The Dark Prince's Prize (Curizan Warrior Book 2)

by S. E. Smith

  The men slowed, scanning the area. Ha’ven peered into a nearby room and shook his head. Samara frowned. The entire base was eerily silent.

  A shadowy mass surged out of the dark end of the corridor.

  “Look out!” Ha’ven warned.

  The four men in front tried to retreat, but the mass split and surrounded them. Guttural gasps came from the men as dark bands wrapped around their throats. The dark blob lifted the men off the ground.

  Horror filled Samara when she saw the men struggling in vain to escape. Their legs twitched as they frantically clawed at their throats. Without a second thought, she pulled away from Quill’s restraining hand and stepped into the corridor.

  “Release them, you sorry-ass-son-of-an-alien-blob,” she growled, raising her hands.

  She drew even with Adalard, and a burst of blinding white energy flowed outward from her hands. The blob recoiled from the white energy. Sections of it sparkled like flashes of light from a welder’s torch before falling to the ground and disappearing in a golden fog. The reaction emboldened her, and she strode forward with determination.

  “How are you feeling?” Adalard asked.

  “I’ve got this,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “Get the men out of here as soon as they are free,” Adalard ordered.

  The wave of energy that she was projecting surrounded the men. They were released and fell to the ground. Their low groans and gasping breaths sounded loud to her ears.

  Ha’ven motioned to two men to help their downed comrades. In seconds, the injured men disappeared—having been transported back to the warship. Adalard stayed on her right side while Quill was on her left. The remaining mass hissed and retreated down the corridor.

  “What are you seeing?” Quill asked.

  “A hazy, swirling dark mass,” she replied in a tight voice.

  “Anything else?” he asked.

  She frowned. “It… it was like the other mass, only it’s larger. When my light burst hits it, it’s like bright white sparkles and then it turns to a gold-colored fog and disappears,” she said.

  “Gold fog?” Quill repeated.

  She glanced at him and nodded. “Yeah, didn’t you see it?” she asked.

  “No,” he replied, looking over her head at Adalard.

  “Does it look any different to you from the mass back on the ship?” Adalard asked.

  She frowned and thought about the mass on board. “It’s less dense and turns into gold fog after I zap it. It… It’s weird, but the one back on the ship felt like it was alive and scared of me. This doesn’t have that reaction. It feels… cold, lifeless. Almost like it’s a copy, but something that didn’t quite replicate in every detail.”

  “Adalard, Quill, we’ve found the lab,” Ha’ven called.

  Samara lowered her hands and shivered. She followed the two men into a large room. Overturned chairs, still smoldering computer equipment, broken glass cylinders, and an array of strange equipment littered the area.

  “What were they doing here?” she asked, walking over to one of the broken cylinders.

  “If I had to guess, I would say replicating the negative energy mass,” Quill answered.

  She silently counted the number of cylinders. There were eight. Seven were intact but empty. One of the cylinders was shattered. She swallowed and looked around.

  “They left in a rush. Someone must have warned them of our arrival,” Ha’ven commented.

  “The traitor who killed the Changeling,” Adalard guessed, looking around. “Quill, see if you can find anything that will help us figure out how to kill these things. The rest of you spread out and search the area.”

  “I should go with them. That mass is still out there,” Samara reminded him.

  “Ha’ven, I will go with Samara and the other men,” Adalard called.

  Ha’ven nodded in acknowledgment. Adalard and two men stayed ahead of Samara while one guard followed behind her. She scanned the surrounding area, trying to quell the nervous roiling of her stomach. The sound of something falling behind them in the lab caused her to jump.

  “We’ll protect you, Lady Samara,” the guard behind her quietly reassured her.

  She gave him a nervous smile. “Thanks,” she murmured.

  The lights overhead flickered. Memories of horror-film scenes flashed through her mind—specifically the ones from Alien and Predator. She cursed the day she decided to watch the damn things.

  They neared the end of the corridor where the mass had disappeared. She rubbed her hands on her jeans before lifting them in preparation.

  There was an open door ahead. When they were almost to it, Adalard shouted “Take cover!” just before laser fire erupted from a side room. She gasped when the guard behind her abruptly stepped in front of her.

  Adalard and two guards entered the room. Flashes of light nearly blinded her, and she lowered her head. She touched the wall behind her, running her hand along its uneven surface until she felt the edge of an open doorway. The guard motioned for her to stay down as Ha’ven and Quill came out of the lab at a run.

  “Quill, get her to safety,” Ha’ven yelled as he grabbed Samara’s guard and they ran into the room where the battle was taking place.

  Quill grabbed her arm to guide her back to the lab. As she backed away, a movement out of the corner of her eye drew her attention back to the end of the corridor.

  “Quill, the blob!” she cried out in warning.

  The mass surged out of the room at the end of the corridor, heading straight for them. She lifted her hands and projected the white energy.

  She poured everything inside her into stopping the creature. The force of the white energy drove the mass back. Samara followed it.

  “Lady Samara, it may be a trap!” Quill warned.

  “I can’t let it get into the room with the others,” she replied.

  She followed it through the doorway at the end of the corridor. The mass swirled around her, hissing and shrieking. She was vaguely aware of the door behind her slamming shut. She was unaware that her body was beginning to glow with the same white energy she was projecting. The mass, unable to retreat, now attacked her in a vicious wave.

  “You can’t harm me, and I won’t let you hurt anyone else,” she snarled with determination.

  Huge drops of the mass fell around her, littering the floor before dissolving into a plume of golden smoke. Her energy expanded outward, overwhelming the mass until every square inch of the room was saturated with the bright light.

  A guttural cry of triumph ripped from her throat when the last of the blob disintegrated. The cry faded when she caught sight of two people slumped in an embrace on a bunk attached to the far wall. She began to tremble uncontrollably.

  “Oh, God, no! Please, no!” she whispered.

  Samara forced her legs to move. She slowly approached Melek and Narissa Ha’darra. Sinking down in front of them, she reached out and tentatively touched the pale hand of Adalard’s mother. She yanked her hand back when she felt the icy flesh.

  “Samara!” Adalard’s harsh, frantic voice called.

  The door behind her swung open, crashing against the wall behind it. She couldn’t reply. Her eyes remained locked on the still faces of the man and woman. Strong hands wrapped around her and drew her up and back against a warm body. Samara couldn’t stop shaking. She didn’t think she would ever be warm again.

  “Adalard, get her out of here,” Ha’ven ordered in a deep, grief-filled voice.

  Spots began to dance before her eyes, and she tried to shake her head to clear them. There was a loud, irritating clicking sound. She realized it was her teeth chattering. She tried to clench them, but it didn’t help.

  One second, she was in the horror-filled room and in the next she was on the warship. Her stomach churned, and she frantically searched for a bathroom or trash can. She pulled away from Adalard, rushed to a trash receptacle, and lost the contents of her stomach. She continued to dry-heave between the ravaging so
bs rocking her body.

  “I’ve called for medical,” a tech in the transporter room murmured.

  “Thank you,” Adalard replied.

  Samara whimpered when Adalard tried to touch her. She shook her head. Even with the tight control he was holding over his own emotions, she could feel the waves of grief crashing through him.

  The door behind her swished open. A draft of cool air hit her, sending her stomach churning again, and she clung to the side of the trash receptacle as her stomach revolted once more. A low groan of protest slipped from her when she felt cold hands against her brow.

  “She is in shock,” Adalard murmured to the man with cold hands.

  “Pl-please… just leave me al-alone,” she begged.

  The words had no sooner left her lips than she felt a slight pressure, and the world turned hazy. Adalard caught her in his arms when her knees gave out. Her head wobbled from side-to-side before she rested her cheek against his shoulder.

  “Adalard,” she murmured in a barely audible voice.

  “What is it, misha petite lawarrior?” he asked.

  “I’m so sor-sorry,” she choked out.

  “So am I, misha petite lawarrior.”

  Samara closed her eyes. Tears welled and coursed down her cheeks. She wished they could wash away the pain and grief she had witnessed. She would never forget the haunting sight of Melek Ha’darra lovingly holding Narissa, his Queen and only love, in his arms.

  “I’m so cold. I don’t-don’t think I’ll ever be-be warm again,” she forced through chattering teeth.

  “I’ll keep you warm, my beautiful warrior,” he murmured.

  She turned her face into his shoulder and began to sob. The healer murmured something, but she didn’t hear what he said. The man pressed his hand to her neck and the haze turned to darkness as the world slid away. She wanted to scream that she didn’t want to fall asleep in case the monster that attacked Melek and Narissa came after them, but it was too late.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Two days later, Adalard stared out at the palace garden through the office window. The flowers didn’t seem as vibrant. It was as if they struggled to thrive without his mother’s energy.

  He didn’t bother to turn when the door opened behind him. He sensed his twin the moment Arrow entered the room. Arrow crossed the room and stood next to him.

  “How is Samara doing?” Arrow asked.

  “Better. Jaron wanted to keep her another day, but she refused,” he said.

  They both turned when Ha’ven entered the room. Adalard studied his older brother’s face. From the irritated expression on it, he suspected that at least one of Jaron’s other patients was being as difficult as Samara.

  “How are they doing this morning?” he asked.

  “Mother is still unconscious. She is in serious but stable condition. Jaron felt it best to keep her sedated until she is stronger. He’s threatening—with respect he assures me—to knock Melek out if he tries to get up again,” Ha’ven growled.

  “He and Mother were barely alive when we brought them back to the ship. I am amazed that they survived. Was Melek able to tell you anything?” Adalard asked.

  Ha’ven nodded. “He recognized Hamade Dos.”

  Arrow cursed under his breath. “I knew it! The information I’ve been able to obtain has that bastard’s mark all over it. I was also able to pull some research off of one of the less damaged servers. I’m still piecing things together.”

  Adalard stared out over the garden again, not seeing it. “Have you made any progress with the creature we brought back?”

  “Not yet. I’m hoping the information found in the base’s lab will allow the experiments with Samara to evolve and give us a better understanding of how Samara repelled it,” Arrow replied.

  Adalard turned and faced his brothers. He wanted to argue that Arrow needed to find a solution that didn’t involve Samara. As much as he hated the idea, he knew that if they were going to defeat Hamade and stop the mass production of those deadly creatures, Arrow would need Samara’s help.

  “You have until the end of the week,” he calmly replied.

  “The end of the week! What happens then?” Arrow asked in confusion.

  He took a deep breath before he replied. “I leave to find Hamade. I should never have stopped until I killed him. This time I won’t.”

  “Adalard… this isn’t your fight alone,” Ha’ven said.

  He studied both of his brothers’ faces. “Arrow is needed here. If anyone can understand what those creatures are and how to stop them, he can. You have Emma… and a kingdom to protect. Out of the three of us, I have the most experience out in the field. I know Hamade. I’ll find him and this time, he won’t escape.”

  Arrow looked at him with an expression of concern. “What about Samara?”

  Adalard stiffened as pain radiated through him. “She wants to return to her world. She… has family there. Besides, she will be safer there while I’m gone.”

  “What? When did she say that?” Ha’ven demanded.

  He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Adalard.... We can protect her here,” Arrow said.

  “Can we? We still haven’t located the traitor aboard the ship. Mother was taken from these very gardens—right under our noses! Your lab was bombed. How can I hope to protect her when I won’t be here?” he tersely replied.

  “Emma…,” Ha’ven began.

  He turned on Ha’ven. “Emma has no family back on her planet, but she has you here. Samara… it is different. I have to take into consideration that I may not come back,” he reluctantly admitted.

  “Adalard,” Ha’ven protested.

  “Samara and I have discussed this. We both agree that it is for the best. It will give her… time for closure. You understand how important that was for Emma. Samara deserves nothing less. I will return for her after I’ve dealt with Hamade. In the meantime, you and Arrow can find out who else is involved,” he said, looking at both of his brothers.

  Ha’ven gave him a critical, assessing look before he finally nodded. “Let us hope it does not take you long to find Hamade. I will personally interview every member of the crew. No one has been allowed to depart the ship.”

  Adalard nodded. “Once you finish, Quill and I will scan the ship and ready it for departure. I’ve asked Bahadur to escort Samara back to Earth,” he said.

  “I guess I’d better get busy finding out how to stop whatever in the hell Hamade created,” Arrow muttered.

  “I’ll notify you when I’m finished with the crew,” Ha’ven said before he turned and exited the room.

  Adalard paused when Arrow put a hand on his arm. He looked at his twin with a shuttered expression. Arrow’s fingers tightened when he started to turn away.

  “You can lie to Ha’ven, but you can’t lie to me. Samara has no knowledge that you are sending her back to her world, does she?” he asked.

  “Stay out of this, Arrow,” he replied before pulling his arm free and walking away.

  Samara stood on the balcony in the dark, enjoying the light breeze. She had spent the morning with Emma and the afternoon with Arrow and a man named Salvin. She unconsciously smiled at the thought of the older scholarly man. He reminded her a lot of an older version of Mason with his quiet disposition.

  Between Arrow’s constant teasing and Salvin’s calming influence, she felt steady again—or at least as steady as she could feel on an alien world. She wrapped her arms around her waist when she sensed Adalard’s approach more than heard it. A moment later, his warm hands wrapped around her, and he drew her back against his body.

  “How are you feeling?” he murmured.

  She relaxed and released a deep sigh. “Better. I’m sorry… about the meltdown I had.”

  He tenderly turned her in his arms until she faced him, and brushed her hair back from her cheek. She tilted her head, enjoying the feel of his skin against hers.

  “You never have to apologize. You sa
ved our lives yesterday. Without you—” He stopped, shook his head, and kissed her before continuing, “… you saved Melek and my mother’s life. They would have perished if you had not stopped that… creature from attacking them again.”

  She could feel tears burning in her eyes. The memory of the couple, wrapped in each other’s arms, was seared into her brain.

  “Samara,” Adalard murmured, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

  “I’m glad they will be alright. Arrow told me that they… that they survived,” she said, her voice trembling on the last words.

  “Yes. There is something I need to discuss with you,” he said.

  She pulled away and stepped back an arm’s length from him. Dread filled her, and her stomach knotted as she studied his expression. The way he said that brought up old memories. She had heard that tone before—way too often.

  Samara, there is something I need to discuss with you… the memory of the sound of the doctor’s voice telling her that her mother’s treatments would end and hospice would be brought in.

  Samara, there is something I need to discuss with you…. Chad’s deep gravelly voice as he explained her father’s Last Will and Testament to her and how to navigate her way through probate since none of her brothers had bothered to show up.

  Samara… Her mind shut down the soft, pleading voice of her mother.

  “Every time anyone has ever said that to me, it’s bad news,” she said, wrapping her arms around her waist again.

  He sighed and lowered his eyes. “I fear this will be another one of those times.”

  She stiffened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Don’t sugarcoat it,” she stated.

  He stepped closer to her. She didn’t pull away when he rubbed her forearms. She wasn’t sure if her legs would hold her if she tried to move.

  “I have to go away. There is something that needs to be done,” he began.

  “You’re going after the people who created that creature—the ones who hurt… who hurt your family, aren’t you? How… how long will you be gone?” she asked in a slightly unsteady voice.