Saved by the Alien Warrior: A Sci Fi Alien Romance (Warriors of Agron Book 3)

by Hope Hart

  Zarix pulls me close while Tecar sighs.

  “Killis wouldn’t have sent him if he had any useful information.” Tecar glances at me. “A female killing a Voildi? At least it’s good for camp morale.” He narrows his eyes. “But next time, ask first.”

  I nod, wiggling out from under Zarix’s arm. He stares down at me, and I raise my eyebrows.

  “I have yet to hear an apology,” I say, and Tecar laughs softly, moving off to do whatever tribe kings do in times of war.

  Zarix looks at me, and for a second, his eyes are full of torment.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  He glances around, and I notice other warriors giving him the side-eye. He moves through the crowd, gently pulling me after him.

  We head back to the kradi and sit on the furs.

  Zarix is silent for a long moment, and I reach for his hand.

  “My father may be a traitor,” he finally says, his expression lost. My eyes fill with tears as I take in his pain.

  “How did you find out?”

  “Tecar told me he may have been sighted riding with Lafa’s warriors.” He tilts his head as he studies my face, pulling his hand from mine. “You don’t seem surprised by this.”

  I sigh. “I heard two women talking in the bathing pools the other day. I was going to talk to you, but you came to bed late, and then we both just got busy.”

  His face is blank, and I frown at him as he gets to his feet. “I need to get back to work,” he says.

  “Zarix—”

  He turns and walks away, and I narrow my eyes at his retreating back. Should I have told him earlier? For sure. But if Zarix wants someone to blame for this shitshow, he can blame his father. I grind my teeth as he disappears between two kradis. I’m being pretty damn patient with him, and I’m giving him a break, since I know he’s struggling with the idea that his father could betray his people. But if he thinks he can pull away from me, he’s about to learn differently.

  I blow out a breath. I’ll give him some space. For now.

  I mope. There’s no other word for it. I spend an hour attempting to hit the target with my bolts, grinding my teeth when some of them miss the board completely. My concentration is shot, and I’m cursing as I collect my bolts when Tazo appears.

  “You can aim better than that.”

  “Yeah, no shit.” I glower at him over my shoulder, and he grins, unconcerned.

  “That shot earlier was a thing of beauty,” he marvels, and I nod.

  “Thanks.”

  “So how come you’re shooting worse than the first time you picked up a crossbow?”

  “The first time I picked up a crossbow, I shot a Voildi at point-blank range.”

  Tazo grins. “Ah, Zarix told me about that. Obviously you’re someone who shoots best under pressure.”

  I tilt my head as I give up on my practice, shoving bolts into the thin bag.

  Tazo moves closer, frowning as my shoulders slump. “You want to talk about it?”

  I shrug. “It’s not important.”

  “It obviously is if you’re this upset. Go on, I’m good at listening.” He grins again and curses as his lip splits.

  “Who beat you up?”

  “Who do you think?”

  I sigh, and Tazo laughs.

  “Let me guess, your warrior is the reason for your bad aim.”

  I glower at him. “Keep annoying me and you’ll see how bad my aim really is.”

  He laughs again but takes the bag from me, helping me collect the last of the bolts.

  I sigh again. “It’s just…one thing after another for us. For a couple of days, it seemed like we could actually be something, but now all we do is fight.”

  Tazo nods. “Few things test a relationship—any relationship—more than war, sickness, or famine.”

  “I know, and I know that what’s happening right now isn’t exactly normal. But shouldn’t we be sticking together during the hard times? Instead, I’m either pissed at him, or he’s pissed at me, or both.”

  Tazo gestures at an overturned log, and I move toward it. My limp is less pronounced today, and I’m finally moving around without stabbing pain.

  I’m still grateful to sit down though, and I reach for a gorgeous purple wildflower, jolting as Tazo slaps my hand away.

  “Poisonous to the touch,” he says, and I almost laugh. Of course it is.

  Tazo smirks, and then his expression turns serious. “Zarix was my best friend when we were young warriors,” he says, and I nod. “We were closer than friends, more like brothers. Zarix never knew true family after his mother died and his father left the tribe. He was given to his mother’s sister, Mari, who had raised her children and wanted no more. My parents treated him like one of their own when he was near. But Zarix…something inside him never truly believed that he was deserving of love or loyalty. When we were caught breaking the rules, he would immediately claim it was all his idea, taking the blame along with whatever punishment he was given.”

  Tazo leans over and picks a delicate white flower, offering it to me. I hesitate, and he grins.

  “You’re learning.” He presses it into my hand and then continues with his story. “It quickly became a game to some of the other young boys. To find out just how much Zarix would take. He was always a large, capable fighter, and some were jealous of his abilities with a sword. So they would find a way to break a camp rule and blame Zarix, who would never say anything.”

  I frown, unable to reconcile this victim with the man who refuses to play with others.

  Tazo nods, reading my mind. “It never mattered, you see. The punishments. Zarix wanted to be the best warrior in camp. And for a warrior, honor is everything. Those that tormented him, they may have been children, but members of our tribe have long memories, and they are still not well-liked to this day.”

  I scowl. “Good.”

  Tazo nods and continues. “One day, Dexar, Zarix, and I broke a rule. A rule that could have gotten all of us killed. Zarix was just another child, but my father was best friends with the tribe king, and Dexar was the tribe king’s son and future ruler. Mari immediately blamed Zarix, who didn’t say a word to contradict her. She was used to him being in trouble, you see. Dexar and I protested, but it seemed as if once again, Zarix would be held responsible. And then my sister appeared.”

  Tazo’s brow lowers, and I reach for his hand.

  “It still hurts,” he murmurs.

  I nod. “Sometimes I’ll think, ‘I need to tell my mom that,’ or, ‘My dad will know how to do this.’ I don’t know if it’ll ever get better.”

  Tazo sighs. “It helps. Having people who understand. Hana was usually with us when we were kids. She was constantly following us around. That day, I’d sent her off crying because we were planning to try to ride a mishua.”

  I burst out laughing at the thought. “How old were you guys?”

  “Seven summers.” Tazo grins at my laugh. “Yes, we all thought we were fierce warriors, held back from our greatness by aging males who refused to allow us to reach our full potential.”

  My mouth drops open, and Tazo nods.

  “Yes, that’s how my mother looked when Dexar proclaimed exactly that to his father. Anyway, Hana knew who had decided to ride the mishua—and it wasn’t Zarix. He came along, but it was Dexar who wanted to be the youngest warrior ever to sit on a mishua. Hana told the tribe king this. And then she told him what had been happening—that Zarix had been taking the blame for everything that went wrong in the camp.”

  “What did the tribe king do?”

  “Sentenced us to a month cleaning up after the mishua.”

  “All of you?”

  He nods. “Dexar knew not to expect special treatment because he was the tribe king’s son, and he would have found a lesser punishment insulting. Zarix was given the punishment because he had not been honest. The tribe king told him that honor doesn’t mean allowing your friends to use you."

  “What did Zarix say?”


  “He said no one used him. It was his choice to cover for those under his protection.”

  My mouth drops open again. “He said that?”

  Tazo smiles. “Dexar and I were disgusted at the decree. We didn’t need to be protected, of course. But in Zarix’s mind, it was his duty to keep others safe.” The smile drops from Tazo’s face. “He always thought he was disposable. Always thought we could do without him.”

  I’m slowly starting to understand the man Zarix has become. “And then Hana died.”

  Tazo nods. “And then she died. Zarix would have blamed himself no matter what, but in his mind, it was his harsh words that caused her actions that day. This planet rests on Zarix’s shoulders, you see.”

  Tazo’s voice is sarcastic, and I sigh, staring down at the white flower in my hand.

  At a young age, Zarix lost his parents and was given to a woman who had no use for him. He decided his only role was to protect those he deemed more important than himself. And then Hana died, and he realized he had failed at the only thing he was any good at. So he left. He tried to stop caring, although the fact that he’s here, trying to protect this tribe while simultaneously attempting to send me away, shows that he’s still that same protector through and through.

  He never wanted the responsibility that comes from caring about anyone else. That’s why he was so resentful of Javir and me even as we wormed our way under his defenses. He must feel exactly like that orphaned kid. Disposable. Now he’s learned that his scumbag father has betrayed his tribe and is about to wage war on Tecar.

  My face heats with rage, and Tazo smiles sadly at me, letting go of my hand as I get to my feet.

  “Thank you for telling me this,” I say, and he nods as I turn to walk away.

  It’s time for Zarix to learn that he’s not disposable at all.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Zarix

  I wait until Beth is asleep before I move into the kradi. I could sleep elsewhere, but even now, I need to be close to her.

  I didn’t think my gut could twist and my chest could ache the way it does now. Already Tecar’s warriors are glancing at me with mistrust in their eyes. They wonder if I am working with my father and if I am setting them up to fail. All the changes I have made to increase the security of this camp are worth nothing now.

  I am worth nothing now.

  Beth did not want to tell me of what she had heard, and I can understand her hesitation. But the lack of honesty between us chafes.

  The remaining warriors from our camp have arrived. Dexar has sent more than I had imagined and has likely needed to order some of his hunters back to help protect our camp.

  Unfortunately, the numbers are not enough. Rakiz has not sent word about whether he will be sending some of his warriors, and the Voildi are now close enough that they will likely attack tomorrow. They have gathered on the east side of Tecar’s camp—something Tecar expected given the strategic location of his camp. To the west, a mountain range would slow any incoming forces. To the north, a wide river runs, which would leave the Voildi open and vulnerable if they attempted to cross it.

  And to the south, Rakiz’s camp lies. Although it is several days away, his sentries would have noticed any Voildi marching toward this camp. Hopefully, his honor would prevent him from ignoring the threat. However, Rakiz has still not sent a messenger.

  I realize what I’m doing, focusing on strategy so I don’t need to think about my father, who left me behind even as I grieved for my mother, his mate. I don’t understand how he could have chosen this path. In our camp, he had people who knew my mother, people who grieved with him. I can understand a grieving warrior who hunts alone—as I have for all these years. But I would never leave my child behind without a word. And I can’t imagine joining a tribe like Lafa’s.

  Beth stirs, and I freeze as she opens her eyes.

  “You’re thinking too loudly,” she says. Then realization crosses her face, and she firms her jaw, sitting up as she stares at me.

  “I’m sorry I woke you.”

  She narrows her eyes. “You’re pulling away from me. Why?”

  “We don’t have time for this conversation,” I say. “We both need to get some rest.”

  “Don’t be a coward,” she snaps, and I slam my jaw closed, clenching my teeth. She gives me a knowing look, tilting her head. “Look,” she says. “I’m sorry about your dad. But you have to know that his actions have nothing to do with you.”

  I can’t hold back the growl that’s ripped from my throat. “Already males I will fight next to, males I may die with, believe I’m just like my father. They wonder if I am working with him.”

  Beth moves closer, and I close my eyes at the sympathy on her face.

  “Then they’re fucking idiots,” she says, her voice harsh. I open my eyes, and her expression is no longer sympathetic. It’s furious. “And don’t talk about dying, asshole.”

  I throw up my hands, but I keep my voice low as I note Javir’s soft snores on the other side of the kradi. “You should be with someone who still has honor,” I grind out. “Someone like Verkas.”

  Her mouth drops open, shock and hurt replacing her fury. “You don’t want me anymore?”

  I push down the instant denial. “This isn’t about what I want. It’s about what is best. Verkas is well liked. He makes you smile.” I bite out the words and attempt to ignore the hurt in Beth’s eyes. “He is respected and honorable.”

  “I’m trying to be understanding right now, but you’re being a giant dick.”

  I say nothing, and Beth gets to her knees. Her face is pale, eyes lit with fury.

  “I don’t need a man,” she spits. “I chose you, although this bullshit is making me question that decision. If I wanted to be with someone else, I would. So don’t fucking tempt me to find someone who makes me feel like more than an inconvenience or a spare part.”

  “You lost your world. Your…dancing. You were looking for something to make you feel, and you found me. But that was a mistake.”

  Beth gives me a long look, and I almost glance away from the disappointment in her eyes.

  “If that’s what you really think, then you’re right. I did make a mistake.”

  She turns away, lying back down in the furs, and I do the same, staring at the dull brown walls of the kradi for the rest of the night.

  Beth

  My throat is hoarse, eyes red from crying, and I barely have the willpower to get out of bed. Zarix was gone when I woke, so I must have drifted off at some point after we both lay awake in silence for hours after our discussion.

  Earlier, Javir scurried into our kradi, face pale and eyes wild as he told me just how many Voildi have now gathered in full view of the camp.

  Thousands.

  There are thousands of Braxians too, but many of them are women and children, and from the frightened look on Javir’s face, we’re hopelessly outnumbered.

  I finally summon the will to get up and wish I could climb back into bed. The Braxians are quiet and somber, and I trudge to the camp entrance, where I stare at the thousands of Voildi, all lined up in the distance. Between them, I can see larger warriors, likely the Braxians from Lafa’s tribe.

  “Why haven’t they attacked yet?”

  I didn’t realize I spoke aloud, but Perik steps up behind me. The look on his face is strange, his expression one I can’t quite place, and I frown at him.

  “They’re waiting,” he says, his eyes on the Voildi in the distance.

  “Waiting for what?”

  He glances at me as if surprised I’m still talking. His face clears as he shrugs. “Probably for more Voildi.”

  “There are more of them?”

  “There are more Voildi than Braxians could ever have imagined. The tribes never knew this because Voildi have never worked together before.”

  I shudder, turning to walk through the camp. I have a vague idea of practicing with my crossbow some more, but I freeze as joyous shouts sound from the south
side of the camp.

  I can’t see over the huge Braxians, so I move into one of the gathering spots and climb onto a boulder.

  What. The. Hell.

  Hundreds of Braxian warriors are pouring into the camp.

  “Rakiz,” someone says, relief coating the word. “It’s Rakiz’s tribe.”

  Tecar appears, stepping forward to greet a couple of warriors on a mishua.

  One of them slides down, and my mouth drops open. It’s one of the human women from the ship. The one who was looking after Charlie…Nevada, I think. She’s dressed in leather pants and carrying a sword, and she grins as the huge warrior dismounts, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as he speaks to Tecar.

  I elbow my way through the crowd, and her eyes go wide as she sees me.

  “Holy crap,” she says, and both men turn as she dances forward. “Beth, right?”

  I’m laughing, nodding my head, almost crying as we hug. She glances around at the gathering crowd, and I tense as I meet Zarix’s gaze. His expression is tormented as he looks at me, and then Tecar says something, drawing his attention, and he glances away.

  “Do you have somewhere private we can talk?” Nevada asks.

  “I sure do.” I lead her to our kradi. “We share this with Javir, a kid we collected on our travels,” I say. “He’s usually out roaming the camp, so we should have the space to ourselves.”

  We step inside, and Nevada makes herself at home, sitting cross-legged on the furs. “So,” she says, “tell me everything.”

  “Well, you obviously know that we were taken in the fight. We made a deal that if one of us had a chance to escape, we’d do it.” My eyes fill with tears. “I left them behind.”

  Nevada reaches out, pulling me down to sit next to her. “I have good news and better news.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “The good news is that Ivy managed to get free. She was last seen hauling ass through the prexas—the underground tunnels around Nexia.”

  “Oh my God. That’s great.”

  Nevada grins. “You know the leader of the Voildi? The one who managed to get them all to work together?”