Page 8 of His Secret Mate

With a resigned sigh, Orion approached her, standing just behind her shoulder. "Any progress?" he asked, more to break the silence than out of genuine curiosity. He didn’t really understand what she was doing and was certain she wouldn’t share any significant findings without prompting.

Lara glanced up briefly, acknowledging his presence with a slight nod before returning to her work. "I’m making some headway, but not as much or as quickly as I’d like," she replied. "The problem is, I can only review what I’ve done. Until I know when I’m going to get my hands on that plant, I can’t really set up anything. The experiments, testing, and research that will be needed will need constant monitoring. This storm isn't helping."

"I know," he said, leaning against the mantle. "We might be stuck here longer than we anticipated. The supply run?—"

"I figured," she interrupted, her tone matter-of-fact. "We'll manage. I have faith in you."

Why that simple statement made his heart clutch, he had no idea, but he found her calm demeanor both reassuring and infuriating. While he struggled with the weight of their isolation, she remained focused on her work—on saving others—while all he was doing was plotting how he’d keep her to himself until she had no choice but to remain with him

Orion pushed off the mantle and started his routine check of the station's systems. The hum of machinery and the occasional beep of instruments were familiar, comforting sounds.

They reminded him of his purpose here: to maintain the station, to ensure its functionality, to monitor any activity and now, to protect Lara. The storm outside was relentless, but within these walls, he could exert some measure of control.

And god knew at this moment, he needed all the control he could get, even if it was just an illusion. As he moved from one system to another, his thoughts kept drifting back to Lara. He couldn't help but notice how she remained unflinchingly dedicated to her mission. Her fingers danced over the keyboard with precision, her eyes never straying from the screen for more than a moment. It was as if the storm outside didn't exist for her.

The knowledge that she was his fated mate was becoming more and more pronounced. He struggled not to give in to what he believed to be a primal need to claim her. Yet, there was a part of him that clung to the past—not that he thought of those he had left behind, but to the idea that maybe he wasn’t deserving of a fated mate. There were those who thought those not born a she-wolf were somehow inferior, but Orion wasn’t one of them.

He had joined the Resistance even before it called itself that. He had served as one of Colby’s operatives—the blacker and more deadly the mission, the better he liked it—to escape his past and forge a new future. He’d meant to immerse himself in the work and avoid entanglements. Lara was nothing but an entanglement. This wasn’t a woman he could just play with, use for sex, and then walk away from. This was his fated mate, and regardless of what she or anyone else thought, she would be his.

Lara, with her quiet strength and unwavering focus, was nothing like the she-wolf he’d left behind. She was becoming a major distraction. He caught himself watching her more often, noticing the way her hair fell across her face or the subtle expressions of concentration and satisfaction as she worked.

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. The station and its mission demanded his full attention, especially now, with the storm cutting them off from the world. They had to be vigilant, ready for any emergency. And yet, as he performed his duties, a part of him was always aware of her presence, a silent reminder of the emotions he was trying to suppress.

Hours passed, and the storm's fury showed no sign of abating. The station's lights flickered occasionally, a reminder of the power surges they had to guard against. Orion and Lara worked in a rhythm born of necessity, their movements already coordinated without needing many words. They were fast becoming a team, each understanding what they believed their roles to be. Lara had yet to realize the significant part she would play in his life.

As the day wore on, the isolation began to gnaw at Orion. He was used to solitude, had even welcomed it in the past, but now it felt different. More oppressive. He found himself seeking out Lara, making excuses to be near her, even if it was just to check on her progress or discuss the station's status. Her presence was a balm to his frayed nerves, even if he wouldn't admit it to himself. Normally, he might have shifted and gone for a run, but the idea of leaving her here alone was not something he would do.

Later in the evening, after she’d made supper and he’d cleaned up, the storm continued to rage outside. They sat together in the common area talking about their pasts but only superficially. It was as if they both knew their pasts didn’t matter. It was only the present and the future that had any importance. They slipped into a comfortable silence, Lara reading through some reports, her expression as focused as ever. Orion sipped a cup of coffee, staring into the dark liquid as if it held answers.

"We'll get through this," Lara said quietly.

Orion looked up, surprised. "What makes you so sure?"

She met his gaze, her eyes steady and calm. "Because we have to. It doesn’t end like this for either of us or for the Tasmanian Devils. We're here now, and we have a job to do. Worrying about things we can't control won't help."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You're right. I know you're right. It's just that I feel now I have more to lose. It makes it harder."

Lara's expression softened, a rare glimpse of the person behind the professional facade. "It doesn’t have to be. We’re not alone, not really. We have each other, and we have our work. That's enough."

“Is it?” he asked.

“For now, it has to be.”

He nodded, appreciating her words. She was right; they weren't alone. The world was still out there; they were just cut off for now. As much as he tried to deny it, her presence was becoming something he relied on, a steady anchor in the midst of the storm. Was that what it was to have your fated mate at your side? To know that regardless of what else was going on, they would have each other?

In the days that followed, the storm showed no signs of relenting. The station groaned under the weight of the relentless wind and snow, but it held firm. Orion and Lara continued their work, their routine now a dance of precision and efficiency. They were a well-oiled machine, each movement and decision honed by necessity and mutual understanding.

One evening, as he was performing a systems’ check, Orion found himself watching her again. She was lost in concentration, her fingers moving deftly over the controls. He couldn't help but marvel at her skill, her ability to learn and adapt and to remain calm under pressure. It was a quality he had always valued in himself but seeing it in her made him realize how much he respected her.

"You're staring," she said without looking up, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Orion started, embarrassed. "Sorry, I was just... thinking."

She glanced up, her aquamarine eyes meeting his. "About what?"

"About how good you are at this," he admitted. "How you never seem to waver, no matter what."

She shrugged, a modest gesture. "I have my moments of doubt, like anyone else. I just don't let them show."

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