Page 22 of Taken By the Alien Siren King

My blood burned at the mention of my brother’s name, at the way this traitor looked at my mate. The urge to rip his throat out surged through my muscles, but I forced myself to pause.

I slid a look to Emme and arched a brow. “May I?”

Her slight nod was all I needed. With a snarl, I launched myself at the traitor. The Knight dropped his device and ripped the charged blade from his belt. Too slow. I was already inside his guard, driving my fist toward his throat.

He twisted at the last second. Lightning-hot pain lanced through my arm as his blade sliced deep. Blood—my blood—sprayed across the corridor wall. The wound burned like acid, but I’d suffered worse. Much worse.

We crashed together, the impact sending us staggering down the corridor. The device skittered across the floor ahead of us. I stretched, reached, scrambled until my fingers brushed its casing just as the Knight grabbed my wounded arm and yanked.Fresh agony shot through me as I slammed my forehead into his face.

The satisfying crunch of his nose breaking barely registered as I spotted his free hand reaching for the device. I closed my fingers around his throat, squeezing. He thrashed, desperation giving him strength. His knee drove into my wounded arm, and stars burst across my vision.

His fingers found the detonator. Triumph flashed in his eyes as he pressed the trigger.

I snapped his neck with a single, vicious twist. The device lay near an open doorway. One kick sent it spinning into the empty room.

Heat and pressure slammed into me. My back hit something solid and the air rushed from my lungs. For one suspended moment, I couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t breathe.

Then came the rush of water.

The outer wall had cracked, seawater seeping faster and faster through the breach as the cracks quickly spread. I rolled to my feet, disoriented but moving on pure instinct. Emme stood several yards away, her eyes wide with shock as the corridor began to flood.

Between us, the containment door began sliding closed.

“No!” I roared, diving toward her. Water splashed under my feet, then swept around my ankles, slowing my progress.

I wasn’t going to make it.

My hand stretched toward hers, inches separating us as the door slammed shut with a groan. Separating me from my mate.

I slammed my fist against the metal, frustration and fear clawing at my throat. “Emme!”

Her voice came through, muffled but audible. “I’m here!”

Relief crashed through me, so intense it nearly brought me to my knees. “The evacuation pods are two levels up! Follow the red emergency lights!”

“What about you?” Her voice cracked on the question.

Even now, with death lapping at her heels, she worried about me. We’d had so little time together. Barely enough to taste what might have been. The thought of never seeing her again, never hearing her laugh or feeling her skin against mine...

No. That wasn’t an option.

“I’ll find you,” I promised, pressing my palm flat against the door. “I’ll make this right. Your people will have their sanctuary. But you need to move. Now!”

I heard her hesitate, then a quieter, “Don’t you dare die on me, Lairos.”

A harsh laugh pushed between my lips. “As my queen commands.”

The sound of Emme’s footsteps faded, replaced by the rush of water and the pounding of my own heart. I pressed my forehead against the cold metal, allowing myself one moment of weakness. One breath to steady myself.

The water had reached my knees. My arm throbbed, blood still seeping from the deep gash. But nothing, absolutely nothing, would be solved whimpering in a corner like a coward.

I turned.

Knights streamed through the far end of the corridor, weapons glinting between black and red with every flash of the emergency lights. I counted six... no, eight of the bastards. More than I could take in close quarters with an aching arm.

“We have orders to take you to King Nedaris,” the lead Knight called. Even from here, I could see his hand tightening on his weapon. “He didn’t specify what condition you needed to arrive in.”

I raised an eyebrow at the title and command, channeling every ounce of royal disdain I could muster. “Eight of you against one wounded man? I’m flattered.”

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