Just kill me. I’m too happy to fight.
He groaned, peering under his arm to see her release him gently. “That was… perfect.”
She smiled, crawling over his body to straddle his waist, cuddling against him.
He dropped a hand to her luscious ass, tucking her close. “Just give me a minute. Then we’ll go back.”
She sighed contentedly against his neck. He dropped his arm back over his eyes, keeping a firm grip on her.
Five minutes.
It was maybe ten before he rose, exhausted and hungry again, pulling Feola to her feet. He strapped up, wishing for the thousandth time that either his boots weren’t so hot, or the weather on this planet were less extreme. He scanned the horizon, wondering if they’d see rain.
Something dark caught his eye. High contrast against the eternity of pale soil.
A dark figure, moving on two legs.
Shit.
Of all the planets they’d found, all the interactions they’d had with alien races, only one type of being walked on two legs like that. Men. They’d all come from one place, diverging from there, adapting to the demands of their particular environments.
They’d learned long ago that Argenti, Vestige, and Trianni shared a common ancestry.
The black figure in the distance moved like a man.
Something shivered in his guts.
31
Somewhere they can’t follow.
Ajax ducked low, pulling Feola with him. A stupid, wasted effort.
They had a fire burning hot and pumping dark clouds into a flawless sky. They may as well have sent out smoke signals for anyone on the planet looking for them. Come and find us. We are right godsdamned here.
How stupid could he be? Pretty fucking stupid, apparently. Laying around in post-blowjob bliss, feeling smug and untouchable.
They’d even fired off a great big echoing rezal blast to make sure there was no chance they weren’t found. Stupid.
It hadn’t occurred to him that they weren’t alone on the planet. It should have.
He closed his hand around Feola’s.
“What is it?”
“Someone’s here.”
She stiffened, crouched low, scanning the horizon, following his gaze. “I don’t see anyone.”
“Trust me, they’re there.”
Her brow knitted, and she chewed on her lower lip.
Had he ever been quite this scared in his life? No. Not a chance in hell.
His heart raced in his chest as he slowly pulled Feola with him, backing toward the stand of trees behind them. They were about half a mile down a sharp and treacherous hill from the hotel, and the figure in the distance had been about a mile and a half away.
There was only a minimal chance they’d make it to the hotel before their pursuers arrived, and almost no chance they’d make it before their pursuers got close enough to shoot at them.
In the relative safety of the trees, he unstrapped a couple of knives from his chest, removing a holster along with it. She sputtered when he pressed her back against the tree and draped the straps over her shoulder. Two of his best knives, and a rezal.
It wasn’t nearly enough. He was about to break his very first promise to her. The kiss he pressed against her lips was hard and fast. No goodbyes.
He pulled her into a run, but they weren’t making fast enough time. Up the hill, in her slippers, she just couldn’t move as fast as whoever was following them. He grabbed her and threw her over his shoulders, taking a quick look behind them.
He couldn’t see anything, but they were there. He and Feola had no chance of outrunning them, and even if they could, then what? A showdown up at the hotel? With Feola there, where a stray blast could get her at any moment?
Not possible.
A strand of trees, not too far away, offered the only hope they had to hide anywhere in the distance. The rest was nothing more than low, scrubby gray plants. He dropped her to the ground just inside the fronds.
He shoved a bottle of water into her hands, walked to the edge of the curtain of willowy purple leaves, and parted them slightly to peek through along the horizon.
The black figure had been joined by another. And then another. They weren’t even pretending to hide now. They were openly approaching.
Three men—no, four—fanned out. They’d closed distance by now. Wearing black, with long black hair, they were clearly Vestige.
Whatever they wanted, there was almost no chance they meant to help. Vestige didn’t help Argenti. And they were fast, far faster than Ajax could move with Feola. The uphill climb was much slower going.
Six, maybe seven more minutes before the Vestige were upon them.
His stomach tightened.
Fear sliced low in his belly.
They needed to separate. It was the only way she’d have a chance of getting away. And there wasn’t much time.
He crossed toward where she leaned against the tree’s trunk, watching him. He buried his nose in her hair. Let himself breathe her in. A large part of the Bonding relied upon the pheromones her body released. She smelled like sun, and woman, and him. And her.
In typical Feola fashion, she wasn’t panicked. Just calm. Stoic and ready to face whatever she needed to face. “What are you going to do?”
No clue. He couldn’t admit that. Wouldn’t admit that.
Instead, he stroked her cheek. “I’m just going to try to get a closer look at them.”
Her eyes were hard as she shook her head. “You are not leaving me, Ay-shocks.” Her voice was harder.
“It will be okay. Take the food.” He handed the bag to her. It had water that could last her through the night if she was careful, and meat from the grazer. “Go up to the hotel and get the bag of serum.” Still Utto’s… “You’ll need it.”
She opened her mouth, ready to argue, but he shook his head. Why hadn’t he taken the time to replace those godsdamned vials? “It’s okay. Just go up the hill to the hotel. Float down the river, somewhere downstream. Hide somewhere near the ship during the day. Sleep in the bathing chamber at night if you have to. But don’t stay there during the day. They’ll look for you.”
Her brows lowered mutinously.
“I need to be able to move fast. I can do this faster without you. I need to know you’re safe.”
She bit her lip. Tears filled her eyes, a single one breaking free to slide down her cheeks, lingering on the seam of her lips.
He traced his thumb over the droplet.
She nodded, thousands of questions flickering through the layers of yellow-green in her eyes.
He squeezed his eyes shut, tearing off a quick prayer, hoping for some providential deity to intercede and see them through this safely.
“Go.” He turned her away, gave her a gentle shove between the shoulder blades to get her moving. “Go.”
32
Too many things left unsaid.
She ran as hard and as fast as she could. She didn’t turn around and look behind her. She didn’t pause to listen. Just blocked sound from her mind. Denied the noises that invaded her ears.
Blasts? Absolutely. If there was one thing she knew, however, it was that she did Ajax no favors by getting herself captured as well.
She didn’t question the veracity of his words. Run. The only word she let her brain wrap itself around. And it clung like a vine. It hurt, separating herself from him, with a physical pall, but she took comfort in the steady pulse of him in her chest. She felt him there. Alive and well and fighting. As long as they were alive and fighting, they would be okay.
So she ran, pushing her body to move faster until her stomach ached and the hot, dry air gushing through her lungs burned. It wasn’t until her feet hit the smooth, dusty tiles of the old hotel that she stopped. She spun a circle on the terrace at the top of the plains, overlooking the dry expanse below. Man-sized blurs moved in the distance, but she couldn’t make out which black blurs were which.
She could not stay at the hot
el. If they hadn’t seen her run there, it was an obvious place to look. Footprints and fresh evidence of fire would show them everything they needed to know about where she and Ajax been staying.
She rummaged through their items with shaking hands.
Vaguely, some distant portion of her brain recognized her own pounding heart, her gasping breath, her stinging eyes.
Calm down.
She glanced out the window. The blurs were gone. He hadn’t been shot, or she’d feel his pain through the Bond. Oh, gods. Where is he?
Think. It can’t be a coincidence that they are here. They must be here looking for us. Either Guarda or someone working for Utto’s family.
She blew out air slowly.
They can’t leave this planet without me. It doesn’t make sense to kill Ajax until they find me.
Okay. So they can’t find me.
Breathe. Okay. She could do this. She. Would. Do. This.
With a canteen loaded, rations and the dreaded vials tied up in the corner of an old sheet, she did exactly what Ajax had told her to do.
She jumped into the river and let the current pull her over the falls.
33
My last thought,
Will be of you.
Against other well-matched men in the Tribe, Ajax had always held his own. He’d taken pride in practicing, honing his body and his skills. But that was in the sparring facilities. Or in simulated tests. Even during on-ground operations on foreign planets, but those were all training ops.
None of his opponents had ever been trying to kill him. There was a vast difference between fighting an opponent for training purposes, and fighting one for real. One who wanted to kill.
The men crossing the plain were not Argenti. They were Vestige, and whatever the Tribesmen liked to say about them in locker rooms and when they drank, the Vestige were every bit as fierce in a fight.
They moved with precision. With the same speed he’d expected.
It didn’t take long.
He led them away from Feola to a copse of shimmering lavender trees.
He managed to squeeze off several blasts. Caught one of them squarely in the chest. No chance of recovery. Another, he got right between the eyes.
But he hadn’t counted on the third and fourth circling behind him. He didn’t even have time to draw his marsollian blade.
He rounded the sinuous silvery leaves and came face to face with the pale-white skin and long black hair of a Vestige warrior. The other man held his own weapon, sights centered squarely on Ajax’s chest. Never underestimate the enemy.
Ajax didn’t move. There was no point. At least he’d taken out two of them.
“Raise your hands,” a voice behind him said in heavily accented Argenti.
The guy spoke his language? Argenti kids were still taught Vestigi in school. The politicians back home believed firmly in knowing their enemy. Apparently, the Vestige either felt the same, or this man had experience with Argenti.
Ajax raised his hands over his head. Stark tattoos spread over the exposed skin of the neck and forearms of the man before him. The Vestige were similar in physique to the Argenti, with a few obvious differences. They all had the same pale skin and dark hair. Their frames were a touch bulkier, more thickly muscled, and their eyes showed no white. Just pure black.
These couldn’t be active Vestige military. They weren’t dressed for that. They wore civilian clothes, but they were fully armed.
The tattooed man jerked his head in Ajax’s direction, and the other man approached and unhooked Ajax’s straps in deft, swift motions. Tattoo stepped away.
Ajax kept his gaze on Tattoo’s eyes, smiling when he glared at him. Couldn’t hurt to piss them off. The other man shoved his chest, hard enough to force Ajax to take a step back.
Without his weapons, he felt lighter and far more vulnerable.
“You killed two of my men.”
“That appears to be correct.” He wasn’t sure what more to say. It was true. He wasn’t sorry.
Tattoo narrowed glittering black eyes as dark as the massive tattoo swirling up his neck. “Where is she?”
“Who?”
Tattoo jerked his head again, and a blow to the side of Ajax’s face had him staggering to the side to keep his balance. He shook his head to clear his swimming vision.
“Where is she?” Tattoo repeated.
“Who?” Ajax asked again.
This time, he knew the blow was coming, so he ducked, swinging his elbow out to catch his would-be-puncher in the jaw.
The blow came from the other side. Tattoo had to have crossed the copse and landed a hard punch right in the corner of Ajax’s temple. The pain burst bright, exploding behind his eyes. At least that had to hurt Tattoo’s knuckles too, but Ajax couldn’t look to find out because his vision blackened.
Shit. He shook his head harder.
Slowly, his vision came back, hazy, in white powdery splotches and smoky black blurs.
Tattoo studied him, impassive. He spoke in Vestigi, too fast for Ajax to understand, and the other one backed away. Which made him instantly uneasy.
Tattoo’s rezal clicked as he adjusted some setting along its barrel, raised his weapon and took careful aim. “Where is the woman?”
Ajax ignored him. Made him repeat it three or four times just because he could.
Finally, Tattoo came closer, though still not in range. “I saw the woman. I know you sent her somewhere. I will torture you if I need to, and I will absolutely kill you, but I will find her. Might as well make it easier on us. And on her. I’ll punish her for every delay you cause.”
Ajax held his gaze for a long moment. “Who do you work for?” It had to be Upranimus.
“Where is she?”
Ajax didn’t even blink.
Neither did Tattoo. “I’ll kill you if I have to ask again.”
“You can’t kill me. She’ll need serum or she’ll die.”
Tattoo blinked slowly, almost as if he were bored. He glanced at the other one, chewing on the inside of his cheek.
After a moment, he nodded. And pulled the trigger.
The blast hit Ajax in the chest. Knocked him off his feet. Cold spread through his limbs.
This time, his vision stayed black.
34
First things first.
What do I do about this dress?
Feola paddled to shore toward a big grove of willowy lavender trees.
She had no idea how far she’d floated, but the hotel was beyond sight, over the horizon’s curve. So was the hill on which the hotel sat. So she’d floated a long way. Hopefully, it was far enough.
A bloom of pain burst in her chest right at the seat of her Bond. Ajax.
But he was alive.
She dragged herself out of the water, over the soft sand. Her dress had become waterlogged, tangling around her legs, and now it stuck to the beach, making each motion sluggish.
It seemed safe enough for now. Though eventually, they’d decide to search the river. It was the most practical choice.
Another burst of pain beat in her chest. He’d been caught, then. She took a long, deep breath, willing him to be okay.
She rummaged through her bag.
How long before she needed serum again?
Her fingers closed around one of the vials of Utto’s serum.
They hadn’t had a chance to replace the fluid inside with Ajax’s. It felt especially heinous now to even consider using Utto’s serum since she’d Bonded with Ajax. There was no way she could do it.
If only she knew who those men were.
If they’d been Argenti Guarda, she’d happily turn herself in. They could fight all of Argentus, and Utto’s family, legally. Together. If they had to.
But those men hadn’t been Tribe. If they worked for Utto or his uncle, they’d use Ajax to capture her, then kill him and take her straight back to Utto.
Another blinding stab of pain coiled in her chest. Ajax. What were they doing to him? Torturing
him?
The Bond went slack. Empty.
Nothing came from his side but stillness. Silence. A sob caught in her throat. Is he—? She refused to finish that thought.
She needed to find him. Come up with a plan. She shook away the stinging tears from her eyes and the tight pressure at the back of her throat. Ajax is fine. Ajax is fine. Ajax is fine.
She repeated the words like an incantation in her mind until she knew it to be true. Until she believed, down deep in the marrow of her bones.
Now, think. She traced her fingers along the leather strap that crossed over her chest. feeling the reassuringly hard weight of the knives and the rezal there.
She had one advantage over them. Ajax had said so. They didn’t know she had weapons. At least not for sure. And they wouldn’t assume she knew anything about how to use them.
She bit her lip, removed the straps, and laid them down beside the sack of her belongings to dry.
No sense roaming around with the weapons strapped visibly across her chest.
Where did Argenti women carry weapons? Did they carry weapons? Samila certainly hadn’t, back on Romeo-Two.
There were women who learned how to fight, though. Samila had mentioned that the dominesses were as fierce as the warriors they taught.
She pulled the sodden dress over her head and draped it over a low bush to dry in the sun, along with the straps.
Where else could she keep the weapons? Her dress didn’t hide much, and it clung to her torso, even when it was dry.
But not her legs. It would hang loosely around her legs when it dried.
It gave her an idea.
Carefully, using the knife, she tightened the leather harness so it could fit around her thigh. She could wear the knives on one thigh and the rezal on the other. It wasn’t ideal. The rezal would be lumpy. But maybe if they weren’t looking for it, they wouldn’t notice it?
She’d have to cut the dress short, above her knees, so she could get her hands on the weapons if she needed them. When she needed them.
It made more sense anyway. The dress had caught around her legs as she’d run earlier.
The Breaking Page 20
