She doesn’t need to be told, she simply rushes over to the door and waits for me to open it. Before I follow her, my eyes catch Sayer’s. He’s amused as he watches me. Jareth stands close to him and leans in to whisper something. Those two and their rekking secrets. Normally, it doesn’t bother me, but when I think they are whispering about my mate, I don’t like it.
Ignoring the morts of our faction, I wave my bracelet that grants us access into my chambers. As soon as the doors close behind us, she lets out a gasp.
I relax as I take in my view. My windows remain uncovered. I slathered the glass in sabrevipe blood long ago to keep out the harmful UV rays without obstructing the view. The windows take up the entire far wall and give unobstructed views of the vast wasteland that is our planet.
She walks over to the glass and touches it. When I come to stand beside her, she looks up at me and gives me what she must think is a brave smile. It’s anything but brave, though. My mate is terrified.
“Toto, it doesn’t look like we’re in Kansas anymore,” she whispers.
I fist my hands because the urge to twist my fingers in the messy yellow and brown strands on her nog is becoming too maddening of a thought. “I will keep you safe. From them,” I rumble, indicating the other morts. “And from that.”
She shivers when my claw plinks on the glass. “We have a deal.”
“We have a deal,” I agree, understanding her meaning. I try her name on my tongue again. “Molly.”
A smile tugs at her lips on one corner, drawing my attention there. “You can call me mate in front of the others if that, you know, helps them understand I’m yours.”
Heat wraps around my heart and clenches it tight in a way that actually feels good.
I’m yours.
My mate. My Molly. Mine.
5
Molly
My hands still tremble, but I hide them in the pockets of my suit, so Draven can’t see. For all my bravery so far, it had only taken the thought of hearing the alien baby to bring me back to the shivering thing I’d been when I’d woken up in the cryotube. I’m beyond grateful to Draven for bringing me to his quarters, away from the prying eyes of the others.
I don’t even mind the rust-colored blood smeared all over the large windows that cover one wall. It removes some of the light coming in, but it makes the space feel cave-like, cozy. That’s not the only thing different about his place.
A nest of pillows and threadbare blankets are piled atop the bedding area, and what look like claw marks mar the walls. Had he done those, or had some sort of wild animal gotten loose? Considering their extreme germaphobia, I’d put money on the former. The marks go almost from ceiling to floor, the ragged edges punctuated by blossoms of dark, red blood.
His rooms remind me of the den of some rabid animal. One who’d attack with the slightest provocation.
Oh, darlin’, what happened to you?
I erase those thoughts from my mind. I didn’t choose Draven because I wanted to be closer to him, I chose him because of all the morts, he’s the one who won’t want to be closer. He’s got more walls than a prison, and I have no interest in scaling them.
“Is there a bathroom?” I ask, gesturing down to my clothes. “Do you have somewhere I can get cleaned up?”
He nods toward the wall opposite the windows. “The bathing facilities are through there.”
Draven moves when I do, as though he’s going to offer to wash me, and I cut him off with a raised arm and a laugh. “Thanks, sugar, but I think I can handle it.”
I close the door behind me after a moment of confusion when I merely find buttons on the walls. My shoulders slump, and I press my face into my hands at the first moment of privacy since I stepped out of the cryotube. Tears want to come. I almost wish they would. A good cry would wring me out like an old wash-rag, but they don’t come. I’m simply too tired. Too hopeless. I may have limited protection linking myself to Draven, but what happens when I don’t immediately get pregnant?
The thought has me stripping out of the suit they provided me as my skin prickles with an uncomfortable heat. The shower is little more than a closet, and it takes me several minutes to figure out the buttons that activate the spray. I step under it and moan in delight as the water cascades over my skin, washing away my fears, if only for a moment.
When I step out, I find clothes waiting for me on a basin. Draven. Touched, I dry off with the thin towel provided and dress in the T-shirt-like apparel. The sleeves have been torn off, and I wonder why as I slip the material over my bare skin. Undergarments must not be one of their priorities.