Page 4 of Rescued By the Alien Hit Man

The fear in the slavers’ eyes fed me, a dark satisfaction that they recognized the predator before them. They were no match for me, and deep down, they knew it. The realization flickered across their faces just before I sent them into the endless void.

Despite the efficiency of my work, a part of me, a part that had awakened upon hearing Mia’s distress, wondered why these learned scientists kept coming to Dufair. Didn’t they know the dangers lurking beneath the beauty of these glowing canopies?

As the last of the slavers fell before me, his body crumpling to the mossy floor, I turned back to Mia. She lay there, trembling, her ponytail askew, those enchanting green eyes locked onto mine. Fear emanated from her, but instead of fueling the hunter within, her vulnerability sparked something to life inside me.

“Who are you?” Mia asked, her voice trembling with fear and curiosity.

“Cikarius Vex,” I said, my tone steady despite the storm brewing within me.

Kneeling, I rifled through the leader of the slavers’ pockets, seeking anything of value or information. My fingers found the cool surface of a tablet, and I activated the screen with a touch. A familiar face stared back at me—Mia Clarke—her name emblazoned beneath her photo. I swore under my breath. This changed everything.

I shoved the tablet into a side pocket of my leather pants. “Come. We have to get out of here now.”

She whispered the name she had yelled before. Her murdered colleague.

“He’s gone. We have to move. Now.”

Something passed over her face. Acceptance maybe. I’d seen it a thousand times in victims who knew there was no way to escape their fate. She insisted on taking things with us. Things that would weigh us down, but I couldn’t deny her. I gave her a nod, and she leapt up, gathered everything she could, and shoved it into a large backpack.

“Ready? I asked.

She nodded, and I offered my hand, hoping she would take it, but also wishing she wouldn’t. A touch might spark somethingmore primal in me, something I had no idea how to fight. These urges weren’t supposed to exist in me.

Her small hand was cool against mine. As we moved through the jungle, I wondered how long it would take to convince Mia that she would be safer with me. Time wasn’t on our side, and the slavers would send more. The urge to claim her, to make her mine, threatened to overwhelm me at every turn.

“Thank you,” she said.

I turned to look at her. It was a mistake. Cheeks flushed pink from exertion, her hair askew with tendrils that had escaped the ponytail framing her face, and bright green eyes shining at me like I wasn’t a killing machine, but a savior twisted my heart. The need to feel her writhing beneath me overpowered the programming of my hunter instinct. Two survival instincts warring with each other. The need to survive and the need to procreate.

“Don’t thank me yet,” I said.

To push thoughts of Mia moaning beneath me from my mind, I pulled out the tablet I’d stolen from the slavers and swore again.

“Is something wrong?”

Everything. Life as I knew it flashed before me. Failing this mission meant exile from the Sionagog Syndicate and likely a hit squad. The most notorious assassins’ guild in the sector, the Sionagog Syndicate, didn’t take failure lightly. They’d paid handsomely for genetically engineered killers. Killers that never missed, never failed, never rescued their quarry.

I handed the tablet to her.

She gasped. “What does this mean?”

I nodded toward the path we’d taken. “This was no random attack on scientists. You were the target.”

Her eyes widened. “Everyone likes me.”

I could see why everyone should like her. Despite the danger, determination shone in her eyes. Dirt marred her face, but couldn’t hide her beauty. Poetic thoughts like that would get us both killed if I wasn’t careful.

“Obviously someone doesn’t. Hiring slavers isn’t cheap or easy. Whoever did this has resources and a vendetta. Did you piss anyone off lately?”

“No,” she said. “I can’t think of anyone who would?—”

I raked my gaze over her. Taking in every curve of her body, my gaze settled first on her plump breasts, heaving under her shirt from the exertion of traversing the jungle. Thanks to my enhanced vision and special awareness, plus the creativity added to all engineered killers, I could picture her without her clothes and my mouth went dry.

“Turn anyone down lately?” I asked, cursing the desire evident in my voice. Maybe she wouldn’t notice.

“No, the scientists on my team are gentlemen.”

Gentlemen. The word echoed in my mind, a stark contrast to the bloodshed that had brought us here. I wondered how she’d react to someone like me, someone crafted from violence and shadows. As I pondered this, I noted the subtle changes in her—her breathing slightly quicker, pupils dilated—not just from shock, but from something more. The protective instinct that had awakened within me roared to life once more, urging me to shield her from the dangers that lurked all around us.

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