Never again did he want to live through that. Fear was an unpleasant emotion, stripping him of his ability to think, to react, to function. Hearing Molly's plea had driven an iced stake through his chest yet despite this, watching her in action had spurred pride, honor, and gratitude. She was breath-taking, saving the females, dodging the Vargosh's shots and luring him out into the open.

Had Anzar and his males not been here, she might not have survived. Finding her under the Vargosh's blade had engulfed his vision in pulsating red. Anzar had tackled the creature as he kicked Molly out from under him. He had saved her from death, but not from the blade slicing her across her chest to her arm.

His concern for the fresh crimson pumping from her wound had distracted him. When the Vargosh had plunged his knife into Anzar's chest, he had swung out an arm sending the creature flying. They had grappled, and Anzar had wrestled the blade away, receiving bites to his face and scratches across his neck.

Anzar had lunged for his axe and, with the weight of it in his grip as familiar as Mother's love, he had swung it, slicing the creature's head off. He hadn't stopped to watch it roll away, and the Vargosh's body slump to the floor. Instead, he had dropped his axe and dived for Molly.

Confusion rippled across her face, but no fear. Had she been afraid, he didn't know how he might have reacted. She thought she was dying, and he wouldn't stand for that, not willing to lose her after he had just found her. He had whispered something to her, although he couldn't recall what he had said.

Announcing Molly as his mate in front of the females, meant he had claimed her. She hadn't rejected him, but gratitude and sorrow had been in her eyes. He would convince her choosing him was the right decision, that he would prove he was the mate for her.

He wouldn't lose her now.

He pleaded with Mother, asked her to save him, to save his Molly. Her response was swift, sinking the ground upon which Molly lay. That he dipped his elbows in her blood didn't bother him, as long as she lived, blessed him with one of her smiles, and feathered those delectable lips across his.

Anzar watched Molly descend, stumbling back to allow Mother to work. But as each passing moment took her farther away from him, panic crushed his chest, seizing his breathing as if this was farewell. He roared his despair, raising his gaze and arms to the sky.

In one swift movement, the ground gave way from under him, and he tumbled down, landing on Molly's sprawled body. He grunted, the fall bruising him, firing pain through his wound, but he ignored the new aches and crawled over her to cup her cheeks.

Something deepened her brown eyes, an intense expression his heart recognized, but his mind couldn't grasp. She spluttered, trying to tell him something. He soothed her, sharing his warmth with her even as heat pulsed through him, settling on his wounds. Mother had healed him before, when a jaktar had attacked him. He was but a young boy then.

Cradling Molly against him, he marveled at how much she had come to mean to him in such a short time. She had eradicated the loneliness, wiped it away by her challenge, her defiance, her dismissal of her effect on him. When they rose from the soil, he would convince her to choose him. Anzar wouldn't force her hand, although the urge to do so was strong. He wanted her to choose him of her own free will. He would remain by her side forever until she realized there was no one more suited to her than him.

###

The splatter of rain on his cheeks awoke him, and he remained still, allowing it to wash away the scent of Molly's blood. She burrowed deeper into his embrace, and he curled his body around her, shielding her from the deluge. Mother had returned them to the surface, leaving remnants of rich, dark soil coating their skin.

"Thank you," he whispered, throwing out a hand to stroke the ground. It pulsed under his touch, and he smiled, contentment filling his chest.

Molly shifted, her splaying fingers on his chest shot aching need through him and confirmed she had awaken. "Anzar?"

Joy scorched his blood to hear her speak his name. "Yes, Molly."

"Why are we here, outside in the rain? Didn't I die?"

Did she know she stroked his chest, running her fingers over his nipple? Anzar sucked in a sharp breath, focusing on the cold droplets drenching his tunic. She had recovered, that didn't mean he could claim and mate her now.

"Mother healed us, swallowing us with her rich soil."

She gasped and her fingers dug into his chest. Anzar trembled.

"I didn't imagine it? Is the Vargosh dead?" She tried to sit up, but Anzar wouldn't let her. The rain drenched him but not her, not yet.

"Yes, I killed him, temaar. The females are inside the Jasmine where you should be too." He leaped up, scooping her into his arms as he bolted for the door.

"Is Mother healing us a normal thing?" Molly cuddled into him, tucking her face into the curve of his neck.

"Yes, for her chosen more so." Anzar entered the ship but didn't put her down, unable to release her.

"Thank you for staying with me."

Anzar pinched his lips, needing to say more, but she shivered. Instead, he nodded, instructed MARC to power-up the elly and stepped into its space, crushing Molly's warm softness against him.

"I feel dirty, sticky like dried-blood mixed with sand."

She didn't look it. Her brown gaze raised to his was heaven for him. "Cleanse then promise me you'll come see me, temaar."

"Yes, I know, this mate nonsense." She wriggled and he released her, sliding her down his body until her feet touched the ground. Pink stained her cheeks, but he knew not why.

Anzar stared at the closed door to her cabin for the longest time before he darted for his own room, needing to wash the blood from his body. Soon, he would have her in his arms and his world, as his.