Forbidden Alien Prince: Celestial Mates (The Alva)

by Miranda Martin

  There's a beautifully carved staff on the other side of the room, made of a light tan material that looks like wood. I lift it off the brackets it rests on and test its balance, the weight of it, how it swings.

  Not bad, but what I wouldn't do for my gun right about now. I sigh. Good enough. No point in weighing myself down any more. Going to the door I put my ear against it and listen. I wait a moment, and just when I'm about to leave, footsteps approach.

  Shit.

  I look back at the room. There's nowhere to hide. The entire space is dedicated to displaying the weapons on the walls. I hold my breath, wondering if this is as far as I get. The footsteps draw closer. And closer. My hands sweat.

  The footsteps move past the door. Letting out my held breath in a rush I wait another thirty seconds before leaving the room and making my way to the front door. I'm almost there when the familiar young maid turns a corner. Seeing each other we freeze in an abrupt stop, staring.

  There's no pretending I'm not up to something. I'm wearing jeans and carrying a staff with a long knife tied around my waist.

  This is it. I'm not getting any farther. The maid looks over her shoulder and scurries down the hall toward me.

  "Go! He's occupied, you must leave at once!"

  "What?" I ask, gaping.

  She grabs me by the arm and drags me to the door. "Go!"

  I open it, the urgency in her voice snapping me out of my stunned response.

  "Thank you," I murmur as I step out.

  She gives me a shy smile as she closes the door behind me. I hover in the somewhat protected doorway, knowing I don't have any time to hesitate. What orders has Rathorin given to the people who work for him?

  Are they supposed to tell him if I leave, try to stop me?

  I take a deep breath and stride out, figuring acting confident will make people at least hesitate before they try to intercept me. A few of the household staff are in the courtyard and a some give me concerned looks, but nobody tries to stop me. I'll take it.

  I quickly decide not to steal a carriage from his stables. It would force me to talk to someone and they might try to figure out where I'm going. I've noticed that people who are visiting the House park their carriages out by the border wall. I'm hoping there's at least one of those I can take.

  Stealing isn't something I'm comfortable with, but these aren't usual circumstances. It's a risk, but this whole damn plan is a risk.

  Slipping into the crowd in the marketplace, I’m less exposed with so many people obscuring anyone's view of me. I draw a few curious glances, but nothing too bad as I weave my way in and out. Pausing when I reach the border wall, I scan the length of it.

  There are two carriages. I eye the juntta attached to one of them and I swear it eyes me back with a wary gaze. I look at the other one. It looks like it's almost asleep on its feet. I look back at the other one, its attention still focused on me.

  Okay. First one it is.

  I approach, bold with no time for caution. It would draw attention I don't want, anyway. When I reach it, I climb onto the carriage and take the reins. For the first time in my life, I wish I'd been posh enough to at least know how to ride a horse. I don't know how much it would help me here, but it would be better than nothing.

  "Let's do this," I mutter to myself, taking a moment to glance out at the crowd for anyone that looks like they're pursuing me.

  Nothing yet. Like a complete and utter idiot, I flick the reins like I've seen people do and wait. And wait some more. No response. The juntta turns its head to look at me with one sly eye.

  It’s kind of like this thing is fucking with me. Just my luck to get one with an attitude.

  "I don't have time for this," I mutter.

  I try clicking and flicking at the same time. It twitches slightly, but then settles down again. That's it. Time for an old school approach.

  Leaning forward, I slap it on its rear, the carapace harder than I thought it would be under my palm. I let out a squeak as it leaps forward, bracing myself with my feet at the sudden motion. Cursing under my breath the whole time, I steer it toward the gates at least, going at a full sprint.

  The guards on the wall yell something and the gate starts to close. I'm guessing they've noticed it's me. No going back. Now or never.

  One-quarter closed.

  Half-way closed.

  Three-quarters...

  The juntta flies through the crack and I wince as the side of the carriage scrape loudly against the gate on the way through the rapidly narrowing opening.

  But we make it through.

  "Good job," I praise the juntta, figuring it deserves it, bad attitude or not.

  I’m exposed while we sprint across the flat, open area between the brightly lit tunnel and the border wall, almost holding my breath the entire way. There’s a commotion behind me, but when I look back, nobody is in pursuit.

  At least, not yet. I make it across and into the cover of the tunnel.

  The lights are much brighter here than what I've become accustomed to in the House Mansion and the village, but it becomes dim again at the other end of the tunnel.

  The sounds of a fight echoes down the tunnel walls.

  "Come on," I shout, flicking the reins again and closing one eye so I'll be better able to adjust to the dimmer lighting coming up.

  The juntta speeds up again at the urging, the sides of the tunnel blurring pass me. I come barreling out of the tunnel on the other side and open my closed eye, trying to get a read of the situation. The juntta veers around the fray blocking the path forward.

  Rathorin's men surround Drevakin. There are about fifteen of them, counting the two already lying on the ground. Too many for one man to fight, even Drevakin who's holding them off with sword and knife, his movements fast and efficient.

  He's good. Really good.

  I bring the juntta to a halt on the other side of the melee and vault down with staff in hand. Two against the remaining thirteen is still not a fair fight, but I'm not going to stand by while they kill him. If that means I'm going down too, there are worse ways to go.

  As I near the loose, spread out circle around Drevakin, the guy nearest me turns but not quick enough, almost like he doesn't see me as a threat. It could hurt my feelings if I cared. He takes a step toward me and I use the staff to sweep him off his feet in a not so romantic way.

  I mean, unless he's into that kind of thing, I guess.

  A controlled tap to the head, and he's knocked out. One more down. The rest will be much more difficult now that they've seen I can take someone down.

  Not hitting with more force might come back to haunt me later, but I can't bring myself to kill the guy when he's just following orders. With no time to spare worrying about it, I run through the opening to Drevakin's side.

  "What are you doing here?" he asks, the censure in his voice clear even though he's out of breath.

  "I thought you might need help."

  He shakes his head, glaring at me. "You shouldn't have come. I don't know if they'll spare you, even if you are Rathorin's. After all, they can always blame whatever happens to you on me."

  Good to know. I notice there's another one down to the side. Four down. Eleven more and they all look fresh and spry. And damn angry. I would have doubted they would go easy on me even before Drevakin said it.

  Drevakin and I move into a back-to-back formation as a few more guys come in at us. The staff doesn't let me down. It's well made and strong. I block a hard sword strike from a stocky guy and the force of it reverberates through my body. The staff has only a slight notch where the blade hit it. Impressive. I look up and the guy has a perplexed look on his face. I guess he wasn't expecting the staff to hold up either.

  Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, I hit him in the midsection with the end of the staff, aiming it so he's doubled over and out of breath. As I'm calculating a non-fatal shot to take him down, he swipes at me with his knife from his doubled over position, cutting through the
thigh of my jeans and slicing a shallow cut into the skin underneath.

  Damn it.

  These are the only jeans I have!

  I hit the back of his head with my staff and he goes down with a grunt. I look back as Drevakin swings his sword in a hard, two-handed grip, cutting halfway through his opponent's body, the blade only stopping as it hits spine.

  The sword makes a terrible squelching noise as Drevakin jerks it back out, the entire length coated in blood and gore. I swallow hard, bile rising in my throat as I turn away to take care of another guy coming at me. I need to strengthen my stomach.

  These guys aren't trying to play around here. I block everything else out as I fight, my muscles burn with the exertion. Drevakin's breathing is coming faster behind me and I know we can't hold out against this many people for much longer.

  They can rest, but we can't. My arms are aching as I'm forced to block once again attack after attack. No matter how strong I am, these guys are just bigger. Even the smallest of them is huge. It takes every ounce of muscle and every drop of adrenaline I have to stop a blow with a direct block. I know I can't do it forever.

  Drevakin grunts then there’s the sound of flesh thudding against flesh. He can't keep this up either. If this is how I go out, I know it's better than having to stay with Rathorin. With that grim thought, I throw everything I have into the fight.

  I take down the guy in front of me and brace for someone else to appear, just as they have been for what seems like an eternity. But nobody does.

  No one’s moving.

  I know it wasn't all of them. Not even with Drevakin's skill. Frowning, I turn back to look at his grim, blood splattered face. His eyes aren't even on the men still arranged around us. They're focused somewhere past them, at something in the shadows. Just as the men's attention isn't on us anymore.

  What...

  Something snarls. A low, animalistic sound and I shiver. It doesn't sound like any creature I've ever heard before.

  "Drevakin?" I murmur, my stomach dropping.

  He reaches back and grips my forearm almost painfully tight. There's a movement out of the corner of my eye. A low, crouched figure, moving fast.

  I turn to follow the flash when there’s another.

  And another.

  And another.

  Milky white eyes stare back at me, glinting in the dark. There's a flash of over-sized fangs and the click of sharp claws on rock, as hunched over humanoid bodies, filthy, caked with dirt, blood, and more encircle us.

  Shit.

  What are they?

  I'm frozen as one leaps out of the group, the musculature of its lean body well defined as it tackles one of our attackers.

  The man's scream turns into a disturbing gurgle as the creature opens its jaws wide and bites into his throat. Worrying at it like a dog, the sound of flesh ripping reaches us as it yanks its head back, tearing the guy's throat out.

  It turns to look at the rest of us, its horrific face covered in fresh blood.

  Then all hell breaks loose.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Drevakin

  "Drevakin?" Clara says in a low voice behind me, uncertainty clear in her tone.

  I reach back and grip her forearm as I take in the seething mass of devos at the edges of the path, just out of the light from the tunnel.

  Between us and House Ti'ana's cavern.

  There is no way for me to push Clara back through the tunnel and to safety.

  Our attackers are no longer interested in us at all as they warily eye the horde. Everyone is still, a moment that seems frozen in time. And then the first devo attacks, taking one male down. It makes quick work of him, tearing out his throat before the guard can do anything but scream.

  The action cracks the moment, the stillness gone in an instant. Everything happens at once as time crashes back in. Not waiting to watch, I turn with Clara and push her ahead of me to the carriage she drove out.

  "Run!" I shout.

  I risk a glance back at the guards’ curses and screams. The others are scrambling to climb onto their own carriages or just running, attempting to get away on foot with no real plan in mind. Getting away on foot is impossible, but they’re gripped by panic. I turn back around, giving Clara a controlled push forward to increase her speed.

  We're not yet in the thick of the swarm, but a devo makes it to us, jaws agape, rancid mouth open wide and ready to clamp down on my leg. I stab it in the eye with my knife, pulling the blade back out without stopping. There is no time to spare. I look ahead as Clara slows, turning back towards me.

  "Go! Get to the carriage!"

  Her eyes are wide as she shakes her head. "We should leave behind some clothes or something!" she yells over the sounds of the massacre. "Make him think those things killed us!"

  We may well still be. But her idea is not a bad one if it works.

  "Your robe!" I yell, undoing my cloak and dropping my second knife.

  My sword and favorite knife are not worth sacrificing when we may yet need them to escape with our lives. Clara sheds her robe and throws it down. I'm a few paces behind her when my heart almost stops.

  Time slows when my eyes land on the devo. It's in mid leap, attention focused on Clara. Flying towards her. I can't intercept it. There's no way.

  "Clara!" My scream tears my vocal cords as I attempt to move faster.

  Time snaps back into its normal speed. Her head whips toward the beast. She pulls the heavy staff back in a two handed grip. The muscles of her arms flex, standing out with the effort. She swings, the devo comes within range, my heart is in my throat. The crunch of the staff meeting the creature's skull rings out over the roar of the surrounding battle. Its body drops limply to the ground, half of its skull caved in. It won't rise again. Clara stares down, breathing hard. She's in shock, but we don't have time.

  "Come!" I grip her forearm and drag her the last few steps to the carriage. "We can't fight the entire swarm! There are too many!"

  I cannot let that happen to her. It's a terrible death. She doesn't resist as I throw her onto the carriage and then follow. Clara's eyes widen and I know something is behind me even before she can warn me.

  "Behind you!"

  I turn, expecting a devo, but it's a man, eyes wild as he runs. His intention is clear, kill me and take the carriage.

  "Go!" I yell at Clara, running to meet the attack.

  I waste precious moments parrying, his desperation making him fight harder. But I'm just as desperate that Clara survive. This man will kill her, never mind what Rathorin would say about it later.

  His blade slices into my side, stinging as it lays open my flesh. Turning, I slide the point of my knife through his ribs and into his heart. We're eye to eye when he realizes death has come.

  Pulling the knife out I step back as he falls to his knees. Battle is an evil I do not relish. Looking up, the swarm is creeping closer, more than a few devos stare at me through milky white eyes, their hunger for flesh clear.

  I turn, ready to run after the carriage in the hope that I might make it, but knowing this is likely my end. When I find the carriage is still right where I left it, I snarl. Running, I leap on, rage boiling in my blood.

  "I told you to go!" I bellow, panic taking all tact.

  Clara gives me a look as she leans forward and slaps the juntta on its backside. The creature lurches forward in a sprint. I steady myself, looking over at her, diverted by the odd action. She shrugs.

  "Sorry, it didn't respond to the clicks before and I didn’t want to take the chance it wouldn’t again," she explains with a small grin.

  I shake my head and hand her the reins. The move was effective. I have never seen a juntta fall into a sprint so quickly. I will have to keep it in mind, though I hope a situation like this never occurs again.

  We are moving away from the heart of the devo swarm, but I turn back just as one leaps onto the carriage. It moves toward us, saliva dripping from its fangs. I angle my sword and stand up as it scramble
s forward, its teeth bared, claws clinging. The sword goes through the vulnerable softness beneath its chin, slicing through until it slides into its brain.

  Dead.

  I hear retching and turn to find Clara with her head over the side of the carriage. I would shield her from such a sight if I could but it seems it is her destiny to see everything. Grunting as I brace the body and slide my lodged blade out, I push it off the carriage.

  "Sorry," she mutters as she straightens, her face pale.

  "There is nothing to apologize for," I reassure her, covering her hand with mine. "Let me take the reins."

  She hands them over without a fight. Violence is not an easy experience to live through. I would not wish it for Clara, though she fought so valiantly and with honor. I would not be alive if not for her. She put herself in great danger to save me.

  I do not consider the trade worth it.

  "You should not have come after me," I say in a low voice.

  "I heard Rathorin sending men to kill you. There is no way I could stay back and let you die," she retorts archly.

  I look over. "It was reckless. You could have died," I bite out, the thought raising my ire.

  "You would have if I hadn't come after you," she counters.

  I can't argue with her on that point. She's right.

  "It does not matter."

  "It matters to me," she argues, her voice softer.

  I do not know what to say to that. The knowledge she cares leaves me speechless, though her actions should speak for themselves. There is something about the words that force me to acknowledge there is something more between us. And not just for me. For her too. Something strong enough I would risk my life for her.

  And she for me. After a few moments of silence, she changes the subject.

  "Where are we going?"

  "I do not know," I admit. "If leaving a few possessions behind convinces Rathorin of our deaths, I don't want to return to House Lo'ara. News of our presence would travel to him if we go there and then my entire House will be at risk," I explain.