A figure took shape in front of him, stained crimson through the lens of his Rage—the scar-faced skeks who’d been restraining Yuri, standing up with a club in his hand.
A strong, thick arm looped up under Thargen’s left armpit and over his shoulder, dragging him back as a second arm wrapped around his neck. Hot, strained breath sounded at his ear—and the splintered end of a stick jabbed at his lower back as the new assailant tightened his hold. But the cable-like tendons on either side of Thargen’s trachea shielded his airflow from that crushing grasp.
The scar-faced skeks swung his weapon again, striking Thargen’s cheek. Thargen’s head snapped to the side, and there was an immediate metallic tang on his tongue. Now his vision was a field of red and black, shadows and blood.
Laughter ripped from his throat, raw and rough, delighted yet cruel. He laughed as he raised a leg and kicked the skeks before him in the chest, laughed as he straightened that leg to shove all his weight back onto the enemy restraining him. He laughed as the skeks fell backward and he crashed atop the wounded foe. That laughter strengthened in response to the skeks’ pained grunt and continued as Thargen rolled with his momentum, swinging his feet over his head to flip over and land on his knees, looking down at the fallen skeks.
Thargen grabbed the broken bit of spear shaft protruding from the skeks’ gut and pulled it like it was an emergency brake lever on a vehicle about to crash. The shaft—and the knife attached to it—jerked back with a wet, cracking sound, ripping open a huge hole in the skeks’ abdomen until it finally caught on the underside of the skeks’ ribcage. A flood of blue blood bubbled from the wound.
The skeks convulsed, grabbing at his gut and making choked, desperate sounds as his blood pooled on the ground beneath him.
Thargen released the bloody wood and flattened his hand on the dying skeks’ chest, bracing himself long enough to get his feet beneath him. His laughter exploded into a savage roar as he sprang at the approaching club-wielder. The scarred skeks swung his club in a wide arc, but Thargen closed the distance in a flash, getting inside the swing. The skeks’ arm hit Thargen’s left shoulder in a strong but ineffectual blow.
Thargen’s right hand—still holding the longer portion of his broken spear—darted up. The sharp end of the stick punctured the underside of the skeks’ chin, pushing through soft flesh until it finally broke against the roof of the skeks’ mouth.
The scarred skeks released a strained groan and staggered backward. Blue blood ran in rivulets through his exposed, pointed teeth. He dropped his club to grab at the stick with both hands, trying to pull it out or staunch the blood flow—it didn’t matter which.
Thargen had already let go of the stick and drawn a pair of knives from their sheathes on his waistband. He lunged forward and plunged one of the knives into the skeks’ right eye. He felt the squelch of the bursting eyeball through the weapon. The skeks stilled, his remaining eye blazing with fear and hatred as it held Thargen’s gaze for a moment—until the life faded from that eye.
Thargen tugged the knife free as the skeks’ knees buckled, turning to face the remaining enemy.
The skeks with the rifle had retreated farther, and now stood with his back against a tree trunk and his left leg—covered in glistening blood—stretched out before him. His eyes gleamed with malice and that intense light unique to the gazes of the dying. He raised his rifle to his shoulder.
Rage swelled in Thargen’s chest, forcing another roar out of his throat.
Only empty air stood between him and the barrel of the rifle—nearly ten meters of it.
As the skeks steadied his weapon, Thargen charged.
A high, ragged cry sounded to the skeks’s side, a bizarre combination of a defiant war cry and a frightened scream.
The skeks snapped his head toward the cry just as Yuri burst out of the foliage. She swung a hardlight axe from overhead in a downward, two-handed arc. The blade sliced clean through the skeks’ left forearm before slipping out of her hands. The weapon fell and hit the skeks in the left knee, chopping off his leg just below his prior wound.
Roaring with pain, the skeks swung his arm at her—and would have hit her, had she not just shortened his reach. Blue blood sprayed into her face from the stump.
Thargen leapt across the last couple meters between himself and his target, no longer seeing anything but the crimson of his Rage. His shoulder hit the skeks’ torso, crushing the injured foe into the tree and forcing a gasping grunt from the skeks’ lungs. Thargen’s knives took over from there.
The skeks’ cries of pain were soon drowned out by the wet thuds and squelching sounds of knife blades punching through flesh and being torn back out over and over, occasionally punctuated by the cracking of bone. Thargen roared, or laughed—or both—as he stabbed the skeks in the sides, chest, and abdomen repeatedly. Blood slickened his hands and arms, hot and sticky and sweet smelling.
A whole fucking lot more blue blood needed to spill before Thargen would be satisfied. He’d cover every centimeter of this whole fucking planet in blood until it seeped out of the ground with every step.
The skeks sagged to the side, and Thargen’s next thrust missed. The blade of the knife hit the tree with a dull thunk just as the dead skeks crumpled to the ground. Thargen stood there for several seconds, his Rage uncertain—the threats were eliminated, but his bloodlust was not yet sated.
He tore the knife out of the wood and turned. Everything in him stilled when his eyes fell on Yuri.
She was the reason he’d fought these skeks, not some ancient feud. It had been to save her.
Yuri was staring at the skeks who’d fallen at Thargen’s feet, her eyes huge and round and stark against the blue blood spattered over her face. Her dark hair was a tangled mess, filled with red and brown needles and even a small stick, and her shoulders rose and fell rapidly with her ragged breaths, all taken through flared nostrils.
Thargen’s Rage stepped aside, and clarity swept into its place, cold and unrelenting. He’d won this fight, but the situation was little improved—and his zoani was in distress.
He took a step toward her. “Yuri—”
Her eyes flew up to meet his a split second before she bent at the waist and vomited. When she was done, she lifted a trembling arm and wiped it across her mouth, pausing when she lowered it to stare at the blood smeared on her skin. A high-pitched whine escaped her, escalating toward as scream.
She staggered back, wiping frantically at her arms, which only spread the blood more. “Get it off. Get it off. Get it off! Getitoff!”
Fuck.
Thargen bent forward, quickly wiping the blood from his blades on the dead skeks’ tattered clothing, and returned the knives to their sheathes as he straightened. He closed the distance between himself and Yuri in two long strides, swept her into his arms, and raced back along the trail of broken foliage to the pool.
His eyes scanned his surroundings restlessly as he carried her into the water, stopping only when it was as deep as his mid-thighs. Her little hands clung to his shoulders. Tears spilled from her eyes, and her inhalations came in sharp, broken gasps.
“Hold your breath, zoani,” Thargen said.
Yuri’s watery eyes locked with his. They were filled with fear, vulnerability—and trust. Thargen’s heart lurched.
“I got you, Yuri,” he said roughly.
She nodded and drew in a deep, shaky breath, pressing her lips into a firm line, and closed her eyes.
He dropped onto his ass, submerging them both completely. The water was icy against his heated skin, creating a jolt that swept away Rage’s lingering hold on his mind, but the current here was soothingly slow. Yuri’s hold on him tightened, and her body trembled.
Thargen planted his feet on the ground and pushed up, standing only straight enough to lift their heads above the surface.
Yuri gasped and raised a hand to sweep her hair back from her face.
He lowered her to her feet and quickly but gently wiped away the remainin
g blood from her cheeks. “You hurt?”
“N-no. You…you c-came in time.”
Shouldn’t have left her alone to begin with.
Thargen cut off that line of thinking before it could continue; what was done was done. This was the reality, this was the situation, and how it had come to be was irrelevant. She needed comfort. That was the priority.
He eased back from her to run his hands over his own body, scrubbing it as clean as he could. His lips curled up in a small smirk. “Guess the color doesn’t matter.”
She peeked up at him while scouring her arms as though the blood hadn’t been washed away. “Let’s j-just…pretend th-that didn’t happen.”
“I’m not gonna forget the first time my female chopped off someone’s arm.”
A shudder wracked her, but one corner of her mouth quirked. “I w-was pretty badass, h-huh?”
“Fuck yeah, zoani.” He stood up straight, splashing a handful of water over his face and shaking it off. “Need you to keep being a badass, all right? We gotta go back.”
Yuri’s face blanched, and her shivering intensified.
Frowning, Thargen picked her up, carried her to the riverbank, and set her back down. He framed her cheeks between his hands, placing his thumbs on her chin to keep her face toward his. “Nothing’s gonna to happen to you. We need to take what we can from them, grab our shit, and get moving, and we need to do it all fast. I’ll be with you the whole time.”
She placed her hands over his. “Th-this is nothing like those VR g-games.”
He shook his head and chuckled. “Nah, they tend to miss out on some important details.”
“And they usually have options to turn off blood effects.”
“Don’t know if anyone told you, but I’m a walking blood effect. Guess you shoulda ignored my striking good looks at the club that night.”
Yuri laughed, shaking her head as much as he allowed. “Worth it.”
Thargen pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You might be crazier than me, zoani.”
When he lowered his hands from her face, she grasped her shirt, twisting it to wring excess moisture from the fabric. Thargen skimmed his eyes over her to make sure she was unharmed, and he couldn’t help the stirring of desire that warmed his blood. That wet shirt clung to her breasts, clearly outlining her hard nipples.
Gritting his teeth, he forced his gaze down until it caught on her feet—her bare feet. There were little scrapes and cuts on the tops of them, and he could only imagine the damage that must’ve been done to their soles.
“Fuck, terran,” he muttered as he stooped to lift her into his arms again. “When we get back to Arthos, you’re not allowed to walk for a whole damned week.”
Shivering, Yuri grinned and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I-I kind of like y-you carrying me, anyway.”
I do, too, zoani.
Thargen hurried back to the thicket. Only when he reached the two large trees through which he’d entered the small battlefield did he set her down, keeping her back to the carnage beyond the gap.
“Stay right here and keep watch, Yuri. I’ll be quick.”
She reached out and caught his wrist as he stepped away. “Thank y-you. For everything. And for, uh…making m-me feel useful when I know I’m not.”
He sighed heavily and cupped the side of her face in his palm. Her skin was cool, even though there were splotches of pink on her cheeks, and her lips had a faint bluish tint. “You saved my life. I’d call that pretty useful.”
She smiled wide. “I did, didn’t I?”
“Damn right.”
I fucking love this terran.
Yuri didn’t have a warrior’s strength, skill, or stomach, but she had a warrior’s spirit right down to her core. Some training would go a long way with her—and this whole experience was likely to make every other challenge in her life seem a lot less daunting by comparison.
He lowered his hand. “You see anything out there, you come to me right away. Don’t look down at all.”
She straightened, squaring her shoulders, and snapped her hand up to her forehead as though shading her eyes, arm rigid. “Yes, sir!” When she dropped her hand, her posture sagged slightly, and the blush on her cheeks deepened. “That was so corny.”
Even if he didn’t recognize that particular gesture, Thargen recognized its intent—it was a salute. He couldn’t understand what this whole mess was like from her perspective, and he could only imagine that the mental toll on her was immense, but here she was, finding humor in it along with him. She called it corny…
He called it sexy as hell.
I really fucking love this terran.
He almost reached for her again, but he forced himself to stop. They needed to get moving—too much time had been wasted already. This had just been a small skeks scouting party; there’d be more of them out on this mountainside, and those gunshots had likely been heard for kilometers around. Thargen and Yuri needed to get very far away from here very quickly.
He’d just have to show her his…appreciation once they found a safe place to stop.
Fifteen
Thargen grabbed a fistful of the dead beast’s narrow mane and dragged the carcass toward the mouth of the cave.
“Thargen?” Yuri called from just outside. There was a hint of uncertainty in her voice.
He ducked slightly to fit through the opening, emerging into late evening gloom that was made thicker by the trees in front of the rocky cliff.
Yuri’s shoulders sagged, and she breathlessly said, “You scared the crap out of me.”
“Hope not, terran. I haven’t dug a shitting hole yet.”
Her nose scrunched. “Not literally, Thargen. You know what I mean.” She tilted her head. “What happened in there? Those sounds…”
Grinning, Thargen hauled the beast out into the light, dumping it unceremoniously onto the ground before him. It was about as long as Yuri was tall, with a muscular hunched back, long front legs, and curved black claws on its toes. Its fur—relatively short and soft but for the bristly mane running along its spine—was mottled red and brown. Fortunately, that coloration made it harder to see the blood on the fur around its short, thick neck.
“Was just getting dinner,” Thargen declared.
Yuri’s brows shot up. “That was in there?” She narrowed her eyes and peered past him. “Are there…others?”
“Just the one. Woke it up, I think.”
“Looks like you did a little more than that.”
Pride swelled Thargen’s chest, a welcome substitution for the Rage that had been driving him only moments before. This wasn’t how he’d meant to provide for his female—he was supposed to have returned to her this morning with a fresh kill obtained through his patience, skill, and prowess. But he’d accept it; the only important thing was that they’d have fresh meat tonight.
“So…do you know how to make a fire?” Yuri asked.
Thargen arched a brow. “Doubting my abilities, terran?”
“Noooo, I’d never.” Her lips twitched as though she were holding back laughter.
“Get your ass to work,” he grumbled, waving her away. “Dry sticks and whatever else you think will burn. Stay close.”
Her efforts to contain that laughter failed as she turned away, bending to pick up and gather sticks with her shoulders shaking gently. Thargen grunted and stepped over to his backpack, which he’d set on the ground before venturing into the cave. He grabbed the collapsible spade from the holding loop on the side of the bag—it was just one of several old-fashioned but practical items he’d found on the dead skeks.
He dug a small pit for a fire close to the base of a nearby tree, not resisting when his Rage sparked in response to the tough dirt making the task unnecessarily difficult. The light was failing, and he didn’t intend to have a fire going any longer than necessary. Even with the flames hidden and the smoke largely dispersed amongst the trees, the smell would be clear to most creatures that came anywhere close.
&nb
sp; When Yuri returned with an armful of tinder, most of which was drier than he could’ve hoped, he arranged a portion of it in the pit and scooped up a handful of dry fallen needles from closer to the cave. He used another of the items he’d taken from the skeks to light the needles—an old fire starter that sprayed sparks when the trigger was pulled.
He set the smoking needles at the base of the arranged wood, and after some coaxing—and several lungfuls of air slowly blown over the embers—the firewood caught.
“We have fire!” Yuri pumped her arms in the air above her head. “Achievement unlocked.”
Thargen glanced up at Yuri. Her smile, the sparkling delight in her eyes, and the genuine cheer in her voice all hit him hard, like a solid kick to the chest that made his heart ache and his breath catch. He’d never imagined how good a feeling that could be before her.
Today had been another long, hard day in a growing chain of them, and Yuri remained unbroken.
Thargen grinned. “Not doubting anymore, are you, terran?”
She was shaking her sexy little ass when she glanced at him over her shoulder and grinned. “My male delivered.”
His eyes fixated on that ass, and suddenly food was the lesser of his two cravings. “Got a few more skills to show you before the night’s through, zoani.”
Her eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed. Thargen wondered if the rest of her body was just as pink.
She lowered her arms and turned toward him, her smile taking on a wicked tilt. “Oh yeah?”
Fuck, he could eat her up right now.
But first, he needed to feed her. They’d gone too long without any real food, and he planned to fill her belly before filling her pussy with his tongue.
Thargen licked his lips, anticipation thrumming through him. “It’s a promise, terran.”
He sat back on his haunches, watching smoke rise from the fire pit, travel up the trunk of the tree, and disperse as it got higher. He could only hope it wouldn’t be thick enough to be spotted from higher elevations.
Thargen couldn’t help but find some amusement in the radical change that had undergone his thinking lately; were he here alone, he’d want the skeks to spot his fire. He’d welcome the fight and throw himself into it with reckless abandon and no small amount of glee.
Savage Desire (The Infinite City Book 4) Page 24
