Page 18 of Alien Warlord's Fury
My chest tightened at the pain in her voice. "The markings choose their bearer. They may have been dormant within you, waiting."
"For what? To make me a weapon?" Bitterness edged her words.
"For the right moment. The right purpose." I hesitated, then added, "The right connections."
Claire's eyes searched mine. "You sound like you actually believe that."
"I do." I shifted again in the cramped space, my arm brushing against hers. Where our skin touched, warmth spread—her silver markings responding to my golden lifelines.
"The Aerie teach that power finds those who can wield it when needed."
"And if I can't control it? If it controls me instead?"
The question struck at my core. Wasn't that my own fear? That the mate-bond would override my duty, my purpose?
"Then you learn." I kept my voice steady. "You practice. You accept guidance from those who understand."
"Like you?" A challenge in her tone.
"I understand more than you realize." I held her gaze. "Power and duty often stand opposed. The path between them is rarely clear."
Thunder cracked directly overhead, making Claire jump. Her body pressed against mine, our faces suddenly closer. For a heartbeat, I thought of closing that distance, of finishing what we'd started after the lizard attack.
Instead, I steadied her with a hand on her arm. Her markings flared at my touch, silver light racing beneath her skin to meet my golden lifelines. The sensation traveled up my arm—warm, electric, connecting.
"What is that?" Claire whispered, staring at where our skin touched.
I pulled my hand away. "A resonance. Sometimes happens between compatible energies." Not a lie, but far from the full truth.
Claire studied me, doubt clear in her expression. "There's something you're not telling me."
"Many things." I turned back to watch the rain. "As I'm sure there are things you keep to yourself."
She fell silent, both of us listening to the storm's fury. The acid rain showed no signs of abating, trapping us in our forced intimacy.
"When I was little," Claire said suddenly, "I used to hide during storms. My mother would find me under my bed, counting seconds between lightning and thunder."
I glanced at her, surprised by the personal revelation. "Did it help?"
"Not really." A hint of a smile touched her lips. "But it gave me something to focus on besides the fear."
"The Aerie have a similar practice. We count breaths between challenges." I demonstrated, taking a slow, measured breath. "It centers the mind."
Claire attempted to mimic my breathing, her chest rising and falling beside mine. Her scent changed subtly—fear giving way to something calmer.
"Does it work for you? When you're afraid?" she asked.
"I am rarely afraid."
She snorted. "Everyone's afraid of something."
I considered this. "Perhaps. I fear failure more than danger."
"Failure at what?"
"My duty." The word carried weight I couldn't explain. "To protect what matters."
Claire's expression softened. "The younglings."
