Heart Song: A Sci-Fi Alien Romance (Forbidden Mates Book 3) by Heather Guerre

Author:Heather Guerre [Guerre, Heather]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-10-04T16:00:00+00:00

When the full darkness of night fell on the alien planet, Theyma was still thinking about the gentle way Rakhnar had touched her wrist.

Just her wrist.

Just the soft press of his thumb.

Hand, she thought. First in her own language. Then in the Creole. Then in the deep, resonant, harmony of Rakhnar’s voice.

Rakhnar. A minor and G major, split by soft, guttural stop, deep in the throat. She heard his name again in her mind, in his voice. She split the chords apart and hummed them as individual notes—two soft, short arpeggios.

He looked over at her as if she’d called his name. In the fading light, she couldn’t read his expression, but there was a strange tension humming off of him.

Prey, she remembered. You’re prey to his kind. So many predators hunted at night—did the Ljark? Very soon, it would be completely dark. And she was wearing floppy, makeshift foot-wrappings, and a floor-length silk gown that would wrap around her ankles if she tried to run. But even if she were wearing high-traction running shoes and running tights, she’d still have no hope. With his height and his muscle mass, he’d easily run her down.

She stood frozen under the intensity of his gaze, heart accelerating. Years with Caerus had taught her how to hide her fear—how to not appear as prey. She kept her breathing even, her posture easy.

“Rakhnar,” she said his name calmly, soothingly.

His brow furrowed. “Are you afraid of me?” he asked, his voice raw and multi-chorded.

“No,” she lied smoothly.

“I would never harm you, Theyma. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. I will always protect—” He stopped abruptly, tilting his head and listening to their surroundings. Theyma could hear nothing but the soft rustle of wind through leaves.

“What is it?” she whispered.

“This way. Come.” He led her to one of the trees and felt along the papery lichen until he felt a big enough opening in the woody vasculature underneath. He ripped it open. “Get inside.”

Theyma obeyed. “What’s happening?” she asked. Her heart was beginning to pound.

“I don’t know. I’m going to find out. You must stay here.”

Theyma stiffened “Alone?”

“Yes. I will return for you, but you must stay here. Do you understand?”

Her heart was hammering against her sternum. “Yes. But wait!” She caught Rakhnar’s sleeve, as he turned away, stopping him. “What’s happening? Is it dangerous?”

“I don’t know. I will be back soon.” He gently prized his sleeve from her grip and laid the bark back against the tree’s frame.

Theyma could see nothing, hear nothing. She sat on the ground, pulled her knees against her chest, and tried not to panic. The silence seemed to stretch around her like a living presence—watching, waiting. She could hear her own heartbeat in her ears, hear each ragged pass of her breath through her throat.

And then she heard something else. A faint tap, slightly out of synch with her own thundering heartbeat. She held her breath and listened. But when she did, the tapping stopped. She began to breathe again, and a moment later, the tap returned—sounding just a little closer.

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