The purple alien warrior is striding through the jungle with big, purposeful steps. I have to exert myself just to keep up with his pace. His eyes are constantly darting from side to side, no doubt looking for predators.

I have no energy left to be watchful — just matching his stride is more than I can handle. I’m just grateful we haven’t encountered any more crazy, bloodthirsty tigers, monkeys, or other any other critters that might wish me harm for disturbing their homes.

Turnon stops suddenly and I walk straight into his back. I tumble backward and fall flat on my ass.

Graceful, Ava.

“Ow,” I say. “What was that for?”

I rub my ankles, which are starting to feel sore. I’ve been walking around barefoot ever since the Nezdek abducted me. Couldn’t they at least have given me some shoes to match that creepy medical gown?

“Shh,” Turnon says.

He listens to the sounds of the jungle intently. I raise my eyebrows and listen along, but all I hear are birds chirping, and the trees rustling — like they’ve done for the past hour.

Without warning, Turnon belts out a loud, deep cry I didn’t think him able to produce. It sounds like a ship’s horn, and it reverberates inside my chest like I’m standing right next to a starship’s engine.

The treetops all shake as birds dart up into the air, fleeing as quickly as they can. A moment later, the jungle falls silent, as if all the animals are afraid to breathe. Turnon even scared the wind away.

“What did you just do?” I whisper, afraid to break the silence.

“Darkclaw call,” he says. “Scares away all animals.”

“What’s a darkclaw?”

Turnon looks me with a grim look in his orange eyes.

“You don’t want to know.”

A shiver runs down my spine. With such a name, they must be bad news.

“Come,” he says as he pulls me to my feet. “We must keep moving.”

“Are there predators about?”

Turnon doesn’t answer — he’s already five steps ahead of me. I dust myself off and we continue our trek. My feet are killing me and I’m thirsty as hell, but I don’t want to tell Turnon that. The last thing I want is for him to think I’m weak.

He’s got a leather pouch tied to his waist, and I keep wondering what’s inside. I hope it’s food, but I’m afraid of sounding greedy if I ask. I could go for the sugar rush from one of those big, plump, purple fruits…

I make a mental note to ask Turnon what they’re called next time we rest. I could make a killing selling those bad boys on Earth!

If we make it back home, that is…

The hours tick by as we make our way through the thick, overgrown jungle. Turnon’s strange call worked — we don’t encounter any more beasts in our path. I find myself stopping a few times just to admire the beauty of this world. The ancient trees, the brightly-colored flowers, the small streams of clear water cutting through the thick jungle.

It’s easy to forget that there are extremely dangerous predators lurking about, for when I’m standing next to Turnon, I feel perfectly safe.

Even through the canopy of trees, the twin suns’ bright light filters through, and I feel my skin starting to burn. I push through until I can’t go one more step, and with a heavy sigh I rest my back against a large tree.

“I need to rest.”

Turnon turns around. “No,” is his growly answer.

“Then you’ll have to carry me.”

I sit down on the forest floor and rub my sore feet. They have so much dirt on them they look like they belong on a hobbit.

The alien warrior kneels down besides me. He grabs my ankle, and instantly I yelp out in pain.

“You are injured,” he says. “Why didn’t you say?”

“You wanted to keep going.”

“Not like this.”

He reaches into his mysterious pouch and pulls out a herb.

“Rub this,” he says, mimicking the movement for me. “I’ll be back.”

Before I can thank him he’s also disappeared into the thick bushes, and just like that, I’m all alone in this ancient, foreboding forest. I dutifully rub the herb on my sore ankles, mumbling to myself.

The moment we get back to Earth I’m booking the mother of all pedicures, that’s for damn sure.

The herb smells of mint, and after a few minutes I feel the physical pain diminishing. It actually works! Once again, Turnon proves himself to be a great provider. Now, if it would only alleviate my emotional pain, that would be perfect. I hate sitting here on the floor, feeling useless.

If one of those critters showed up now, I would be completely defenseless…

I look around for anything to use in self-defense. Why didn’t Turnon give me a weapon? That knife of his would sure come in handy right about now. The only thing I can reach is a small rock, and I hold it in the palm of my hand while I stare up at the treetops.

No monkey is getting the drop on me again.

The bushes shake and with a cry I throw the rock in the direction of the noise.

Thud!

I hit Turnon right above his left eyebrow. A small trickle of blood runs down his face, his brow furrowed.

“Sorry!” I yell, clasping my hands in front of my face. “Oh my god, I’m sorry! I thought you were one of those beasts!”

To my great relief, Turnon bursts out laughing. His deep voice carries far. I don’t think I’ve heard him laugh so abundantly before. I didn’t realize that all I had to do to make him laugh was throw a rock at his face!

He’s carrying a freshly killed animal in his hands — dinner, no doubt — which he drops on the floor. He kneels down next to me to check on my ankle, and my hands move to the cut on his face.

“Please, let me clean it,” I say as I wet my thumb and wipe the blood away.

“It’s nothing,” he says. “How is ankle?”

“Better,” I smile. “Thank you.”

“There is shelter nearby,” he says, nodding at the distance. “I will carry you.”

“Nonsens—ooh!”

Before I can even protest, the alien warrior has already scooped me up into his powerful arms. He’s so damn quick! With one hand he carries his fresh kill, while the other one supports my weight, seemingly without effort.

I wrap my arms around his neck, drinking in his manly scent as I let him carry me. I’ve been raised to be an independent woman by my mother. If she saw me now, she’d shake her head and tut, no doubt. However, despite my upbringing, I have to admit I love the feeling of being in his arms, of being cared for, protected… dare I say, loved?

It’s a little early for that, perhaps, but that’s what it feels like. The way he looks at me with those radiant eyes of his, the way my heart flutters whenever our fingers touch…

I can’t say I’ve ever felt this way before for any man, human or alien.

When Turnon lowers me, I feel a tinge of regret, and for a brief moment I don’t let go. I want to rest my head against his chest, let his massive muscles hold me for just a brief second longer.

When I finally open my eyes I find I’m resting against a cliffside. He pulls a thin tarp made out of animal’s skin from his pouch and hangs it up above us, creating a makeshift shelter. A moment later he starts a fire, and seconds later we’re basking in its warm glow.

I’m in awe of the speed with which he moves. If I had to do any of this, I’d struggle for hours. Turnon, however, doesn’t even have to think about it. He just does it.

I find it a turnon how confident and capable he is.

“Drink.”

The alien warrior hands me a sac filled with clean water. The sac itself is probably made from the inside of some animal — I try not to think about that as I gulp the clean, cold water down.

I watch with a mixture of awe and arousal as Turnon skins the beast he killed. He strips the flesh off and skewers it with a sharp twig before suspending it above the fire. The smell makes my stomach rumble. At first I wasn’t a fan, but I’m starting to enjoy the primitive, primal taste of Turnon’s meals.

“I go to collect fruits. No rocks this time?” he says with a smile.

“No rocks,” I promise. “Pinky swear.”

Fresh meat, fresh fruit, clear water, a sexy alien warrior who takes care of my every need… if the Nezdek weren’t hunting me, I might just say I found paradise.

Turnon returns with the purple plums that I enjoy so much. He watches with a smile as I gulp them down, the juices running down my chin. Next up is the meat, which we eat with our bare hands like a pair of cavemen.

I feel so attuned with nature right now — and there’s one more natural, primal act I’d like to perform with the alien warrior… I can’t stop thinking about that night in the hot spring.

It was something out of this world.

“Come here. I want to take a better look at that cut.”

“It’s nothing,” Turnon growls again with a smirk.

“Stop protesting and come here.”

The alien warrior scoots over until he’s sitting right next to me. The sun is starting to set, and the smoldering fire is coating his purple skin in its red glow, creating a beautiful pallette of colors I wouldn’t mind running my tongue across.

The cut on his forehead is already starting to heal. His body works fast.

“My hands are dirty from the barbecue,” I say. “I can’t touch you like this.”

Turnon grabs my hand and slowly slips my index finger into his mouth, while his eyes never leave mine. His tongue feels perfect on my finger, and I feel myself growing wetter by the second. He licks all my fingers clean like this on both hands, relentlessly teasing me.

“There,” he says in that husky, low growl of his. “Clean.”

“Th-thank you,” I stammer.

I reach into his pouch and retrieve some of the herbs he used. I crush them in my palm and apply them to his forehead. Turnon winces and tries to scoot away, but I don’t let him.

“Sit still,” I say. “I can’t reach you like this.”

I climb right onto his lap, straddling him.

“There. Much better.”

His hands circle my waist and come to rest right on my ass.

“Yes. Much better,” he smirks.

I rest my forehead against his — making sure I don’t touch his wound, of course — and gaze into his radiant eyes.

“What’s going to happen next?” I ask. I wish nothing would change. I wish we could just stay camping out here forever. I’d learn how to find berries, what herbs to pluck, to weave baskets, while Turnon would do the hunting. We could be our own little family out here, perfectly safe, perfectly content.

If not for the aliens hunting me, the galactic war brewing, and Turnon’s tribe…

“What do you mean?”

“I wish we could stay like this. Just us two. I know you want to go to your tribe, but I can’t help but worry what it means for us. In-laws were never fond of me, if you can imagine such a thing.”

He furrows his brow, and it’s so damn sexy it makes my pussy throb with desire. I’m trying to have a heart-to-heart here so I try to ignore it, but my body wants what my body wants. And right now, what I want is pressing right against me, only a thin layer of furs separating our two naked, perfectly compatible bodies.

“Tribe?”

“Yes, your tribe. The Maker. That’s what you call your tribe, right?”

He shakes his head. “No tribe. Only Turnon. Only Maker.”

“I don’t understand. You don’t have a tribe?”

“No.”

“So it’s just you out here?”

“Yes.”

“But how?” I ask. “This doesn’t make sense. You didn’t crawl out of an egg. You must have come from somewhere.”

“Yes,” he says, looking up at the sky. “The Maker.”

I’m more confused than ever. He’s all alone? A myriad of emotions fill me. I’m relieved I won’t have to deal with a whole tribe of alien warriors who might not accept me, but at the same time, the realization that we truly are alone out here kinda scares me.

I realize that in the back of my mind I thought his tribe might have some way of contacting humanity. The fact that I’m really stranded out here was something I just couldn’t quite accept.

But now I know it’s the truth.

I’m stranded.

I might never see home again. My parents. Sarah. Her unborn baby. I’ll never see any of them again. The Nezdek ship could have been killed by the Asir. Humanity might be locked into a massive war with the Nezdek — I’m just one lost human of many. The girls back in the shuttle probably don’t register on the galactic scale of this war.

No one might be coming.

“Are you okay?” Turnon asks.

“I, I need a moment,” I say. My chest feels small, like I can’t breathe. It’s all hitting me at once, like a ton of bricks. No one might be coming. I thought that’s what I wanted — to start our own little family, free of all cares, free of work and stress and traffic and noise, just me, him, nature, and a baby or two or three — but now that it’s coming true I feel overwhelmed.

I feel trapped.

I can’t breathe.

“Calm down,” Turnon says. “Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. I’ve got you.”

He holds me tightly, running his hand down my back as I hyperventilate. I follow his instructions, and the black spots in my vision disappear.

Okay, I might be trapped here.

Forever.

But at least I’ve got Turnon.