Noah looked like his father, and yet he didn’t. My son had thick black hair and olive skin. But his eyes were mine. Dark blue when he was born, instead of growing darker, as I’d expected, his eyes had grown paler by the day, matching my pale blue. The contrast in his coloring was striking already, and I knew, someday, I would be chasing girls away from him and his exotic looks.
But for now, he was mine. “Hey, big guy.”
His eyes opened and he saw me. Just like that, he smiled, his chubby little cheeks bunching and his eyes sparkling with unfiltered joy.
Love rushed through me, so strong and fierce I could barely contain it. I reached for him, lifting him from his crib. I placed him on the changing table, dealt with a wet diaper quickly. He kicked and fidgeted, eager to get on with it as I laughed and blew raspberries on his soft little belly.
These were the moments when I rejoiced in my time on Trion.
Late at night, alone in bed, I missed him still. My mate. Roark. Being with Noah brought a little of Roark into the room.
Determined not to ruin the day, I leaned over and pressed my lips to Noah’s soft belly again, blowing air in a loud, silly stream on his petal-soft skin. He kicked and squealed, his chubby little fingers brushing the bare skin of my stomach where he’d found an opening under my soft cotton T-shirt. My jeans were comfortable and well worn, and only one size larger than what I’d worn before. Not too bad.
I leaned over and made wild, growly noises as Noah squealed and kicked.
But then the fun stopped. Noah’s hand wrapped around the gold chain that hung from my nipples and he tugged. Hard.
“Ouch!” With a chuckle, I lifted my shirt and found his chubby little fist clutched around the medallion in the center, the one his father had given me. “Let go, silly. That’s not for you, baby. That belongs to Mommy.”
I pried his fingers from the medallion, one by one, but his grip was surprisingly strong as he tried to pull the pretty, sparkling gold to his mouth.
“Noah!” His eyes sparkled with innocent delight as he quickly shoved the medallion into his mouth, fist and all, smothering the entire thing in drool. Which just made prying individual fingers free of the thing without hurting myself that much more difficult.
When I’d first arrived on Earth, I’d tried to remove the chain and the rings. I’d tried pliers and wire cutters. Everything I could think of, but nothing worked. Only surgery would remove them and I had no intention of going there. After a month or two, I’d grown used to them. Before Noah was born, it was my reminder of the short time I’d had with Roark. Then Noah replaced the chain and its medallions as a token of what we’d shared, for our love made him.
The chain remained my personal torment and pleasure, my one true connection to the man I’d loved and lost.
With infinite patience, and a strong desire not to have my nipples yanked on like that again, I finally got the wet, drool-covered medallion from his chubby little fingers.
“You are in trouble, mister.” I shoved the gold back under my shirt and quickly tucked in the front, so his wandering hands could not find it again. “Come on, love. Let’s go get something to eat.”
I lifted him into my arms and made my way down the stairs, my son nestled snuggly under my chin.
Chapter Ten
Roark, Outpost Nine, Northern Continent
After twelve hours in the ReGen pod, I was, per the scanners, ninety-two percent well. I had some bruising, some cuts that were pink, newly healed flesh. I wasn’t perfect, as I would be if I had remained in the pod the recommended time. But I didn’t have time to heal fully. I needed to know what happened to Natalie. If she really was dead, I needed to know. I couldn’t rest until I knew the truth. How could I relax when she might be on Trion somewhere, lost, hurt, alone. The Drovers could have her now, torturing her as they had me. Tormenting her. Causing her pain.
I had to find her. And if I found a body, I would not rest until the DNA test confirmed the remains belonged to my mate.
I’d given her my word, my promise to come for her, to protect her, and I would honor that vow to my dying breath.
“You must give up. Let go,” my mother said, coming into my tent. I sat behind my desk, staring at the search grids for Outpost Two, reading reports of the attack. Outpost Nine was bigger than Two, the small desert outpost where, even now, my mate’s body might be lying in the sand. There was no chance of an attack here. The tent community surrounding Outpost Nine had turned into a city within the desert. When High Councilor Tark was matched to his mate, she’d transported here.
I never imagined the danger Natalie would face simply transporting to the smaller, less-secure outpost. There had not been a direct Drover attack in years. Still, I should have known better, thought of all the consequences, the dangers. She was my mate and her safety should have been my highest priority. Not my convenience.
I never should have risked her. I should have waited until my return to Xalia, where a thousand men would have protected her night and day in the palace. I’d been impatient and eager. My lack of self-discipline had cost me everything.
And here my mother stood, with a frown on her face and a list of replacement females, insisting I now choose a mate from the capital. My mother was ready for me to move on. Ten days, and I was to forget the only woman I’d ever allowed into my heart.
I didn’t turn to face my mother as I responded, afraid she would see my rage. She was my mother and I would offer her nothing but respect. But I was not a boy to be led around by my ear. I was a Councilor. I would not be forced to do anything. When my mother refused to listen, I made the only argument I knew would sway her. “Would you give up Father so easily? Your one true match?”
“That’s different, son.”
“No. It’s not. You were his bride, Mother. Matched through the same system that gave my Natalie to me. She was my match. Perfect for me in so many ways. I claimed her. That very first night.”
“It was only one night, Roark. Surely, if you would spend one night with—”