“Yes.” I nod quickly, before she can change her mind. “I’d like that.”
I still feel the pull to be near her. Releasing her from the possibility of the bond was the honorable thing to do, to not tie her to a weakened warrior, a cripple. But I still want her. My heart still yearns for her closeness, to know more about her, to have her near me at all times.
Because no matter what I tell her, the truth still resonates inside me, a deep knowledge that I can’t ignore.
My soul has recognized hers.
9
Cora
I don’t linger too much longer before leaving the med bay. When I pass Osynth and Zhori in the hallway as I leave, I nod politely to them, but it’s impossible for me to summon much more enthusiasm than that.
Even though I know what Druxik said is for the best—that it was all a mistake, that it wasn’t really the mate bond that we felt before—I still feel oddly crushed, almost heartbroken by his words.
And I don’t know why.
What he said mirrored the exact thoughts I had when I was left reeling in the corridor while he went to go deal with the engine failure.
That it isn’t real. That the bond hasn’t chosen us. That it isn’t possible.
After all, that’s what I was going to tell him when I went to go find him that day, before I saw him being rushed to the med bay. I was going to tell him that he couldn’t be right about me being his Irisa.
But then I found out he was injured, and everything else seemed to fall away. Seeing him lying on that stretcher made me feel as if my soul were being ripped apart, a deep, visceral pain that was almost physical.
I couldn’t stay away from him during his recovery. I visited him while he was healing far more than I admitted just now. Every few hours was an understatement. I was barely able to pry myself away from his side for more than a minute.
Osynth had to remind me to eat, drink, and sleep. Every second away from Druxik felt like an eternity. I was terrified that he might die in that space of time while I was gone, that he would slip away from me if I wasn’t there to watch him.
I’ve never experienced that before—the deep terror of losing someone, the aching dread in my chest.
And yet… I can’t understand why I felt that way. I barely know Druxik. He’s kind and intelligent, and I’m obviously attracted to him. But none of that can explain why I stayed at his bedside day and night like a shadow.
Now I’m more confused than ever. Despite my absolute certainty that the bond can’t be real, that whatever happened between us in the hallway has some other explanation, when I opened my mouth today to tell him that we can’t be mates, I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. Because for all of my psychology training telling me that the attachment could be things like trauma bonding or even just plain unfulfilled attraction, it feels like something different. Something unexplainable, almost mystical.
But then he cut me off before I could say anything at all, and he confirmed exactly what I thought at first.
It was a mistake.
As I walk into my cabin, I can’t help but think again about the moment when I collided with him. We didn’t even kiss—we were so close, a breath away from each other’s lips, yet not quite touching—but it was still the most intense and erotic encounter I’ve ever had.
It was like something out of a movie. It felt like every cell in my body was straining toward him, desperate for his touch, starving for him. It was primal, exciting, beyond anything I ever thought would happen in real life. Certainly not like any of my experiences with boyfriends back on Earth.
College boys aren’t exactly known for being rock stars in the bedroom. Although I had what I always considered decent sex, it was never anything to tilt the world on its axis. I’ve never felt desperate for a man’s touch, never felt hungry for someone before.
And after I got cancer, well… I didn’t really want anyone to touch me at all.
Even after I recovered, it was difficult to feel beautiful or sexy. I haven’t been with anyone since before my cancer treatments began. My therapist on Earth encouraged me to date, and I went out with a couple guys, but I couldn’t let it progress past kissing.
The idea of anyone taking my clothes off felt too intimate, too vulnerable. I didn’t know either of those men well enough to be that open with them, to show them the body that had betrayed me and that I was now learning to live in all over again.
With Druxik, none of those old hang-ups even occurred to me.
I didn’t even think about my old illness, or what he would think of my body, or my usual discomfort in my own skin. Rather than feeling shy or vulnerable, I actively wanted him to rip my clothes off then and there, to touch every inch of me.
Biting my lower lip as thoughts swirl in my head, I enter my cabin and close the door behind me. I shuck my clothes quickly before heading toward the small bathroom. Hopefully Druxik didn’t notice, but I haven’t even bothered to shower over the past few days. I was too busy watching over him and worrying about him. The time it would’ve taken to get to my cabin and back for even a quick five-minute shower had seemed like way too long.
The hot water feels blissful as I step into the small shower pod. But as it washes over my hair and body, Druxik stays front and center in my mind.
What would have happened that day in the hallway if we hadn’t been interrupted?
I know I shouldn’t fantasize about it, that giving in to my secret desire isn’t going to change anything. If anything, it’ll just make this harder. But I can’t seem to stop.
What would it have been like to kiss him? To really kiss him?
I lean against the wall, letting out a soft sigh as I imagine his lips closing that final gap between us. They’re so full and soft, and I envision them pressed against mine. I imagine the brush of his tongue parting my lips, sliding into my mouth gently at first, then more insistently.
Druxik wouldn’t be rough, exactly, I don’t think—but he would take what he wanted if he knew I was willing.
I picture a knowing, desirous smirk on his face as he breaks the kiss in my fantasy, his hands sliding over my waist then down to my hips. He grasps them and lifts me up, pinning me back against the wall as I wrap my legs around him.
Oh god. Fuck.
I should shake myself out of this fantasy, I know that, but my body feels hot and flushed now, aching with desire. My arousal is slick between my thighs, and I’m soaking wet in a way that has nothing to do with the shower.
Brushing my fingers over my nipple with one hand, I feel it tighten under my touch, hard and sensitive. I imagine Druxik carrying me into the cockpit and shutting the door behind him. In my fantasy, he sets me down as he kisses me again, pulling my shirt over my head so he can see my small, naked breasts.
I imagine his long fingers tracing over my nipples, his other hand yanking his loincloth free so that I can see all of him—that last part of his body that’s been hidden away from view while everything else is always on display.
I’ve always been curious about it, and I’ve heard enough whispers from the mated women to have a picture of what his cock might look like in my head. Long and thick and hard, jutting up from between his legs and waiting for me to touch it. I can picture the grin on Druxik’s face, his seductive whisper, his hand taking mine and drawing it to his rigid shaft, asking me to stroke him.