Devil In Exile: A Scifi Alien Mates Romance Novel (Warriors Of Elysius Book 1)
Page 13
She will sense how close she is and flip herself over. I am prepared for this. In another second, she has flipped and opened her shells wide, ready to clamp down and sever my head from my body or possibly snap me through my torso. The moment that gaping maw becomes visible, I do not retreat, I dive forward, placing my entire body within the shell’s center just as it snaps shut.
Though I am surrounded by darkness, I do not hesitate to flex my claws and shred her soft insides, starting in the center of the shell where the tissue is the thickest. A wild shriek echoes within, but I am relentless, eviscerating this fierce creature. It is difficult to stay rooted to the spot as the chuktah flips and turns. I must dig my claws from my feet and hands into the flesh and rip, holding onto the base of the chuktah’s anatomy for balance.
She does another vicious spin, and I am thrown through the water, hitting the roof of the shell with a hard thud. It isn’t enough to hurt me, but a bit of my own air is knocked from me, cutting my supply much shorter than is good. I estimate I have about three minutes left before this situation becomes desperate. Fortunately, she is in her last death throes, and soon she ceases her violent movements. I float within her mouth for a moment before shaking myself. The adult is dead, but she did not open up her shells after death as I had hoped.
I swim, feeling my way around her shell until my claws come to the area where the top shell meets the bottom. I dig my claws into the seam, attempting to pry them open, but they do not budge. I dig in again, using all the strength and might I have as an Elysium Warrior, and still I cannot pry open her heavy shells. My thoughts become less focused, and I feel light-headed. I do not have much time left.
I cannot fail my Ada, but I fear I already have.
※※※※
Ada
I’d like to personally smack the living shit out of Kyllell for distracting me with that mind-numbing, panty-melting kiss, but by the time I get my bearings back he’s already disappeared under the water.
He will hear an earful from me the minute he gets back.
I pace the deck, feeling some serious apprehension even though I’m aware that Kyllell is a very capable, dangerous alien in his own right. Still, this doesn’t sit well with me. He was very cagey about the nature of what he faced. From what little he described, I get the feeling we’re dealing with some monstrous-sized clam or oyster. Not really sure how an oyster or a clam, even in giant form, can be dangerous, but I don’t doubt his word on that. I just don’t understand it, and I hate playing the waiting game, sitting on the sidelines, letting someone else take all the risks. I’m the captain, dammit. I’m the one who takes the risks.
The wait is absolutely unbearable until it’s interrupted by air bubbles breaking the surface. I lean over the side of the boat and gaze down into the crystal clear water below only to cover my mouth in horror.
My stupid, sexy devil did some serious understating when he described a giant clam. This thing is easily the size of three of our vessels and it’s spinning round and round, viciously twirling as a dark substance leaks from the seam where the two shells are clamped together. I try to search for Kyllell through all that sand and inky fluid, but I’m not seeing him at all. I have no idea where he is.
The vessel jolts against the waves that this struggling clam thing—whatever—is kicking up as it spins. I grab hold of the side, nearly plunging into the water when I lose my balance. The giant clam spins a few more times until it begins to slow down, then it just stops, gradually sinking to the ocean floor below.
And I still don’t see my alien.
I run to the cabin of the ship, looking for something that might help me breathe under water, something that might help me, at the very least, keep a visual under there. There has to be something like that on these vessels. I go through boxes of items I don’t recognize until I stumble upon some strange lenses that could pass for goggles if they weren’t attached to some crazy-ass helmet with spikes jutting out. It looks like a motorcycle helmet with a thick visor. Fashionable, it is not…and…like I care. I quickly secure it to my head, relieved that I can see clearly through the lenses. I grab the knife he left me, move to the edge of the boat, and jump right in.
I take in a few deep breaths to get more oxygen to my blood, but I don’t have much time. I don’t think Kyllell has much time, either. I hold my breath then dive below, immediately happy with how effective the goggles are. I swim down as fast as I can, using the narrowed, pointed end of the helmet to slice through water with more precision. I try to adjust to the pressure and the popping in my ears, but I don’t really have time to stop like I should. Fortunately, it isn’t too deep, and I’m able to swim right to the enormous clam…thingy…at the bottom of the pool. I check the area, looking for Kyllell, hoping against hope that he’s anywhere other than where I think he is. I swim around the lips of the clam, searching for a way to pry it open. I nearly inhale water when I see the creature jolt in place. Then a thin, black claw momentarily slips through the seam before retreating back into the shell. I’d know that black, retractable claw anywhere.
Dammit, Kyllell. There’s no way anyone can pry open a clam the size of a school bus.
I quickly swim to the surface, needing more air in my lungs before I try to swim down and force the Godzilla-sized clam open. I feel sick to my stomach, knowing how difficult this is going to be. I’m pretty strong, but not killer-clam strong. It’s hard enough for me to open little clams and oysters with a knife. Prying open something this size? That thing is locked tight, but there has to be a solution. I’m not going to let Kyllell die.
My turn to save him.
It’s an empowering thought. I just hope I can deliver.
I’m not nervous about diving. I’m a strong swimmer, and the ocean is pretty much my life, but I’d be an idiot if I didn’t mentally prepare myself for some serious difficulty. I take a few deep breaths and hold it, then I dive down again, swimming frantically toward the damn clam. I began to swim around it, looking for some kind of weakness within the seam. There has to be a little hole or a crack, some damaged area I can work on.
I swim round to the back and nearly inhale again due to my surprise. At the back of the clam—at the hinge?—there is a line of pink, soft looking material. I swim toward the edge of it, take my knife, and begin to saw through the flesh. The soft tissue gives way immediately as I continue to cut down the line, making sure I’m hacking at the entire hinge. I have to resurface once more, replenish my air supply, and dive back down before I’m able to cut my way down the line, but when I finish, the results are killer.
Literally.
A rush of bubbles envelopes me, and I hear a muffled sucking noise, like a suction cup releasing from a flat surface. The top shell pops open and begins to fling backward toward me. I use the floor to push myself to the side before it can crush me, thanking my lucky stars that I wasn’t positioned smack dab in the middle of the hinge. I manage to clear most of it, but the edge of the shell cracks down on my left leg.
I hold my breath through pure will power, blinking back tears even though my leg is throbbing.
Shit.
My pain recedes to the background when I see Kyllell floating in a mess of pink tissue and inky fluids. I force myself to ignore the pain in my tibia and haltingly swim in a sideways motion toward him, trying to spare my leg in the process. I get to him just as I’m about ready to pass out, but I can’t resurface and come back for him. He’ll be dead by then if he isn’t already.
My heart nearly rips in two at that thought. I can’t lose this guy. Not because I want him to help me with my crew, but because I need him.
I need him.
I…care for him.
I swim behind him and wrap my arm around his torso. Using my good leg, I push up from the bottom, but he is so heavy I don’t get as much momentum as I need. We’re barely inching our way up, and I’m seeing black dots, but I keep going, keep pushing, keep swimming.
Just keep swimming, just keep swimming.
I finally shove the stupid helmet off my head and feel lighter for it. We break the surface, barely, but I lose my grip on him for a second as I frantically take in air. I have to dive really fast to catch him before he slips below again. I get behind him and link my arm around his torso, pulling him to the surface, heading for the vessel a few feet away.
Once I get to the side of the ship, I’ve got an even bigger problem on my hands. I have no idea how I’m going to get him in the boat.
My leg is throbbing something fierce at this point, and my arm is cramping from holding it around his massive frame. I use the edge of the boat to pull us toward the rocky outcroppings where I see a small, beachy area that I can swim to. I should have been heading there first. Instead, I wasted precious seconds trying to get on the vessel. I gracelessly swim us over to the shore, and the minute my feet hit the sandy bottom, I’m tugging and pulling my alien until I can rest him on his back without the risk of water covering his face.
Has he ever been given CPR?
Do Elysiums do this type of thing?
I figure the basics will apply. I begin thirty chest compressions before administering two rescue breaths.
“Come on you dumb, dumb, dummy! I need you to wake the hell up.”
I do it again. Thirty chest compressions and two rescue breaths, but I don’t see anything change. He’s not breathing. I can’t find a pulse anywhere, not that I know where to check, and his coloring looks paler than it should.
I begin to pound on his chest in frustration as tears sting my eyes, and the burn of debilitating loss scorches the back of my throat.
“I. Need. You. To. Live. You. Stupid. Sexy. Alien!”
I grab his arms and shake him. I grab his face and slap it as hard as I can, angry that he didn’t tell me what he was really up against, angry that he didn’t let me help him, angry that he managed to awaken my dead heart, angry that I feel everything now, and he’s not here to let me chew him out for it.
Angry that he’s abandoned me like this.
Tears are streaming down my cheeks as I fall against his chest, caressing his brow and rubbing his horns, knowing he would have loved that if he were with me right now.
“Please, come back to me,” I whisper. “I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to be without you.”
A large hand flattens against my lower back, and I lift my head in surprise. Bright golden eyes focus in on me, fierce in their intensity, with a molten heat I’ve been aching to see, melting me in place.
“You’ll never be without me, my Ada. You are mine, and I am yours.”
He quickly flips us over, pressing my back into the sand as he leans over me and delivers another one of his glorious kisses. I’m frantic with need as I kiss him back. I have no idea how he’s still alive or which parts of my crazed attempts at CPR managed to resuscitate him, but I can’t even think straight anymore. My staggering relief coupled with this urgent need completely takes over, and the cold, hard walls around my heart shatter.
I’m at his mercy, surrendering to him in a way I’ve never surrendered to anyone.
And it’s utter bliss.
He delves his tongue into my mouth, working my tongue with his in tantalizing swipes and swirls. I can’t seem to get close enough to him as I wrap my arms around his neck and hang on as tightly as possible. I’m ready to throw caution to the wind, not to mention several articles of clothing, when the intensity of his kiss begins to wan.
He pulls back, his face crazed with the same crushing need I feel. His horns are black, standing at attention, pulsing as hard as his cock beneath his leggings that press against my thigh. I whimper in protest at this sudden withdrawal, but he misreads my signals.
“I am sorry. I will stop. I promised I would help you, and I will. I will not overstep my bounds again.”
I grab his horns roughly and pull him closer to me.
“I want you to take me now.”
His eyes widen and he shakes his head, but I see the tension in his flexed arm muscles and the tick in his jaw. “Not like this. Not when you feel nothing for me but lust. I want more than that. I want more from you.”
“But—”
He raises a finger to my lips, gently silencing me. “Not until this is more than just sex. More than just attraction. Can you honestly say you’re in love with me, Ada?”
I swallow hard, knowing I care for him deeply, but way too afraid to jump into the deep end and start throwing out the L word. I like him. I…like…the word isn’t strong enough for what I feel, but I can’t express it right now. My hesitation and confusion bring a sadness to his eyes I immediately curse myself for. I want to wipe that discouragement from his face, but he’s already moving away. He gets to his feet and offers me his hand.
I inhale deeply before letting a heavy breath loose. His hand inches closer and I take it, allowing him to pull me to my feet, taking care to press my weight on my right leg. I wrap my arms around his torso and rest my head against his bare chest before he can do anything else.
“I thought I’d lost you. I thought you were dead. I was trying to save you, but nothing seemed to be working. Not even the CPR.”
His chest rumbles with a low chuckle as his arms go around me. He rubs my back in a soothing gesture. “Is that what that heavy pounding on my chest was all about? Pummeling the injured does not seem like the appropriate approach for healing.”
I let out a short laugh. “I thought you had inhaled water. I was trying to get your body to force the water from your lungs.”
“Ah.” He pulls back to look at me. “I did not inhale the water. We Elysiums have many modes of survival. When I realized my oxygen was running low, I diverted the last few minutes worth of oxygen to my bloodstream and momentarily shut my other functions down to buy me some time. I hoped to awaken with a burst of energy that would allow me to break open the chuktah shell.”
The mere mention of that creature sparks a sudden rage within me. “Speaking of chuktahs, was it your plan all along to get swallowed by a clam the size of California? How could you go barreling into danger like that while insisting I stay behind? I’m so fucking mad at you right now, ” I say as I push away from him. I punch him hard in the chest, but he doesn’t even grimace. My fist, however, will most likely need some attending to. It hurts so badly I momentarily forget about my leg and put half my weight on it. “Ahh,” I moan as I crumple to the ground.
Thank goodness, it’s just sand. I blink back the tears, but not before I see a very angry looking alien on his knees inspecting my leg. He pulls up the pant leg of my trousers and lets out a throaty growl. I’m shocked to see the area over my shin is bruised and swollen.
Damn. Did that stupid clam break my leg?
His eyes snap to mine, blazing in their fury. “How did this happen?” he barks out.
I point an accusing finger in his face. “Don’t you dare get angry with me. I’m not the one who volunteered myself as an Elysium sacrifice to an over-sized seafood appetizer.”
He blinks at me, looking confused at my strange reference, but then his slitted pupils narrow in on me again. “How?” His hands gently hold my leg in place, but the tension riding him is palpable.
Oh, he’s pissed is he? Well, he almost died on me. Pretty sure death trumps broken tibia any day of the week. He knew exactly what he was getting himself into. He knew there was a chance he wouldn’t be able to free himself, and he’s mad at me?
What a douche.
My mate is injured. Again. How is this possible when she was out of harm’s way? I kept her on the vessel.
The vessel!
I am the least perceptive Elysium ever created. I have been so caught up in my swirling emotions, my burning need, my primal desire to throw my mate on the sand and take her over and over again, I failed to consider how I managed to get free of the chuktah and swim to shore.
“How?” I finally manage to say. It is difficult to speak
when I am enraged like this. I sense my mate is in pain. I see the terrible injury to her leg. There is not a doubt in my mind it is broken. She has been injured far too often in the last few rotations. It is almost too much for me to bear.
“What the hell do you think happened?” she says, raising her voice in anger. It is only then I realize that I am showing her anger due to my protective instincts kicking in, and she is responding defensively. She has every right to, but I cannot turn my anger off. Not while she is still injured and I am ignorant as to why.
“If I knew the answer to that question I would not be asking it in the first place.”
She mumbles something about pig-headed male behavior being a universal trait. I understand the meaning but fail to keep my temper in check. I tilt my head back and let out a roar of frustration, releasing pent up emotions before they get the best of me.
When I look back at Ada, I am filled with shame. She will no doubt be terrified of me now.
Yet I do not smell any fear on her. Instead, she is giving me a tiny smirk.
“Male temper tantrums seem to be universal as well. Are you ready to listen now?”
I smile wide. My female is extraordinary.
“Please,” I say. “Tell me what happened.”