Alien, Mine (24 page)

Shut up, cranky bitch. Just because you aren’t feeling the warm touch of jocularity doesn’t mean somebody else can’t.

She drew in a long breath of fresh air and let her sympathetic gaze rest on the laboured progress of the Gailling. Distress for his situation settled like hard porridge in her stomach. She knew what he’d been through. Kendril’s quiet, concerned voice drew her from her morose thoughts.

“How are you doing?”

She stared at her friend, stunned by the sudden clarity of knowledge that shone bright in her mind. Impossibly far from home, the odds of getting back shared between Buckley’s and none, alienated by her skin from
every
being she encountered, she realized she had a real chance of a life out here.

Kendril wasn’t just
trying
to be friendly, she really had
become
a friend. She ran her gaze over the rest of the squad and knew that whatever the situation she could rely on any and all of them. With or without Eugen Mhartak, she had a future here.

She definitely preferred with, and she would fight tooth and nail for them to become a couple. But if that didn’t transpire, well, it was reassuring to know she still believed in herself. Wherever she ended up, she could still stand on her own two feet—captain her own ship so to speak. Completely and utterly different did not
have
to equate to completely and utterly alone.

Self-confidence brightened her spirit. She straightened her shoulders and moved forward with a lighter step, then smiled at Kendril. “Actually, I’m not doing too bad.”

An unobtrusive noise slipped into her ears. Dread slithered icy fingers around her heart. Alarm stiffened her body, and she strained to isolate the sound from the quiet cadence of the forest.

“Do you hear that?” she hissed.

Kendril tilted her head to one side. “Yes. I don’t recognize it.”

A hum, like that of high voltage wires, pulsed with soft menace through the air.

Sandrea’s mind shied away from identifying the cause, but her body proved not so unwilling and absconded, with alacrity.

Chapter 13

“In Caverns Deep . . .”

Mhartak frowned at Sandrea’s sudden headlong rush back toward him and T’Hargen.

She’ll injure herself if she maintains that ungainly speed.

He leapt to intercept her. A brief glint of sunlight on metal at the crest of the gully diverted his focus. A large, spherical, metal object hovered over the rocks, then descended toward them.

What in the name of g’Nel is that?

He speared his concerned and questioning gaze back to Sandrea. The sheer, unreasoning terror stamped on her face froze his marrow. With absolute certainty he knew she had faced this mechanical monstrosity before.

The Bluthen interface?

She dodged around his seeking arm.

“Sandrea!”

Her manic retreat continued unabated. The muted drone of the machine intensified as it glided inexorably toward them. He signalled Kulluk to strike, then leapt after Sandrea. His heart winced as she fell and scrambled with the awkward speed of panic over the abrasive surface of the boulders. Sounds of laser-fire resonated through the gully.

Protective passion blazed through his veins as he chased after this woman who meant everything to him. He jumped down the twelve-foot face of a boulder, his thighs absorbing the hard shock of landing. Giant strides thrust him over rock and brush and he gained on her.

Dexter clung to her neck emitting short, sharp barks. Weapons fire continued to echo down the valley. Through the tall, slim, red trunks of the woodland, he glimpsed the sharp bank of a gulch. Anxiety wrenched his gut. In the present state Sandrea was in she’d run off the side of a cliff just to escape the mechanical demon that pursued. Frantic need roared at him for greater effort, but he’d already deployed every ounce of energy, technique, and brute strength he could muster. He reached out. Her flying hair brushed his fingers.

The ground fell away in a sudden decline and she shot ahead of him. His heart convulsed then shrank in horror at the sight of flowing water. He lunged forward, his reaching fingers a heartbeat from success, then Sandrea plummeted away from him.

No!

His spirit quailed at the thought of losing her. He slammed the heel of his palm into the quick release of his armour. It shed from his body and he leapt after Sandrea into the unknown.

Fear solidified in a painful lump his chest. Cold water grasped his clothing, then slithered across his skin. An intense shudder of disgust and horror wrenched through his body from head to toes. His boots slammed into a bed of pebbles and he stiffened his body to stand in the waist-deep water oozing around him. Unreasoning fear wrestled with his self-control, trying to dictate his actions. Dread wailed in a white noise roar for him to retreat.

Sandrea’s welfare blazed through his need to flee this soul-consuming terror and he focused every ounce of willpower into wresting command of himself. Not three feet away she thrashed in the current. He clamped his teeth together and took a stride through the resistance of the hideous water. Revulsion crawled across his skin. He braced his feet and grabbed Sandrea’s flailing form. She came up fighting and he fielded her wild swings, hating the evidence of desperate fear, the depraved, merciless torment that pushed her beyond reason.

He trapped her against his torso and with gentle strength dominated the witless struggles of her body. Dexter sprang to his shoulder, soft, emotive barks vibrating from him. Mhartak prayed he would not have to employ violence to force the return of Sandrea’s senses.

Shocked awareness flared through Sandrea when the sensation of a warm, hard body pressed to hers conflicted so violently with what her crazed mind predicted. A familiar scent infused her mind.

“Eugen!” she gasped. Her brain snatched at reality. Cold water dripped down her face and clung to her lashes. Her wet clothes dragged against her body, the strong flow of a stream pushed against her.

“You followed me into water!” Joy slid in a sweet fire through her heart and mind. She stared at him in wonder. The hard set to his features reflected the ferocity of his inner turmoil, and her stomach clenched in heartfelt empathy.

Astonishment widened her eyes as she caught sight of Dexter, planted firmly on Eugen’s chest, then the drone of approaching peril accompanied by laser fire tripped into her hearing. Against the security of Eugen’s embrace, fear and loathing crashed in a futile assault on her reason.

Eugen cast a glance behind him and the grim line of his mouth compressed further. The unyielding embrace of his arms loosened about her while his strong fingers wrapped around her upper arm and he urged her through the current toward the curve of a sandy beach. They scrambled from the water and raced into the dark opening of a cavern. One disheartening glance behind her made her lift her knees higher and faster. Following the light path Eugen’s torch cut through the gloom, she charged side-by-side with him into the deeper recesses of the cave.

They dashed around stalagmites and leapt across smooth slabs of bedrock. Hope that the cavern would taper enough to halt the pursuit of the contraption swamped Sandrea’s aversion of restricted spaces. The floor slanted down, the walls closed in, but not enough. She hurtled down the slope, torchlight reflecting off the mirror-still surface of water.

“Do not stop,” Eugen ordered from behind.

She splashed knee-deep into the icy pond. Half a dozen steps saw her to the other side. The track dived down, its smooth surface weaved this way then that. The cave walls narrowed with a sudden, sheer angle. She flew into a narrow crack and glanced back. Eugen turned his broad shoulders sideways and followed. She scrambled through the crevice, rough walls grabbed at her clothing and hammered her elbows. Her feet stumbled on a rock and she fell to her hands and knees. Impact jarred up her arms and legs. Gulping air, she lifted her head and stared through the dimly lit gloom at an open space.

Good God,
what
is that dreadful smell?

She hauled herself upright and winced. Her knees ached with uncomfortable vigour as though they’d come into close and painful contact with a sledgehammer. A cavern echoed their ragged breathing. She pulled out her torch and examined her hands. Blood seeped from gouges slicing her palms.

What the fuck is that God-awful smell?

“Are you injured, Sandrea?” Eugen asked.

“No, thank you. You?”

“That apparatus may be too large to negotiate this fissure, but there may be troops associated with it. We should keep moving.”

She turned to him and searched his face for a sign his actions were of a personal nature, hoping he would take just a moment to make some sort of connection with her.

His features remained blank and he made no move toward her. She swallowed her emotional need and swung the torch in a wide arc. Dexter landed with a soft thump on her shoulder and rubbed the side of his head against her cheek. She stroked his back and assured him with a soft murmur.

“There appears to be a path over there.”

Eugen’s voice floated through the dim twilight and his torch cut a straight beam ahead. She set off at a brisk walk before him and passed a patch of calf-high, glistening white nodes. The dreadful stench intensified, catching at the back of her throat. Her gagging reflex urged her to hurry on. The path ran up a steep rise through a wide cavern. She widened the beam of her torch and searched the secretive darkness ahead. Her imagination painted danger in every half-seen rock formation and her ears strained to catch the faintest sound.

Eugen’s fingers gripped her shoulders in a gentle clasp and she muffled a yelp of surprise.

“
Please
don’t stay away from me,” he begged.

Surprise halted her stride and she gazed at him over her shoulder.

What brought this on?

“I thought that’s what you wanted me to do,” she said.

He shook his head. “Uh-uh.”

Uh-uh?

General
Mhartak would never use such a phrase. She had serious doubts Eugen Mhartak would either. She trained the edge of her light over his face. He peered at her with a slightly unfocused rapturous gaze.

What the . . .?

She turned forward and focused on their course.

Eugen’s hand settled on her hip then slid down and squeezed her rump. “You have such a beautiful . . .”

She rounded on him. “
Eugen Mhartak,
what is the
matter
with you?”

A lop-sided grin curved his lips. He swayed ever so slightly.

What the hell is going on here?

She grabbed his straying hand and tugged him forward. “Come on.” She experienced true auditory discomfort when he, quite literally, sang her praises.

“Eugen, I don’t wish to be rude, but— Shut. Up.”

He leaned close. “I love you, you know.”

Yeah, right.

“I bet you’d say that to anyone. No, make that any
thing
down here.”

“Uh-uh. Oonly youuu.”

“General, get a hold of yourself!”

“I’d much rather get a hold of you.”

Longing tempted her to believe him, but that odious reek seemed to have more than an upsetting effect on her stomach.

Avoiding the multi-bulbed, pale protuberances on the walls that sparkled with a moist sheen, she dragged him over the cavern’s rough floor. Dexter coiled into a tight ball on her shoulder and chittered. She halted and flicked off the light. Complete blackness shrouded them. All her senses focused forward. She scented the air with her nose and tongue.

Eugen’s chest and stomach pressed against her back. His free hand slid around her waist then delved up under her stretch shirt. His fingers caressed her breast, kneaded her wanton flesh. Her nipple pebbled in response to his marauding hand. The desire to thrust herself into his caress warred with responsibility. She dropped the hand she held and clamped it over the one arousing such aching need. The hand she’d dropped explored downwards, delving into her trousers then tunnelling below her knickers. She groaned and her body sang as his fingers flexed in her curls. Lust throbbed at her core.

God, I’m going to have to fight my own body as well as him.

She shoved the torch in a pocket, clamped both her hands over his, and focused on the possible threat of danger. Eugen leaned over her and licked the side of her neck. Her concentration went up in flames. The rapid,
thwop-thwop-thwop
of leather wings passed overhead.

She pulled in a steadying breath. “Is that what frightened you, muffin?” she asked Dexter.

Eugen curved her into his body and kissed his way up her throat to her jaw line. The hard, heated thrust of his arousal met with an enthusiastic counterpart in her own irresponsible body.

Damn, at this rate we aren’t going to come out of this alive.

She had to think! In the state he was in, Eugen would follow her anywhere without hesitation. She’d use that. A reckless idea, no doubt, but it was all she could come up with.

“Eugen, dear,” she said, “just give me a moment to prepare myself.”

Her body protested when she disengaged his hands. She ignored her outraged senses, backed off as far as she dared without tempting him to follow, then shone the torch in his eyes, hoping for the advantage of momentary blindness.

“If you catch me, you can have me.” She turned and ran like hell, sprinting over flat floor and jumping rocky obstacles. Her lungs hauled in air, her tongue and nostrils searching for any trace of danger. Noise of pursuit shadowed her trail.

Damn, he can move fast.

Even impaired, he gained on her. Perhaps she’d given him too much incentive.

The hairs on her neck screamed his nearness. His panting breath rustled with seductive provocation into her too receptive ears. She tore up a steep incline, images of reaching hands conversely spurring her on and begging her to halt. The path levelled out, her lungs strained for air.

Dexter chittered an agitated hiss.

Fright and exertion thumped through her heart. She swung the torch back and forth, seeking what alarmed her little friend. She lifted a hand and ran light fingers over his body to his head. He faced behind. More bats?

A blue pulse flicked by and extinguished on the cavern wall.

Apparently not.

A distinct sense of peevishness rose. Didn’t the Bluthen know
she
was here?

Sunlight nosed about in the darkness ahead and she cast her mind around, hoping to capitalize on anything to find a way out of the situation. She did not appreciate the irony that the best tactician in probably three sectors was hot on her tail and currently in no state to provide useful assistance. Light flowed a welcome invitation down a succession of large, rounded rocks. She clambered up and bolted into a sunlit chamber.

Eugen’s heavy breathing put him right behind. She ran through slanting sunbeams towards a large opening. Her senses detected a great expanse of air and she skidded to a halt, barely saving herself from tumbling down a long drop. Eugen’s hands slammed into the rock walls on either side of the opening to prevent his own fall. She ducked under his arm and dashed back the way they had come. The muzzle of a Bluthen rifle hovered about six inches from the centre of her forehead. Fear streaked in a debilitating wave through her muscles. She dropped her torch to the ground with a clatter.

Dexter hissed and launched himself at the Bluthen.

Alarm widened the soldier’s eyes and the rifle wavered.

Dexter slashed the sharp bone-blade of his tail across the Bluthen’s cheek in furious strikes.

Sandrea grabbed the muzzle of the rifle and swung it wide. Her boot slammed into her enemy’s groin. He doubled over, and Dexter sprang toward another soldier entering the cave. Eugen fell on two more.

Her attacker lunged forward, grappling her arms. She twisted free with a violent wrench then punched a sharp jab into his chest. He stumbled back and she ploughed the heel of her palm into his jaw. From Dexter’s direction came the crunch of fracturing bone. A Bluthen body jettisoned by her and out the cave mouth, his scream Dopplering away.