“Molly.”
“I know.”
Her eyes roll in that annoyed way Aria does often. “I’m saying you should call me Molly, not mate. It’s so alpha.”
“Breccan is the alpha,” I state.
“Oh, Jimminy Christmas! Never mind. Go see the…thing. I’ll be right here.”
I give her a slow nod, confused at her words yet again, before turning and pushing into the room. The other morts move out of the way to give me my space. I stand in the middle of the room, face-to-face with Breccan.
I’ve never seen him smile like this, showing all his teeth like he’s succumbed to the madness of The Rades. Something moves in his arms, and I tense. My eyes drop to the bundle. As soon as I see the thing, my chest hurts. Why does it hurt? The thing is no mortling I know of. It’s different.
Furry black hair like its father.
Speckles on its tiny nose like its mother.
It opens its eyes, and those too are like Breccan’s.
But then my eyes travel along its exposed flesh that has a pink hue like Aria’s.
Breccan lets out a chuckle. “Sokko has claws like me. See?” He pulls the mortling’s hand from inside the bundle. “And these? These are mine.” His finger pushes back the dark hair on its nog to reveal flat ears like all morts have. “His tongue is like Aria’s, fat and useless.”
“Hey,” Aria grumbles from the bed. She’s paler than usual and appears to be exhausted, but she’s smiling happily. “You didn’t call my tongue useless the other day.”
Breccan growls, and the mortling startles. I take a step back in case the thing jumps out of that bundle at me.
“Can it speak?” I ask.
Several morts laugh nearby, and I feel ashamed by my question.
Breccan doesn’t ridicule me, he simply shakes his head. “Not yet. Like morts, alien young don’t speak until nearly a whole revolution has passed.” His thumb pulls down the tiny creature’s chin. “But look at this.” Tiny fangs barely puncture the otherwise toothless gums.
“It is unusual,” I utter.
“I think you meant the most beautiful thing you have ever seen,” Aria chides.
I don’t open my mouth to argue, but the most beautiful thing I’ve seen is my mate. I may not want to touch her, but I enjoy looking at her. Especially her mouth.
“Your sub-bones,” Breccan says, dragging me from my inner thoughts.
“About that,” Avrell says. “Molly has chosen Draven as her mate.”
Aria sits up and gapes. “She chose someone? Already? We barely got word that the cryotube malfunctioned, and we have a new human here, yet you’re telling me she’s already chosen someone?” She scoffs and points at Hadrian. “Bring her in.”
Before I can stop him, Hadrian is out the door. Molly’s distressed scream pierces the air. Like a contagion, the mortling in Breccan’s arms wails in response. I become focused only on getting to my mate, slinging morts out of the way as I charge to get back to her in the hallway. When I see Hadrian’s hands on her shoulders as he attempts to guide her toward the room, I lose my rekking mind.
“DO NOT TOUCH MY MATE!” I bellow, yanking a magknife from my belt along the way toward him.
Hadrian’s eyes grow wide in shock as I raise my arm, ready to send him to The Eternals for hurting my mate. I promised her I would protect her. I’ve already failed, and we’ve barely established that she is to be mine. Before I can smash the sharp tip into his skull, someone strong grabs my arm and jerks me back. Jareth.
“What are you doing?” he hisses, wrestling the magknife out of my grip. As soon as he takes it from me, he lets go of my arm.
Hadrian has wisely removed his hands from Molly. As soon as she’s free, she rushes over to me. Her spindly arms wrap around my middle. I freeze as terror claws up my spine. Last time she grabbed me like this, I succumbed to the darkness. But now? Now, the urge to gut Hadrian keeps me drawn into the light. To protect her.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, her hot breath tickling my chest over my minnasuit.
I bring my nostrils to the hair on her nog and inhale. My eyes remain locked on Hadrian in warning. He glowers back but stays far away from me.
“This is your wish, little one?” Breccan asks, no longer holding the mortling. “You wish to mate with Draven?”
She nods but refuses to look at him. “Yes. Now can we please leave? I’m tired. We can talk about all this later.”
Breccan frowns at me. He knows me better than any mort here. He knows I don’t want to mate. Not at all. My commander is intelligent, and I can see the questions dancing in his eyes. For now, all he does is nod his approval. It’s enough for me. I pry the alien away from me, giving us much needed space, and point next door to where my chambers are.