Page 12 of Guard

She snatched her threadbare coat from the hook inside the door and jammed her hands through the armholes, shoving her feet into the shoes she’d left by the door. With a final glance inside, she tugged the door closed, assuring herself that she would only walk to the end of the alley to search for Rixx then come right back.

The night air was cool as she chose a direction and hurried down the tight passageway. She didn’t hear any footsteps ahead of her, and she wondered if she’d picked the wrong direction. Stopping at the corner, she looked left and then right, seeing nothing. Cursing, she turned and ran in the other direction, slowing at the end of the alley and looking around the corner.

Her heart seized when she spotted a flutter of a shadow darting around the end of the alley to the right. She dashed after it, sure that she was right behind Rixx. She wasn’t sure if she would scold him or hug him when she reached him, but maybe she would do both.

Her shoes were slapping the paving stones and sending up occasional splashes as she landed in puddles, but she didn’t stop to think what was in the puddles, although the stench of the areatold her it wasn’t great. She rounded the corner and almost ran into the figure she’d been chasing, slapping a hand on a broad shoulder to stop him.

“Found you!”

Her confidence withered when the man turned and leered at her, a blast of stale beer and cigar smoke hitting her in the face.

Myrria stumbled back, instantly reminded why she never ventured outside after dark. “Sorry. Wrong person.”

“Who says I’m the wrong person?” The man grabbed her arm before she could back from his reach and jerked her closer to him. His face and neck were wrinkled, weathered, and etched with ink that told her he was part of a space pirate crew—and that he’d killed.

Fear choked Myrria’s throat, making it impossible for her to scream. Even if she did, who would come to her aid in Kurril? Everyone kept to themselves to keep from inviting trouble, which meant that there was no one to save her.

Myrria struggled in the man’s powerful grasp, desperately fighting him off as he dragged her deeper into the shadows, bile rising as his black-toothed smile widened.

“Who says we can’t have some fun?”

Chapter

Twelve

Rixx thundered down the close alleys, dodging trash and uneven paving stones as he was led, not by his memory of the path he’d taken or where Myrria’s house was, but by the growing fear pulling him toward it. His own heart pounded with terror as he rounded a corner and his gaze landed on a couple struggling at the far end. He didn’t pause his pace as he raced forward, knowing without a doubt that Myrria was the female thrashing in the man’s arms. Her fear was so palpable he could taste the metallic bite of it.

“Don’t make me hurt you now,” the man slurred as he yanked Myrria hard.

A growl erupted from Rixx moments before he grabbed the stranger’s arm and wrested it from Myrria. Once the man had stumbled back, Rixx eyed him. He was old and withered, but his eyes were hard and brutal.

“Find your own,” he spat out, lurching toward Myrria again. “This one’s mine.”

“This one belongs to no one.” Rixx bared his teeth, feeling a surge of primal protectiveness rush over him. “And you will not touch her.”

Rixx might have been wounded and weaker than usual, but his rage made him forget all of that. He was strong enough to fight off this drunkard and protect Myrria.

The man bellowed his frustration, flicked his gaze to Myrria, and then charged Rixx. With a quick sidestep, the Dothvek dodged the attack and spun, hooking his arm around the man’s neck from behind. He was considerably taller and broader than the old man who ineffectually slapped at Rixx’s arm.

Fury pounded through Rixx as he held the man in a chokehold, deaf to the gasps until the futile slapping stopped. Then he relaxed his hold and released his grip, letting the man collapse to the ground.

Only when the haze of anger faded and the buzzing in his ears quieted did he hear Myrria hitch in a breath behind him. He pivoted to her, quickly assessing that her coat was not torn and she had no visible injuries. The fear he’d felt from her had faded to a dull throb, and he swallowed down the bitter taste of it. “Are you unhurt?”

She nodded without speaking, her gaze locked on her assailant in a heap on the ground. She took a step closer to Rixx. “Is he dead? Did you…?”

“No.” Rixx knew he had released the man before the blood had stopped pumping through his heart, even though a part of him had wanted to keep squeezing until the man was cold and lifeless. “He is not dead.”

Myrria did not ask how he was so sure. Maybe she did not care, or maybe she hoped the man was dead. A part of Rixx wished he was. The fewer men like that in the universe, the better.

Awareness crept over Rixx, tingling the nape of his neck and causing him to be alert to the sounds coming from beyond the alley. They were alone for the moment, but nearby laughter and scraping footsteps told him they would not be for long. “We need to leave.” He grabbed Myrria’s hand. “I need to get you home.”

He noticed that her hand trembled in his and was cool to the touch. Rixx tugged her forward, but she moved woodenly, as if her feet were rooted to the spot. Her gaze had not left the crumbled figure, and Rixx wondered if she was in some sort of shock.

There was no time to snap her from her stupor or wait for her to emerge from it. They needed to put distance between them and the unconscious man before he woke or before someone came upon them. He already had a price on his head. He did not need another reason to be hunted.

Rixx bent down and scooped Myrria into his arms, surprised that she was so light and that his injury didn’t ache as he walked them both swiftly down the narrow passageway. He suspected that the rage from the fight had given him a burst of strength and energy, enough to overcome the weakness from his wounds. He also suspected that it would not last long, so he took long strides down the alleyways.

Myrria hadn’t protested when he’d picked her up, but she did manage to point him in the right direction when he took a wrong turn. There were no more people lingering in the alleys or loitering in recessed doorways, and the sound of voices faded into nothing. After rushing past rows of dingy fabric awningsand underneath strings of drying laundry that crisscrossed overhead like streamers, they reached a familiar door.

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