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He breathes the first breath of fresh air, on his own, without a neural link, in...ages. He can hardly believe it. His body...it's moving - by his own volition.
But something is wrong. He has become so accustomed to you in his mind, guiding him, protecting him, that...for a moment he simply freezes.
Your scent is still here, in the cargo bay. He can smell you. Lights above, he needs you like air - like water. Oxygen tingles, it's an odd sensation, but one he's used to.
The only thing he wants...the only thing he needs...is you.
The lumbering Alien slips unseen through the shadows of the cargo bay, his long tail swaying behind him as he follows your scent. Soon. Soon he will be able to touch you. Oh, he dreamt of it - of holding his life mate in his arms.
He finds you sleeping in your bunker, and can hear the distant crowds roaring as aliens fight in the ring. The flicker of neon lights outside your window, the darkness of a smog-infested sky, and...you. Curled up. So innocent, so small, so unlike the females of his home world but all *his*. You're his.
"Mine," His deep, rumbling voice sounds over his translator codex, a low growl of contentment escaping his jaws. He steps closer, fearlessly curling around you, trapping you against his muscled chest. "Wake, Tsa-va. You are finally...in my arms."
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