Page 12 of Rescued By the Alien Hit Man

In the luminescent glow of the jungle, dread crept over me like the creeping vines on the jungle floor. The trust I’d extendedto him, the warmth I’d allowed myself to feel in his presence—it crumbled, replaced by a sense of betrayal that twisted my stomach into knots.

“You did tell me you were dangerous.”

An internal war raged within me, an onslaught of emotions battling for dominance. Confusion clouded my mind like the dense fog that hung over the luminescent wilds at dawn. Could I reconcile the man who had saved me with the one who might have orchestrated it all? My hands shook with the force of my inner tumult, fingers brushing against the cool metal of my field research kit—a reminder of the life I knew, the reality I trusted.

I sniffed, attempting to center myself, to find some semblance of the analytical calm that defined me. But even the familiar scents of damp soil and exotic flowers couldn’t mask the acrid stink of deception that now permeated the surrounding air.

His hand reached out, a silent offering, but I recoiled. His touch had once sparked a current that ran deep, igniting sensations that left me breathless and hungry for more. Now, the thought filled me with an ache, a longing for something genuine that I feared had never been real.

I closed my eyes, trying to steady my racing pulse, to shut out the vibrant world that suddenly felt like a façade. When I opened them again, it was to the sight of his glowing yellow eyes, watching me with an intensity that made my skin prickle with both anticipation and dread.

His expression wavered, hinting at an emotion I couldn’t quite place. Was it regret? Or simply the calculation of a being whose very existence was predicated on deception?

The silence stretched on, thick as the undergrowth that surrounded us, until I couldn’t stand it any longer. I had to move, to flee from the truth that threatened to engulf me.

And so, I ran, darting past him into the unknown depths of the jungle, each step propelling me forward but no closer to understanding the enigma that was Cikarius. As the underbrush clawed at my clothes and skin, a single thought echoed through the cacophony of fear and desire that consumed me:

Could I survive the night?

I stumbled through the underbrush, my breaths coming out in ragged gasps. The luminescent leaves cast eerie shadows on the ground, and every snap of a twig underfoot sent jolts of panic up my spine.

“Mia, stop.” Cikarius’s voice cut through the dense foliage, a low rumble that sounded both commanding and desperate.

I paused, heart hammering, chest heaving. His words carried weight, an anchor in the storm of my thoughts. It didn’t surprise me that he could catch up to me so quickly. I turned to face him, his silhouette framed by the otherworldly glow of Dufair’s nocturnal flora.

“Can I trust you?” The question finally broke free, laced with vulnerability.

His gaze never wavered as he took a step closer. “Yes.”

“You weren’t in that area of the jungle randomly.” The statement wasn’t a question; I knew it, he knew it.

“No.”

“Rumors from Alfataken Station…” My voice trailed off, the memory of whispered tales sending a shiver down my spine.

Cikarius closed the distance between us, each step measured. He stopped just a breath away, close enough that I could see the faint gleam of those marks on his chest, scars from a life I couldn’t comprehend.

“Every mission given to me, I’ve completed,” he said, the glow from the plants casting his purple skin in haunting hues.

“Every person you killed,” I corrected, bile rising in my throat.

He nodded, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of something resembling pain flash across his features.

“Everything changed when I saw you,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I had to save you.”

“And claim me?” My voice was a tremulous whisper, betraying the turmoil within.

“Yes,” he admitted. “But we, the Marbhadh, we’re not supposed to feel that. Our fated mate is engineered out of us. We’re only meant to kill.”

The revelation hung heavy in the air, mingling with the scents of damp soil and alien blooms. A part of me longed to reach out, to bridge the gap between us, but fear rooted me to the spot.

“Then what am I to you?” I asked, the question tearing at my very soul.

“You are the exception,” he said, closing the last bit of space between us until his warmth enveloped me. “My anomaly.”

“Every girl loves to be called an anomaly.”

“Mia, you are everything to me. My fated mate. I knew it the moment I claimed you and my skin glowed with each touch.”

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