I suck in a sharp breath as I contemplate what this means. My “owner” is here, the alien who bought me on that space station. I thought I was free of him. I thought he’d died in the crash, or otherwise wasn’t coming.
"Hush now, mate." Wen leans down, pulling me with him as he cuddles me beneath the furs. Olo's warmth presses in from behind, but it does little to temper the cold I feel. "You're safe. Once he sees there's nothing left of his ship, he will leave. We just need to be careful and take a few precautions to ensure he doesn't spot you before he leaves."
"W-What did he l-look like?" I stutter, still shaking and so, so cold. "I-I couldn't see h-him when he b-bought me. I-I c-couldn't see anything. I-I was hazy f-from the drugs."
"I don't know if—"
I cut Wen off, burrowing deeper into his chest. "P-Please? I-I just want t-to know."
The unknown is so much worse. I just want to know what he looks like so I have a face to watch out for. It will make this feel more real, more tangible, because right now, it just feels like some obscure nightmare I can't escape from—shadows that haunt my every move.
"He's nearly as tall as me, six feet at least, with a dozen eyes. They're all black—pupilless, from what I can tell." Wen pauses, almost as if he's searching for his next words, and I'm holding my breath. "The alien is bipedal with two arms like us, though he's a dull gray. His skin is leathery, like a lizard, and he has ridges all over his body. He's earless and noseless, and there are these strange appendages attached to his head—four of them that reach his shoulders."
I cry harder, the visual somehow worse than the unknown after all.
Wen's purr gets louder and a softer one starts up behind me, courtesy of Olo. But no matter how long we lie there, sleep evades me.
Chapter 9
Wen
3 Cycles Later
Tonightbothmoonswillbe full, and while I don't want to leave my mates with the alien bastard potentially hanging around, I need to go. With me feeling more aggressive than usual, more territorial, I need to hunt, if only to burn off some of this twin moon madness.
Things have been tense. Lyra has been creeping around the house, making herself as small as possible and spending the majority of her time buried in the nest. It kills me to see her like that, but no amount of purring or tending to has eased her anxiety. Olo has been doing all he can to distract her, but it's not done anything to ease her mind.
The fact is, until we know for sure the alien is gone for good—a thing we can't easily verify—Lyra won't be able to relax. He's here looking for his crew and missing ship, which he won't find since I burned their bodies and scavenged the ship’s parts, along with the council. Still, it won't stop the alien from searching.
I haven't seen or heard him since he knocked on our door, but that doesn't mean he's gone. The alien could be lingering, and seeing as I happily pointed him in the direction of the crash, he could still be close. Too close.
"Are you going?"
Olo's question breaks through my thoughts, and I turn to see him standing at my side. I've been at the window in the kitchen, surveying the woods surrounding us for any sign of the alien.
Lyra's in the doorway to the nest, a fur blanket wrapped tightly around her. She's tense, my poor omega, lines of stress aging her face. Despite not wanting to emerge from the nest, she hates it more when we’re out of her sight for too long. Lyra starts to panic, and although her whimpers are nearly inaudible, the sound almost seems to resound inside my chest.
"I'm not sure it's a good idea," I finally say.
"Perhaps if you stayed within shouting distance of the den?" Olo suggests.
I shake my head. "I don't like it."
I want to stay home. I want to glue myself to the den. We have the replicator, so it's possible, but this itching under my skin won't abate until I'm tearing into a beast. The twin moons call to me, dragging out this aggression that I refuse to subject my mates to.
I've never told Olo just how itchy I get on nights like these. He thinks I hunt on the most dangerous nights for the challenge, and while that's true, it's so much more. I didn't want to tell him I consider it a weakness that the moons can influence me so. Part of me wants to tell him now, if only so he doesn't think I'm abandoning him here with Lyra for a simple thrill, but I won't.
I can't.
Every time I think about telling him the truth, I freeze up. I fucking hate it, but what am I to do?
Which instinct is trumping me? Is it my instinct to hunt, or my instinct to protect? If I stay, I'll be rough with my mates in a way they've never seen before. Can I stomach that? Can they?
"You said you haven't seen him around here," Olo whispers. "He might have already left."
"Perhaps," I say between gritted teeth, "or perhaps he's still lingering around here, hiding like the bastard he is. We don't know, and I don't want to risk it."
Lyra's nearly silent whimper breaks my heart, and I walk to the doorway she's clutching to pull her into my arms. I grab her nape and gently brush my thumb down the claiming mark I left on her. She shivers in my arms and wiggles into me like she can burrow into my very being.