Luna’s Alien Mates

Chapter 5

The strangeness of it all pressed against Luna like an invisible weight. Nothing in her world had prepared her for this—this land, this clan, this life she was suddenly expected to embrace. The silence in the hut was heavy, broken only by the faint crackle of a distant fire outside and the quiet shuffle of Axoh’s movements as he busied himself in the shadows.

She longed to speak to someone—anyone—who might understand. Another woman, maybe, someone who shared her confusion and disbelief. But she knew better than to hope for that tonight. The M’Mori had been careful, almost deliberate, in how little they told her. No one had explained what it truly meant to belong to a group of chosen mates. No one had prepared her for how foreign this world felt, or how alien the men were who seemed to orbit her every breath.

A sigh left her lips as she hugged her knees to her chest, watching the glow of moonlight slip through the narrow window. She wasn’t supposed to look, but she couldn’t help herself. It was a single moon—not like home, not like the stories—but its silver glow still pulled at her chest in a way she couldn’t name.

When the pressure in her stomach grew unbearable, she cleared her throat softly. “Axoh, I… need to use the pot.”

His head turned instantly, his strange, bright eyes attentive. “Yes, female Luna. I will do as before and look away.”

She almost laughed, though exhaustion tugged at her instead. He was so earnest, so peculiar in the way he obeyed rules she didn’t fully understand. He was kind, but suffocating in his constant presence, his endless watchfulness.

“I told you, don’t call me female,” she murmured, softer this time but still sharp. “Just… Luna.”

The sound of her name seemed to ripple through him. He straightened, his four arms folding and unfolding in a gesture she was starting to recognize as thought. “Luna,” he repeated carefully, his deep voice rolling over the syllables as though tasting them.

Something in her chest fluttered, but she pushed it down. She wasn’t here to feel anything. She was here because she had no choice.

When she emerged from behind the curtain where the pot had been tucked, she changed quickly into the loose clothes she had brought—shorts, a t-shirt, the comfort of fabric from home against her skin. She stripped off her bra, sighing quietly in relief at the freedom, and for a moment she forgot about the constant presence of eyes on her.

When she looked up, Axoh was still waiting, still watching. Not rudely—never rudely—but with an intensity that unsettled her. Like he was memorizing her.

“You must rest,” he said finally, gesturing toward the heap of blankets he had carefully arranged in the corner. “I have prepared you a nest.”

The word almost made her smile, though fatigue dulled it. Nest. Bed. Home. He made it sound more intimate than she was ready for, more permanent than she could bear.

“Thank you,” she whispered, because kindness deserved kindness, even in the strangest of worlds.

The blankets were rough against her skin, scratchy and foreign, but she pulled them around her anyway, curling into herself as though the cocoon might keep everything else away. She could feel his gaze even through the darkness, so she tugged the blanket over her head, sweltering in the heat until finally, exhaustion dragged her into dreams.

When she woke, the world was cloaked in deep night. For a moment, panic fluttered in her chest—where was she? Where had they taken her? Then the unfamiliar scent of clay and smoke grounded her, reminding her where she was, who she was with.

Her eyes found Axoh slumped awkwardly over the table, his head resting against his arms. All four of them hung loose at his sides, his breathing deep and steady. Even in sleep, he seemed devoted, as though guarding her had drained him to the bone.

A pang of guilt touched her heart. She hadn’t asked for his loyalty, but he had given it anyway.

The familiar ache in her bladder returned, pulling her from the safety of her nest. She bit her lip, considering the clay pot. Too loud. Too close. Too humiliating. No, she thought, slipping her flip-flops on with silent determination. She’d go outside. She wasn’t so fragile she couldn’t manage that.

Carefully, she eased the door open, wincing at the creak of wood. Axoh didn’t stir. Relief fluttered through her chest—until she froze.

Vallyn was there.

He sat against the outer wall of the hut, his back pressed to the wood, his long body stretched with casual grace even in sleep. A wooden spear rested lazily against his shoulder, his head tipped back just enough for the moonlight to trace along his jaw. He looked every bit the warrior he was said to be, strength carved into every line of him.

Her breath caught as she studied him. He was so different from Axoh—broader, harder, dangerous even in stillness. His long hair was woven into braids, intricate patterns that made her wonder if his hands had done it, or if Axoh’s had. The thought almost made her giggle—these fierce men sitting together, braiding each other’s hair like brothers.

But the humor melted when she noticed the loose strands that framed his lips. Something in her chest tightened, an urge rising unbidden. She wanted to touch it. To feel if his hair was as soft as it looked, as smooth as the moonlight that kissed it.

Her hand lifted before she realized what she was doing, her fingertips hovering just above his cheek.

And then his eyes opened.

Silver flashed in the dark, piercing and unyielding. He didn’t move, didn’t speak—just looked at her as though he had been awake all along, waiting for the moment she crossed this invisible line.

Her breath hitched.

The world held its breath with her.