Page 23 of Betrothed to the Alien Mercenary

“No, sex first,” I told her. “Then dinner.” She laughed, thinking I was joking, but she knew I meant it when I picked her up and threw her onto the bed. I did not let her out of that room for an hour, and by then, our stomachs were both rumbling.

***

Evie

I didn’t have to second-guess myself or doubt my attractiveness when Aramon’s response was as enthusiastic as that. It felt good to just be me again, and I was starting to believe that Evie was exactly what my crazy, sexy mercenary wanted—not the fancy princess; that was never going to work for him. We were matched as mates because we both liked the same things, and it wasn’t fancy food and fancy clothes. When we ate mushroom burgers with greasy, fried Haras sticks last night, that seemed like one of the best meals I’d had in ages.

Waking up as myself and in my mate’s arms also felt like things were finally going right. But how could I think that when a bomb had gone off and we’d been chased across the desert by a dozen hover vehicles and a handful of skimmers? Those hover vehicles would still be out there, searching for us, and they could easily deduce which town we’d gone to. This should be a dream: finding my mate and discovering how strong and brave he was. It felt like I was still trying to surface from a nightmare, and I had yet to locate the way out.

Who was behind these attacks? Ovt agents had played a role—that was a fact—but had they been hired, or were they acting on behalf of the Ov’Korad government? I could not make an accusation without definitive proof, and I was starting to lose the desire to see this through. It would be so easy to run away.

Now that I looked nothing like Evadne, it would be simple to disappear into the night with Aramon and leave others to deal with this mess. The question was: could I live with the guilt if an alliance failed to take shape without my help and an invasion leveled Xurtal? Aramon wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep—I knew that. He wasn’t wired the same as most people; he cared, but only about those who mattered to him. The rest might as well not exist.

He was tucking what little remained of our gear into the pouches on his armor, the gun already strapped to his thigh. I knew he had more weapons; I’d seen knives and even a garrote wire, but he wasn’t sharing. I was a trained fighter, but I was comfortable with not being armed and letting him do the fighting. I'd never wanted to be a fighter; it hadn't been my choice. Aramon was all about letting me be me. Evie did not want to fight. She didn’t know what she wanted yet, but she knew she wanted the chance to find out.

When we left the inn at the crack of dawn, the sandstorm had passed but had left a fine layer of dust over everything. The solar sails were coated with something that allowed the sand to slide right off, and it lay in large drifts throughout the town. Already, many Ovters were out and about, shoveling the sand back to clear the paths—an endless fight against the encroaching sand. Since I’d lived for most of my life in a similar desert—with green sand, rather than this pale white—I knew all about the ways sand got into everything. I was very ready to leave deserts behind me, never to return.

“Solear says it’s safe to go back. The Ovt referee has vanished without a trace; he was likely the reason that bomb was there, spying on your progress,” Aramon said as we walked past a sand pile to reach the parked hover cycle. He gestured with a hand. “It would have been devastating, but apparently, Theronix threw himself onto the bomb at the last moment. I don’t know how he got out, but he did, and he saved the day.”

I halted in my tracks and stared at Aramon’s back as he kept walking. “Hang on, Theronix threw himself on the bomb?” With a sinking feeling, I knew that meant the guard was dead. He’d gotten out from wherever the mercenaries had been holding him, but his final act had been to save me and the others—not kill me. I guessed it could be said that he’d always been all about saving Xurtal, and that attempt on my life really hadn’t been personal.

Oddly, I even felt a bit of grief for him. We’d survived a lot together—weeks of captivity, years of training, and protecting Evadne. The truth was, I had always felt that he’d carried a torch for the real princess, and once she’d died, all he had left was his loyalty to Xurtal. I was just a painful reminder of everything he’d lost.

“Hey, where’d you go?” Aramon asked, coming back to take my hands in one of his. With the other, he cupped my chin, tilting my eyes up to his face. It felt odd to stand out in public as just me, and I felt plenty of eyes on me from the curious locals. I felt naked without my hair dye, my contacts, and the illusion device. I had taken it off that morning, as there was no point in wearing it if I didn’t have the other two.

“Just sad, I guess. I didn’t think I’d be, but none of Evadne’s guard, or Evadne herself, deserved what they got. They were good people, Aramon.” He huffed, his mouth twisted with disbelief, but he didn’t correct me out loud. I knew I’d been dealt a raw deal by fate, by the Xurtal, and now by these assassins. But they had been my family, in a way—even Theronix. So, yeah, I was sad.

He pulled me into his arms without another word, holding me tightly as I allowed those feelings to fill me before sending them away. He held me so tightly that I felt safe enough to unravel for a little while, before I pulled myself back together. He held me tightly enough that it felt like those emotions had a safe place, that I was safe.

When I was done feeling sad, Aramon led me to the hover cycle, and we got on and flew away. I didn’t know what our next move was going to be. Without looking like Evadne, I couldn’t waltz into the negotiations. As if sensing my thoughts, Aramon’s voice came to me through my helmet’s tiny hidden speaker. “We are meeting a shuttle from the Varakartoom. Solear and Asmoded will be there. The captain will know what to do next. Don’t worry, Evie. By this time tomorrow, it will all be over. I promise.”

I hoped so, I really hoped so.

Chapter 20

Evie

The sight of the sleek black shuttle parked in the distance made my heart leap in my chest. That was our meeting spot; it was safety, an end to this terrible burden. Aramon said his captain would know what to do, and I could sense how deep his faith in the scary-looking Naga ran. It was easy to put the same faith in the male, even if I worried a tiny bit that he’d be upset to discover the trickery Theronix and I had performed.

The shuttle was still a few hundred feet away—a shiny obsidian shell with its engines glowing faintly with a blue hue as they powered down. Aramon steered our pilfered hover cycle closer, its engine humming gently as he kept us low to the ground to avoid detection. We were almost there, and I craned my head to peer around my mate’s shoulders, hoping to catch a glimpse of Solear or the captain.

Nothing yet, and then the hatch opened, and I saw movement. Black armor—or were those black scales? I squinted but couldn’t bring the figure into sharper focus. Aramon braked so suddenly that I flung forward, first colliding with his back, then slipping past him to careen ass-over-teakettle along the loose sand. The helmet and suit, which covered every inch of me, protected me from getting a mouthful of the fine white grains or scraping my skin raw, but I still felt bruised and battered when I rolled to a stop.

“Ah, fuck! Evie, are you hurt?” Aramon said. He’d parked the bike and was rapidly closing the distance between us. Instead of helping me to my feet, he threw himself down on the sand next to me, his hand coming down on my back to press me down with him. Instantly aware that something was really wrong, I lowered myself to my elbows and peered over the edge of the dune we lay against.

“Not hurt,” I whispered, though that wasn’t true, but a few bruises didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Now I could see who had exited the shuttle, and while I was right about the black suit, it wasn’t the armor suit the mercenaries typically wore. It was a male, standing with his hands on his hips as he peered in our direction. We’d approached enough that, without the swaying of the bike, I could see who we were dealing with.

It wasn’t anyone I knew, but I recognized the species. “I was right! Aramon, I was right. It is the Sythral! Look!” He did not respond; his expression was grim. Then, I realized what I should have from the start. If a Sythral male was on the Varakartoom shuttle, what had happened to Solear and Asmoded? And Aramon’s argument still stood. The Sythral were a nasty species, but they were also very secular and rarely left home. With exceptions like the now-defeated crimelord Drameil, most never left their planet or interfered with the politics of other planets.

“That bastard has my family,” Aramon muttered instead of responding to what I said. “They knocked Solear out before he could warn me. I did not sense that he was in danger, Evie. How could I not sense that? But he roused just in time and warned me. We’ve got to free them.”

“Okay,” I agreed immediately. Not long ago I had decided that I did not like fighting, and that I would leave it to Aramon, whodidlike it. But this was his family, of course I’d fight to save them. “Give me the gun. I’ll lay down cover fire and you sneak around.” He shot me a feral grin, tapped the side of his helmet to lower the protective, transparent face plate, and then he was off.

I waited as long as possible, but when Aramon got closer, it was inevitable that they discovered him. As soon as the Sythral turned to raise a gun at my mate, I squeezed off a shot. I did not aim to scare; I aimed to score a hit. This was the target that deserved all my rage—the one that had played a hand in the attempts on my life and in the death of Evadne and her guard. He deserved a laser shot to the chest. This felt like life or death, and I wanted to be the one who came out victorious.

My blast struck true, hitting him square in the chest and causing the Syhtral to stumble back. At that moment, Aramon leaped from his hiding place with a feral growl, and the two clashed. Now, I could no longer fire, or I’d risk hitting my mate. Waiting patiently was also not my strong suit, so I searched the dunes around me. Certain there was no sign of another threat and the Sythral was still the only visible opponent, I climbed to my feet and ran for the shuttle.

Solear and Asmoded had to be inside, tied up. If I could free them, it would turn the tide of battle. And if they weren’t in there? I could still put the barrel of my gun to the back of that bastard’s head. Up close, I would not miss.

---