Page 22 of Alokar
The mountain lion broke free, landing in a crouch on the creek bank. Golden eyes fixed on me with predatory calculationas I hauled myself upright, blood streaming from the claw marks on my stomach. It circled left, then right, testing for weakness.
When it lunged again, I was ready.
I caught it mid-leap, my arms wrapping around its ribcage as its momentum carried us both backward. We hit the ground hard, and I rolled with the impact, pinning the thrashing animal beneath me. The cat yowled and twisted, but I possessed leverage now.
My hands found its spine just below the shoulder blades. The mountain lion sensed the danger and fought with renewed frenzy, but it was too late. I pressed down, feeling the vertebrae strain against my grip.
The sharp crack echoed through the forest like a gunshot.
The cat went limp instantly, its fierce golden eyes dimming as it let out one final, rattling breath. I held my position for several more seconds, chest heaving, before finally releasing my grip and rolling away.
I hated to kill it. The mountain lion’s ribs jutted sharply beneath its matted, dull coat, and a festering wound stretched across its right hindquarter—flesh glistening with infection beneath crusted blood. The magnificent predator had been reduced to a desperate, starving creature, but hunger was no excuse for threatening my mate.
My mate.
The words boomed through my consciousness like thunder as Hannah came crashing back through the underbrush, her rifle clutched white-knuckled in her hands. Her storm-gray eyes swept frantically from the lifeless felinesprawled in the dirt to me, widening with alarm as she took in the claw marks raked across my torso.
“Oh my God, Ewok!” Hannah’s voice cracked as she gasped, dropping the rifle and running to my side, her boots splashing through the shallow creek. Her hands hovered over my injuries—the mountain lion’s claws had barely penetrated the skin, leaving angry welts that stung more than truly hurt—but she hissed in sympathetic pain as though she felt every scratch herself. “Are you okay?”
I managed a rough grunt, my voice stolen by the exquisite torture of her gentle fingers mapping the contours of my wounds, her touch both soothing and electrifying.
“Come on,” Hannah’s smaller hand enveloped mine, her skin warm and soft against my palm. “I need to get these cleaned.”
She guided me back through to where we’d tethered the horses, their ears pricked forward and snorting with nervous energy. She motioned for me to settle on a nearby moss-covered boulder while she replaced the rifle and its scabbard and rummaged through the leather saddlebags strapped to Bertha’s sturdy frame.
Although I carried a compact medi-unit in my backpack that could heal these minor scratches in seconds, I let it remain buried in my pack. The tender ministrations of Hannah’s hands were worth far more than instant healing.
When she eased the torn fabric of my shirt from my shoulders, her fingertips trembled like leaves in the wind, and she made soft, worried sounds deep in her throat that made my chest tighten with something far more intense than pain.
“This is alcohol,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she saturated a pristine white pad with the sharp-scented antiseptic.
At the touch of the liquid fire against my raw flesh, a sharp hiss escaped through my clenched teeth—the stinging sensation immediate and fierce.
“Thank you for saving me,” she murmured softly, her gray eyes focused intently on cleaning my wounds, each gentle dab of the antiseptic pad deliberate and careful.
“I will always protect you,” I vowed, my voice rough with emotion. Her gaze darted upward to mine. She stared at me for a long, breathless moment, something unreadable flickering across her delicate features, then offered a faint smile that barely curved the corners of her lips before returning her attention to her careful doctoring.
“I’m glad you don’t hate me any longer,” I said, watching as she switched from cleaning the wounds to slathering a cooling, mint-scented salve across the welts with feather-light touches that sent shivers racing down my spine.
“I never hated you,” Hannah’s cheeks bloomed with a soft pink blush that spread down her slender neck. “I was just mad.”
“Are you still mad?” I asked, my breath catching as she began touching me again—not only caring for my wounds, but her fingers threaded through the fur along my arms as though she couldn’t resist the feel of it beneath her palms. I heard the subtle acceleration of her heartbeat, a rapid flutter like bird wings, and caught the faint musky sweetness that tinged the crisp mountain air. Her arousal—not blatant but present like awhispered promise woven into her already intoxicating scent of wildflowers and warm skin.
“Yes,” Hannah insisted with mock severity, but the playful sparkle dancing in her eyes told me she teased.
“I am sorry for lying to you,” I said again, my voice heavy with regret. I would apologize for as long as it took, would grovel at her feet, if necessary, until she forgave me.
“I know,” she murmured, her voice soft as she began wrapping a band of pristine white gauze around my torso. She had only enough material for one pass, the fabric snug but not restrictive against my skin.
“Most humans could not be trusted with the truth of who I am,” I told her, my voice dropping to barely above a whisper. The warnings of my parents, Duke Ako, and the Alliance Prime echoed in my mind—the importance of keeping my alien features hidden, essential for my own survival.
“It must be hard to know who to trust,” Hannah said, her fingers working to tie off the bandage. But instead of moving away when finished, she remained close, so close I could feel the warmth radiating from her body, her small hands coming to rest on my biceps.
“I trust you,” I whispered, the words carrying the weight of everything I couldn’t yet say.
Hannah’s breath caught audibly, a sharp intake that seemed to echo in the sudden stillness of the forest. Even the birds had gone quiet, as if nature itself held its breath. Her fingers traced the edge of the bandage, her touch both gentle and electric, sending sparks of sensation racing through my entire being. I could hear the subtle change in her heartbeat, the wayher breath caught and held, the almost imperceptible tremor in her hands.
“I trust you too,” she whispered, her gray eyes lifting to meet mine with an intensity that made my chest constrict with hope and longing.
