Cold Attraction

by Zoe Ashwood

  Three soldiers had followed Adriana—Taron traced her footsteps, dread gathering in his gut—and after a while, one man had split from the other two to wind down a narrow alleyway. When Adriana’s footsteps veered suddenly off-path, Taron understood she must have heard her attackers and tried to hide, smudging her prints. But she wouldn’t have been able to—Rendian soldiers were used to tracking in the snow.

  And there it was, the spot where they’d caught up with her. Taron found the third man’s footsteps on the other side of the house and swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat. She likely ran straight into him. Ah, shit, she must have been terrified. Rage boiled inside him, burning—he would find these men and make them pay for hunting her like an animal, herding her into a trap.

  But he had to find her first.

  An indentation in the snow showed him where she’d fallen, and a trail led from it where the men had dragged her—unconscious, he prayed, not dead.

  That was his only hope going forward.

  It wasn’t hard to track the soldiers from then on. They’d taken the hover sled, but their footsteps coming into the village showed him exactly where to fly. And when a glimmer of light became visible through the darkness, Taron landed his ship and took off on foot, his spear out and ready.

  He approached the watchtower from the side after circling it to count the guards. With the storm blowing through, there were none on the wall; instead, two of them huddled in a small gatehouse. Creeping up to the air vent, he coughed loudly, prompting one of them to come outside to check. The man was unconscious within seconds, and Taron slipped through the open door, incapacitating the second to prevent him from alerting the soldiers inside the tower.

  He considered leaving the first one in the snow, but he hadn’t come here to kill. Dragging him inside the hut, he took their communicator and wrist cuffs, closed the door, and fried the panel with his spear’s electrical pulse, effectively locking them inside.

  The guards’ wrist cuffs unlocked the door of the tower—shoddy security, but then they were standing guard over an empty wasteland, likely stationed here to provide a refuge for anyone who might get caught in the weather while traveling farther north, to the mine at Ozun.

  Taron crept down the corridor, listening for the guards’ voices. The lower level was deserted and cold, but a light shone from the stairwell that led up. Lifting his feet carefully so his boots didn’t scuff on the gray stone, he ascended the stairs, then peered around the corner.

  A guard sat in the corridor in front of a closed door, his attention on whatever was happening down the hall, where the sounds of conversation were coming from. It was warmer here, and light, and Taron knew he’d have maybe a second to strike before the guard raised the alarm.

  “Hey, I want a turn with her, too,” the guard called.

  A second later, Taron clamped a hand over his nose and mouth, cutting off his air supply. The man struggled briefly, but Taron pinched the nerves in the back of his neck, rendering him unconscious. Fools, their armor wasn’t even activated. They were so secure in their superiority, they hadn’t thought a Rendian might arrive to help the humans.

  Taron’s own armor glinted lightly at his wrists, and he wished now he’d shed the bulkier clothes he’d piled over it. Judging by the sounds of the men inside, there were at least three more in the room at the end of the hall.

  He needed to find Adriana and get out of there. He didn’t dare press the guard’s cuff to the door panel—if it beeped, it would alert the soldiers at the wrong moment. If Adriana and Steven were locked in that room, they were better off staying safe inside it.

  He neared the door at the end of the hall, trying to decide on a strategy. If he barged in, he’d have the element of surprise, but he didn’t know the layout of the room. Instead, he lifted his fist and banged it on a metal panel inlaid in the stone; it made enough noise that the conversation in the room stopped.

  “Keep him quiet, Keeve,” a voice grumbled.

  Taron banged again. Come on, check what’s going on.

  And there was the first soldier, appearing at the door. Taron slashed his spear low, catching the man below the knees, tripping him up. He went flying, his arms flailing, and crashed to the floor with a dull thud.

  This was enough to get his fellows’ attention. Taron stayed in the corridor to prevent them from attacking him all at once. If they did, they would only get in each other’s way. Fists flew, power sparked from the soldiers’ spears, and Taron narrowly avoided getting decapitated by a big brute of a man who bellowed and threw himself into the battle with the ferocity of a horeen.

  Then Taron caught a glimpse of Adriana through the door. She was lying on a large table in the middle of the room, unconscious or even dead, half her clothes missing.

  Taron’s world narrowed down to a single thought: Kill them all. He saw the strikes against him in slow motion, rage fueling his strength, and he flicked the power of his spear up to deadly, determined to end this fast. These country soldiers were no match for him—the general himself had trained him, and Lhett was never known to be kind to his brothers in sparring sessions.

  A cut here, and blue blood splashed across his gray wool jacket. A stab there, and a body crumpled to the floor, a charred hole where an eye used to be. The last soldier tried to flee, but Taron stabbed the coward from behind, severing his spine. His jaw clenched tight, Taron stepped over the bodies to the unconscious soldier slumped in his chair, and plunged his spear into his heart. He’d said he ‘wanted a turn with her,’ and the thought was enough to freeze the blood in Taron’s veins.

  Breathing hard—not from the strain of fighting but from the rage that gripped his insides—he crept forward, checking the corners of the room first for any hidden soldiers. There were none, and no other exits from the room.

  Only then did he allow himself to focus on Adriana. Her small body rested on the table, her warm jacket and pullover gone, only a thin sleeveless top covering her torso. Her leather pants were obviously just being removed; her lower legs were still covered, but her panties peeked out above.

  Taron checked her pulse and was reassured by the warmth of her skin, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. She was alive.

  He gathered her close, held her for what could have been minutes or hours, relief coursing through him. Burying his face in her unbound hair, he inhaled her sweet scent, letting it soothe his bloodlust.

  She didn’t stir. A large round welt had formed on the side of her belly button where the shock from a spear must have struck her. He didn’t dare touch it; the skin was pink and tender, and he didn’t want to hurt her.

  He’d have to call the human doctor and ask him for instructions on how to treat this. If she were Rendian, he’d press some snow onto the blister, but with humans, who were so warm, he had no idea.

  But they needed to get out of there first. Taron dressed her gently, forcing her limp arms through sleeves and tugging up her pants. Boots followed—he didn’t dare take her outside without serious insulation, even for the short trek to his airship.

  At last, he pulled her red beanie over her head and lifted her in his arms. Her warm weight felt good against him, and he finally allowed himself a deep breath, the first since he’d discovered she was missing.

  He was walking down the corridor, weaving between dead bodies on the floor, when a groan from behind a door had him pausing. There it was again, a grunt from the room off the hall. Placing Adriana gently on the floor, he unhooked his spear from his belt and tapped the stolen handcuff on the door panel.

  The room was a holding cell, currently occupied by none other than Steven, the human soldier. For a moment, Taron was tempted to leave him there, chained in the corner like some animal, but he had need of him elsewhere. Even if he’d failed to protect Adriana and had been instrumental in her escape from the capital.

  Either the soldier hadn’t been hit as hard as her or his larger physique allowed him faster recovery, but Steven was definitely stirring while
Adriana was still unconscious. Taron cast around for the keys to the chains and found them strapped to a dead guard’s belt. The blue blood that had pooled around his body was already congealing, turning viscous and dark, and Taron wiped the keys as best he could before unlocking the human. Still, his palms were blue by the time he was finished, and he wanted nothing more than to scrub himself of the filth of these soldiers.

  He had to slap Steven awake, and the man twitched uncontrollably from the effects of the spear’s shock.

  “You’ll be fine in a couple of hours,” Taron assured him as he offered him a hand to get up.

  Steven didn’t accept it—and even glared at him, at the guards lying dead on the floor. Then his gaze snagged on Adriana, and he leaped forward, probably to check on her.

  Taron grabbed him by his hood. “Don’t touch her.”

  Steven flailed before getting his feet under him. “What the hell did you do to her?”

  Rage boiled inside Taron, rage at this insignificant lump of meat whose idiocy had nearly cost Adriana her life.

  “I didn’t do anything. You did this—you almost got her killed. Raped.” The soldier paled, but Taron rolled on. “You flew into this territory with your headlights blazing, didn’t you? Did you even stop to think who might be watching? I don’t know what training soldiers receive on Earth, but our children would have known better.”

  Steven opened his mouth and closed it again. “Dr. Ribeiro said…” He swallowed. “She said it was safe. But I shouldn’t have gone in blind,” he added, hanging his head.

  Taron picked up Adriana and carefully settled her against his chest. He stood over Steven, watching him for a second, then jerked his chin toward the door. “Come on. I have a job for you.” If the human could do this one thing right, Taron would consider forgiving him.

  They descended into the courtyard, where they located the guard station’s own small aircraft. Taron arranged Adriana so she sat propped up against the wall, her head nodding to the side. He tried to stamp down his worry; she’d been stunned, so it was normal for her to be unconscious. Then he pried open the engine compartment and removed a thin yellow wire from the control panel. He launched it as far as he could and watched it disappear in a snowdrift. It wouldn’t ruin the ship but it would prevent anyone from using this ship to track them.

  Steven stood next to him, gaping at the ship’s gently pulsating nuclear core. “Is this…is it safe?” He glanced at the snowdrift and swallowed. “Are we going to get radiation poisoning?”

  Taron snorted. “Of course not. We’re not idiots.”

  “And the…” The soldier pointed back at the guard house. “The bodies?”

  “We leave them here. We cannot linger. I opened the doors and windows, so if we’re lucky, scavengers will come to feast and destroy some of the evidence.” He’d been careful not to get cut, and for once, the brutal weather might work in their favor, wiping away any trace of Adriana and Steven. And if not… Well, he couldn’t worry about that now.

  Then a thought occurred to him, and he turned toward the guard house. There were two more guards locked in there, unconscious, but they’d be waking up sooner or later, and that door wasn’t going to hold them back forever. They hadn’t seen him when he’d attacked them, but they would raise the alarm, and soon this place would be crawling with soldiers.

  “There’s something more I need to do.”

  He strode over to the guard house and blasted through the lock with several concentrated pulses of his weapon. Then he stared at the two soldiers on the floor.

  They weren’t among the ones who’d been undressing Adriana, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t have participated in the act. And they were witnesses he couldn’t let live.

  Steven touched his arm. “Let me.”

  Taron glanced at the human; his face had gone hard, and his lips were pressed together. But he nodded and inclined his head toward Adriana. “Go get her.”

  Taron turned his back on the guard house without a second thought and strode forward to get his woman. From behind, he heard first one electric zzwap and then another. The human soldier had done as he’d promised.

  Taron hoisted Adriana back into his arms and pressed his nose against her cheek; her skin was going cold, he realized with alarm. He needed to get her to safety, and fast.

  Steven joined him at the hover sled. “Will this take all three of us?” he asked.

  “No.”

  The soldier frowned. “What?”

  “I have a ship half a mile from here. I’m taking Adriana, and you’re returning to the city as soon as the storm blows over.” For a moment, Steven looked like he might object, but he fell silent at the glower Taron leveled at him. “You will return to the last village—you should reach it before the worst of the snow. Find shelter wherever you can, and don’t freeze to death. I don’t care how you do it. Then you’ll race back and pretend you and Adriana never left the city. You were sick, stuck in your room the entire day.”

  Then he explained the bare bones of what had happened to the late king. Steven’s broad, honest face paled at the story, and finally, Taron was convinced the soldier understood the gravity of the situation.

  “Is that where all the villagers are?” Steven asked. “At the mines?”

  “Most likely.” Taron hoped it was so—and not something more sinister. “Earthlings will die if the truth about your trip is revealed. The regent can’t afford for this news to get out, because the Intergalactic Trade Association would remove him immediately. Accidents would happen out in the snow, no doubt,” he added to drive the point home. “Report to no one but my brothers, is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir.” Steven’s hand twitched at his side. “Are you sure… Will she be safe?”

  Taron growled at him, would have slammed him against the wall if he weren’t holding Adriana’s limp form. “She’s mine to protect.”

  A muscle jumped in the soldier’s jaw before he nodded. “You seem like an honorable man. But if anything happens to her, we will come after you. I don’t care how big you are.”

  Taron snorted. “I’d like to see you try.”

  Steven watched him for a moment longer, then turned to the hover sled. Within seconds, he was zooming off and was swallowed by the swirling snow.

  Despite everything, Taron wished him luck. If his part of the plan failed, they were all doomed—search parties would be organized, and the regent would know Taron’s crew didn’t have enough control over the human delegation. And only ancestors knew what he would do next.

  So he sent a prayer to the sky, for the human and for Adriana. Then he clutched her tight to his chest, tucking her face into the crook of his neck, and carried her into the night.

  14

  Adriana

  She woke, and the world was upside down. A gradual awareness crept in, pain blooming in her abdomen, and cold, freezing cold, announcing where she was. Rendu. The swaying took her longer to decode, the crunch of snow, the fact that she was indeed hanging…she was staring at someone’s back.

  Adriana gasped, struggling. Instinctual fear washed over her, and she kicked and flailed, connecting with a body impossibly, unnaturally strong—until suddenly, hands gripped her around the waist and she sailed through the air, landing in a soft, cushy pile of snow.

  “Oof!” Adriana wiped her face, spitting, and looked up to find Taron scowling above her. Oh. Oh, shit.

  “I can explain.” The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. Memories came back to her in flashes, the empty villages, footsteps in the snow. Damn it, Ribeiro. She’d been careless, reckless. Too certain nothing bad could ever happen to her. And now…

  She glanced around, panic spiking inside her again. “Where’s Steven? We have to go get Steven!”

  Taron’s disgusted grimace was no answer at all, but he didn’t say a word, only reached down to tug her to her feet. He didn’t let go of her hand and nearly dragged her behind him, so she had to half skip to keep pace with hi
s long strides.

  “Taron, I’m sorry, but we have to go back. We can’t just leave him there. He’s a good man, he’s got a mother who cares about him—”

  “He already left.” Taron’s voice was cold, the words clipped and angry.

  “What do you mean, he left?” She struggled against his grip, trying to get him to stop, but he showed no signs of slowing. “Wait, what about the soldiers? What happened?”

  Ignoring all her questions, he led them behind a cluster of rocks—an airship stood in front of them, covered with two inches of snow. Taron poked a sequence of steely buttons, and the door to the cabin slid open, revealing a small cockpit with four worn cushioned seats and a cramped cargo hold behind them.

  “Get in.” Taron glanced away from her, his expression unbearably devoid of emotion.

  When she waited for him to explain, to tell her something, he went to grab her waist again, no doubt to throw her inside. “Wait, stop,” she gasped. “I’ll go by myself.”

  He let her climb aboard, then strapped her into a seat with the fast, efficient movements of a man who had done this a hundred times before. Hoisting himself up, he closed the door and slid into the front seat.

  Adriana leaned forward, unable to quell her curiosity. “Where are we going?”

  No answer from him. Instead, he put his palms on the pad in front of him, and the ship juddered to life. The panel glowed, illuminating Taron’s face with green light, making him seem even more unearthly. His strong jaw was shadowed, the planes of his cheekbones sharp and proud. She couldn’t see his eyes—and her insides clenched at the realization that he hadn’t looked her in the eyes even once since she’d woken up.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I’m sorry I left, Taron.”