by Ava Ross
Shit. Predators were in the stairwell.
Her pulse slammed up into her throat, and her palms went sweaty. Her panicked gaze met Kral’s, and he urged her on with a nudge of his head upward. The flaps on his shoulders—sekairs, if she remembered correctly from the manual—stood at attention, ready to shoot poison darts at anyone who came near. She imagined he could take on quite a few enemies at one time, but there must be a point where numbers would overwhelm him and he’d be taken down. She didn’t want to know what that number might be.
She darted up the next flight of stairs. Two flights left. Did they dare keep going to the floor they needed or should they bail on the next available level and wait for the Al’kieern to exit the stairwell?
The bang of a door above, followed by footsteps and voices, shot that idea out of the water. They’d have no choice but to leave the stairwell and take their chances.
They were so close. Kral seemed to think if he could see his ship, he could initiate their transport to the other vessel, and she hoped he was right. She was eager to be out of here and on their way to Crakair.
Racing as fast as she could, she took the stairs two at a time, a big feat with her short legs. Talk about a workout. She’d gotten more exercise in the past few days than during her last year on Earth. This would teach her to give up running.
Kral’s limp became more pronounced.
She wished there was time to stop and evaluate his condition. She’d add the task to her to-do list and the moment they were safe, she’d ask him about it. Perhaps she could help him with exercise and massage.
They reached the floor, and not a second too soon. Stomps from below and the growing volume of their voices overhead told her the Al’kieern would discover them within seconds.
She eased open the door and froze.
Shit.
Five Al’kieern, two with wings and three wingless, stood halfway down the hall, in front of the windows she needed to reach with Kral.
Ten
Kral
He peered past Mila and assessed the situation. They couldn’t go back down the stairs. The Al’kieern were not far behind and, from the multiple voices, there were at least ten individuals in the group. The number above was harder to discern, but the numerous stomps told him waiting here was not an option.
Better to take on the five in the hall.
He leaned close to Mila and whispered. “Are there other windows where we might see my ship?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
Pressing his fist to his chest, he made a solemn vow to protect Mila no matter the cost.
She worried her lower lip. “You’re seeing this as your sacrificial opportunity.”
He was seeing this as a chance to escape.
“I’ve got an idea,” she said, shooting a look of fear over her shoulder, but they had not reached the level below us yet. “You see the intersection?”
About five paces down the hall. He nodded.
“If I take a left there, the connecting corridor loops around and comes out beyond where they’re standing.”
“Ah. Smart.” He grinned, proud of his mate’s clever thinking. “You will call to them and draw their attention away from me.” His gaze narrowed on the Al’kieern. “Then I will kill them all.”
She released a soft growl. “It’s time. Unleash your rabid Cujo for me, dude.”
He huffed out a stifled laugh. “I am not sure now if I prefer Cujo or dude for a pet name.”
Despite the danger, she grinned. “Both.” She tugged on his sleeve and nudged her chin upward. “Unless you prefer to run to the next landing. If we can make our way to the opposite side, there’s another set of stairs that will exit on this floor. If we’re not caught, we can work our way back down from there.”
“What is above this level?”
“Offices, a lower control bridge.”
“Occupied?”
“Sometimes. I was nearly caught on that floor two days ago, while looking for my friends.”
“Then your first plan is the best.” Tipping her chin up, he gave her a kiss that seared through his veins. After, she stared at him with her mouth ajar while he nudged her side. “Be careful, my mate. Distract them, but do not endanger yourself. At all. Do you understand?”
She nodded, her mouth still open as if he’d stunned her with his kiss.
Good, because he was equally stunned.
“When they start toward you,” he said, his hand on the knob. “You must run and hide. I will come at them from behind and…”
She gulped. “Kill them. I should feel bad for them, right? But I don’t.”
“What would they do to us?” he asked grimly.
“Me? Capture me, tie me up, and send out the notices for a breeder auction. You…?” Her eyes watered, something he’d caused too often already. He wanted to tug her near and give her some of his strength. But she was tough. He hadn’t been lying when he told her how much he admired her fortitude. She’d survived here—thrived here—in an enemy camp and under dire circumstances. “As for you,” she said. “I don’t think you’ll fare well.”
“I will do my best to survive.” Baring his fangs, he nudged her spine. “Go. I will be right behind. Together, we will do this.”
“Make it fast because…”
He lifted one brow ridge.
“We need to continue our courtship.” She rose onto her toes and tugged him down for another quick kiss. “You owe me those Vikir courtship orgasms, and I want to give you a few, too.”
A fire roared through him. He needed her. But first, he would destroy all who had threatened her.
She gave him a watery smile and hefted her knife. From what he could tell, it belonged in a kitchen, but it was a weapon. His brave warrior mate. He was proud to stand by her side. And eager to get them free from the station so they could be together.
Silent as a new dawn, she eased down the hall, heading for the Al’kieern who had not yet noticed her. Her hand clenched her knife, and she kept her steps light. At the intersection, she turned left and slipped from view.
Sounds above and below told Kral he’d be seen by the others soon. He hated waiting, not because of the others but because Mila was exposed and in danger, while he stood seemingly doing nothing.
She appeared on the other side and waved to him.
His hand rose, and he bared his fangs. Heille, he was proud of her.
“Hey, blue jerks,” she called out. Propping one hand on her hip, she kept her knife down and behind her thigh. “What are a bunch of creepy aliens like you doing in a place like this?”
Kral wasn’t sure what she meant, but it worked. Bellowing, the Al’kieern took off after her without a glance in Kral’s direction.
He eased out into the hall and chased after them, his blood on fire and his sword eager to taste Al’kieern blood.
Before they reached Mila, she spun. With a snarl, she ran toward them.
They underestimated his mate. As they snickered and lifted their arms to capture her, she leaped up. Her knife slashed out, gliding across one of the winged Al’kieern’s throats. Blue blood squirted, peppering the tile floor, and the Al’kieern collapsed, his hands clutching the lethal wound.
The others stopped and pulled their shocker sticks. While the winged ones soared toward her, the others rushed her way, determined to stun her.
Heille, no.
They didn’t hear Kral coming. His steps light, he raced up behind them. Blade whirling, he severed the head of the biggest threat, a winged Al’kieern with a laser stunner. Landing solidly on his feet with only a twinge in his thigh, Kral stabbed out, taking down another Al’kieern.
One snarled and spun, his shocker rushing toward Kral.
Kral leaped up and flipped over backward, landing in a crouch. He whipped his blade out and gouged up and through the belly of the Al’kieern coming for him.
Another grabbed Mila and shoved her against the wall. He scrambled for her knife, but she snapped her tee
th and struck out with her knife, slicing deeply into one of the Al’kieern’s four arms. With a grunt, the Al’kieern kneed Mila as Kral’s sword took out the other Al’kieern with a quick swipe.
Mila shrieked and tried to stab the Al’kieern again as he grabbed her arm, grappling for the knife. Her knee rose and hit the Al’kieern, but the blue-skinned alien was not deterred. He pressed himself against Mila and hit her in the neck with a shocker.
Her eyes widened, and she gurgled. The knife fell from her hand as she went limp in the Al’kieern’s arms.
“No!” Kral snarled. He darted toward them, his sword dripping blue, his blood raging through him. A flick and Kral’s sekairs shot darts into the Al’kieern’s back. The male shuddered and tumbled to the ground, releasing Mila.
She slumped sideways and glided down the wall. As he reached for her, her head lolled, and her eyes lost focus.
He caught her and gathered her close. His blade fell from his hand, landing on the floor with a clatter, and he stroked her hair off her face.
“Wake, love.” His voice croaked. “Wake. Please.”
She stirred, twitching in his arms. Her head lifted, and she gave him a wobbly smile. “Kral. You’re so pretty.” Her fingers traced along his naanans, and he shuddered.
Now was not the time to feel desire or to laugh about her calling him pretty. He was a Vikir warrior. Vikir warriors were never pretty.
“You are infinitely sweet,” he said with a shaky laugh. He sunk his face into her neck, wishing he could take her to a safer location. When the Al’kieern had stunned her, he’d feared the male had used a voltage too high to be safe for a tiny human female like his mate.
“I will show you the world, my mate,” he promised. “Soon. But first, we need to get out of here.”
She shifted her legs, and he eased her onto the floor. He wanted to carry her everywhere, but he’d need his sekairs and sword arm free to defend them.
Clutching his arm, she took on more of her weight. “I’m okay. Gonna be okay. Soon.” Stumbling backward, she nearly impacted with the wall, but he caught her again and gathered her close.
“Hold on, my mate,” he said, stooping down to grab his sword. A quick wipe on one of the Al’kieern’s shirts to clean the blade, and he’d sheathed it along his spine.
Mila’s gaze honed in on her knife, and she shuddered. Her gaze traveled from the Al’kieerns lying dead around them before it met Kral’s. Her eyes swam with tears. “Shit, shit, shit. I…killed someone. I killed someone.” Her knees gave way, but he caught her.
He’d always catch her.
Scooping her up, he held her close. He backed around the corner, out of view, and settled against the wall. While they should flee, he couldn’t resist taking one minar to comfort her.
“Kral,” she said, sounding so lost and alone. “I killed someone. I hated them, but I avoided them. I didn’t want to kill them.”
Kral’s first kill had come when he was twelve. When his grandfather had been the leader of their people, they’d often warred with other Vikir clans. One had attacked. Kral’s tribe had fought them off, but Kral had wet his blade on the blood of another. He’d never forget the gut-wrenching pain of knowing he’d ended someone’s life.
Reminding Mila that the Al’kieern would’ve harmed her and killed Kral would do no good. She would be lost in the minar, reliving the instant when her blade had hit true. When the skin had parted. And when life had left the male’s body because of her actions.
All he could do was hold her and offer her the comfort of his arms.
He kissed her forehead, marveling at how soft skin was compared to his scales. The silky strands of her hair drifted around them.
“It will be okay,” he said.
“How can it be?” She peered up at him with tears in her eyes. “I get it. It was us versus them, but still. I can’t imagine how anyone does this on a regular basis. It slices into your soul. Bruises it. I can’t imagine that feeling will ever go away.”
He nodded. “I think one who can dismiss death no longer lives themselves.”
She leaned her head against his chest, and a long sigh eased out of her. “Thank you.”
“I will always be here for you, Mila.”
“I’m beginning to see that now.” She tipped her head back to look up at him. “We just met, right?”
He nodded, wondering where she was taking this.
“Then why do I feel like I’ve known you forever?”
“Our souls know each other.” He held up his palm, displaying the symbol, and she linked their hands together.
She kissed his knuckles. “I wish I could stay here, because you holding me feels wonderful but…”
“Once we get to my ship, we will be safe.” He’d hold her, soothe her any way he could. Courtship could wait. They could wait. He wanted to be here for her as she worked her way through what had happened, like his father had comforted him after his first kill.
The male’s face would haunt Kral for the rest of his days.
She slid out of his arms and stroked his face. “Let’s do it. Take me to Crakair, Kral. Take me to your home. Our home.”
Home.
To think she still wanted to see this match through despite all that had happened. A kidnapping, survival on an enemy space station, and now killing in self-defense. He wouldn’t blame her if, when she asked to be taken home, she meant Earth.
“Yes, home,” he said gruffly. This human female… She could shred him. If he was wise, he’d guard his heart, but how could he? It wasn’t about the matebond symbol or the contract made with Earth.
It was about them. About being together, no matter where life led.
He couldn’t wait to see what happened next. She’d…bring back his laughter. Taking her hand, he squeezed it.
They walked to the windows. In a minar, they’d be free. They could put this behind them and move forward together. They stopped at the glass and he nodded as he took in his ship, waiting for them outside. The droids would be wary of tricks. The moment he and Mila arrived, the droids would leave the quadrant and take them to Crakair.
“Hold on,” he said, tugging Mila into his arms. “Soon, we will arrive on Crakair. I will take you to my clan, and my Aunt Riella will welcome you.
“Soon,” she echoed.
As he lifted his arm to engage the com, his ship exploded.
Eleven
Mila
“Shit. There were…” Horror poured through her, and she stumbled out of Kral’s arms and away from the window, her hands slapping against her cheeks. “My god! That was your ship, right? Your crew!” So many people dead. She couldn’t stand it. She wanted to yank on her hair. Run.
No, she wanted to curl into a ball on her bed in her hidden room and cry.
“Yes, it was my ship.” He followed her and held out his arms.
She darted into them and shivered while he tucked her against his chest.
“I do not understand,” he said. “Are the Al’kieern trying to start an intergalactic war?”
“Stealing me and my friends might have done that already.”
“This was not the first time…” He growled. “We’ve assumed the kidnapping attempts were part of rogue operations, but now…” His naanans flared out. “The droids… The ship was completely automated, but the droid crew was loyal.”
Her protocol droid on the star cruiser, TX57, had been a pain in the butt most of the time, but he’d had a bit of a personality, a mix of quirky and insistent. She would’ve felt sad if he’d been killed.
Some people might feel relief that “only” droids had been killed, but they were beings; entities like any other, even if they didn’t have feelings or a soul like people did.
“The ship is part of the Crakairian spacefleet,” he said, incredulous. “This will be seen as active aggression against my government’s military.”
“If anyone finds out.”
“What do you mean?” His naanans flared around his head. �
�Ah. I know what you mean. If they eliminate all evidence—us—no one will know what happened.”
“This isn’t good,” she said. She looked up, taking in Kral’s grim expression. “We’ve got to find a way off this station and get to Crakair. Then we can tell them what happened. What are we going to do now?”
He took her hand. “The Al’kieern are building on Yarris, so they must have shuttles. Do you know where they dock them and can you get me there?”
“We’re going to steal a ship, right?” She shouldn’t be feeling excited about this. The situation was scary and tenuous. This wasn’t Star Wars. “I can take you—”
The door to the stairwell banged open and a bunch of Al’kieern on foot rushed out, followed by winged guys. Their shrieks echoed in the hall, and if the Tasers in their hands didn’t scare her to death, the laser guns they held would.
A shot hit the glass behind them and pinged off, blasting toward the opposite wall.
“Come with me,” she said, tugging him around the dead aliens crumpled on the floor. “About that limp.” This wasn’t the time to look, but she needed to know what she was dealing with.
He grunted.
“New injury or old?”
“Old.”
“Sword wound or…”
“Fracture.” His feet hit the floor beside hers, and while he didn’t hold her back, he wasn’t racing ahead, either. “Three places. A fall. It didn’t heal right.”
“Can you run? We’re going to have to run.”
“I will keep pace.” His hand on her low back swept her up, and they flew faster than she’d run back in high school, and that had been record-breaking speed.
“We’ve got to go up three floors,” she said as they plunged down another hall and headed up the next with the Al’kieern in hot pursuit. “You up for that?”
“Keep going.”
A laser blast hit the wall beside her head, and hunks of material flew around them, some hitting her cheek hard enough it stung. A hot trickle along her chin told her she was bleeding.
