by ML Guida
Swaying back and forth, he inhaled burnt skin and realized it was his. Pain pulsed in his gut, and blood dripped from the cut. Forcing himself to move, he stumbled toward the ship. He kept shaking his head to keep from passing out, but he took a few steps and fell onto his knee. Gasping for breath, he drew on his last remaining strength and forced himself to move, thinking of Hera’s sweet kiss.
You’ll never make it, the voice said, then laughed.
It was getting stronger, and he was getting weaker. He had to get back to Orion and back to Hera.
Something groaned behind him. He looked over his shoulder. The king, still in dragon form, moved his head. Smoke exhaled from his nostrils. Unfortunately, the king was waking. Normally, he’d be out for hours, but those things had to be stimulating him to wake. He must be in agony.
But Damon couldn’t help him. Not yet.
His legs threatened to give away, and he was walking in a zig-zag. No, No, No, don’t pass out.
Yes, you will.
Determined to prove the voice wrong, Damon forced himself to move, keeping his eye on Excalibur. The thing in the box jerked inside, slamming against the sides. He nearly dropped it. He couldn’t lose it now. Drawing on his remaining dragon strength, he lunged into the Excalibur and shut the door. The box slid across the floor and slammed into the wall, but the creature remained trapped inside.
Something slammed into the ship, rocking it. Damon fell onto his hands and knees, gasping for breath. A roar hurt his ears. Damn, the king was awake. Luckily, Cosima was slumped over in her chair, still passed out.
Fire ignited outside, increasing the temperature. He’d roast them alive if he’d didn’t get them out of here. He dragged himself to the controls and started the engines. He turned on the reflector shields, and the king hissed outside.
“Captain,” he called on the telicator.
“Damon, what’s going on? Do you have the creature?”
“I do,” he panted.
“What’s wrong?”
You’ll regret this, the menacing voice said.
Damon shuddered. “Wounded. About to pass out. Set a course for the Orion.”
The captain said something, but Damon didn’t hear. Dizziness and agony swam around him, and he passed out.
9
Hera waited at the hanger, shifting nervously on her feet. Taog had ordered Padean to use the tractor beam to guide the Excalibur to the Orion. She wasn’t sure what had turned her flesh ice cold, the tips of her fingers numb, or whether it was that Damon had passed out or the fact he was bringing the queen on board the ship.
“He’ll be okay,” Anonghos said. “He’s a tough bastard.”
She nodded wordlessly, not sure she believed him, especially since he had a unit of security armed with eruptors all aimed at the hanger door.
Taog and Tryker were also present, both armed with eruptors as well.
Not exactly the greeting she thought Damon was expecting. Tryker insisted she be here, because she was a calming agent for Damon.
But she wanted to be here. She needed to know he was alive. When he’d failed to answer the captain’s call, she nearly went crazy with fear and worry. Somehow, she’d managed not to go into hysterics up on the bridge, but her insides were a mess.
Taog’s telicator beeped. “Captain,” Padean said. “The Excalibur is docked.”
“Open the door.” Taog tilted his head. “Security.”
Anonghos stood in front of Hera, and she couldn’t see past his broad back. The door slid open, and Anonghos and his squad ushered her inside.
Hera gasped. “Great balls of fire.”
The shuttle craft was badly burned as if an eruptor had hit it. Large dents and deep angry scratches marred the metal that looked like some creature had attacked it.
Tryker leaned close to Hera. “Stay behind me.”
“What happened?” she whispered.
He glanced at her. “Isn’t it obvious? A dragon attacked the Excalibur.”
She stared at him. Her insides shook, and her knees played pitty pat.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “We need oxygen the same as you–the Zalarian isn’t here.”
She clasped his arm. “What if it’s inside?”
He shook his head. “It’s not. Sensors only picked up two Zalarians–Damon and the queen.”
She released him but couldn’t take her eyes of the walls. They looked like a velociraptor had tried to rip them open. He led her to a control panel, which she assumed controlled the Excalibur.
Anonghos and his men approached the doors slowly. Taog was behind him. Hera held her breath, not sure she believed Tryker.
Taog flicked his eruptor, and Tryker immediately pressed several buttons. The Excalibur’s door shook as if it was having difficulty opening. Tryker repeated the same pattern. This time the door moved inch-by-inch, screeching.
Something angrily banged around the space craft. Hera jumped and grabbed Tryker’s arm. She leaned toward him. “What is it?”
“I don’t know,” he said.
The banging got louder and louder, then an angry silver hat box toppled out of the Excalibur.
“The creature must be inside, Captain,” Tryker said.
Taog aimed his eruptor. “It’s not stronger than titanium.”
But his voice was unsure.
Tryker slowly approached the box. “It can’t escape, Captain.”
The box scooted as if it sensed his movement. The top of the box was clear, but it had to be made out of titanium, because the creature couldn’t break free. Hera glanced inside, and fear twisted around her spine. What look like a glop of brown goo in a ziplock bag bounced against the walls. It didn’t even look real except for a nasty stinger that was at least five inches long.
“Security, take the box to sickbay!” Taog ordered.
Two men surrounded the bumping box and picked it up by the handles.
Tryker hurried after the men. He glanced over his shoulder. “Stay here, Hera.”
Hera nodded, not having any intention of going near it–not with a stinger long enough to pierce her arm.
She wasn’t interested in the creature. Where was Damon? He should be coming out of the ship.
She wasn’t going to stand here like a helpless damsel in distress. Something was seriously wrong. Not waiting for any of the He-mans to escort her, she hurried toward Excalibur’s door.
“Hera! Get away from there!” Anonghos yelled.
She ignored him and raced inside. A stench of burnt meat hit her in the face. She skidded to a stop. “Damon.” Her stomach revolted–fixin’ to let loose her macaroni and cheese all over the blood-smeared floor. She put her hand over her mouth, tears blurring her vision.
He was unconscious and slumped over the controls. She couldn’t move. Blood matted his gorgeous hair and stained his clothes. His body was so battered and burned that she thought he was dead.
She knelt next to him, not sure what to do except cry. “My god.”
“Damn it, Hera!” Anonghos hurried beside her. “I asked…By the Fates!”
She lowered her shaking hand. “Is he dead?”
Anonghos hurried over to him and put his finger on the side of his neck, checking for a pulse. “He’s alive. But barely. We need to get him and the queen to sickbay.”
She hadn’t even noticed the blond woman passed out in her chair. “Why is she tied up?”
Anonghos carefully tilted her head back. “I don’t know, but Damon must have had a good reason.”
He flipped open his telicator. “Captain, we need stretchers to the Excalibur.”
“Why? What happened?”
“Damon is seriously injured, and the queen is passed out. She’s also restrained.”
“I’ll send them. I want twenty-four hour security around them.”
“Yes, sir.” Anonghos closed his telicator.
“I want to stay with Damon.” Hera carefully moved his hair out of his face, afraid what she might find. The right
side of his face was horribly bruised–his right eye was swollen shut, his cheek and lip had puffed twice their normal size. The redness was slowly turning purple and blue.
“What happened?” she whispered, her voice croaking.
A surge of raw anger flushed through her, making her madder than a mule chewing on bumblebees. The queen hadn’t a single mark on her heart-shaped face. She looked like a pale Sleeping Beauty, waiting for her prince to waken her, while Damon looked like he’d lost a tussle with Freddy Krueger.
Knowing Damon, he had risked his life to protect her. Or maybe she’d attacked him. Hera tossed out the thought since Damon had said their women were not shape-shifters.
No, someone else had hurt him.
Hera wiped her tears off her cheeks. This wasn’t a time to break down into hysterics. She used her shirt to gently wipe the blood off Damon’s face. “Damon, can you hear me?”
But he didn’t answer.
Her heart nearly broke with despair. “Where are they?”
Anonghos squeezed her shoulder. “They’re coming. Damon’s a tough bastard. He’ll pull through.”
She glanced at his face that was etched with worry. She knew he was lying to make her feel better, but it wasn’t working.
Shortly, Tryker and some other medical personnel entered the shuttle, carrying stretchers. Taog followed behind.
They first loaded the queen, who was still unconscious. Although her face was extremely pale, with her silky blond hair, long lashes, and high-cheek bones, she was a beautiful woman, but for some reason Damon had tied her up. When they cut her bindings lose, she had deep cuts on her wrists, as if she’d pulled on them.
“Put restraints on her,” Taog said.
Tryker frowned. “Are you sure, Captain?”
“Damon said that the queen wanted to kill me and take the ship. Sedate her if you can.”
“I’ll keep her restrained, and if she comes around, I’ll sedate her, but I can’t keep it up for long.”
“Then we need to find how to kill the creature.”
When they put her on the stretcher, she was bound and taken to sickbay. She was easy, but Damon wasn’t. It took four men to lift him onto the stretcher. They puffed and groaned as they slowly carried him out of the hanger. She followed close, trying not to burst into tears. He needed her to be strong. She was sure if she broke down, Tryker would make her leave.
Fiddle-dee-dee, she could be strong. She braced her shoulders and slid into the chair next to Damon’s bed. He still hadn’t opened his eyes. Tryker had said that her touch helped him with the pain earlier, and she hoped she’d have the same effect on him again.
The queen was in another bed and sleeping peacefully. Despite being infected, her flowing dress didn’t have a single tear or smudge of dirt. Hera, on the other hand, had dirt on her jeans and smudges on her shirt. She didn’t even know how she’d gotten them. No wonder Damon was in love with the queen–she was perfect.
Had she even tried to help him when he was in trouble? Or was she one of those stupid females who stood and wrung her hands? Tingles shot through her, and before she knew it, a glass of what looked like cotton balls fell off a counter and shattered on the floor.
“What the hell?” Tryker gave her a foul look, as if he thought she did it.
Heat rippled up her cheeks. She wanted to argue it wasn’t her and must be a coincidence, but when she got angry, strange things had started to happen. She quickly picked up the pieces of glass.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness, but captain’s orders,” Tryker said as he secured the queen’s last restraint. She hadn’t wakened. Not a hair out of place, not a single smudge on her face, not a wrinkle on her gown, she was a frozen perfection.
No wonder Damon obsessed over her. What man wouldn’t?
But that didn’t matter. She wasn’t the one that could heal him–that was Hera’s job.
Tryker came over to Damon and ran a transrecorder over him. “He has five broken ribs and his left arm is broken. I’ll set his arm before I go into the lab to run tests on the creature.”
“Damon,” he said. “I have to push your shoulder back into place. Hera, hold his right hand.”
Concern overwhelmed her at his pale, sweating face. She immediately obeyed. His hand was ice cold.
“I’m here, Damon. Concentrate on my voice.” She willed him to listen to her voice and not the pain that was going to happen. She didn’t know how much he could take.
Tryker pushed on Damon’s left shoulder. A loud crack made Hera wince. Damon released a hiss, but didn’t open his eyes.
Hera dabbed at Damon’s slick forehead. “The worst part of it is over.”
Or at least she hoped so.
“After I’m done setting his arm and stitching him up, I need to start running some tests on that creature.” Tryker pushed some buttons on a wall, and a bucket appeared with what looked like casting material. He quickly set his arm, then cut away his shirt.
Hera gasped. He had three deep ugly scratches across his abdomen. Tryker stitched his wounds, and Hera hung onto Damon’s hand tight.
“He’s almost done, Damon. You’ll be fine.” Hera couldn’t keep her voice from shaking, and her plea didn’t sound very convincing.
“Hera, he’ll heal. He’s a tough bastard.”
That was the second time she’d heard this, but she wasn’t so sure. She didn’t answer, afraid her voice would crack into a zillion pieces. She took a deep breath, determined not to burst into tears.
“Two security guards will watch over the queen. No matter how much she pleads, do not release her.”
“I won’t,” Hera promised. The last thing she wanted to see was Damon longing over the queen like a love-sick-puppy.
Two linebacker-size security guards entered and stood on either side of the queen.
Tryker picked up his transcoder. “Call me if you need me.”
Ignoring the guards, Hera took Damon’s hand and cradled it in hers. Although he was unconscious, the pain indicator was high again, but then again, Tryker had just shoved his shoulder into place and stitched him up.
Damon was the bravest man she’d ever met and was willing to sacrifice himself to save others. Not many men could claim this, but he was in love with another woman. She wished she could spurn him and forget about him, but it was hard to forsake a hero.
She kissed his cut knuckles. “I’m here, Damon.”
He moaned and shook violently.
Hera couldn’t hold onto his sweating hand. “Tryker!”
The doctor rushed out of another room. “What’s happening?”
She pointed. “Damon’s going into convulsions. Help him!”
Tryker brushed past her. “Hera, stand back.”
She crossed her arms and watched helplessly, tears falling from her face. Tryker checked his vitals then gave him two shots. Damon stopped trembling, and his breathing slowed.
“I thought I was supposed to be able to heal him. What went wrong?”
“I don’t know. He’s in agony.” He turned around. “But don’t leave. He needs you.”
She nodded and returned to her post. She picked up his hand and rubbed it on her face. His hand was so cold and bruised. She remembered Tryker had said that exchange of body fluids made the connection between them stronger. She glanced at the stoic guards, who didn’t seem to be paying attention to her.
Damon’s lips were so bruised and swollen that she was afraid to kiss him, but body fluid had helped him when he was on Zalara, maybe it would help him heal.
She leaned over him. His slow breath brushed over her face, and his jaw clamped shut tight. “I hope this isn’t going to hurt you.”
He might not even feel anything. She leaned over him and gently brushed her lips over his, her tongue flickering inside his mouth. He didn’t move or make a sound. Hera pressed her kiss deeper, hoping to ignite a healing process. He slowly responded, his tongue dancing with hers.
“Hera,” he whispered.
She smiled, wishing his eye was brighter and his voice stronger. “How are you feeling?”
He licked his cracked lips. “The queen?” His voice was hoarse and strained.
Pain struck her heart that was sadder than a poutin’ southern belle. She cleared her throat. “She’s resting comfortably.”
“Need to be careful…She’s dangerous…Wants…to…kill the captain.”
“I know.” She brushed his hair. “Taog has two guards watching over her.” She frowned. “Who did this to you?”
He squeezed her hand. “The king. He’s…out of his mind. He attacked the…Excalibur.”
She shuddered, thinking of the burned and curled metal and deep scratches. He must be an extremely powerful and deadly dragon–not something she’d want to meet in a dark alley. She’d no desire to meet him–especially after what he’d done to poor Damon. She frowned. “I thought the king and queen were mates. Can’t they heal each other?”
“Must…have…been separated.”
She poured water into a small cup. “Would you like some water?”
He nodded and struggled to sit up.
“Here let me help you.” She wrapped her arm around his shoulder.
He winced.
“I’m sorry.” She lifted the cup to his lips, and he greedily drank, water dripping down the corner of his mouth.
He closed his eyes and seemed to fall asleep.
She wiped the sweat from his brow. “Rest, my brave dragon.”
“Can’t. The thing”–he shook his head back and forth on the pillow, as if he were fighting something–“it’s…desperate. Afraid.”
He arched his back and cried out, as if he was being tortured. He clenched his fists, and the muscles in his biceps tensed, veins bulging. He collapsed into a pile of sweat. His face turned ten shades of white, then his eyes rolled back into his head.
“Damon! Damon!” She patted his damp face. “Can you hear me? Tryker! Tryker! Come in here quick.”
One of the guards hurried over. “Quit screaming. What’s happening?”
Hera wanted to shake him. “Didn’t you hear him?” She looked toward the lab. “Where is Tryker?”
He checked his pulse. “No, I was too far away. He was whispering.” He lowered his hand. “He’s alive. Just passed out. I’ll find Tryker.”