Page 34 of Deserted

“I’m supposed to,” I admitted, setting the rifle aside. “Protocol demands immediate notification of any anomalies, especially those relating to the buried tech. You qualify as both.”

She absorbed this without visible reaction, but I felt the spike of apprehension through our connection. “And what would happen then?”

I moved to her side, unable to bear the distance between us any longer. My hands found her shoulders, turning her to face me. “They would take you for questioning. Study you. Try to understand how you triggered the systems.”

Fear flashed in her eyes, but she didn’t look away. “And you? What would happen to you for…for bonding with me instead of reporting me?”

“Discharge, most likely,” I said bluntly. “Possibly detention, depending on what they discover about the tech activation.”

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “I won’t let that happen.”

I smiled, cupping her face between my palms. “Neither will I. Which is why we’re going to the outpost first. Commander Kale is stationed there—he’s an old friend, one who understands the sacred nature of fate-bonds. He’ll help us navigate this…diplomatically.”

Relief flowed from her through the bond, easing the tension that had built between us. She rose on her toes, pressing her lips to mine in a kiss that sent sparks racing along every nerve ending. I growled low in my throat, deepening the kiss, my hands sliding down to her waist to pull her closer.

The bond flared between us, golden threads of connection pulsing with renewed heat. I could taste her desire, feel it building alongside my own, the feedback loop of sensation threatening to consume us both again.

With reluctance born of necessity, I broke the kiss. “We should finish preparing,” I said, voice rough with want. “As much as I’d prefer to take you again.”

She smiled against my lips, the curve of her mouth both teasing and genuine. “Later,” she promised, and the word sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine.

We resumed our preparations, moving with purpose now, the shelter a flurry of focused activity. I packed weapons, tools, navigational equipment—all the essentials for traversing the wasteland—while monitoring the shelter’s external sensors for any sign of Legion activity.

A ripple of unease passed through me as I checked the latest readings. The buried tech was more active now, sending out pulse signals at regular intervals. Searching. The patterns wereunmistakable—reconnaissance protocols designed to locate and track anomalies.

Tracking Jas.

My jaw tightened as I loaded an extra power cell into my gauntlet. Through the bond, I felt Jas’s awareness of my tension, her own apprehension rising in response.

“What is it?” she asked, coming to my side, her hand finding mine with instinctive ease.

“They’re scanning actively now,” I said, showing her the display. “Looking for you.”

She studied the readout, her brow furrowed. “How far can they reach?”

“Not far yet,” I assured her. “The systems are old, degraded. But they’re waking up more fully with each scan. We need to be beyond their range by dawn.”

She nodded, squeezing my hand. “Then we leave now.”

I checked the time—barely midnight by local standards. The desert would be cold but navigable, the twin moons providing enough light to travel safely if we were careful. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than waiting for morning when the Legion tech would be at full scanning capacity.

“We leave now,” I agreed, gathering the last of our supplies.

As we made final preparations, I felt something shift in our bond—a deep, solid certainty flowing from her to me. I looked up to find her watching me, her eyes clear and determined.

“Whatever happens out there,” she said quietly, “I don’t regret this. Us. The bond. I need you to know that.”

The words hit me with the force of a physical blow, reaching past my carefully constructed defenses to touch something vital and vulnerable. Through our connection, I could feel the absolute truth of her statement—no hesitation, no doubt, only certainty that blazed like a sun.

“Kassari,” I murmured, the word carrying all the reverence I couldn’t express otherwise. “You are my heart’s match. My home.”

She smiled, and I felt her love—bright and fierce and uncompromising—flood through the bond between us. It staggered me, this alien emotion I’d never allowed myself to imagine experiencing. I’d been prepared for desire, for partnership, for the biological imperative of the bond. I hadn’t been prepared for this—this overwhelming tide of feeling that threatened to drown me in its intensity.

“Let’s go,” she said, shouldering her pack with determination. “Together.”

I checked the perimeter one last time, scanning for any immediate threats before disabling the shelter’s security protocols. My mate was right beside me, her presence a solid comfort through our newly formed bond. Whatever awaited us beyond these walls—Legion tech, command protocols, the unknown dangers of the wasteland—we would face it as one.

I adjusted the sand-pulse rifle on my shoulder and reached for her hand, our fingers interlocking with perfect ease. The contact sent a ripple of reassurance through our connection, steadying us both.

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