by Ava Ross
“Then there is only one thing left to do.”
“Can we get to the fucking?” she said, only half-joking.
He lifted her hand and kissed it. “Will you be my forever mate?”
She nodded, a huge grin on her face. “Yes. I’m yours, happy feet and all.”
Standing, he lifted her off the floor. “Yes. Now it is time for the fucking.”
Yay. She couldn’t wait to feel him rising over her… Her rising over him… From behind. Against the wall. And any other way he wanted to do it. She intended for both of them to be completely sated before they reached Crakair.
Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she grinned. “Have your way with me, dude, because I plan to do the same.”
He’d turned toward the hall when alarms flashed overhead.
Oh, shit.
The ship shuddered.
Shouts rang out in the hall.
Kral’s gaze met hers. “Our ship has been boarded by raiders.”
Eighteen
Kral
With the raiders attacking, his sole interest was in protecting Mila.
Chee-chee shrieked and raced past them. When he reached the hall, he rushed toward the bridge.
Shouts erupted, telling Kral the meerdreg was taking on the force alone.
“Chee!” Mila whimpered.
Soon, the raiders would find him and Mila. Kral had no doubt that was who they were. They often traveled in this sector, which was why Kral had engaged the full shields before he’d started their meal.
How had they gotten around the barrier?
He opened the cabinet where he’d stuffed the wae-lyn and yanked it out.
“Hide here,” he said to Mila.
Her panicked gaze met his. “I want to stand at your back.” She rushed around him and pawed through the drawers, pulling a device used to bury a screw in a metal frame. Brandishing it, she returned to his side. “Hiding won’t do me any good. They’ll search the ship. They’ll find me. If I’m stuffed in a cabinet, I won’t be able to defend myself. They’ll stun me before I can stab them.”
He hated that her reasoning was sound. He wanted her safe, but it seemed there was no safety to be found anywhere. Her life would be forfeit until they reached his Vikir village.
“I will fight them.” He strode toward the door. “Remain here with your driver of the screws.”
She scowled but stayed beside the cabinets. As he peered into the hall, seeing no one but hearing whoever it was rifling around on the bridge, she scooted over to hover at his back.
“You did not stay where I suggested,” he said softly. How could he have assumed anything else?
“You can command all you want, but I’m my own person. If I want to fight, I will.” Her chin lifted, and her steely gaze met his.
“I only want to protect you,” he said with a sigh.
“I understand. But you won’t be safe out there alone, fighting who knows how many raiders.” Tears pooled in her eyes, but she feverishly wiped them away. “I’m worried about you.”
That crushed him. Other than his aunt and a good friend, no one had worried about him since his parents were alive. His village…they cared, but he was their leader, not a friend. Not someone to laugh with.
Unlike Mila. Despite all the hardships, she had made his life fun.
“I need to be able to move freely,” he said softly in as reasonable a tone as possible when he could hear the footsteps of raiders moving down the hall. Fortunately, they would not be able to bring many on board. They’d have to move in single file. Others could be on the bridge, or they could have latched a small craft onto this one and attacked. Kral’s guess was they were looking for goods. Maybe dinars.
Hostages.
Hostage, that is. They’d eliminate him.
Mila was the true prize.
“I’ll stay out of your way,” she said, her body sagging. She stuffed her feet into her shoes. “I know I should hide here, but I want to be with you, facing them together.”
“All right. But remain behind me and give me free movement.”
She nodded sharply and tightened her hand on her weapon. “Any advice?”
“Be careful. Don’t put yourself at risk.”
She snorted. “How much riskier could this get?”
He growled, wishing he could see them through this. But he would defend her to the death.
His mate. They had not had enough time.
After staring into her eyes and committing her face to memory, he opened the door to the hall fully and moved outside. Tricarns engaged him immediately. Odd to find them in this quadrant. The one-eyed, tall, spotted-furred aliens lived on a small planet in the Vendant sector. They weren’t known to travel far.
The Tricarn in the lead swung his jazer Kral’s way, and he deflected it with his sword. His sekairs shot darts, and one scored a hit on the lead’s neck. The Tricarnian dropped to the ground, writhing as the poison reached his veins. He’d be dead within seclars.
Kral stepped over the leader and engaged the second while a third tried to get past him to Mila.
A grunt behind made him shoot a glance over his shoulder. Mila grappled with a Tricarn who held a strand of rope. He spun her around, trying to tie her wrists. But she kneed him in the groin, and he dropped to his knees with a wail.
Pride in how she yet again handled herself burst through Kral. She would make an awesome Vikir, and he was honored to stand by her side.
A jazer blade skimmed down Kral’s arm, and he hissed. Spinning back to the Tricarns who kept coming, pouring from the airlock as if in never-ending supply, he darted his sword forward, taking down the next in line.
Three and then four Tricarns lost their lives to Kral’s blade, and five behind them to his sekairs.
Meanwhile, Mila hit the Tricarn over the head with her weapon, and the male dropped to her feet, his eye glazing.
She spun and, with a grim smile sent Kral’s way, leaped onto a Tricarn coming down the hall from the bedroom.
While keeping an eye on Mila, Kral kept fighting Tricarns until no more appeared from the airlock to challenge him.
His sword arm lowered, and he huffed, his breathing ragged. His muscles ached. His leg…Heille, his leg was killing him.
“Are you okay?” Mila asked, coming up behind him. “You’re…limping. I want to look at your leg in a professional manner. I know I was just an assistant, but I learned a lot from the therapists.”
“I will let you do whatever you will with me.”
She gave him a watery smile. “That was scary. What happens next?”
Turning, he found the Tricarns she’d disarmed tied with the rope they had planned to use on her.
Another swore and glared at Mila. The third lay on his back with his mouth slack and his eyes closed. Unconscious or dead, and he didn’t care which.
Kral stepped over and around Tricarns to reach the awake male’s side, and stooped down.
“Why?” he asked, his gaze meeting the male’s single deep green eye.
“We are starving,” the male said bitterly. “Plague and war have killed many, but those living have nothing to eat.”
“Why not approach the Crakairian government for help?”
The male puffed his chest. “We are a proud people.”
“Not too proud to become raiders.”
The Tricarn’s gaze flicked to Mila. “When the payment is high enough, a male will do almost anything to keep his people from starving.”
“Someone paid you to take Mila.” Kral’s words came out as a statement. There was no question.
The pieces of this were starting to fall together, and he didn’t like the image they were creating.
Was there a connection? His naanans flared out in agitation. He didn’t have time to think about this.
“Do you have droids on board your ship?” he asked the Tricarn.
The male nodded.
“Then I will not kill you.” If Mila was not here, Kral wasn’t sure
he would be this kind, but she was already staring in horror at the carnage Kral had left in the hall. Her lower lip trembled, but she shored herself up, stiffening as she leaned against the wall.
Her gaze met his. “They were here for me.”
The Tricarn laughed. “Seems that way, doesn’t it, but…”
What wasn’t he saying?
Kral leaned close. “Tell me everything or…” He let the thought hang in the air between them. He wasn’t opposed to ending this male’s life, and the Tricarn knew it. It was written in the fear-filled slant of his solitary eye.
The male grappled with something in his mouth.
Kral frowned.
When the Tricarn bit down hard, Kral knew. He wrangled with the male’s jaw, trying to dislodge the poison pill the male had just bitten.
“Too late,” the male said, slurring his words already. “You lose.” His green gaze settled on Mila. “Would have enjoyed mating with one such as her but…” He coughed, a raspy sound that brought up green blood that dribbled from the Tricarn’s mouth. “The gods will reward me…” More coughing. “In the next life.” He flicked his wrist, and a dart flew to the unconscious male, hitting him in the throat. The Tricarn sucked in a hitching breath.
More poison.
Kral snarled in frustration. “Tell me who sent you.”
“You think we only wanted her.” The Tricarn’s eye started to glaze over. “Our true mission was to kill you.”
“Why?” Kral snarled. “And who sent you?”
The Tricarn bared his fangs but stopped breathing.
Nineteen
Mila
She rushed down the hall to the bathroom while Kral took care of the bodies.
The bodies.
She’d added to her kill list, and she wasn’t sure what she thought about that. At the time, while adrenaline surged through her, she hadn’t cared. It was kill or be captured. Kill or watch Kral fall in front of her. No question about what she’d had to do.
But that didn’t mean she wasn’t scarred by her actions. Reflection was a bitch.
The toilet stood in the corner, a pedestal with mechanical arms that groped the person peeing. Would it latch onto her head if she hung over it to throw up?
No time to find out but the present.
But while she dry heaved, nothing rose to grab onto her. She sat back on her butt and couldn’t stop trembling. After killing a few guys herself and sort of watching while Kral took care of the others, she should be used to death by now.
She’d never forget the image of them wheeling Dad out with a sheet over his face.
Opening her eyes, she stared at the blood on her hands. Green. Where had that come from?
The bodies.
“Get cleaned up,” she said to herself. “Wash it off. Make it go away.”
But where could she bathe? She rose and stared around. Surely the Al’kieern cleaned up every now and then. They hadn’t been stinky.
Tears trickled down her face. How much longer could she take this? She wasn’t a warrior or someone trained to go into battle.
She wanted peace. She needed to find some semblance of normal.
If she wasn’t half in love with Kral, she’d ask to go home. But where was her home now, when everything revolved around Kral?
Her future was with him, which meant she’d have to adjust.
She’d known things would change when she signed on for the matchmaking program. A woman would be stupid to assume she wouldn’t have to make major adjustments in her life to live with an alien man. Mila had been willing to do that. She still was, but that didn’t mean it was easy.
A tall cabinet stood in the corner and it had a big opaque door on the front, reminiscent of shower stalls back on Earth. Approaching it, she opened the door, finding a seemingly normal showerhead and dials that she assumed would adjust the temperature. Water? Who the hell knew?
She twisted one of the dials and something vaguely water-looking came out of the head. When she dipped her hand beneath the spray, it felt silky.
It was clear. There was no smell.
Good enough for her.
She stripped and flung the clothing onto the floor, then stepped beneath the spray.
Her tears mixed with the liquid pulsing from overhead, and she sniffed, trying to stop herself from crying.
“You’re fine. Safe. Alive. So is Kral.” Her eyes stung, and she knew it wasn’t from the hot liquid pouring over her body.
She sagged into the wall and pressed her fist against her mouth.
Damn. Do. Not. Cry!
Shivers rushed through her even though the liquid was hot enough to fill the tiny space with steam.
How had she thought she could deal with this?
It’s only been days.
She’d been kidnapped, drugged, tied down onto a table while a blue-skinned guy experimented on her. While she’d escaped, she hadn’t truly been free. She’d had to eke out an existence by stealing food and moments in a janitor’s closet to get clean. She’d lived in stolen clothing, tucking extra sleeves around herself like belts.
Was it any wonder she was close to cracking?
She was strong. She’d see herself through this.
She just…couldn’t do it this moment.
Though she tried to stop them, she couldn’t keep her tears from falling. Her head pounded, and her pulse raged in her throat.
Her body ached. Her soul ached. Would she ever feel normal or safe again?
An alien world had won, if only for now. She’d been beaten. Splintered into fragments all over again.
“My mate,” Kral said softly from the other side of the clear door, and god it hurt to hear the kindness in his voice. “I…” He growled. “I am worried about you. It has been many minars, and you have not emerged. Are you…okay?”
Sometimes, it seemed that she’d never be okay. But with Kral holding out his hand, she just might.
The door cracked open.
“Mila. My mate.” His voice broke. “I…” Still wearing only his improvised garlong, he stepped underneath the spray with her. “This is not…”
“I know.”
He wasn’t pushing for sex. Hell, if he had wanted that, she already would have said yes. This was about comfort. Caring. Sharing a moment where both of them felt…shattered.
And maybe it was time to pick up the pieces and glue them back together again.
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She sighed. Sinking against him, she let the tears flow. He rubbed her back and murmured silly things that meant nothing and everything. “It is okay. Truly. I am with you. We are safe.”
“What did you do with them?”
The bodies.
“They have been returned to their ship. The entire crew attacked and…”
They were dead.
He cleared his throat. “After removing some necessary supplies, I have programmed the droids to take the craft to Crakair.”
She didn’t need to know anything more, just that the one-eyed guys wouldn’t be trying to capture her or kill Kral again.
“Will more come?” she asked.
“I do not believe they will, but we will be on guard.”
So maybe they weren’t fully safe, but close.
“When we reach my clan, my people will protect you, surround you, and hold you in the shelter of their arms.”
“All I need is yours.” She looked up at him and pushed for a smile. It wasn’t easy, but it became truer the harder she tried.
He washed her hair, his fingers gliding through the strands until they squeaked. When his hands clinically cleaned the rest of her body, heat sparked deep inside her. Perhaps the fire between them had not been fully extinguished.
“We’re mates,” she said.
“We are, my mate.” His voice came out gravelly, enriched with emotion.
“From what I remember, you’d just proposed to me.”
“I had.” His arms tightened around her.
“I said yes.”
“You did.”
“I think it’s time to consummate our relationship, don’t you?”
Life. She needed to feel something. Anything. She wanted to fill the gaping maw inside her.
With the love building between them, she could build a bridge they could walk across to find a future.
Together.
Twenty
Kral
He hadn’t intended to make this sexual between them.
He’d only wanted to comfort her. In the hallway, when he and Mila stood surrounded by dead bodies, he’d seen the lines of horror on her face and knew she was close to cracking. She’d been incredibly brave. She’d fought at his side as well as any of his clansmen. But she wasn’t used to this life. Not like he was. It had nothing to do with someone being male or female or human or Crakairian, but about the life she’d come from and the world she’d stepped into.
From almost the minar she’d been matched with Kral, she’d been in danger.
After taking the bodies to the raider craft, he programmed the droids to guide the ship to Crakair.
Returning to the bridge, he found the meerdreg cowering in a cupboard on the bridge. He coaxed it out and sat in the Commander’s chair with the creature on his lap. While stroking its silky fur, Kral sent a message to Vork, telling him to expect the craft on Crakair within daelas. Then he’d left the sleeping meerdreg in the chair and walked down the hall on deadened feet. He’d stood outside the bathroom door, not knowing what to expect or how she’d behave. He pressed his forehead against the metal panel.
Mila’s sob reached his ears, and the soft, gutted sound ripped through him like laser fire.
Leaving her alone when she was upset was not an option.
He stepped inside the room prepared to offer his heart and the comfort of his arms. If she told him to leave, he would. All he wanted was to help her heal.
When nothing remained but her shudders, he took her hand and helped her step out of the washing chamber and onto a scrap of fabric lying on the floor outside.
“Let me,” he said when she reached for a drying cloth hung on a hook nearby.