He’d lost his mind.

Blessed Avilku, why had he kissed her? What had he been thinking?

It was that smell. That moons damned smell. And now it was even worse after kissing Jude. Even now, half a mile away from the cave, he thought if he stood still enough he could feel her. Inside him. Like a gossamer string had been flung between them when their lips had met to bind them together. He imagined the line trembled with her every heartbeat and echoed in his heart.

If Nestan were here, he’d call Gerrit a lovelorn—

But Nestan wasn’t here. His father had taken him moons knew where and was doing horrible things to him because Savas loved to torture him. Nestan had sacrificed himself to save Gerrit and Rayner the night Savas had killed Gerrit’s father. So much death. So much sacrifice. So much loss. All for Gerrit and his ascension to Alpha.

And look at him now. Savas would have been a better Alpha than him. Savas wouldn’t have gotten his men killed yesterday.

For a split second, Gerrit was thankful his father was gone. At least then he wouldn’t have to witness what a mess his eldest son had become. But the thought was horrible and awful, and more than anything in the world, Gerrit wanted his father back. Wanted him to be Alpha, even though the moon madness had been dogging his heels for months. Gerrit wanted Nestan back and their easy laughs and the long mornings of training with Rayner. He just wanted everything to go back to the way it had been. The way it was before Gerrit was Alpha.

He hadn’t felt like such a failure then.

A scream tore through the jungle.

The thread inside him jerked. Jude’s fear coursed down it like he’d grabbed a fully charged inkeel with his bare hands.

She screamed again, and he panicked. With cold, dripping fear twisting his heart up tight, he tried to shift, to tear through the jungle toward her, but he couldn’t.

He couldn’t shift.

With a roar of frustration, he ran on all too human legs toward the sound of her screams. He raced over moss-covered logs and straight through dense foliage, not caring about the beating his body took as he barreled toward her.

He crashed down a slope, seeing nothing but what was directly in front of him, and skidded between two giant trees. The incline continued down—he hadn’t even remembered walking up a hill—and doubled his speed.

He was close. He smelled her. Her fear. Her rage.

With a few more bounding strides, he heard the smack of flesh, the grunts of a fight. And Jude’s taunting.

“Is that all you’ve got, you freaky piece of shit? Really?” A fist cracked against something hard, something muscular.

He leaped the rest of the way down the slope and dove through a bank of ferns. He emerged into the clearing around the small cave’s opening. With his feet spread wide and his lips curled back in a ripping snarl, he took in the situation.

Not Draqons like he’d expected, or Katu like he’d feared.

But Hylas.

Four of them. Warriors clad in tight pants that looked like scales. Gerrit knew from watching the shifters transform that the pants weren’t pants at all, but tails that propelled the Hylas through water faster and deeper than any natural creature.

One Hyla had Jude caught around the waist. She kicked out, booting another Hyla square across the jaw. A third was already on the ground, blood pouring from a gash beneath his eye, which must have come from the large stick Jude wielded in her hand. The final Hyla whirled toward Gerrit, ready to fight.

But the fourth Hyla instantly recognized the new Vilkan Alpha and let out a piercing whistle.

The other Hylas froze.

But Jude kept thrashing and cursing creatively. “Put me down, you slimy motherfucking piece of—”

“Calm down. It’s okay,” Gerrit said, his eyes never leaving the Hyla before him. The shifter with braided auburn hair was the highest-ranking member of his clan, the leader of the most powerful mages on Kladuu. He bore the branding triad of scars on his bronzed chest that marked him as the Mage Prior, but it was his glittering turquoise scales twinkling in the green light of the jungle that made Gerrit finally recognize him.

“Tavorn,” Gerrit said, nodding at the turquoise Hyla. “I didn’t realize you were the new Mage Prior.”

Jude stilled in the other Hyla’s grip. Her eyes narrowed at Gerrit, darting between him and Tavorn with suspicion.

Tavorn smiled widely. “You’re looking at the new generation,” he said proudly. “The elder Prior and his circle were losing touch with their magic. It was time for a younger leader. I see the Vilkas felt the same way about their previous Alpha. Moon madness, I heard?”

Gerrit clenched his jaw. He’d never liked Tavorn, though Caj had gotten along famously with the Hyla. “Not quite. My uncle Savas killed him.”

Tavorn tsked. “Shame. Such nasty business succession can be.”

“Right.” Gerrit’s gaze skirted toward Jude. “I didn’t expect to see you this far from your base.”

Tavorn’s youthful face creased as he frowned. “We found the crash. And the human who came from it.”

Jude hissed as the Hyla holding her tightened his grip. She tried to jerk her arms away, but he held her tight.

Her shoulder dripped fresh blood, her uniform torn worse than before. Wild strands of chestnut hair stuck to her red face. Her lip was busted, and bruises slowly bloomed beneath the Hyla’s fingertips.

“Release her,” Gerrit growled, feeling his body ripple again.

Tavorn’s red brows rose. “She’s our prisoner. We will not release her.”

“You will—”

“Have you forgotten where you stand? This isn’t your land, Vilka. This is ours. She is ours.”

That thread inside him turned piping hot.

Jude thrashed against her captor again, hissing and spitting. She landed a solid elbow to the shifter’s diaphragm.

He released her with a choking sputter, and she scrambled toward Gerrit’s outstretched hand.

He grabbed her and swung her around, using his shoulder to keep her behind him.

The Hylas turned toward him again, the three flanking Tavorn. If it came to a fight, Gerrit prayed he could shift without his fear for Jude’s life blocking his ability. If he couldn’t, they’d both be dead.

“You will address me as Alpha,” Gerrit warned. “Or have you already forgotten the terms of our peace negotiation?”

Tavorn smiled, a tight-lipped thing that revealed the sharp points of his teeth. Behind Gerrit, Jude sucked in a shocked breath. “Have you forgotten our tech ban? Her ship is in direct violation, and as such, she is ours, Alpha. You will not interfere with our questioning any further.”

Blessed Avilku, they were going to question her? He knew how the Hyla got their information. He’d seen the victims after they’d been nearly drowned. That wasn’t happening to Jude.

“I’m not anyone’s,” Jude said from behind him. “And I certainly won’t be questioned like some criminal. I crashed here. If anything, you assholes should be bringing me a fucking beer.”

Gerrit gripped her hand tighter in warning before she stomped past him. He held her back, his eyes never leaving Tavorn’s. “Calm down,” he told her. “You’re not making this any better.”

He felt her burning gaze swing to him.

She glared at him. “Calm down? Are you kidding me? These guys are monsters! That one punched me.” She jabbed a finger at a dark Hyla with gleaming purple scales wrapped around his muscular legs.

In response to the challenge, the Hyla’s cock hardened, sending his scales shuddering down his legs. He grinned widely at Jude. A forked tongue darted out and licked his lips.

With a low rumble in his chest, Gerrit pushed Jude farther behind him and out of the dark Hyla’s sight.

She went willingly, having seen the alien’s reaction to her fervor.

“I don’t think our Vilkan guest is taking kindly to your interest, Merick,” Tavorn told the purple Hyla. “It seems he might have already had a taste. Tell me, Alpha, is she any good?”

“Son of a bitch!”

Caution forgotten, Jude tried to pass Gerrit again. Reading the intention on Tavorn’s face, Gerrit thought fast.

After questioning her, Tavorn would most likely turn Jude over to Merick to finish off. As much as Gerrit hated it, they were on Hylan land—without backup. And all he had with him was his name and status and the respect his father had won after decades of tenuous attempts at peace with Kladuu’s oldest and fiercest clan.

Gerrit could tear down his father’s legacy with a few words, but that would be just another failure. Even thinking of it sent painful waves cramping his gut. His father’s legacy was all Gerrit had left. He wouldn’t ruin that too.

And he couldn’t hand over Jude.

An idea struck him. It was horrible, but it was the best he had.

He lifted his chin toward Tavorn. “I have tasted her—”

“The fuck—” Jude started, but Gerrit gripped her harder, begging the moons for her to let him handle things, just this once.

“And she’s mine,” Gerrit said. “I’ve claimed her.”

Tavorn’s brows spiked. Behind him, Merick’s face flushed with anger. “They haven’t had time,” he started to complain to Tavorn, but the powerful mage lifted his hand. Merick fell silent.

“Merick has a point,” Tavorn said, a touch of amusement in his voice. “She only crashed yesterday. It takes such little time to claim?”

Gerrit felt Jude tense beside him, but he gave her another warning squeeze. Bless the moons, she actually kept her mouth shut. “My Vilka knew immediately upon scenting her,” he said. “I was waiting until we returned to the mountain for the ceremony as I am the Alpha.”

Tavorn’s eyes danced; the Hylas had a penchant for ceremony. “Why wait? If you’re not bluffing to keep her and her information from us, then why not do it now?”

Dread coiled in Gerrit’s stomach. He hadn’t thought it would go this far. He had been bluffing, and Tavorn had read it all over his face.

Inside, his Vilka howled with joy at the idea of claiming Jude.

He clenched his teeth, thinking. The ceremony was binding. There would be no going back—for him, at least. He wouldn’t be able to marry again, which could call into question his role as Alpha if Jude left the planet. Not to mention Jude would have no idea what it meant, what she was participating in.

“But,” Tavorn said, knowing Gerrit had walked into his trap, “if you would rather return home and allow us to deal with the human—”

“No. I’ll do it.”

Tavorn’s angelic face darkened. His pupils turned to slits, and for a second, he looked like the water serpent he was. Gerrit turned around before the Hyla could read the fear in his eyes.

He grabbed Jude’s arms. “Listen—”

“What the hell is going on?” she asked in a hissing whisper. “What are you talking about? Those things freak me the fuck out.”

“This is the only way we walk out of here. I need you to trust me,” he said carefully, conscious of the sharp ears behind him. “Me or them. You choose.”

The thread between them trembled.

“You,” she whispered. “I choose you.”

He leaned close. Against her ear, he murmured, “Then play along.”

When he pulled back, he didn’t meet her eyes. He couldn’t.

Because this wasn’t a game. They weren’t playing. And she had no idea what she’d just agreed to.

He swept his thumb across the partially dried blood on her chin. Jude recoiled slightly but didn’t pull away.

Her eyes were wide and terrified as he crouched before her.

Behind him, the Hylas murmured. They’d really thought he was bluffing. That he wouldn’t do it. But they didn’t know about the thread, the smell, the way he felt her heart racing without even touching her.

He raised his hand. His fingers shook and a single claw extended from his index finger. Jude let out a little gasp, but she was too strong to show more fear than that. Gerrit was proud of her for that, proud she’d be his … even if she didn’t know it. He sensed her gaze darting between him at her feet and the Hylas at his back.

With one hand, he held her hip still, and with his other, he dragged his claw carefully across her flight suit’s seam that connected the pants to her top.

“Gerrit …” Jude said in a low warning. She tried to pull away, but he held her in place as he ripped a single straight tear across her suit to reveal the pale, flat swath of her belly. He pushed the material up and spread his hand flat across her stomach.

“Maybe we should talk—”

He swept his bloodied thumb down and back up, forming a half moon beneath her navel. Her muscles flinched at the trace of cooling blood he’d left behind on her skin. He let the material fall back into place and stood.

She blinked at him, her lips parted. He collected more blood from her chin and coated both his index fingers.

He’d thought when he did this years down the road that he would look at the woman in front of him and feel love. Feel duty. Feel honor.

But the only thing he felt right now was cold, hard fear. And grim determination to keep her safe, no matter what.

He dragged his fingers across his cheeks, smearing her blood over his face and down his jaw, meeting at his chin.

Startled, Jude flinched as if he’d touched her instead. Inside him, their thread radiated a flash of heat like a burst of sunlight, his own sunrise.

“Gerrit,” she whispered as if she’d felt it too. “What did you just do?” Their thread hardened and thickened, becoming a rope of the strongest weave inside them, binding them.

Forever.

Gerrit couldn’t bring himself to kiss her as was customary at the end of the ceremony. It didn’t seem right, even though his Vilkan instincts itched to feel her body pressed against his, her lips, her skin … He shuddered, trying to keep his focus.

Tavorn gave a small chuckle. Taking Jude’s hand, Gerrit turned back to face the Hylas, her blood drying on his face. He’d remember its exact path for the rest of his life as if it would leave behind dark red scars on his face that he would see every time he saw his reflection.

“You’ve impressed me, Alpha,” Tavorn said, smiling again. Merick glowered behind his mage. “We must celebrate!”

Gerrit stiffened. Jude’s fingers flexed in his hand, making him realize he was probably squeezing her hand too hard. “Perhaps it would be wise if we returned home first—”

“I insist, Gerrit,” Tavorn said. “It’s customary for allied clans to give gifts, no? And you were on your way to our base for a very particular medicine. Or am I mistaken?”

Gerrit’s stomach dropped. “I was.”

Tavorn’s smile ratcheted up another notch, and Gerrit once again felt like he’d stepped into a trap. “Wonderful! Then return to our base and let us celebrate with feasts and entertainment! We’ll collect the medicine you so desperately need, and you can consider it a wedding gift.” The Hyla winked. “Perhaps your mate will need the first dose after the ceremony is consummated.”

Jude made a choking sound beside Gerrit.

“Thank you.” Gerrit forced the words from his mouth. They felt like cold, dead things on his tongue.

“Then come with us as you intended! Let us Hylas show you two a good time.”

Tavorn’s eyes gleamed in a manner that sent warning bells ringing through Gerrit’s mind. But if he refused the Prior Mage’s offer, Gerrit doubted he and Jude would be able to walk away. And he needed that medicine. Decision made, he nodded. “Your invitation is accepted.”

“Fantastic!” Tavorn clapped and whirled around, scales gleaming. “Rowyn, swim ahead and inform everyone of our coming guests.”

The Hyla with a bloody face gave a sharp nod and ran off into the jungle. Tavorn motioned to the other Hyla and strode off. Only Merick waited a few paces away for Gerrit and Jude to follow. His dark eyes were still locked on Jude.

Gerrit angled himself in front of Jude to block the Hyla’s view of her.

“What the hell just happened?” she whispered. Her voice sounded as dangerous as some of her smiles looked. “Did he say consummate? And mate? Please tell me those words mean something different here.”

“They don’t.” Gerrit took a deep breath and met her eyes.

The eyes of his mate.

What had he done?

“You’re my wife now. Forever.”