The Alien's Equal (Drixonian Warrior #7) - Ella Maven Page 0,15

beautiful, but she’d never been more beautiful than when she stood up for herself in that room.

Too bad I hated every word that had come out of her mouth. I’m not mated. I’m not pregnant. And I don’t intend to be. If something happens to me, then it’s no loss. How very wrong she was. I intended to mate her, I intended to put a few chits in her belly, and her loss would absolutely destroy me. I wasn’t sure what to do, be angry at her for barging into that meeting, or happy that we’d have to spend the next five rotations together.

We were both silent the entire trek back to my hut.

Justine walked at my side, staring straight ahead, but I could tell her mind was racing.

I’d learned that about Justine—she was always thinking, always analyzing. All the females had their strengths. Justine was smart. Cunning. She thought ahead. Usually. Today, she showed she still had a few impulsive decisions in her. When we reached my hut, I directed her inside and locked the door behind me. She sucked in a breath at the sound of the bolt sliding home.

I sat down at my meal table and slid the other chair to face me. With one finger, I gestured her to sit on it. Her jaw clenched, like she wanted to refuse my order, but with a toss of her hair, she sank down onto the seat with a plop. The leg creaked.

We sat like that, with the echoing of the chair leg’s surrounding us along with the harsh exhales of our breaths. I thought I had more time. Until this last meeting, I’d planned to continue my slow slide into Justine’s life. But that couldn’t happen now. We had five rotations before we left for Alazar. No way would I die on a mission before she knew just what it meant to be my mate.

I rubbed my palms together as I went with the first question on my mind. “Why were at the door of our council room?”

“I heard you all were meeting about the timeline of our attack on the Uldani being accelerated.” She spoke firmly with her hands folded in her lap

“But why?” I asked. “Did you plan from the beginning to offer yourself?”

“No. I just wanted to know what was going on.”

“If you would have talked to me after the meeting, I would have told you the plan.”

She shook her head. “I needed to hear for myself.”

“Why?”

“Stop asking me why,” she growled, showing her blunt little teeth.

“Then answer me.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away. “You can’t make me.”

I was a patient warrior, but she was testing me. “If you can’t be honest with me, then this whole deal is off.”

Her eyes went wide as her bravado faded. “What?”

I was playing dirty. This was an attempt to get her to open up to me. I could observe Justine all I wanted, but I wouldn’t truly know her until I learned what made her the way she was. There was a hardness about her that the other females didn’t have. I respected it, but I wanted to know if she’d built that casing to shield her from something or if she was born like that.

She looked close to panicking. “But this doesn’t have anything to do with teaching me the Uldani tech.”

“I want to know your motive. That matters. When there’s a life or death decision to be made, I need to know where your loyalty is.”

“What, like you think I’m going to defect to the Uldani or something?” She laughed incredulously.

I shook I head. “No, but your motive matters. You said you’re doing this for your girls, but there was another reason. I could see it in your eyes.”

She scoffed. “You’re not that smart Nero. You can’t see into my soul.” I only watched her patiently. She eyed me. “Wait, can you see into my soul?”

I rubbed the nubs on my brow with a sigh, “Justine—”

“Fine,” she huffed as she gripped the sides of her seat. “Geez. Fine. I’ll bare my feelings to you.” Under her breath she muttered. “Suddenly everyone’s a therapist.”

“What’s—?”

“I like to have control.” She spat out. “Wait, that’s not really right. I don’t like not having control. When everything is happening to me, and I’m not an active participant in my life, I panic. I spent … a lot of my childhood having no control over anything—my clothes, my food, my home, my freaking parents. I don’t