Page 13 of Bonded to the Star-Beast

Another silent blast of sonic energy hits its target. The creature stumbles, and Jaro is there in an instant, his blade finding its mark. Three down. Two to go.

The remaining predators seem to realize the source of their packmates' sudden weakness. They turn their attention to me. Their six-eyed gaze fixes on me, and they let out a series of sharp, barking calls. They abandon Jaro and charge.

My blood runs cold. I fire the emitter again, but they are expecting it. They swerve, their movements less direct but no less deadly. One lunges. I throw myself sideways, the creature's claws tearing through the fabric of my jumpsuit, leaving fiery trails of pain on my arm.

Before it can turn for another pass, Jaro is there. He slams into its side, his roar of fury a physical blow. They roll in the dirt, a whirlwind of blue skin and dark fur.

I get to my feet, my arm screaming in protest, and face the last one. It is circling, trying to get behind me. I keep the emitter pointed at it, my thumb hovering over the stud. It's a standoff. A deadly, silent negotiation.

The creature feints to the left, and I fire. It dodges right, its speed breathtaking. It lunges. I am out of time. I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for the impact, for the tearing of flesh.

It never comes.

I open my eyes to see Jaro standing over me, his chest heaving. His body is covered in scratches, his navy skin slick with his own dark blood and the blood of his enemies. At his feet lies the last predator, its neck broken at an unnatural angle.

The clearing is silent again, filled only with the sound of our ragged breathing. We stand there, two beings from different worlds, surrounded by the carnage we created together. We are a surprisingly effective team.

He walks over to me, his movements slow, deliberate. He crouches down, his amber eyes scanning the deep gouges on my arm. He makes a low, guttural sound of distress.

“It's fine,” I say, my voice shaking. “Just superficial.”

He ignores me, his gaze still fixed on the wounds. He reaches out, his large fingers surprisingly gentle as they hover over my torn skin. I don't flinch away this time.

He looks up, his eyes meeting mine. The golden glow has faded, leaving only a deep, liquid amber. The warrior is gone, and the male is back.

“We go,” he says, his voice a low rumble. He points towards the direction of the forest from which he first came. “To... home.”

I know what I should do. I should refuse. I should maintain my independence. But as I look at the dead creatures surrounding us, at the torn metal of my shelter, at the last, sputtering flicker of my torch, I know that staying here alone is a death sentence. I am a scientist, not a fool. My survival probability has just increased exponentially, but only if I accept his protection.

“Okay,” I say, the word feeling like a concession and a victory all at once. “I will go with you. On two conditions.”

He raises a questioning eyebrow.

“Condition one,” I say, holding up a finger. “You will help me return to my pod. I need to salvage more of my equipment. My scientific instruments. My medical supplies.”

He considers this for a moment, then gives a short, sharp nod.

“Condition two.” I take a deep breath. “This,” I say, pointing from him to me, “is a strategic alliance. A partnership for mutual survival. It is not... a claiming. You will respect my boundaries. You will respect my autonomy.”

His brow furrows, my meaning clearly lost in the vast gulf between our languages. I try again with gestures, drawing a line in the dirt between us with my finger, then pointing to myselfand shaking my head, then pointing to him and shaking my head again. I then bring my hands together, palms flat against each other.Equals.

A flicker of understanding crosses his face, followed by something else. Annoyance? Amusement? He grunts, a noncommittal sound.

“I need you to agree, Jaro,” I press, using the name I've given him. “This is a deal. A contract. My cooperation for your... respect.”

He stares at me for a long moment, his amber eyes searching my face. I can see the war within him, the battle between his primal instincts and this strange, new demand from a creature he believes he owns.

Finally, he gives another curt nod. It is not the enthusiastic agreement I would hope for, but it is enough. For now.

I have an alliance. A tenuous, dangerous alliance, but an alliance nonetheless. I will survive.

He rises and offers me a hand. I hesitate for only a second before taking it. His skin is warm, his grip strong and surprisingly gentle. As he pulls me to my feet, the mark on my chest flares with a sudden, intense heat. I look down to see it glowing with a soft, pulsing blue light. I glance at his chest and see his mark doing the same. We are still connected, this strange, invisible thread pulling between us.

He sees it too. He looks from my chest to his, and then his gaze meets mine over our joined hands. He doesn't look triumphant or possessive. He looks... confused. As confused as I feel.

We spend the next hour preparing for the journey. He helps me salvage what's left of my equipment, his immense strength making short work of tasks that would have taken me days. He lifts heavy panels, tears apart twisted metal, all with a quiet efficiency that I can't help but admire.

As we work, I am acutely aware of the lingering bond between us. The marks on our chests continue to pulse with a low, steady warmth, a constant reminder of our connection. It's a strange, unnerving intimacy. When we work together to lift a particularly heavy piece of equipment, our thoughts seem to align on the same solution at the same time, and the marks flare with a brighter, more intense heat. It's disorienting. It's... fascinating.

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