WarDog: Book Twelve in the Galaxy Gladiators Alien Abduction Romance Series by Alana Khan (large screen ebook reader txt) 📗

press of a button to a ten-inch thick mattress, organize our food and cooking supplies, and neaten our little ‘sweetmoon’ suite. Is he adorable or what?

It’s mid-afternoon, we have plenty of time until supper . . . and bed. I wonder when I’ll tell him Dr. Drayke informed me the contraceptive implant he gave me is now effective.

“Let’s explore,” he says. His muscles are loose for the first time in days. After we shrug our quivers and bows over our shoulders, he grabs my hand, and we strike off.

Bayne

The trees in the forest have little round leaves that flutter in the warm breeze. The area we enter is so dense, not much sunlight penetrates the canopy above.

I sniff the air to find the scent of predators, but only smell small birds and little woodland mammals. My ears prick as I listen for danger, but there’s nothing nearby to fear.

It feels like an eternity since I’ve felt my canine run in a place like this, so long since I’ve been in my shifted form for anything other than fighting. Both WarDog and I are anxious to feel the dirt under his paws again.

Even though I’m still upset with WarDog, I know I may need him to fight or protect Willa. I call him forward and call a truce. His head raises expectantly and his tail unfurls from between his legs. When I encourage him to come out for a run, his tail thumps happily.

“Willa, stay here. Please don’t stray. I won’t be gone long, I just need to . . .” I shrug.

“Okay. Have fun.”

I didn’t even have to tell her what I wanted to do, she knew. She’s so accepting of who I am. I remove my weapons, pull my clothes off and set them in a neat pile, then walk a few steps away.

Mate, WarDog says happily as we glance back at her.

The shift is easy and painless, just as it used to be back on Skylose when we functioned as a team.

WarDog is cautious at first, wanting to make sure he stays in my good graces. But after a moment, neither of us can hold back. The world of smells opens and his canine nose sniffs wildly at every blade of grass, every pile of leaves, and every flower.

The feeling of dirt and loam squeezing beneath the pads of his feet reminds us of fun days as a youngling when we ran for hoaras until we were lost, then he scented our way home.

Run, WarDog says in ecstasy.

Free, I say, reveling in being able to feel the wind ruffle his fur.

Willa doesn’t leave our minds for long. After our quick romp, our duty to protect overrides our joy in exploring our surroundings. We circle back and see her still standing, her back against a tree as a physical sign of her commitment not to move, then we allow ourselves the joy of the chase.

WarDog’s muscles feel loose as he trots and then runs in one direction and then another. The delight of pulling out all the stops, of pushing his body to its limits is so freeing. His paws pound the soft ground, his chest expands with huge inhalations, his breath escapes in hot gusts.

How did I live for a decade without this? We both feel fully alive here in the woods, his strides covering the forest floor almost effortlessly.

When we circle back to Willa for the third time, WarDog does more than give her a quick glance. He drinks her in with such affection. I’ve been so mad at him for getting out of control and embarrassing me in front of everyone on board not one but two ships, but I can’t deny we’re together for a reason.

We make a good team. And we’ll always be linked by our love for that female. Maybe part of the reason I resent him is that he had her to himself for so long when I was locked, virtually unconscious, inside.

Had enough for now? I ask him, wanting to shift back into two-legged form so I can kiss her smiling lips.

More later? He’s tired, his tongue is lolling out of his mouth.

Yes. I promise.

He sits at her feet. Willa gives his ruff a vigorous rubdown, digging her fingers deep into the fur, reaching skin. His tail wags so hard dirt and leaves are flying. His eyes close in canine bliss. She laughs and gives him a kiss on the nose.

I missed her so much, he says to me on a heartfelt sigh. WarDog gives her one last adoring look, and I come out.

Willa

Bayne is standing a few feet away, unable to hide his happy, relaxed smile. He steps into his pants and slings his bow and quiver over his shoulder. When he returns to my side, the feeling of Déjà vu is so strong the hair on the back of my neck stands on end.

The huntsman!

The dream has faded enough that I don’t think I’ll ever clearly remember the huntsman’s features, but everything else is exactly as it was a month ago in my dream. From the pelt on his shoulders, which is his real ruff of hair, to the bow and arrows. He’s my huntsman.

Sometimes the universe conspires against you. I felt that way when I woke aboard the Urlut slave ship on my way to God knows where. I felt it again when I was roughly tossed into a cell with two huge alien gladiators and a dog whose shoulders were taller than my waist. And again when it was clear the slave ship was being fired upon and I thought my death was imminent.

Sometimes, though, I guess the universe conspires with you. That dream was a gift, signaling me that something wonderful was coming my way.

I debate for a moment, wondering if Bayne will