Chapter Nine

Ciudad Vaquero, capital city of Harp, aka “the city”

Amanda leaned against the huge tree, one palm flat against the coarse surface, fingers digging deep into the thick ridges that marked the many centuries the grandfather had stood watch over Harp. No one knew for sure how old the forests of the Green were—thousands of years, rather than hundreds. But those trees, the oldest of the old, remained hidden in the depths of the Green, standing vigil over a planet that had changed and grown around them.

The real question was when the forest had become… Sentient was too strong a word, but it was something close. The Green was absolutely aware and very active in defense of the planet and every creature that dwelled within its shadows, including a nearly endless variety of vicious and unpredictable killers. Shifters sat at the top of those killers now, but they’d only been around for the last five hundred or so years, and it was partly the Green’s sentience that had driven the colonists’ scientists to such desperation that they’d created shifters.

Leaving one hand on the tree’s rough bark, she rubbed her belly with the other, feeling her babies reach out to match her touch. “That’s right, you little hooligans,” she told them. “You’re clever, but we’re ready for you. Your daddy’s a badass, never forget it.”

The Green hummed its delight beneath her fingers, making her laugh out loud. Ever since she’d gotten pregnant, the trees had sent her nothing but joy every time she touched them. It didn’t matter what else was going on in the Green, what alarms Rhodry or the others might be responding to. The Green was thrilled with her coming babies, and it let her know.

She’d wondered, at first, if other women on Harp experienced the same thing, but then it had hit her. She was the first, the very first, woman in Harp’s history capable of hearing the trees’ song, at least as far as anyone knew. She suspected her unexpected ability had to do with her father, whom she’d never met but who—she’d recently learned—had been an earth witch on his home planet. Apparently, he’d been able to make things grow—sort of a green thumb times a thousand.

Amanda would have liked to discuss all of this with her mother, who was Chief Medical Officer onboard one of Earth Fleet’s largest armadas, but the unique nature of the Green, and the very existence of shifters, was a secret that Harp had no intention of sharing with anyone. Especially not the fleet.

She stroked her belly again, letting the ancient tree’s life force calm her little wild ones, connecting them to the vast Green that would be their home. “Don’t you worry, babies,” she murmured. “You’re safe as safe can be, even when your daddy’s not here. Because your momma’s a badass, too.”

Though, that didn’t mean that all three of them didn’t miss Rhodry when he was gone. His seniority in the Guild, coupled with his informal advisory role with Ardrigh Cristobal, had kept him away from home too often lately. Few people knew it yet, but as soon as their little shifters were born, she and Rhodry would be moving permanently back to the mountains of Clanhome where their children could grow up surrounded by cousins, just as Rhodry had. Family was everything to the clan. Besides, there were plenty of other powerful shifters who could manage the Guild and advise Cristobal. It was time for them to step up.

In fact, once Rhodry returned from checking in with Aidan, they’d be making a long-planned visit to Clanhome to finalize plans for the move. They’d be traveling by hovercraft—which she’d been forced to acknowledge was necessary, given the distance and her temporarily diminished physical abilities, which privately drove her a little crazy. And she still didn’t know any details about the latest crisis. She had her connection to the trees and so knew that Aidan was all right, and Rhodry was on his way home. But she wouldn’t know what the threat had been until he returned.

The trees’ song changed abruptly, turning all sunny and happy. Amanda smiled. She didn’t have to wonder who was coming. She looked up with a bright smile for Cullen.

“Come to fetch us home, Cullen?”

He grinned. They both knew he’d been lurking close by the whole time. He hated it when she wandered off alone. He trusted her abilities and especially trusted the Green’s protection of her, but he was never far away, either. He stayed out of sight and pretended she didn’t know, but she always did. “Your mother sent a message,” he said, as if that were the reason he’d found her.

“What’d she say?” she asked.

“Well, I don’t know, do I, lass? I’m not in the habit of reading other people’s mail.”

She laughed and hooked her hand through his arm as they walked back to the Guild Hall and the house nearby that she and Rhodry had built. “Any word from Rhodry?” she asked. She’d discovered that the shifter network was sometimes more finely tuned than hers. Maybe it was years of practice, or maybe just because the cousins had all grown up together, their minds connected virtually from birth.

“He’s close.”

“Hear that, babies?” she said, resting a hand on the swell of her belly.

“You think they can hear you?” he asked curiously.

“Of course. Just like they hear the Green’s song, and Rhodry, too.”

He thought about it while they climbed the stairs of the house. “You don’t let Rhodry sing to them, do you? He has a terrible voice.”

She laughed. “That’s what he says. He leaves the singing to me.” She picked up the envelope with her mother’s message as she passed the small table just inside the main room, then she sank onto the couch. Shoving a pillow behind her back, she slipped a finger under the sealed envelope flap and said, “Let’s see what Grandma has to say.”

“Elise says she’s much too young to be called that.” Cullen’s somewhat scolding tone didn’t surprise Amanda.

Men had always liked her mother. Elise was beautiful and charming, and delicate enough that men instantly wanted to protect her. But Cullen mostly liked her because she always fed him when she came to visit. He was a big guy and, according to Rhodry, young enough that he was still growing. He wouldn’t get any taller, but apparently his muscles still had some bulking up to do. She couldn’t imagine how big he’d be when he finished, but it didn’t matter because he’d still be Cullen—dangerous as hell and viciously devoted to Rhodry and her. And now, to their children.

Amanda read the short message and didn’t know whether she wanted to wince or smile. Maybe a little of both. “She’s coming to visit.”

Cullen brightened predictably, but he didn’t have to deal with the implications of her visit. Amanda was always happy to see her mother, but this time… Elise was about to become a grandmother to two little shifters, and there was no way in hell Amanda would be able to keep the secret of shifters’ existence from her any longer. She’d have to be told, but she’d also have to be sworn to secrecy. No one else could know. Not fleet, not Elise’s vice-admiral boyfriend, no one.

Amanda sighed, but a moment later, the trees’ song changed in a way that was just for her. She started to get up, but Cullen beat her to it, opening the balcony door just as Rhodry came into view, going from the trees to the balcony and into the room in two graceful leaps. He shifted almost immediately, grabbing the drawstring pants Cullen tossed at him, pulling them on with a grin as he walked over to the couch.

“Acushla.”

Amanda’s heart swelled at the familiar endearment, and she fought back tears—stupid pregnancy hormones—as she grinned back up at him. God, she loved this man. And her babies did, too. Whether they were responding to her feelings or to the sound of their father’s voice, she didn’t know, but they were wide awake and knocking on her belly as if to get his attention.

He sat next to her and smoothed one big hand over their rowdy twins while pulling her into a kiss with the other. “I missed you,” he murmured against her lips. “Are you all right?”

“We’re fine. How’s Aidan?”

“Falling in love.”

“Again?” she asked skeptically, while from across the room Cullen made a dismissive noise.

Rhodry laughed, and the babies bounced happily at the sound. She groaned and muttered, “Stop it, you two.”

He smiled, feeling the twins’ movement beneath his hand. “I think Aidan might be serious this time.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Cullen muttered.

Amanda was inclined to go along with him. She didn’t know Aidan as well as either one of the two men, but in the time she had known him, he’d always had at least two women vying for his affection, and frequently more than that. The idea that he’d finally met someone he was serious about? That barely computed.

Rhodry kissed the side of her forehead, his expression abruptly serious. “Unfortunately, we have much bigger problems than Aidan’s love life. An Earther ship snuck onto the planet somehow—”

Cullen cursed as Amanda said, “That shouldn’t be possible.”

“No, it shouldn’t, but it happened, and it gets worse. They landed far enough away from both the city and Clanhome that no one would notice, took out machine guns, and shot up the Green. They waited until Aidan showed up to fight them off, then they captured and caged him.”

Cullen growled his curse this time, the sound of an enraged beast.

Rhodry nodded in his direction. “We think that was their goal. They wanted a cat, and they wanted him alive.”

“I’m assuming you didn’t leave any of them alive, since the Green’s calmed down. Mostly, anyway. How’d you get Aidan out?” Amanda asked. She felt nothing for whoever had been on that ship. They’d broken the fleet’s embargo and Harp law in pursuit of profit, and they’d paid the price. There was only one reason to capture a great hunting beast like the ones which shifters resembled in their cat forms, and that was to sell them to a zoo or someone’s private collection for display and breeding. The only other reason would be if they’d somehow discovered the truth about the existence of shifters. But if anyone at fleet had learned about that, they wouldn’t be sending a single privateer to sneak onto the planet. They’d be invading.

“You’d be right about the crew’s fate,” Rhodry agreed. “But Aidan had already escaped. Thanks to the new love of his life.”

“The woman was that far out? Is she with a logging family? You know how much they hate shifters.”

“Even better. She was a scientist onboard the ship. She’s from Earth.”

…

The Swamp

Rachel had experienced some unpleasant ecosystems in her explorations, but nothing compared to Harp’s swamp. The damn thing shouldn’t even exist for all the reasons she’d told Aidan, but she was beginning to realize that when it came to Harp, few of the established scientific rules seemed to matter. His explanation for the swamp’s existence made a kind of sense, but only on Harp. And regardless of whether it should be there or not, it most definitely was. They’d gone steadily downslope for about fifteen yards, and she could smell the rot that Aidan had picked up from the top. She still couldn’t figure out how he’d done that. There’d been a slight breeze blowing toward the hidden rift that should have made it impossible. But, apparently, not for Aidan. She’d been joking about the DNA sharing, but she really did believe he displayed some serious genetic mutations that had probably made it possible for his ancestors to survive. He was fascinating, and not only because of his DNA.

He was, unfortunately, just her type—physically big guys who were not only super smart, but also tough and strong enough to match, or exceed, her skills when it came to survival trekking. Brains were a must, but so was a love for exploration. From the little she’d seen, she already knew that Harp was unique enough for a lifetime of new challenges and discoveries. She just had to keep her heart out of the mix. Because as much as she was attracted to Aidan, there was another way he was her type. That easy charm seemed to go hand in hand with the kind of men she found attractive, but it was like a fatal flaw. She’d been all but engaged to such a man once. A beautiful man, a wonderful lover. He’d been smart and full of adventure, an expedition guide like herself. She’d been madly in love, convinced she’d found the perfect man to share her life with. Until she’d discovered he had a lover on every planet he visited who believed the same. It had been a hard lesson, but she’d learned it. Men like that—handsome, charming to everyone they met—should never be trusted with a woman’s heart. They loved the chase too much to ever settle for just one.

And why was she wasting brainpower thinking about broken hearts? If she didn’t focus on the ground underfoot, she was going to end up with a broken ankle, which would be far more painful and possibly fatal. And then, she’d have to deal with Aidan’s irritation at having to slow down because of it. As it was, the skin on her arms remained red and irritated, like a bad sunburn, from exposure to the pongo’s blood. She didn’t need to add any more injuries to the mix. On Wolfrum’s advice—perhaps the one honest thing he’d told her—she’d taken a prophylactic round of broad-spectrum antibiotics and had another full round in her pack. But a truly serious injury could leave her vulnerable enough that infection could take hold. A hot, wet place like this was undoubtedly teeming with bacteria. Who knew if Earth meds could deal with it? Far better to avoid breaking her ankle in the first place.

“Not much farther now,” Aidan murmured. They’d both begun speaking softly since beginning their descent. There was something about this place that made one want to keep a low profile—a sense of opportunistic predators lurking, waiting for prey unwary enough to draw attention.

“I’m guessing there’ll be no camp?” she asked. More likely they’d simply hunker down and wait out the night. A fire was unlikely, she thought. It would draw too much attention. Same would go for the smell of any hot food. She thought about how long he’d said it would take to cross to the other side. It was going to be a dreary few days…or maybe weeks.

Aidan touched her shoulder, indicating she should pause. She stopped in place, waiting. In the short distance they’d come, she’d already learned several hazards of the swamp, including a muddy mound of what he’d told her were tiny, biting insects that found the smallest gaps in your clothing and were nearly impossible to get rid of once they’d burrowed their way in.

She followed his gaze as he looked around in the dying light. It was already so dark where they were that she was maneuvering mostly by feel. She longed for her little flashlight but knew it would only attract insects of almost every variety. She wanted to ask what he was looking for but waited to see, instead. His gaze settled on a sturdy-looking tree about twenty feet to their right. She’d noticed, before it became too dark to see, that the farther they descended, the more slender the trees became. Looking up, she saw the crisscrossed branches she’d come to expect of the Green, but she could tell that these would never support her weight. Maybe if she’d been four-legged, as Aidan had noted, so that she could distribute her weight differently, they might have held. But not in her bipedal human form.

“You sure you can climb?” he whispered.

She wanted to grab him by the shirt and snarl at him. Yes, she sure as hell could fucking climb. But they were both under stress, so she sucked in a breath and simply nodded. “I can climb.”

She could barely see his face, but his eyes had taken on that same glow, so she saw it when he winked at her. He’d been teasing her. There they were, heading for this swamp he’d given her such dire warnings about, and he was still laying on the charm. She didn’t know if that made her like him more or less.

Oh, what the fuck. She was an idiot because it definitely made her like him more.

Taking her hand and holding it close, he guided her over to the tree he’d selected and indicated she should climb.

She gave him a skeptical look. “And you’ll be right behind me.”

“Right on your very fine ass,” he assured her, laughing when she punched his gut. A gut which was hard as a fucking rock. “Climb,” he said seriously.

So, she climbed. And apparently impressed her Harp companion.

“Where’d you learn to climb like that?” he asked, settling down next to her on a broad branch. She couldn’t help noticing that he’d positioned himself between her and anything that might come at them from the front. With the trunk at her back and a second broad branch overhead, they were as protected as they could be.

“My father was Research Director at the Redwoods Sanctuary in old California when I was growing up. My brother and I spent most of our childhood climbing trees as big or bigger than these.”

“I’ve seen pictures of those in the old archives. Do they still exist on Earth?”

She nodded. “In the Sanctuary, but nowhere else. Even there, the number is far fewer, but it’s better than it would have been if the state hadn’t taken action early on. They’re a national treasure.” She shivered unexpectedly. “Did the temperature just drop?”

He leaned back and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into the heat of his body. “It happens on the slopes after sunset when the day’s heat rushes to escape the deep rift. It never comes from as deep as the swamp itself, but the slopes can get cool.”

“This is the freakiest planet,” she grumbled, hugging her arms and grateful for his warmth. “Aren’t you cold?”

He shrugged. “I don’t get cold.”

“Not ever?”

“Sometimes in the snow. And don’t even mention my DNA.”

She laughed. “I wasn’t going to. That’s a simple adaptation. Everyone does that.”

“Sleep,” he ordered.

“We can trade off watch shifts. How long does night last?”

“That’s not necessary. I’m a light sleeper. If anything comes within ten feet of us, I’ll know it.”

“Another adaptation, Aidan?”

“Absolutely. I’m a hunter. We sleep in the wild as often as in our beds.”

“Tell me about these hunters,” she murmured, her eyes closing. It had been a long, tiring day. “Is it a family thing? A professional guild? What?”

“A little of both. Go to sleep.”

“You’re very secretive.” She surrendered to sleep almost before the last word left her lips, and the last thing she remembered was the touch of Aidan’s lips on the top of her head.

…

The next morning Rachel was convinced she must have imagined that kiss because the Aidan who’d held her while she slept had been replaced by his drill-sergeant alter ego. He’d woken her at the precise moment the sun hit their tree. Although to say it hit their tree would be a gross exaggeration. A pale facsimile of sunshine barely brushed the treetops above them. She knew it was sunrise more by the change in the sounds of the forest than the tiny bit of brightened light around them.

“Grab your energy bar, lass. It’s time to move.”

“Good morning to you, too,” she muttered. “Can I pee first?”

He laughed. “Sure. I wouldn’t recommend squatting too close to the ground, though. You never know what might poke its head out and take a bite.”

“Thank you for that vivid picture, but I’m fully aware of the precautions one must take when peeing in the wild.”

“Only for women.”

“Oh ho, is that what they’ve told you? I’ve been on planets where things will reach out, take a bite, and climb right up your dick.”

He jerked in shock, and Rachel would have sworn she heard a gasp, although he’d no doubt deny it. She wasn’t that discreet. She laughed, and he poked her in the side. “Are you serious?”

She lowered herself the final few feet to the ground, watchful for unpleasant surprises. “Hell, yeah, I am,” she told him, checking the ground around her. “It’s most unpleasant getting them out, too. Had it happen to a guy I dated a few times.”

“So much for that romance, I’d imagine.”

“He wasn’t feeling amorous for months after, that’s for sure. But we were over before it happened.”

“How come?” Aidan didn’t bother with caution. He jumped directly from the branch where they’d slept to stand next to her. Rachel stared up, measuring the distance. It had to be fifteen feet, maybe more. And yet he’d landed as light as a cat.

“I travel a lot, which means I’m gone a lot. He wanted someone more available.”

He hummed wordlessly.

“What about the women here on Harp?” she asked.

“Well, they don’t travel,” he said, laughing.

“You’re evading the question.”

He shrugged. “It’s different here. Nobody lives far from family. The only ones who travel any distance are the loggers, and their families travel with them.”

“And the hunters, I’d imagine,” Rachel said, stepping behind a tree where hopefully he couldn’t watch her squat. She’d have liked to go out of hearing distance, as well, but that was pure vanity. Everyone pees. Far better to have your companions listen to you pee, than to be so far away that they can’t help you if a monster attacked.

“Some of us travel the Green a lot,” he conceded. “Some remain close to home.”

Rachel pulled up her pants. This was about the time in any expedition where she began longing for a hot shower. She sighed, knowing it would probably be weeks before that happened. The best she could hope for until then would be a quick dip in a cold stream.

“You ready to move?” he asked, standing right in front of her when she rounded her tree.

She gazed up at him and saw the slight crinkling of his eyes. He’d done that on purpose. Ah, Aidan, she thought. Payback’s gonna be a bitch. She smiled sweetly and said, “I’m ready. Do you want an energy bar?”

He gave her a suspicious look but asked, “How many of those things do you have left?”

Rachel reached into her pack and counted. “Ten.”

“All right, yeah, I’ll take one. But we’re having meat for lunch and dinner.”

“Cooked meat?” Not all cultures cooked their protein.

“Unless you’d prefer it raw?” he asked curiously.

“No, no. Just checking.”

“Can we start walking now?”

She rolled her eyes. Like she was the reason they were still standing there.

“Walk where I walk,” he cautioned.

Rachel nodded as she settled her backpack once more. She’d done this so many times on so many planets that she barely noticed the weight anymore. She followed Aidan downward, keeping her eye on his footsteps but pausing to scan the rest of their surroundings, too. The tree canopy didn’t seem that much thicker than it had above, but it grew increasingly dark as they descended, as if the sun couldn’t penetrate the deep crevice in the earth. She thought it possible there’d be an hour every day when the sun was directly above and shining into the deep, narrow rift, but no more than that. Her foot slipped, but she caught herself easily. This wasn’t the first treacherous ground she’d had to navigate, but she had to admit that Harp’s swamp had little to recommend it. The slope was slick with rotting vegetation and probably equally rotting animal matter, and the stench was unbelievable. It surrounded them like a heavy wet blanket, as if particles of the rot were floating in the air, landing on her clothes, her exposed skin…her hair. She found herself wishing she’d worn a hat.

The morning passed without incident. Aidan walked with confidence, seeming to know where to step to avoid whatever swamp hazards lay in wait. In fact, Rachel was beginning to think he’d exaggerated the dangers, hoping to scare her off from going after Wolfrum altogether. They’d seen so little wildlife that she wondered what he planned to hunt down for that promised hot lunch. Her stomach growled on cue, and she looked up to ask him about it, when he abruptly lost his footing and flew several feet downslope.

Rachel’s first reaction was shock. Every experienced trekker she knew tripped and stumbled on occasion, including her. But not Aidan. She’d never seen him so much as take a misstep. Every foot he placed, every hand when he climbed, was perfectly balanced and exactly where it needed to be. Her instincts were screaming something was wrong before he’d hit the ground.

Aidan shouted a warning, but she’d already seen it. He hadn’t fallen. There was a giant snakelike thing wrapped around his leg and moving rapidly up to squeeze his torso. One of his arms was still free, and he had his knife out, stabbing at any part of the creature he could reach. But it wasn’t going to be enough. It was a monster snake, several times wider around than Rachel, its body coiling up to tighten around Aidan’s chest. It would squeeze the life out of him, shutting down his lungs, his heart. Already she could hear him straining to draw enough breath to curse, could see the power in his thrusts weakening.

Rachel put away her own belt knife. She’d grabbed it instinctively, but it wouldn’t even irritate the giant snake. Dropping her pack to the ground, she yanked at the straps holding her crossbow, nocked two bolts, and slipped two more into her belt. Doing a quick eyeball assessment of the snake’s body, which was twisting in the undergrowth as it fought to control Aidan, she took a few experimental steps forward and stopped, but the creature ignored her. She walked closer.

“Rachel,” Aidan wheezed. “Stay back.” He was on the ground now, still slashing but growing weaker.

She ignored him, just as the snake was ignoring her. It was in full-on attack mode, totally focused on disabling its prey—which happened to be Aidan—before eating him whole. Stepping carefully—a misstep here could be fatal for both of them—she said softly, “Aidan.”

He looked up and met her eyes, then glanced at the crossbow and shook his head. “No,” he said in warning.

She smiled. “Trust me.” Cocking the crossbow and hoping this damn creature really was a snake, she drew a deep breath, slid her foot forward…and nearly went down as a length of the thick body whipped against her leg. “Fuck.”

“Rachel,” Aidan growled.

She ignored him. This damn snake was not going to defeat her, and it was sure as hell not going to kill Aidan. He was far too much alive to die. Switching her gaze from the twisting coils to her feet, to the snake’s head, and back again, she glided cautiously over the slick ground until she came within touching distance. The snake’s eyes were closed, all of its energy and instincts focused on crushing its prey. Planting both feet, she placed the point of the bolt precisely above and between the creature’s closed eyes and let fly from only inches away.

The bolt hit with a dull thud, smashing the skull with an audible crack. The snake seemed to reel, its head waving loosely, eyes flickering in her direction. But it wasn’t dead, and she didn’t hesitate. Reptile brains were tiny. Aiming for the green fluid dripping out of the crack in the skull, and hoping her memory of reptile brains was accurate, she fired the second bolt, then pulled out her boot knife, prepared to dig around in the creature’s skull if that’s what it took to finish it off.

The massive body collapsed in a slow wave, filling the air with a slithering rush of sound until, finally, the coils surrounding Aidan relaxed. He staggered slightly but didn’t fall, grabbing her instead and running uphill, dragging her with him until they hit the nearest tree.

“Climb,” he ordered, his voice still strained, as if his lungs weren’t yet working fully.

“Aidan,” she protested, but he gripped her around the waist and lifted her until she could grab the first low branch.

“Climb, damn it.”

Not understanding, but infected by the urgency in his voice, she slung the crossbow awkwardly over her shoulder and climbed.

“Keeping going.” He was right behind her, his hand on her thigh, as if ready to give her a push.

“Aidan, what—?”

“Higher.”

Hearing the strain in his voice, she twisted to look back at him. Those gold flecks in his eyes were too bright in the dark shadows of the downslope, the muscles on his arms flexing visibly beneath the thin tunic.

She levered herself onto a thick branch—twenty feet up and big enough to hold both of them—and stopped. She wanted to know what was happening. The damn snake was dead. What could possibly—? She looked down and gagged. Something was eating the snake from the inside out. The skin split wide open to disgorge a black swarm of beetle-like creatures that quickly covered the carcass. And they just kept coming.

“What the hell is that?” Rachel whispered.

“Snipes,” Aidan said from where he was perched right next to her. “They have a symbiotic relationship with the python. They keep its gut clean of bones and other indigestibles, until it dies. And then their eggs hatch and their population multiplies over and over. The dead snake feeds their offspring, and they go looking for a new host. And they’re not picky about what they eat in the meantime. Everything and anything becomes food, including half-dead hunters and pretty Earthers with fancy crossbows.”

Rachel smiled at the description then elbowed him gently. “You weren’t half dead. More like two-thirds.”

…

Aidan chuckled, though the whole situation grated. If he’d been alone, he’d have shifted and the damn python would have been his lunch, instead of the other way around. He’d been moments away from saying the hell with it and shifting anyway. There was no way in hell that they were going to finish this mission without Rachel learning about shifters, anyway. So why the fuck should he have to wrestle with a damn python while it choked the breath out of him?

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he told her lightly. “And thanks for killing that fucker. How’d you know where to shoot? Their brains aren’t exactly a big target.” He had to admit he was impressed. She’d been cool as a breeze off the glacier.

“I’m a xeno-vet, remember?” she told him. “Reptiles all over the universe seem to share certain anatomical characteristics, including their tiny brains. I took a chance that this guy was a reptile. Looks can be deceiving.”

No shit, Aidan thought. Wait until she set her xeno-vet eyes on a shifter. They both watched in silence as the voracious snipes reduced the python to a pile of dried skin and loose bone and then marched away to find some other host.

“Wow,” Rachel whispered.

“Yep. We should move on. I want to stop for lunch, but…not here.”

She laughed. “Worried you’re still on the menu?” She climbed from the tree with impressive skill, jumping the last few feet.

He followed and then started away. “Sweetheart, on Harp everyone is always on the menu.” Except for shifters, he wanted to add. There were very few creatures on Harp who would attack a shifter and even fewer who’d survive the encounter. He was still irritated as hell that he’d gotten caught the way he had. If any of his cousins learned of it, he’d never hear the end of their jokes. What still really pissed him off, though, was that he’d had to hold back his shift. Normally, he’d never have attempted the swamp in human form. Hell, normally, he’d never have been on the ground at all. He’d have climbed a tree and run over the top of the damn thing.

But then there was Rachel. Who else would make sure she reached the end of her stubborn journey to the city alive? Okay, so any number of his cousins would probably volunteer. Hell, Gabriel already had. But that wasn’t happening. Aidan was her cat, even if she didn’t know it yet. And she was his…something. He didn’t know yet exactly what she was to him. Only that she was his to protect. And, yeah, she actually had damn good survival skills all on her own. That had been a neat trick with the snake. He’d never thought of it. But then he’d never had to because he was a fucking shifter! And that brought him right back to all the reasons he was pissed as hell.

Movement overhead caught his attention. Time for lunch.

Casting his eye about as they walked, he found what he was looking for. Whatever geological forces had created the rift that the swamp called home, the process had left behind enormous boulders scattered at random along both slopes and piled in the center. The rocks were sometimes infested with a variety of small life-forms, or covered over by vegetation, but occasionally there’d be one which stuck out enough to get a little more sunshine, a little less moisture. If one had to make camp on the ground, those were the most likely spots for it.

“Over there,” he told Rachel now, nodding in the direction of the rock cluster. “It’s as safe as anywhere else. You make camp, and I’ll hunt lunch.”

“Wait.” Rachel put a hand on his arm before he could swing into the trees and away. “Shouldn’t we stay together?”

“We are together. I’m not going far.”

She frowned. “What are you—?”

At that moment, a pack of cebas swarmed by overhead, their passage marked only by the swoosh of movement through the trees. The swamp version of a banshee, the cebas were eerily silent. The only time they vocalized at all was during mating season, when the males fought for breeding rights. And then the sound was a hoarse grunt, barely discernible beyond a few yards, nothing like the loud chittering of the banshee, which could carry for miles. The other distinguishing aspect of the ceba was less charming. Cebas were green. Not because they’d been born that way, but because they were true swamp-dwellers, their fur covered in green moss. They were slimy on the outside, but very tasty on the inside.

In answer to Rachel’s question, Aidan pointed upward.

“What are those things?” She squinted. “Creepy.”

“Tasty,” he corrected.

She opened her mouth as if to object, but then blew out a resigned breath. “Can I make a fire?”

“Absolutely. Make it a small one and confine it to the rock.” He swung up into the nearest tree. “This won’t take long.”

Aidan felt almost guilty at the freedom zinging through his veins as he climbed into the canopy. It had nothing to do with Rachel and everything to do with who he was. He was a shifter, and it was suffocating to be confined in his human form. He was as much man as cat, but the cat lived closer to nature, with fewer rules. Shedding his clothes and boots, he tied them into a bundle and stashed them in a tree fork. Then, with a yowling call to remind the swamp dwellers who ruled the planet, he went hunting.

Rachel looked up as the eerie howl of a big cat sent a shiver of excitement skating over her nerves. Forgetting the small fire she’d been coaxing into life, she searched the surrounding canopy, hoping for a glimpse of her cat. Had he followed them into the swamp? There was no doubt in her mind that, as apex predators, the big cats wouldn’t have to worry about things like giant, beetle-filled snakes. Between her work and university, she’d seen a lot of different life-forms, including a lot of symbiotic relationships, but the image of those beetles eating their way out of the snake like a glistening black wave to swarm over its carcass still made her shudder. Not because she cared about the snake, but because it was all too easy to imagine the tiny black things swarming over her instead.

She spat a wordless sound of disgust before turning back to her tiny fire, which she’d ignored and was threatening to go out. Aidan had said he’d be quick, and the last thing she wanted was for him to come back and find her obsessing about dead snakes, or worse, daydreaming about a certain golden cat. He seemed to find her obsession with the beast intensely amusing. But it was perfectly natural for her to be concerned about the animal’s continuing health. She was a doctor, after all. And he’d been her patient, albeit an unwilling one.

Besides, Aidan had said the cats were important on Harp, so she was, in some small way, making up for the sins of her shipmates. The thought made her frown because the most important thing she could do for the cats was to find that second ship and stop them before they could launch a second brutal attack on the Harp wildlife, the cats specifically. She felt slightly guilty keeping the existence of the second ship from Aidan thus far. At some point, she was going to have to tell him. How else would she explain her sudden desire to break off and travel away from the city she’d been so eager to reach?

She sighed.

“How’s that fire going, hunter?”

Rachel spun. Her first reaction was to wonder how the hell such a huge man moved so quietly. Her second was pleasure that he’d called her “hunter.” But then he dropped a gutted, skinned, and headless something next to her fire, and pleasure took a hike.

She studied the carcass and thought it was probably a banshee—those mammalian, monkey-like creatures which ran in packs on Harp—but then she saw the bands of green fur circling its wrists and ankles, along with the matching green skin. She leaned closer. Unusual coloring like that was frequently a function of diet. She thought it must be specific to the swamp, because in her admittedly limited experience with life-forms on Harp, she hadn’t seen green skin on any other mammals. She jerked back when the green seemed to be sliding off the fur and onto the feet, with the consistency of thick sludge. Curious but, given her recent beetle experience, also cautious, she reached into her pack for a small magnifier, leaned in for a closer look…and wished she hadn’t.

“Does everything here have something crawling on it?” she muttered. She hadn’t really expected Aidan to hear her, but of course, he did.

“Pretty much, lass. Life finds a way, right? Isn’t that what you scientists say?”

She glanced up from where she was once again leaning over and studying the creeping army of tiny, wriggling worms. “Does that hold true all over Harp?”

“No,” he admitted. “Just here in the swamp. Makes for interesting eats.”

She gave him a dry look. If he was trying to shock her delicate senses, he had the wrong woman. She’d eaten far less appetizing things than a few green worms. “Do we eat the worms?”

He actually appeared revolted by the idea, but then he grinned. “Hell, no. I just left them on there for you to see.”

“That’s so sweet,” she cooed. “What’s it called? I like to know what I’m eating.”

“A ceba. His pack swung overhead a ways back, before we stopped.”

Rachel nodded, remembering the silent creatures. “Do I need to set up a spit?”

Aidan gave her a surprised look. What? Did he think she brought a personal chef along when she trekked?

“No,” he said finally. “I’ll chop this bad boy into pieces, and we’ll roast him on skewers. They’re not that meaty, but it’s tender.” He picked up the creature and walked a little way off. After several whacks of his knife, he tossed several bits farther away and then returned with a pile of boneless lengths of meat layered neatly on a large green leaf.

Understanding what he had in mind, Rachel had already stripped the leaves off several skinny sticks. Taking the meat, she skewered it onto the sticks and placed them over the fire, bracing them with small stones.

Aidan had gone off to clean his hands and blade, using more of the same big leaves, but now he returned, settling next to her with their backs against a chunk of rock that had been sliced cleanly in half several millennia ago.

“Do I need to worry about something unpleasant crawling out from under this rock?” she asked, reaching out to turn the skewers.

He laughed. “Probably. But since there’s no place in this damn swamp where that’s not true, you might as well be comfortable.”

She smiled but didn’t say anything.

“You surprise me,” he said.

She glanced over. “How?”

“You’re tougher than I’d expected from an Earther.”

“Have you met a lot of Earthers?”

“A few. Mostly the few fleet personnel who rotate in and out, manning the science center. Though, after this little trick, I doubt Ardrigh Cristobal will permit even that much access to continue. We can handle the facility ourselves by now.”

“What are they like? The fleet types who run the center, I mean?” She was thinking that at least one of them had to have been in on Wolfrum’s scheme. If not actively participating, then at least looking the other way.

Aidan shrugged. “They’re rarely seen. They arrive by shuttle, march to the science center, and that’s it. They don’t mingle.”

“What a waste,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. “Is that what you thought I’d do? I mean, how the hell did you think I was going to get back to the city without…mingling?”

“I figured I’d escort you gently to Clanhome and you’d wait there in comfort until the Guild or Cristobal sent a hover to fetch you.”

Rachel didn’t know whether to be insulted or amused, so she went with curiosity instead. “You have hovercraft here?”

“Two. They’re solar-powered, kept in the city, and used only in emergencies.”

She checked the meat, wanting it cooked through—take that, you fucking worms—but not dried into chunks of jerky. “So, if I’m not a dainty maiden waiting for rescue…what am I?” she asked, pulling the first skewers off and passing one to Aidan.

“Oh, now you’re just fishing for compliments.”

She laughed, then took a bite of the meat and chewed. “This isn’t bad,” she admitted. “It could use some salt, but I’ve had a lot worse.”

The silence was companionable as they sat on the rock and finished their lunch, such as it was. The absence of fresh produce was one thing Rachel had always despised about trekking. She always became a temporary vegetarian when she returned from a long trip, though not for long. She was a carnivore through and through.

Aidan rose to a crouch and started breaking down their fire pit, such as it was. “You finished eating?” he asked. When she nodded, he took the leftover meat, wrapped it in yet another giant leaf, and then double wrapped it, using a second leaf. “Okay if I put this in your pack?”

Rachel pulled her pack over and opened an outside pocket which had an insulated lining for just that sort of thing.

Aidan peered inside. “I’m beginning to think you really do have experience in the wild,” he said, tucking the meat away then zipping the pocket closed.

“I’m trying not to be insulted by that comment.”

“Try harder. It was a compliment.”

She scoffed. “Your compliments need work.”

He offered a hand to pull her to her feet and used too much strength. She crashed into his chest, and for a moment, their bodies were perfectly aligned, his hand holding hers behind her back, her other hand on his waist for balance. Rachel’s breath caught as her nipples hardened against his chest. Aidan’s arm tightened, and she looked up to meet his gold-flecked eyes, stunned by the wave of pure, unadulterated lust that hung in the air between them. She swallowed the knot in her throat, reminding herself that this wasn’t the time or place.

His eyes filled with the same knowledge. He gave her a lopsided grin that held a promise for the future and then released her to stand on her own.

“Will we make the bottom before nightfall?” she asked, securing her various bits of gear and weapons in their proper places. The last thing one wanted was to be searching for the right knife in an emergency. Or to see the heat in his eyes right now.

Aidan shook himself from head to toe. It was such an animal thing to do that it caught her attention. He was so much a part of the Green, she thought. She wondered how much time he spent in the wild. Did he ever go home to stay? Or was he just a visitor there?

“We’ll make the swamp itself tomorrow afternoon if we’re lucky. For now, we’ll travel as far as we can before darkfall, then rest. Daylight gets shorter the deeper we go. By the time we hit bottom, we won’t see more than an hour of light in the middle of the day.”

“We’ll cross in the dark?” she asked, not happy about the prospect.

He nodded. “No choice.”

Rachel drew a deep breath and returned his nod. She’d faced worse and survived. She’d do it again. “Let’s go.”

…

They slept in the trees that night. Aidan told Rachel again that a watch wasn’t necessary, that he’d wake in time to catch any intruder. But that was no longer true. He had no intention of sleeping. The swamp was a strange fucking place. Even he didn’t know every creature that lived there, and he spent more time patrolling this sector of the Green than any other shifter, including his many cousins. The deeper they went, the weirder the life-forms. He had to fight the urge to shift; his cat was clawing to get out, his instincts recognizing the danger. There was no threat in the Green that he couldn’t fight better in his shifted form, but Rachel didn’t know about shifters, and it wasn’t up to Aidan to tell her. There was only one Earther who knew Harp’s biggest secret, and that was Amanda, Rhodry’s wife. She’d earned her place on Harp with blood, sweat, and plain damned courage. He’d told Rachel that she wasn’t what he’d expected of an Earther in this situation. What he hadn’t told her was that she reminded him of Amanda. No hysterics, no waiting for someone else to solve the latest crisis. Just a cool head and an even cooler hand with that crossbow. Nothing fazed her.

He grinned. Nothing except the sexual tension between them. He’d seen her look of panic when they’d had their moment earlier. If they’d been in the regular part of Green, their evening would have turned out very differently.

Movement rippled in the trees all around them, and he raised his head, listening. What he wouldn’t give for a big pack of noisy banshee right about now. Those damn cebas made for a tasty meal, but they were shit when it came to a decent warning system. He’d been catching whispers from the trees for hours now, even before they’d stopped for the night.

There was one other thing about the swamp that he hadn’t mentioned to Rachel, because it was something only shifters would understand, and that was the trees in the swamp—they were…sicker somehow, although that wasn’t the right word. The deeper one went into the rift, the less connected the trees were until, at the very bottom, there was no song at all. The Green was working steadily to “heal” this deformity, but progress was crushingly slow. Harp had existed for millennia before the colonists had crashed here, and the Green had yet to gather the swamp into its healthy fold.

For a shifter like Aidan, that sickness meant he couldn’t reliably count on the trees for information and warning. He could tell there was something wrong. Something big that these trees couldn’t convey. But he couldn’t make anything more of it. It made him wonder if he and Rhodry had missed a member of Rachel’s crew when they’d cleared out the ship. Had someone been hiding? If so, they’d been locked so securely that not a scent, not a sound had given them away. It was damn difficult to fool a shifter’s senses. Not impossible, but… Aidan didn’t believe it. If a crew member had been missed it was because he hadn’t been on the ship during the attack. He could ask Rachel how many people had been onboard, but what was the point? She’d only become suspicious and concerned, and it wouldn’t change anything. If someone was on their tail, he’d deal with them. Assuming the swamp didn’t do it for him.

She stirred next to him, scowling in her sleep at the rough bark against her cheek. He smiled and tugged her gently against his side. She sighed and relaxed against him, letting her cheek rest on his shoulder instead. He dropped a kiss on her head then leaned back, wide awake. He could go days without sleep when necessary. Enough to get them out of this damn swamp and back onto dry land.

…

Two days later, they faced the swamp. In her mind, Rachel had lumped the downslope in with the swamp proper, figuring it would simply be more of the same, but with water. More sticky hot air that clung to every inch of exposed skin and stank like several somethings had died recently. More slick mucky vegetation underfoot and more roots to twist an unwary ankle or hide a vicious little beast with teeth half the size of its body. She’d been thankful ten times over for the sturdy mid-calf hiking boots she’d dragged halfway across the universe. She’d never imagined the swamp could be worse than the downslope.

Now, surrounded by a morning darkness that was nearly as deep as the night, she stared at the stagnant water with its coating of fluorescing green slime and knew she’d been wrong.

“That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve seen in…forever, I think. And that’s saying something.”

Next to her, Aidan laughed. Nothing seemed to bother him. He didn’t think she knew, but he hadn’t slept since they’d set foot on the downslope. You’d never know it to look at him. He must have incredible endurance. More of that “hunter” discipline, she imagined. She had a lot of questions about that. So many that she was itching to make a list. But then he’d just ask her what she was writing, and she’d have to tell him. Because she couldn’t tell him any more lies. The big lie—that she was going to the city—was like a rock in her stomach.

Or maybe in her heart, because she liked him. Apart from the undeniable lust that sparked between them at the most inconvenient times, she liked him. She wished she’d never kept the truth of the second ship from him in the first place. Her reasoning at the time, that she didn’t want Aidan or any of his people to get hurt, seemed ridiculous now. She’d only spent a few days with him, but she recognized a soldier when she saw one. He might call himself a hunter, and maybe he was that, too. But he was a warrior, and probably far more capable than she was of dealing with Wolfrum and his team. What had she thought, anyway? That she’d walk up to Wolfrum and talk him out of his scandalous plan? Fuck. Just thinking about the whole situation made her head hurt. She kept circling around and around with what-ifs, and all of them ended with Aidan hating her. And that made her heart hurt.

“Do we make a raft?” she asked, determined not to think about anything but getting out of this damn swamp. The rest would wait.

He snorted. “You wish. I’m afraid not.”

She shot him a disbelieving look. “Really? Why not—”

“You start chopping down trees for a raft, and you’re only going to bring a whole new crop of misery onto our heads. There are a lot of things living in those trees. Hell, half of them will stick onto the wood after you build the raft and feast on you all the way across.”

She sighed. “How deep is it?”

“If we’re careful where we cross?” He glanced down at her boots, then grinned. “Too deep.”

She glared. “What about you, tough guy? You telling me you’re going to barefoot across that thing?”

He made a dismissive noise. “Am I suicidal?” His hand shot out and snagged one of the big-toothed rodents who’d been stupid enough to try and sneak from one tree to the next while Aidan was standing there. Evolution at work, she thought, as he tossed the unfortunate creature into the water. It uttered its death scream a second before it was swallowed by a bubbling froth of water and feeding frenzy, as what seemed like a thousand, sharp-toothed creatures fought over the body.

“What the fuck?” she whispered.

“They’re called cucas,” Aiden said. “Don’t ask me why. I don’t know.” He tugged on a hanging vine, yanking it free of the trunk that it twisted around, then, letting his full weight rest on it, tested its strength. He handed it over to her, showing her how to coil it around her hand and into her fist. “Don’t fall.”

Rachel looked up with a narrow-eyed glare and snarled at him.

He grinned. She sounded like the tiniest baby shifter kitten when she did that.

“Maybe you should go first.”

“Not likely,” he dismissed. “If I fall, you’ll just use the distraction to swing yourself to safety.”

She laughed. The truth was, and they both knew it, that if either of them fell, the other would risk their life in a vain and probably suicidal attempt at rescue.

With a final testing tug on the vine, she set her eyes on the opposite bank, took a running start down the slope, and flew over the water, her knees tucked up beneath her as if expecting the cucas to leap out of the water and bite her feet. Aidan watched, admiring her courage along with her form. Although she had very trim legs beneath her sensible cargo pants, he thought her ass was a far more bitable target.

She hit the opposite bank with a whoop of success and then promptly fell on said bitable ass. Aidan had done the same on his first crossing when he’d been fifteen and still in training. The ground on the opposite bank was just as soft and twisted with undergrowth as this one, which made for an awkward landing.

“You okay?” he called.

Rachel was on her feet and already scanning the ground and trees, looking for threats. She hadn’t even tried to brush off the mud and slime that coated the back of her hands, which, oddly enough, made him think better of her. It would have been a pointless task, as well as a waste of energy, and she was professional enough to know that. She looked up at his call and gave him a grinning thumbs-up.

Aidan laughed, thinking he might be in love. He knew for damn sure he was in lust. But right now, they had to get away from this fucking swamp before the sun rose enough to warm the water. Because as dangerous as the cucas were, they were far from the deadliest thing living in there.

“Heads up!” he called and swung over the water with practiced ease.

“You want to hold up here long enough to grab some—”

“No.” Uncoiling the vine from his wrist, he turned and urged her ahead of him. “Let’s move.”

Rachel took one look at his face and didn’t hesitate. She started climbing the upslope with grim determination. “I’m sure you’ll tell me why we’re in such a hurry. Being as I’m your partner and all.”

Aidan felt the slight shift in warmth that told him the sun was rising as much as it ever did this deep in the rift. Catching up to Rachel, he looped an arm around her waist and powered them both another five yards up the slope until they reached a tree thick enough to provide some concealment. Shoving her behind the tree, he wrapped his arms around her and bent his head to whisper in her ear. “Watch.”

As if waiting for his command, the sun beamed down through the tangled trees to touch directly on the water, which lost its neon green slick and became a dull, muddy brown. Steam soon became visible—a few wisps dancing over the surface to begin with, quickly becoming graceful ghosts. A single plopping sound, as if something had dropped into the water—though the truth was quite different—was the first sign.

Rachel’s head tilted. “What was—? Oh shit. What the fuck…?”

Aiden grinned at her reaction, only able to do so because they were well out of the danger zone. “We don’t even have a name for it. It’s just the swamp monster.” He watched the huge creature dash with surprising speed out of the water, its six legs churning up the opposite slope, where it gobbled up a trio of rodents as they raced away. The monster chewed with great deliberation, its mouth so big that it was as if its head simply cracked open to reveal a set of deadly teeth and a gaping throat.

“The sun triggers it?” Rachel whispered, as if afraid to draw the creature’s attention.

“The sun’s warmth,” he clarified. “We think it goes into a kind of cold stasis the rest of the time, although ‘cold’ is a relative term down here.”

“Is it like this all year round?”

He nodded. “With some time variation, yes. It always emerges with the sunlight, but we’ve never been able to match a schedule to its retreat. That’s why I didn’t want to cross in the afternoon.”

“What’s it doing now?” she asked, leaning forward to catch every detail.

Aidan almost groaned at the press of her ass against his groin. “The rodents were a snack. Watch this,” he murmured. The monster flexed its legs slowly, as if stretching, and then rolled its head back until it was studying the tops of the trees. With no warning, it suddenly shot forward and slammed itself against the base of a slender tree. There was a crashing noise overhead, and then one of the green-furred cebas fell almost right into the creature’s waiting maw. Its jaws snapped shut with a crunch of bone and a thin cry which was the only sound he’d ever heard a ceba make. Still chewing, its belly already growing fat, the swamp monster slowly turned and lumbered back to the waterline to digest its food. Its clawed feet dug in, anchoring itself in the mud, its solid black eyes going cloudy beneath a pale, nictitating eyelid as it soaked up the fragile sunlight.

“Wow,” Rachel breathed, her body still. “I mean, disgusting, but…wow.”

Aidan trusted she meant the swamp monster and not his body, which was not immune to the firm swell of her ass. He inched back. This was not the time or place, and he had no interest in tormenting himself.

“Yeah. If you could stand the conditions down here, you could spend a lifetime studying the swamp.”

“If you could stand it,” she repeated. “Not for me, thanks.”

He chuckled. “I thought you were all about research.”

She shook her head. “I’m also all about breathing. The air down here is so thick with foreign particles… I don’t want to think about what’s already taking up residence in my lungs. Speaking of which, can we start climbing out now?”

“Sure. I thought you’d want to see our monster first.”

“You were right.” She turned to look up at him, still standing far too close. “Thanks.”

Aidan met the sincere look in her eyes and felt an awkwardness that he hadn’t experienced in years. He didn’t get flustered around women. Quite the opposite. He was more accustomed to causing the fluster.

“You’re welcome,” he muttered, then turned and backed away. “We should move. There’s still a way to go before we’re in the clear.”

…

Rachel followed Aidan as they climbed the upslope of the swamp. They spent most of their time bent over, using their hands as much as their feet, but she didn’t mind, eager to leave the swamp and its monster behind.

She blushed, remembering other things about their morning monster viewing. Like the raw strength of Aidan’s arms when he’d dragged her behind that tree, and the press of his body as they’d stood there watching. All of his body. She hadn’t missed the hard length of his erection against her butt. How could she? He was barely dressed in that thin tunic and pants he wore all the time.

Unfortunately, the swamp picked that moment to show its teeth one last time. She was digging her fingers into the slope as she’d done a hundred times already, gripping the slick undergrowth and looking for a handhold. But this time, the undergrowth fought back.

“Fuck!”

…

Aidan heard Rachel curse. She’d been swearing under her breath for most of the morning, but this one was different. There was pain and—panic. He spun. If he’d learned one thing about Rachel, it was that she didn’t panic. Sliding down on his heels, he uttered his own curse. She was on her knees, one hand still gripping a sturdy, green tree trunk. But her other hand was in the air, half swallowed by what looked like a snake, but was actually an insect. Its many legs were waving wildly in the air, its teeth sunk into the flesh of her hand. Rachel reached for its mouth, fingers poised to grip the jaw and force it open.

“Don’t!” he shouted, when she went to pull the partially opened jaw off her arm. He skidded next to her and grabbed the writhing insect with one hand and her wrist with the other. “This is a rizer,” he said, trying to distract her with facts. “Its bite is rear-facing, three rows of teeth. If you try to pull it off like that, you’ll only dig the teeth in deeper.”

She stopped in mid-motion, but now he could see a faint tremble in her arm. “I think… There’s…” She swallowed slowly, as if it hurt. “Heat,” she said finally. “I think it’s—”

“Poisonous,” he finished for her. If she was sensing heat, the paralyzing agent in the rizer’s bite was already pumping into her muscles. “It’s a paralytic,” he explained, replacing her hand with his much larger one on the creature’s jaw. “Let go, sweetheart. Let me do it.”

Her hand fell away. “How serious?” she asked, meeting his gaze evenly, despite what had to be significant pain. He’d been bitten by a rizer. He knew exactly how bad the pain was.

He gripped the insect’s jaw and squeezed with shifter strength, breaking the joint and backing its teeth out of her flesh. He tossed the thrashing bug down the hill. With its jaw broken, the rizer’s life expectancy was no more than a few minutes, but Aidan didn’t care. That was life on Harp. He was far more concerned about Rachel, who was staring at him as if he held the answers.

He pulled her into his arms. “It’s okay, Rachel. I know it hurts like hell, but slender as you are, you’re still much bigger than its usual prey.”

She laughed weakly.

“You’ll lose the arm—”

“What?” she rasped, pulling back to stare at him.

“Use of the arm,” he amended quickly. At her disbelieving look, he amended that even further, saying very clearly, “Temporary use of the arm. Very temporary.”

She blew out a relieved breath and rested her forehead on his shoulder. “How long?” Her voice was stronger, but still not fully restored.

“Let me see.” He held the wounded arm in both hands, gently squeezing muscles, trying to determine how deeply the rizer’s poison had penetrated. She never uttered a sound, other than giving a startled hiss when he felt along her forearm, closest to the bite.

“Should you cut it open? Try to drain it?” she asked.

He shook his head. “The poison is too thin, disperses too quickly. We’d only open you up to infection. Speaking of which, do you have antibiotics in that giant bag of yours?”

She nodded. “Ointment and capsules. In a zipper compartment just inside the main pack.”

He dragged the pack closer and found a small plastic bag that held the antibiotics. Popping two of the capsules from their blister pack, he handed them to her along with the canteen. She downed them obediently then watched as he cleaned the bite with some antiseptic wipes from the same compartment of her pack. He smeared ointment on the rows of tiny puncture wounds and then pressed a stick-on bandage to it, reinforcing it with a pressurized wrap. It was a little bit of overkill, but they still had a long way to climb out of this fucking swamp, and Rachel was going to need the use of both hands.

“How’s the pain?” he asked, watching her eyes for the truth.

“Much better,” she lied.

“Uh-huh. Can you flex your fingers?”

She tried and failed. “Fuck,” she muttered.

“Totally expected,” he assured her. “It’s too soon. How about the arm? Can you bend your elbow?”

It took her a few seconds, as if the nerves weren’t getting the message, but then her arm bent, and she shot him a triumphant grin. Little victories, he thought, and smiled back at her. “That’s actually better than I expected. Why don’t we break early, have some lunch? By the time we’re ready to head out, you should have most of your hand back.”

“I wish you’d stop saying it like that,” she grumbled. “I keep waiting for my fucking arm to fall off.”

He laughed. “Sorry. I forget you’re not from around here.”

Her smile was pleased, and he realized he’d paid her a compliment—an Earther woman who fit right into the Green. What he didn’t tell her was that they wouldn’t be heading out until morning, because the rizer’s poison wasn’t quite finished with her yet. She was still in for a miserable night.