by Jess Granger
“Come on.” She forged a mental list of everything they would need to survive the next few weeks. She didn’t have much time to gather supplies. The Garulen would swarm the ship as soon as they could.
She slid inside with Vicca at her heels. “Vicca, scout food, medicine, clothing, weapons, and com pieces.” The fox scurried under a crushed vent column and disappeared. Dangling wires snapped with live current. Cyani tempered her urgency with caution as she struggled toward the cockpit.
She pulled herself upright near a piece of the shorn wall. The night opened up above her. The glow from fires painted the swirling fog of the atmosphere shield burning orange. The light flickered on the shining surfaces of the broken rocks like yellow moonlight glinting off volcanic glass. She climbed over a large chunk of the rock spire that had smashed part of the ship and slid back into the wreckage.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust back to the dim light. Her heart dropped into her stomach. A young man slumped over the controls. His youthful face rested on the panel, blanched of its life. Dark empty eyes stared at her. A piece of the spire crushed his body while the last of his blood pooled beneath his pale cheek. Cyani sighed as she inched her way to his side.
She closed his eyes with a gentle swipe of her hand. “Rest well, warrior,” she whispered, pulling his ear set from his body. She didn’t know the pilot, but she felt deeply for him and sad that his team couldn’t get his body out.
Cyani crawled back over the spire and slipped into the main wreckage of the ship. Soren stooped near the broken hatch, lifting large chunks of the spire from the collapsed corridor where Vicca had disappeared. Cyani let her gaze wander up and down his body. The lean but powerful muscles in his back flexed as he hefted another piece of stone out of the hatch. Heat blossomed in her face. For the first time since they escaped the slave cells, she noticed he was naked.
A tingle raced up her spine as her eyes drifted over the smooth indentation where his muscle wrapped around his side and slid down over his hip leading to . . .
“We should get you something to wear.” What in the name of Ona the Pure was wrong with her?
He looked up at her, his eyes black and weary.
She lifted the dead pilot’s ear set to her lips. “Com, switch to language of Garu.” Walking toward him, she fixed it on him as quickly as she could.
Dark violet lights shone in the deep blackness of his eyes as he stared down at her. She wondered what the violet color meant. It seemed a common secondary color to the furious reds, fearful yellows, and dismal black that expressed his mood. She pulled her hand away from the com, but her fingers brushed his jaw. It flexed beneath her touch. An electric tingle rushed up her arm.
She looked down to avoid his dangerous eyes. “Does it work?”
“You mean the translator,” he whispered, rubbing behind his ear, “or something else?” His voice turned bitter, almost accusing.
She turned from him as heat rushed to her head and burned her ears. She hadn’t meant to stare. Leaning to keep away from the exposed wires, she backed toward the door.
“Clothing,” she interjected as she ducked past him and slipped down the dark corridor. “We’re searching for clothing.”
His species gave off addictive pheromones. She couldn’t let herself forget that. She shouldn’t be too near him. “Vicca!” she shouted as a dizzy heat flowed through her blood. It was only a chemical.
Vicca barked from the back of the ship.
The fox had saved her once again.
She avoided looking at Soren as she pushed through the crushed hull. She could hear his footsteps, his quiet breathing so close behind her. The skin on her neck tightened, rushing with energy. How long would this last?
She swallowed the lump in her throat. She was too close to finishing her mission to let something as crazy as this ruin her chances of returning home to a life of peace.
This was her last mission as a captain in the Union Army. She was tired. While she could not, would not, let her weariness show, she hadn’t slept well in years. Every time she closed her eyes, the world of her dreams seemed bathed in blood. Emaciated bodies walked through her memory like living skeletons, the soul stolen from their glassy, hopeless eyes. For five years she had battled the slavers and freed their victims. She had seen nothing but the vile repercussions of cultures greedy and vicious enough to feast on the demise of others.
She was ready for peace. When she returned to Azra, she’d take up her place in the temple and live a life of isolated meditation. No more blood, no more darkness, only clean, pure light. She wouldn’t have to fear for her life anymore, but that security came with a price. Pressure built in her chest as she thought about the long years of lonely silence she would have to endure.
If she made it home alive.
“This ship, can it contact your people?” Soren asked, snapping her back into the moment. Control, she needed control of herself and her situation. Her head throbbed as the onset of a post-shock-blast migraine unfurled behind her right eye. At least the pain would keep her nerves focused on something other than him.
“The electrical system is badly damaged, but it’s possible,” she explained. “We don’t have time to fix it. The Garulen will try to strip the ship of any technology they can.”
“We have to find a safe place.” His voice remained low, calm, even though his words sounded harsh with the choppy cadence of the Garulen language.
They scrambled through the hull to find Vicca hopping up and down on an overturned locker with a medical steri-cover in it. They also found a shadowsuit and skinboots.
Cyani shook out the loose-fitting medical suit meant to protect against biohazards. “Put this on for now. We’ll see if we can clean you up before you put on the shadowsuit. We have to hurry.” Cyani searched the med-bay and the supply lockers in the hall. She scooped various medical supplies into a sack, along with emergency rations, water, some tools, and some spare wiring.
“No,” he stated.
She turned just as he dropped the baggy steri-cover on the floor.
“What?” She didn’t mean to snap, but the migraine made her edgy.
“It’s bright white. I’ll be seen, and I won’t be able to move.” For as irritating as his logic was, he made a good but uncomfortable point.
“But you’re naked,” she felt obliged to point out.
“I’m used to it. I have no shame left.” He shrugged as he gathered the rest of the clothing and tucked it under his arm.
Cyani ran a shaking palm over her face. He might be used to it, but she certainly wasn’t. She didn’t deserve this. “We aren’t out of trouble yet. Let’s get out of here.”
They were working their way back toward the hatch when Soren paused.
“Is that the machine you used to kill the guards?” he asked, pointing to a weapons locker. She picked up a sono and held it to the activator on the wall. With a metallic whirr, it came to life.
“Do you know how to use one?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No, but I’m sure I’ll enjoy figuring it out.”
“It has to be imprinted to you,” she explained. “Hold out your hand.”
Soren’s eyes glowed yellow again. He swallowed, his neck flexing, then held out his hand. Dried blood cracked on the rough skin of his palm. “This might sting,” she warned. The truth was it did a hell of a lot more than sting. He huffed in a half chuckle as she realized her palm was covering the wounds on his wrists, wounds he had probably willingly inflicted on himself by pulling on his chains in spite of the torture of it. He didn’t fear pain. No, something else about the weapon bothered him.
He flinched as soon as metal touched his hand, but held perfectly still as it activated and glowed bright white. It was Cyani’s turn to wince as she remembered the burning pain of an imprint. Slowly the weapon cooled, but the sulfur glow in his eyes did not.
“You’re the only one who can fire it now.” She kept her own gaze fixed on the weapon, not wanting to thin
k about all the things his reaction revealed. Instead, she pointed at the trigger on the grip of the sono. “This one makes things dead.” She touched the button on the top. “And this one keeps them alive, barely.”
“Good to know,” he mumbled, his eyes fading to black again.
She scooped up Vicca and hopped out of the hatch.
Scanning the area with her holo-map, she rubbed Vicca’s ears then placed her fox on the ground. “Vicca, find shelter with water and secure perimeter.” Vicca melted into the darkness.
Cyani collapsed against the broken wing, leaning her head back while Vicca did her job. The shattered ship loomed over her. It echoed the desolate feeling in her heart. She let her eyes drift shut for just a minute. The aftermath of the fight washed over her, sapping the strength from her body and will. She felt crushed, as if every muscle had been beaten with a stick wielded by an Earthlen gorilla. Her heart thumped with slow, painful beats as her nose and eyes stung, and the stabbing pain behind her right eye made her dizzy and nauseated.
What was she doing? How were they ever going to get out of this? How would they even survive the next few weeks? A solid hand squeezed her shoulder. She instinctively pulled away.
“Are you okay?”
“Soren, what did you do to me back there?” she asked.
He sighed with a look of resigned disgust. “I still have Garulen drugs in my blood; they make me very potent.”
“Potent?” She raised one eyebrow.
“Sweat, saliva, other things . . .” he muttered. “How should I put this? They affect the nervous system.”
“Well, that’s an understatement,” she grumbled. “What happens when the drugs wear off?”
He scratched the back of his neck and shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t want to talk about this. It made his skin crawl. When the drugs wore off, he would have real problems.
Soren watched her closely as she sank to the ground, crouching with her rounded hips over her heels.
“I can’t let you touch me like that again.” Her voice sounded soft, a mixture of exhaustion and sadness. “Do you understand me? You can’t touch me, and you can’t hypnotize me like that.”
He remained silent. Why not? She was clearly a fierce and well-trained fighter, but sometimes touch was the only link to sanity. Touch was all that reminded him he was not alone during the long, slow years of his torture. She looked so terribly alone. The night had taken an unbearable toll on her. She rested her head on her crossed forearms, pulling herself into a loose ball. She could use some comforting; they both could.
Even in such an exposed position, looking as if the world had just crushed her, she held her weapon in one hand, and an easy readiness clung to her as tightly as her clothing. It only took her a moment before she lifted her head. She rose from the ground like a young tree that would grow in strength until nothing could move it. Once again the iron power and deadly resolve she carried so easily settled on her strong shoulders.
He shook his head. She had killed three of his tormentors with lightning speed and agility. She was amazing, like a night cat—fast, efficient, and deadly. And yet, as he looked at her now, there was a vulnerability about her. She was not immune to their situation, warrior or not. She wasn’t immune to him either, in spite of what she said.
“We should move,” he suggested. “We’re exposed here.”
Her eyes flicked over his naked body again. A tingle flowed up his spine. He certainly wasn’t immune to her.
She pressed two fingertips into her brow, squeezing her eyes shut as if in pain, then opened them and looked around.
“Wait here,” she whispered, the mechanical device circling her left eye glowing in the dim light. “I think Vicca found a place for us.”
She slipped into the ship once again, embodying the night cat she reminded him of.
Soren lifted his weapon and turned in a slow circle as every sound echoed in his wary ears. He didn’t like being exposed. Why was she going back into the ship? They needed to find safety, quickly. She was wasting precious time. After only a minute or two that felt like an eternity, she leapt up out of the cracked hull of the ship, skidded down the broken wing, and broke into a furious run.
What did she just do?
He chased after her, the soles of his bare feet burning after the long run on the jagged stone of the tunnels. She wasn’t the only one suffering from exhaustion. He felt ready to collapse with her. Only one thing kept the pain from overwhelming him. He was free.
She had no idea what she’d given him, but he was acutely aware of what she sacrificed to do so. He wouldn’t be taken again. He wouldn’t let them take her. He’d die first.
They darted from between the crumbling buildings of a ruined city. Craters from bomb blasts scarred the jagged streets. The cracked stones seemed darker than the recesses of the night sky as the creeping shadows stretched away from the light towers.
The war-ravaged walls of the ruins formed a tangled labyrinth of stone, with spires reaching up as tall as great oaks. No plant life survived anywhere, not even a withered weed creeping out of a crack or moss on damp stone. Soren shivered. He was a grower, a caretaker of life. He didn’t belong in this place.
He turned to Cyani, only to see her dive behind a wall.
“Guards,” she hissed between her teeth. He ducked down and ran to her. Pressing into the shadow of the wall, he grasped the weapon she had given him.
Cyani hovered her hand over his, stilling his fingers on the weapon without touching him. She shook her head, pointed to her eyes, then pointed at the road.
Soren watched, his heart racing with the rage flooding through his blood. He would see them dead.
A pebble rattled along the road as the foot of a Garulen guard came out into the light. Soren shifted onto the balls of his feet and tried to raise his weapon, but Cyani stopped him. His fury burned like acid. He wanted to leap out and rip the monster apart.
“We can’t kill them. They’ll know we’re here. Close your eyes; they’re glowing. Don’t move,” she ordered, but her words barely penetrated the thick red haze of his hatred.
He growled low in his throat and balanced his weight, preparing to leap, to strike, to kill. He would feel their hot blood on his hands instead of his own.
“Soren,” she snapped in a hushed whisper. “Don’t.”
Just as he was about to unleash his fury, a searing pain sliced in his side and shoulder as he fell back into the shadows.
Cyani’s long limbs wrapped around his body in an impossible tangle as her face came close to his. She pressed her warm palm over his eyes, blinding him.
No! He would not be blinded again. Never again. He reached through the pain of her twisted hold and ripped her hand from his face.
She’d pay for that.
He pushed forward and kissed her.
She gasped in shock, and he took her breath, took her power, her stubbornness, her control. This was his. Blight her, blight them. She didn’t want to be touched? A rot on it, he’d show her a touch. He’d make her feel it until she ached.
He kept his eyes shut and controlled the darkness as he used the sweet taste of her unyielding lips to keep the rage at bay. With adrenaline as a catalyst, he absorbed the deep pleasure of her body heat, and felt the violet spreading in his blood. The rush of color made him feel powerful. For the first time in his life, he drew it out of a woman—it hadn’t been injected into him.
The heavy thunk of boots on stone rang in his sensitized ears, followed by a soft shuffle, and a grunt.
“Road clear,” the Garulen guard shouted to his unseen squad.
The rhythmic fall of marching feet echoed through the ruins.
He continued to kiss her as the foul scent of the guards faded away, trailing toward the ship, but he softened the caress. The violet warmed him, eased the pain. He had never imagined he would feel it without fear and shame. Her hold on him relaxed as he inhaled the sweet scent of her body awakening to him. Her lips softened for only a m
oment as the tension eased from her limbs. As soon as she released her hold on him, he reluctantly released her from the kiss.
She blinked at him, her blue eyes foggy and confused. One soft lock of her dark green hair fell forward over her eye. Suddenly her pupils narrowed, and she pulled her fist back.
He caught it before she could land the blow.
“How dare you,” she challenged, her voice breathy and sexy as silk.
“What?” he asked, forcefully shoving her fist down. Without the connection of the kiss, his anger returned in a flare of red. “Never bind me again.”
“I saved your life,” she protested as she sprang to her feet.
“I’m saving my sanity,” he growled as he stood.
“You almost got us killed, or worse, captured,” she accused. “You of all people should be helping me, not losing control.”
“I barely—”
An explosion to rival the worst of the bombs shook the ground beneath their feet.
Soren ducked, but Cyani didn’t even flinch.
“What was that?” he asked.
“I detonated the ship,” she answered. “Now get up.”
“What?” he shouted at her.
“I set the auto destruct sequence for the ship. I don’t think we need to worry about those troops anymore.”
Exasperated, Soren watched her wipe her hands as if she hadn’t killed their only hope of escape and an entire squad of Garulen in one fell swoop.
“I thought you said we could use the ship to communicate with your people,” he accused. “Now, how are we going to escape?”
“We could use the ship to communicate. That’s why I had to destroy it. Union technology cannot fall into the hands of the Garulen. That is our primary order. It’s the only advantage we have over the hairy, ignorant genetic rejects.” She began to walk away, but he grabbed her by the shoulder. She snatched his hand and twisted it away.
