Luna’s Alien Mates

Chapter 2

Axoh

The Goddess Arena was alive with movement, the air shimmering beneath the twin suns. Heat pressed against Axoh’s skin, but it wasn’t the warmth that made his pulse beat erratically—it was the sight of the M’Mori ships descending too soon.

They weren’t supposed to arrive yet.

From the shadow of the trees, Axoh’s eyes narrowed as he watched the silver vessel settle into the violet grass. The air shimmered around its hull, bending the colors of Aarzyn’s skies. He glanced at Vallyn, his closest friend and Clan brother, who stood tense beside him near the meeting hut.

“They have come early,” Axoh murmured, his voice low and uncertain. “And the chosen males from Zaali are not here. Why would they delay?”

Vallyn’s jaw tightened. He was a warrior, lean and sharp, though not large enough to have ever been marked as chosen. His shoulders squared as he stepped forward, gaze fixed on the M’Mori. “We cannot stand back and do nothing. Look—the other clans are already stepping forward. Their chosens are here to claim their females. And ours… ours would stand alone.”

Axoh turned, startled by the boldness in his brother’s tone. “That is not our place, Vallyn. You know this.”

But Vallyn stood taller, shoulders brimming with a defiance that almost made Axoh ache. For all his strength, Vallyn would never be chosen, just as Axoh himself would never stand as anything more than what he was. A Takxe. A healer. The smallest of his litter, the one born not to fight, not to claim, but to tend wounds and raise young. Never to take a mate.

His fate had been sealed from birth. And yet, for reasons Axoh had never fully understood, their queen had appointed him to serve this new female—to walk her back to Zaali lands, to guard her health, to be her healer. It was a rare honor for one of his rank, and he would not fail.

Still, his gut twisted.

“You cannot fool the other clans,” he hissed softly. “We must explain to the M’Mori that our chosen are not yet arrived. To pretend otherwise—”

But his words faltered as the ship’s doors opened.

Six figures emerged.

Females.

Axoh’s breath caught. They were unlike any beings he had ever seen. Their skin gleamed in shades he had no name for—soft peach, warm bronze, cool ivory. Their hair spilled in strange spirals, silken and wild, hues like rivers of flame or strands of shadow. Too small. Too fragile. They looked as though the wind itself might topple them, nothing like the broad, sturdy Aashi females of old.

And yet… he could not look away.

Already, the chosen males of Clan Taanin surged forward, pointing with decisive hands, laying claim to one of the strange women—the one with hair spiraled in dark coils. She gasped, a sound Axoh’s ears had never known before, and still something primal in him stirred at the melody of it.

Around them, the frenzy began. Clans rushed toward the ship, each one unwilling to let another steal what they had been promised. The arena rang with movement, with tension, with the quiet hum of fate being rewritten.

Vallyn broke into a run.

“Vallyn, wait!” Axoh called, panic clawing at his throat. He stumbled after him, though his shorter legs would never match his brother’s warrior stride.

By the time Axoh reached the ship’s base, Vallyn was already squaring his shoulders, standing as though he had been born to this moment. As though he could truly pass as chosen.

“You are not the chosen of Zaali,” a voice jeered. Axoh turned to see a warrior of Clan Yaayi smirking, his female sheltered behind the wall of his clan’s males. “Why send such a weakling to claim a mate? Has your queen run out of true warriors? If you cannot hold her, we will take her.”

Axoh’s blood heated, but he forced himself to bow his head. He would not answer insult with insult. That was not his way. He pushed past the Yaayi warrior and stood beside Vallyn at the foot of the ship.

A M’Mori soldier stepped forward, his scaled skin glittering under the suns. His strange device translated his voice, but the mocking tone was clear enough. “You are the chosen males of Zaali?”

Axoh bent in a bow so deep his forehead nearly brushed the ground. Rising, he answered steadily, “We await our chosen males. You have come too early, M’Mori. I am Axoh, Takxe of Zaali. I have been appointed to serve the female until her true chosen arrive. I am her healer.”

It should have ended there.

But then she appeared.

The female who would unravel him.

Her skin was pale, almost glowing in the sunlight. Her hair tumbled in soft spirals the colors of rivers in autumn—reds and browns entwined like flame licking at bark. She was so small, smaller even than he had imagined when told of these Earth women. And yet, when she lifted her eyes, there was nothing small about the way she looked at him.

The M’Mori soldier spoke again, and though Axoh barely registered the words, he knew what was said. “This is your female, Clan Zaali. Take her until your chosen come.”

Then the soldier turned to her, spoke in his own tongue. She listened, then nodded.

And smiled.

At him.

Axoh froze. His breath stilled. Her smile was soft, tentative, but it struck him with the force of a spear. He rubbed at his eyes, certain he had imagined it. Females did not smile at Takxe. Not like that. Not with warmth, as though he were… something worthy.

She stepped forward, her hand outstretched.

Her scent hit him first—sweet, sharp, intoxicating, unlike anything he had ever breathed before. It flooded his senses, lit his veins with fire, made his chest expand and his body tremble with the unfamiliar ache to move closer.

He shouldn’t. He couldn’t.

Vallyn stiffened beside him. They exchanged a glance, both bewildered. What was she doing? Aashi females did not offer touch so freely. And yet this female, this tiny otherworldly creature, extended her hand as though the gesture were nothing.

Axoh’s palms itched with the need to take it. To feel her warmth.

He swallowed hard, forcing steadiness into his voice. “Female, I am Axoh, your Takxe. I am not your chosen. Please… follow me to the Clan hut until they arrive.”

Her hand wavered, her brow furrowing slightly as she made a sound—soft, lilting, music to his ears. The translator on her wrist flickered, and then a voice he could understand spilled from it.

“I am Luna. Happy to meet you.”

Her voice—light, melodic, edged with shyness—wrapped around his name like a tether.

Axoh’s chest tightened. For the first time in his life, he wanted something he could never claim.