.”

“Again? You were just out there three hours ago.”

“The sand shifts. Components become exposed. Buried.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. The sand did shift. But I needed distance. Space to breathe air that wasn’t saturated with her scent. Time to reinforce my crumbling resolve.

“I could help,” she offered, and the genuine willingness in her voice nearly broke me. “I’m good with my hands.”

Don’t think about her hands. Don’t think about her hands on you. Don’t think about her hands on?—

“You should rest,” I managed, my voice rougher than intended. “Conserve energy.”

“For what? More sitting around while you pretend I don’t exist?” Her frustration was palpable, her scent sharpening with it. “I’m going stir-crazy in here, Rhaekar.”

The way she said my name—slightly accented, with a soft roll of the ‘r’—sent heat straight to my core. It took every ounce of my training not to react visibly.

Instead, I moved to the equipment locker, retrieving my tools with mechanical precision. “There is the sand-pulse rifle,” I said, nodding toward the weapon I’d shown her how to use yesterday. “You can practice disassembly and cleaning.”

Her eyes lit up at the suggestion. Despite everything, I found myself smiling internally at her eagerness to learn, to adapt, to survive.

I’d shown her how to wield the sand-pulse rifle. She’d insisted. “If something comes after me, I’m not going down with just sass and sarcasm.” Her words. I’d admired her grip, her stance, the way she absorbed information like a sponge. Terrans were fragile, yes. But Jas was not weak.

She’d been a natural with the weapon—quicker to adapt than some Legion recruits I’d trained. Her smaller hands had struggled with the trigger mechanism, designed for larger Rodinian fingers, but she’d compensated with determination. And when she’d hit the target dead center on her third attempt, the flash of triumph in her eyes had made my chest swell with pride.

Pride. In a human female I’d known for less than a week. Who happened to be my cosmic fate mate. Who had no idea what that meant.

This situation was beyond salvageable.

“Fine,” she said, pulling me back to the present. “I’ll clean the gun. You go play in the sand. But when you come back, we’re having a real conversation.”

I tilted my head, considering her. “About?”

“About why you keep avoiding me. About those dreams we shared. About whatever a ‘kassari’ is.” She stepped closer, invading my space with a boldness that both impressed and alarmed me. “About why you look at me like you want to devour me, then act like I’m radioactive waste.”

My pulse quickened, hammering against my ribs. She remembered the word—kassari. Of course she did. The Unity bond was strong between us, stronger than any I’d heard described. And now she wanted answers I wasn’t sure I could give.

How did you explain to a human that fate had chosen her for a mate? That on my world, what we’d shared was sacred? That every instinct in my body screamed to claim her, mark her, protect her?

That I was terrified she would reject me once she understood what it meant?

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