Her Alien Alpha (Salvaged Hearts Book 1)

by Leslie Chase

  “Um.” Alice’s voice again, hesitant and frightened. “Sorry, Boss, but it turns out Michaela took more of a beating than we thought. We need to get her to sickbay right away.”

  Well, shit. I looked at Syrcen out of the corner of my eye. His crocodile smile hinted at awfulness and he twirled his heavy knife in front of my eyes.

  No. Not his knife. I recognized it now, that was Michaela’s monomolecular sword. A sword in her hands, anyway — in the Drall’s meaty fists it looked a lot smaller, like a big dagger. I hit the comm switch, shutting out the rest of the crew.

  “What did you do to her?”

  “Nothing much,” he said, smug and arrogant. “She’ll be fine. Walked in on me while I was looking for weapons, so I shut her up. Keep cooperating and I’ll let your medic fix her.”

  Crap crap crap. That was my one hope gone, and now I was screwed. At least everyone agreed Michaela was alive, that was better than it could have been.

  “Sure, fine,” I babbled. It wasn’t hard to sound scared, the trick was not sounding angry. Who knew how he’d react to that? “I’ll get them moving.”

  My mind raced, trying to find another trick, another ploy, something. Anything to save us. But we were at Syrcen’s mercy here — Michaela was the toughest of us and he’d already beaten her.

  I will not let him kill my crew without a fight, I resolved. I might not achieve anything, but at least I’d die knowing I’d done everything possible to protect my crew.

  With a deep breath, I resigned myself to death. Maybe, just maybe, I’d be able to take him with me. It wasn’t likely, but if I could reach the airlock controls, open both doors together, we’d get blown out into the vacuum beyond.

  He’d kill me. No doubt about it, that knife would slice me apart. But with that tear in his suit, he’d die with me. That was the best deal available, and even that was a long shot.

  It was all I had.

  Before I lost my nerve, I pulled my legs up and kicked at the airlock controls. The two doors shouldn’t both open at the same time, but Syrcen’s attack had disabled the safeties. My boot hit both buttons at once, and the air rushed out in a hurricane.

  Goodbye, Delkor, I thought as the rush of air carried us toward the open doors. But Syrcen was faster, stronger than I’d guessed. Rather than being carried away on the howling wind, he grabbed a handhold and roared defiance. I slipped from his grip, forgotten in his desperate attempt to save himself, tumbling toward the airlock and my death.

  22

  Delkor

  A torrent of air blew out of the Ladies’ Choice as I pulled myself toward the airlock. I forced myself into the storm and through it, clambering inside.

  And there they were. Syrcen and my mate. He clung to his blade in one hand, a handhold with the other, leaving him nothing to hold the split in his suit closed.

  Carrie tumbled across the floor toward the airlock, and I caught her, reaching out to slam the inner door switch as I held her to me. The hurricane cut off abruptly, its roar replaced by the whine of the ship’s air systems straining to replace the lost atmosphere.

  Syrcen staggered to his feet, turning and raising his blade. I ignored him, checking Carrie quickly. Thank the Black Sky, she had a full spacesuit on. That meant she’d been protected from the vacuum. She looked up at me through the visor of her helmet, eyes shining bright and cheeks flushed. I’d never seen anything so beautiful, and I wished I had time to free her from that suit, kiss and worship her, spread her beneath me.

  But our enemy yet lived. Forcing myself to put Carrie down, I braced myself for the next battle. Hopefully the last.

  Carrie stepped behind me, putting me between her and harm. Good girl, you’ve done enough already. Now it’s my turn.

  I’d heard every word my mate said over the radio, my makeshift comm giving my implants the range to connect with the humans’ network. If only I’d been able to answer — but without air I couldn’t speak. I’d heard her warn her friends, and them planning to aid her. Their plan was brave, complicated, and dangerous. My own was simpler, more direct, and more likely to work: I’d fight Syrcen and kill him for threatening my mate.

  Staring into the Drall’s eyes, we gauged each other’s condition. Both of us needed to recover from our vacuum exposure, but I didn’t want to give him time to think of some coward’s trick.

  As soon as I had enough strength, I charged, aiming to use my speed to overwhelm him. Syrcen’s deadly blade flashed as he brought it around in a defensive cut. A mono-edged sword: with his strength behind it that would cut through almost anything without slowing, Caibar skin included.

  But not the super-metal the Empire used for our implants. I blocked the cut, sparks flying from my wrist where Syrcen hit, and punched.

  His suit was armored, saving his ribs, but the impact threw him back. Seeing him stagger, I slashed with my tail, hoping to end the fight quickly. For all his bulk, the Drall was as fast as anyone I’d fought, and clever — instead of rushing back in, he let momentum take him off his feet. Hitting the deck he rolled out of danger, slicing at my tail as it passed overhead.

  The blade was so sharp that the hit didn’t even hurt. For a moment I thought he’d missed entirely, but then blood sprayed in a wide arc. The bladed tip of my tail hung limp, almost severed, useless.

  The pain hit, a searing agony that I shunted aside. Claws flashing, I roared and closed in again. Syrcen’s knife flicked out, parrying my metal hand with a shower of sparks. Something caught, the blade snagging in metal, and I couldn’t pull my arm free.

  My left-hand attack fared no better. Syrcen blocked, grabbed hold of my wrist, twisted my arms out of the way. Both his hands were occupied with mine — if my tail still functioned, I’d have sliced him apart. Instead, he had the advantage, opening his huge maw to bite.

  Jagged teeth snapped at my face, and I barely pulled back far enough to avoid them. Syrcen’s grip on my arm was like an iron vice, and he pressed forward, keeping my arms trapped. As soon as he got me against a wall, the fight would be over.

  Something flew past me, slamming into the Drall’s face with an angry hiss as he came in for another bite. A bundle of razor claws and needle teeth tore at Syrcen, who reared back away from his tiny attacker.

  Munchkin yowled a battlecry, slashing at Syrcen’s eyes, and Syrcen let go of me to grab the kitten. Before his hand closed on the cat, I raked my claws across his face and planted a foot in his chest. One hard kick and the three of us flew apart.

  I sent a silent prayer of thanks to the cat. A small warrior but a mighty one nonetheless, he’d saved us.

  Standing took more effort than it should, and my vision grayed. Beside me, Carrie gasped, her face white.

  “Your tail,” she whispered, as though only now noticing the trail of blood. I flashed her a forced grin.

  “I have survived worse wounds.” That was true, though the last one had taken an arm. And the many battles I’d fought today had taken their toll: that one wound didn’t worry me as much as the dozens of minor ones.

  None of which needed to concern my beloved. I’d win this fight for her, and the rest would wait. As long as she survived, all was well.

  Syrcen was on his feet again too, wary of the two of us. But losing blood as I was, he didn’t have to win, just outlast me. Oxygen deprivation, blood loss, and the battering I’d taken outside; together they left me draining fast.

  Sooner rather than later, I’d lose enough speed that my enemy would be able to land a killing blow.

  So? Win the fight fast then, I told myself, and rushed him.

  Few people have ever faced a charging Caibar with nothing to lose. I threw all my reserves into the attack, holding nothing back, and Syrcen’s eyes widened as I closed on him. My vision grayed, I lost focus on everything else but him, and lunged.

  Syrcen’s knife stabbed at my stomach, positioned so I’d impale myself if I ran straight at him. My right hand grabbed the blade, monomolecular edge biting into metal fingers, and I pulle
d it aside.

  His thrust slid through my grip, point striking my upper arm and stabbing through the metal. A shower of sparks and pulses of agony told me the cyborg mechanism no longer worked. I ignored the pain, slamming a devastating punch into the Drall’s face as he opened his jaws for a bite.

  His legs went out from under him, and we tumbled to the deck. Somewhere, distantly, Carrie screamed something. I felt a vague satisfaction — if she was shouting, she was alive, I was winning.

  Punishing, powerful punches slammed into my ribs. Syrcen was a coward, but with his life on the line he knew how to use his strength. I ignored them, ignored the crack of snapping ribs, concentrating on destroying my foe. My claws bit into thick, leathery skin, leaving wounds would take too long to kill him.

  Our tumble ended with him pinning me to the deck. Each of us had one arm immobilized, struggling for control of the knife imbedded in my metal limb. My blood-stained claws tore at his face, reopening the wounds I’d left on him in our first encounter.

  He reared back, howling in pain, and the knife imbedded in my arm slipped from his grasp. His jaws opened wide as I reached across to grab the hilt with my good hand, pulled it free, and cut.

  We both froze, eyes meeting. My vision blurred, depth perception fading, and perhaps it was the blood loss, but I’d swear I saw into his soul. A long strange moment as we both wondered if I’d hit or missed, and then the wound across his throat opened.

  The jealous, fearful anger died in his eyes, and a strange peace replaced it. Or maybe I imagined that, in the moments before he slumped sideways and fell to the deck.

  I relaxed, the monoblade falling from my fingers as I lay back. Even breathing seemed like too much effort now. My eyes flickered shut. Just a moment’s rest, I told myself. You’ve won.

  “Delkor,” someone said from a great distance. She sounded upset, though I didn’t know why. I wished I could reassure her that everything would be alright but talking was too much effort. Peace spread through me as I listened to that golden voice, and the world around me faded to darkness.

  Muddled impressions of movement, more voices. Shouting, then more quiet. Why did they all sound so worried? Everything was fine.

  Something stabbed into my arm and a cold wakefulness shot through me. My eyes flicked open and I tried to sit up, only to find heavy straps restraining me.

  “Oh thank fuck,” Carrie said, tear-stained face hovering above me. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  Other voices, irrelevant voices, spoke in the background. Something about ‘blood compatibility’ and ‘skin patches’ and ‘organ damage’ — nothing important compared to my mate’s presence. I squeezed her hand tight.

  “Never, beloved,” I promised, weakening quickly. “I will never leave you.”

  The blackness closed over me again, like a warm bath.

  The next time I woke, things were less hectic. Opening my eyes a crack, I glanced around the dimly lit room. Despite the low light I recognized the Ladies’ Choice’s sickbay and relaxed a fraction.

  I ran a quick inventory of myself. Flexing my muscles, measuring my heartbeat, checking without moving, just as my training had drilled into me. ‘Know your condition before you show anyone you’re awake,’ the instructors taught us. ‘That way if you’re a captive, you’ll at least have some advantage.’

  My muscles ached all over, weak from over exertion. Trying to move my tail hurt. My cyberarm reported half function. And it felt like I hadn’t eaten in days.

  But despite all that, despite the cuts and bruises, I smiled. First, because no shackles bound me to the bed. Second, because I wasn’t alone, and I had no difficulty recognizing the breathing I heard.

  Opening my eyes, I saw Carrie sat slumped in a chair near the bed. Her eyes shut, she breathed in cute little snores. My smile widened and I sat up to get a better look, wincing at the pain that caused my ribs. But I’d been down long enough for the healing to begin and someone had patched me up. I wasn’t about to let my injuries stop me from going to my mate.

  Sliding one foot out of the bed, then the other, I took a breath and stood. I can do this.

  One step put an end to my arrogance. My weakened muscles gave way beneath my weight and I slumped to the floor in an ungainly heap.

  Okay. This is fine. I just need to get up before Carrie sees what a fool she’s mated to.

  That thought barely crossed my mind before she muttered something sleepily and stirred from her slumber. Damn it.

  “Delkor!” Carrie’s voice was loud enough to make me wince. She was by my side before I’d responded, and I couldn’t help laughing.

  “Don’t worry, this is an ancient Caibar healing practice,” I said, grinning and pulling myself up. Carrie hurried to my side and helped me back onto the bed.

  “I knew you wouldn’t want to rest when you woke up, but this is ridiculous,” she told me, kissing my forehead. “You’ve already almost died saving me. There’s no need to prove how tough you are again.”

  I grumbled half-heartedly, leaning back against the bed’s headboard. The bed itself was too small for me: sized for humans, there was no way I’d be able to stretch out on it.

  But with Carrie sitting on its edge, her hand in mine, it felt like the most luxurious place imaginable. I drew a deep breath — good, yes, no damage to my lungs — and smiled at my mate.

  “Mere injuries will not keep me from your side,” I told her. Her lips twitched as she suppressed a smile and shook her head.

  “Your injuries won’t heal if you keep dragging yourself out of bed. Jen says you’re healing faster than she expected but given that when we dragged you in here she didn’t think you’d survive, that isn’t saying much.”

  I chuckled. “She’s not treated a Caibar warrior before, has she? Anything we survive, we heal from fast.”

  “Riiiight,” Carrie said, tapping my cyberarm. “Sure, you never take a lasting wound.”

  “There are, I admit, exceptions.” Now that she’d drawn my attention to it, I looked over the damage. Syrcen’s monoblade had gouged through the outer metal and into the delicate mechanisms beneath. Precise movement was impossible, and the claws wouldn’t extend.

  A problem for later, I told myself, putting aside the question of where I’d find the parts. For now, it worked well enough — I gripped Carrie’s wrist and pulled her down to me.

  “Hey,” she protested, giggling, as she fell on top of me. “What’s the big idea? You want to break your ribs again?”

  “Just testing the damage to my arm,” I told her, as innocently as I could manage. “And you know what I want.”

  Her breath caught, her cheeks flushed, her eyes flashed. I put my hand on the back of her head and, with careful strength, pulled her down into a kiss.

  The first kiss since my return from death, and it was as wonderful as anything I’d ever dreamed of. My beloved’s body pressed against me, her single heart racing and her mouth hungry on mine. Everything faded into the background, the discomfort, the pain, the weakness of my muscles.

  I had Carrie in my arms and that was enough.

  Eventually Carrie had to break for air, panting and trembling. Her fingers trailed across my chest as I smiled up at her, and I reached for the zipper of her jumpsuit.

  And then the door slid open.

  “See, this is why I didn’t want you camping here, boss,” Jen said from the doorway, hands on her hips. “For god’s sake, do you want to break his ribs again?”

  Carrie muttered something under her breath, face going red. I growled, looking up at the diminutive medic. She held my gaze.

  “Look, maybe you don’t care about your wellbeing, but I do. It’s my job. And as long as you’re in my sickbay, you’ll follow my rules.”

  I wasn’t used to people ignoring my glare, but the medic didn’t seem phased by it. Carrie pulled a face and then, with a regretful sigh, she stood and stepped away from me.

  I growled, delighting in the shiver that went through her, but she shook
her head.

  “Jen’s right,” my mate said. “You need to rest and recover before we, uh, do any strenuous exercise.”

  For a moment I considered promising to take it easy, but both humans would see through that lie. When I got my hands on Carrie, nothing would restrain me from taking her as forcefully as I could.

  As though she read my mind, Carrie’s blush deepened and she bit her lip, hurrying out of the room. An overwhelming urge to pursue her gripped me, almost forcing me out of bed again.

  “You’ll get your chance,” Jen said, barring my way and shaking her head. “Quicker if you don’t aggravate your injuries by running around before you’re ready.”

  I sank back onto the bed, grumbling. She was right, I knew that — even the Imperial medics would have kept me off duty for a day or two to recover. That didn’t make accepting it any easier. I tried to distract myself, find something else to think about.

  “What’s the prognosis, Doctor?”

  “How should I know?” Jen’s gruff voice sounded almost amused. “I’ve never treated a Caibar. You seem to be recovering well, though. Those ribs would have a human out of action for a month, even with modern medical care. Yours seem to be fusing together already. I think the main thing you need is fuel, you’ve burned a lot of energy fighting and healing, so here. Better than a drip.”

  She handed me a concentrated protein bar that looked like it was a holdover from the rebellion. As soon as I saw it, I felt ravenous, and I snatched it from her grasp.

  “You don’t need to take my hand off, there are more where that came from,” she said, checking readings on the display beside my bed. “But you’ve been without solid food for a couple of days, so let’s see how your stomach copes with one before you stuff yourself with them.”

  I was too busy eating to argue. Ration bars never taste good, but I enjoyed this one more than any I’d ever eaten. Not because the flavor improved with age, but because it brought me closer to leaving sickbay and seeing Carrie again.