by Kyle, Celia
Then…
The moment our lips touch, I know it. There’s no room for error, nor margin for doubts. Thrase is my jalshagar, my one fated mate, and this kiss has proved my theory. After laying my eyes on her for the first time, I immediately suspected she was my fated mate… now, my suspicions have turned into fact.
Finally.
Chapter Twelve
Thrase
Seems like I was wrong.
When we finally kissed, I immediately forgot all about the hormones and genetic imperatives I had been preaching about. Somehow, the science has stopped making sense, and the Kilgari’s concept of a fated mate suddenly seems very real.
Still with my lips on his, I melt into his embrace, enjoying the warmth of his body. I part my lips, allowing his tongue to dance with mine, and moan softly as I press my half-naked breasts against his well-built chest. Gently, he places his hands on my hips, his fingers slowly making their way to my backside.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve dreamt of this,” he whispers against my lips, his fingers digging into my flesh. I feel his hardness too, his two hard members straining against the fabric of his pants and poking my inner thigh. Unable to restrain myself, I move one hand down his chest, ready to feel that hardness of his. My fingertips go over his belt, and then—
Someone knocks at the door.
“Shit,” Zander mutters, taking one step back and looking around the room. “I have to get back to my room.”
“How?” I ask him, adrenaline coursing through my veins. “It’s not like you can jump up to your floor.”
“If these assholes see us, we might—”
“What the fuck is going on in here?” A tall Kraaj shouts, stepping into the room so fast that the old-fashioned door slams itself against the wall. He’s wearing a Starcorp uniform, as are the two human guards flanking him. “You fucking golden bastard. I warned you to stay put. Did you really think I wouldn’t hear you climb down the balcony? A shitty cat with a broken leg would’ve made less noise than you.”
With his teeth gritted, the Kraaj reaches for his holster and pulls out his pistol. He aims it straight at Zander, and a sadistic grin dawns on his lips. Oh, crap, this is getting out of hand.
“Alright, alright,” Zander says, holding both his hands up. “You got me. I was just getting to know the good doctor. No harm in that, is there? Besides, I don’t remember anything in the contract about work colleagues developing, huh, an intimate friendship.”
“Is that what this is about?” the Kraaj asks, narrowing his eyes as he turns to face me. A shiver runs up my spine as I feel his gaze crawling over every inch of my skin, and a wave of nausea hits me hard as he smacks his lips approvingly. “Well, can’t say that I wouldn’t do the same, buddy. Unfortunately for you, orders are orders, and you are to stay put. Now, stop behaving like a fucking adolescent and return to your room.”
“I will,” Zander replies. “In a minute.”
“Are you shitting me?” Closing the distance between Zander and him, the Kraaj pushes the barrel of his pistol against the Kilgari’s chest. “I’m not going to give you a second, let alone a minute. Back to your room.” Once again, he taps the barrel against Zander’s chest. “Now.”
* * *
“That plan of yours almost got you shot,” I whisper the next day at work in the lab, keeping my eyes glued to the terminal’s screen. I keep on parsing through the chemical data results from the analysis made on biological samples taken from the women in cryo, but I’m not fully focused on it. After the kiss Zander and I shared last night, it’s hard to focus on anything.
“But I didn’t get shot,” he whispers back at me, and he’s bold enough to shoot me a cocky grin. “Besides, it was totally worth it.”
“I can’t argue with that.” Slowly, a tiny smile spreads across my lips, my heart fluttering as I remember how his lips felt when crushed against mine. God, I can’t wait for a second round of that. “Hey, what’s going on over there?”
At the far end of the lab we’re working in, a spindly woman in her fifties has just waltzed in. She has half-moon spectacles perched on the bridge of her nose, and her white hair has been tied in a strict bun. Instead of a lab coat, she’s wearing a pinstripe tailored suit. Whoever she might be, she’s more than a simple Starcorp employee.
Andrew, our supervisor, dutifully rises from behind his desk and makes his way toward the newcomer. The moment he’s within reach, the middle-aged woman jabs her index finger at Andrew’s chest and immediately starts berating him for his tardiness with the tests.
“Holy shit, she’s chewing him up,” I mutter under my breath.
“I can empathize,” Zander says, his tone almost too casual. “Andrew isn’t exactly efficient in his duties. And have you checked his deviation standards on organic compounds? Really, it’s astounding he got hired as project manager. He wouldn’t be working under me, that’s for sure.”
“Jesus, you’ve really bought into the role. Haven’t you?” Shaking my head, I then tilt my chin toward the door opposite our desks. “What do you say we grab this opportunity and do some exploration? Whoever that woman is, she’s bound to keep Andrew busy for a while.”
“What about the plan we discussed?” he asks. “Shouldn’t we wait for the guards to rotate their shifts?”
“Easier to seize the opportunity now.” Silently, I leave my seat and start heading toward the door. I unlock it with my badge, and then hold my breath and look around, trying to see if anyone has noticed me. Knowing that I’m in the clear, I give Zander a little wave. “You coming or what?”
“On the way.” Surreptitiously, he walks toward the exit and we leave the lab together. We make our way down the dimly lit corridor connecting our lab to the one processing neurological exams, but we go as slowly as possible. Doors line the entire corridor and, although most of them are locked, small panels on the side indicate what they’re being used for.
“Check this out,” Zander says and then taps me on the shoulder. I stop moving, spin around, and look in the direction he’s pointing. Mounted right above a set of sliding double doors, an information panel indicates it as Holding Area 7B.
That sounds promising.
“It’s locked with a retinal scanner.” Frowning, I look down at the access panel. There’s no way Zander or I will be able to hack our way into the room, at least not without Fiona to help us out. We might have above average IQ, but Fiona is a goddess when it comes to hacking and coding.
“I can fix that,” Zander says, and then my jaw drops as he fishes his atom smasher gun from the pocket on his lab coat.
“You brought that thing here?”
“I’m good with my hands,” he replies, and then looks away and clears his throat. “I mean, I’m competent when it comes to sleight of hand tricks. It wasn’t that hard to smuggle this thing in. Anyway, I did a few quick modifications to it, and I figure it should work on non-organic matter now. At least, that’s what I hope.”
Holding the gun against the panel, he squeezes the trigger.
Just a couple of seconds later and the metallic casing of the panel becomes iridescent, the keyboard melting away. For a moment, I think the room is going to remain locked, but a spark jumps out from the panel and the doors slide back. Zander and I exchange a glance, and then we step inside the room.
Dim purple lights have been mounted overhead at regular intervals, but most of the light comes from the floor-to-ceiling windows at the end of the room. Strewn across the room, like terrifying mementos of what’s happening inside this building, are dozens of cryo pods.
With my heart beating fast, I approach one of the pods and examine the screen on the pod’s console. A few taps on it and I quickly realize that every subject inside the room has been marked as “worthless,” and they are to be sold to the slavers’ guild.
“You’re seeing this?” I ask Zander, but he’s no longer paying attention to me.
“I think there’s company on the way,” he says,
leveling his pistol toward the room’s entrance. Only then do I hear the heavy stomping of boots echoing through the corridor outside. When Zander blasted the access panel, that must’ve tripped an alarm.
“What do we do?”
“I don’t know,” he says through gritted teeth, a mask of raw determination on his face. “But if we have to fight, we’ll fight.” He’s barely done speaking when the Kraaj from last night and at least six human guards burst into the room. They immediately spread wide, attempting to flank us.
“Lower your gun, Kilgari scum,” the Kraaj growls, confidently strolling toward us. With six guards surrounding us, we have little choice but to obey. Grinning, the Kraaj approaches me, and next thing I know I’m down on the floor. He slapped me so hard fireworks have exploded inside my head, and I feel the coppery taste of blood inside my mouth. “Nosy pricks.”
“I’m going to fucking kill you,” I hear Zander bellow, his words brimming with protective rage. He immediately launches himself toward the Kraaj and punches him in the chest hard enough to break ribs. That throws the cretin off balance, but he’s as large and tall as Zander, and quickly throws a counter at Zander.
The two of them start crossing the room, and I follow them with my blurry gaze, watching as they exchange a flurry of punches and kicks. Wearing nothing but his lab coat, Zander is at a disadvantage, but he still keeps on battering the Kraaj’s protective gear with his fists. If only that primitive savage gave him enough time to draw his gun again.
“Watch out,” I scream, my heart tightening as I see the Kraaj pushing Zander toward the window. My voice is still echoing through the room when the silver giant kicks Zander right in the chest, hurling him toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. There’s a loud sound, and then one of the windows explodes in a storm of glass.
Zander looks at me as he tumbles back, disbelief washing over his face as he plummets through the non-existing window.
Then, just a fraction of a second later, he’s gone.
Zander’s gone.
Chapter Thirteen
Zander
Even as the murder puppy tosses me out the damn broken window, I’m already making calculations in my head. The street below is less than twenty meters. Survivable, given my Kilgari physiology, but the risk of serious injury is high. And how will I go rushing back inside the Starcorp building campus if I’m a bag of pulverized flesh holding splintered bones.
Clenching my abdominal muscles, I twist in midair so I’m facing downward and bring my weak force pistol to bear. Good thing I adjusted it to affect inorganic matter as well. I need to soften my landing…
All of this flashes through my mind in less than a second, but the ground is rushing up toward me fast. I squeeze the trigger, and the orange beam lances out and hits the pavement. Then I sweep the barrel back and forth, creating a twenty-foot-wide swath of liquefied black goo. I barely have time to jam the gun back into my pocket and throw my arms up over my head before I hit.
Even though the street is no longer in a solid state, the impact is still tremendous. Spots explode behind my closed eyelids, and my wind is knocked out of me. I resist the urge to suck in through my mouth—knowing that will fill my lungs with the primordial ooze—and start kicking my legs.
The syrupy substance proves difficult to move in. Much thicker than water, it’s like dragging my limbs through mud. Worse, during the impact I twisted about, and now I have no idea which was is up. Even if I dared to open my eyes, I wouldn’t be able to see in this gunk.
I give up on trying to swim and instead draw my pistol. There’s a sewer line beneath the street, I’m certain, and if I can melt the rest of the pavement, I’ll fall down into it. But the gun fails to function, perhaps gummed up by the black ooze.
Back to swimming, or trying at least. Did I really find my jalshagar just to die here in such an ignoble fashion? Foolish of me. I should have accepted the broken bones…
Then my arm thrusts up out of the ooze and I can feel the cool evening wind on my skin. Kicking rapidly, I strain to get my head above the surface, but my oxygen-starved body is flagging fast. Bit by bit, inch by inch, my arm slips back down until only my grasping hand is exposed.
I’m sorry Thrase… so sorry…
Someone clutches my hand in a powerful grip and then yanks upward. My sputtering head is finally above the surface, and I spit out a huge gobbet of gunk before sucking in a huge, tasty gasp of air. It’s in my eyes, my nose, everywhere. I can’t even see who my savior is. I really hope it’s not another Kraaj.
“Hey, you all right?”
That’s Kintar’s voice. About the point I manage to get my eyes clear, a tremendous slap across my shoulder blades sends me sprawling to the hard pavement. Between coughs, I manage to sputter out an epithet or two.
“What the fuck was that?”
“Sorry, Zander. I thought your lungs might not be clear of the sludge.”
He picks me up as if I weigh nothing and drags me toward a hover bike stashed in one of the rubbish-strewn alleys.
“How did you know I was in trouble?”
Kintar chuckles as he leads me half stumbling into the darkened alley way.
“After you pulled your disappearing act, Solair didn’t have to think hard about where you went. I’ve been hanging around outside the Starcorp building waiting for, as Varia is fond of saying, the feces to strike the ventilation unit.”
“You mean, for the shit to hit the fan?”
He shrugs.
“Close enough.” He gestures at the waiting hover bike.
“Can you hold on?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine—wait a minute. We can’t leave without Thrase. She’s still in there, and they know she’s a spy.”
I yank myself free of his considerable grip and start staggering toward the Starcorp building. Passing by a large plate-glass window, my reflection stares back at me. My golden skin appears brown because of the coating of black syrup. It’s oozing out of my shoes, sloshing around between my toes, and making me utterly miserable, yet the only thing I can focus on is getting Thrase to safety.
“Wait, Zander. Hold up for a moment.”
Kintar gets in my way, holding both hands out in supplication.
“You can’t go back in there. It’s suicide.”
“Kintar, I must.” Sighing helplessly, I gesture at the building, inadvertently flinging goo onto Kintar. “She’s my jalshagar.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” Kintar chuckles. “Think for a moment, please. They’re not going to kill her, at least not right away.”
“Yes, they’ll most likely torture her for information first. I can’t abide that, Kintar, I simply can’t abide that.”
“Damn it, you fool, don’t you have any faith in your fated mate at all?”
His fiery query stops me where his flailing limbs never could. I pause, syrup dripping off of me onto the street with a constant pitter patter.
“Of course I do, but…”
“Then you need to express that faith right now. Thrase is a very smart woman. She’s capable of giving them just enough incentive to keep her alive without betraying all of us. Isn’t she?”
I calm myself with effort, but then I picture her strapped to a chair while a murder puppy brandishes its claws, and I start for the building again.
“Zander, does that pistol you’re wielding even function at the moment?”
I look down. I hadn’t realized I’d drawn it again.
“No…” I sigh and sheathe it.
“And do the two of us stand a chance against armed, armored guards who outnumber us twenty to one, or even worse?”
“No.”
“Good. Then do the sensible thing. Come with me, get on the fucking bike, and let’s go back to the Queen for backup and some real firepower.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he grabs my arms and shakes me hard.
“God damn it, Zander. I’m NOT going to stand by and let someone else be killed on my watch. It’s not goin
g to happen.”
“But Thrase…”
“Can take care of herself for the moment. Besides, are you forgetting about Lokyer? I’m the one who brought him onto the Queen in the first place. I’m friends with his father, or did you forget that? Don’t you think I want to charge in there like Zuvok the Terror and start busting heads? Well?”
I hang my head in shame, and nod.
“Right. Let’s go, then.”
He gives me a little shove to get moving, and I go back into the alley. Not a moment too soon, either, because the front door of the Starcorp building bursts open and spills out IHC “Marines” and half a dozen murder puppies. They’re distracted by what’s happened to the street at the moment, but all they have to do is glance up and they’ll see us.
Kintar leaps onto the bike and I sit behind him.
“Hang on. We’re going to have to burn out of here hot because once I start the engine, they’ll be on us like a bad habit.”
“Just engage the antigrav drive for now, and we’ll float up above the rooftops.”
“Great, how the fuck do I do that? This model engages both engines when you flip the switch.”
I clam up. It was a good idea, though, or it would have been with a different model of bike.
Kintar plants his feet on the ground, grunting with the effort, and physically lifts the hoverbike by its handlebars to face out of the alley. Then he jams on the engines, drawing the gathered attention of the marines and the Kraaj.
“Stop,” hollers the same asshat who threw me out the window.
Kintar, of course, does no such thing. He opens up the throttle and we careen down the empty street, zipping past the guards. Weapons fire hisses through the air all around us, but we caught them unawares and they didn’t have time to really aim.