Page 28 of Charmed By the Alien Warrior

“We must hurry before they return.” His voice is low, but urgent.

I don’t know what I expected this giant of an alien to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. “Huh? What?” I stammer out.

But he ignores me and reaches for my wrists. The glint of a sharp knife in his hand sends a fresh wave of panic through me and I jerk backwards with a loud gasp.

He cocks his head at me, questioningly. “The guards. They have gone to eat the evening meal. If you wish to leave, then it must be now.” He gestures to my hands. “Unless, of course, you would rather stay.”

“No!” I say quickly. “No, I want to leave.”

I raise my hands, and that’s when he notices the frayed ropes. The only evidence of surprise is the slight rise of his brow ridge and the tilting of his head as he quietly murmurs,

“Clever female,” he murmurs.

I study him as he slices through my bindings, and I can’t help the words that leave my mouth.

“Why are you doing this?” I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but I have to know. From my understanding of Laediriian tribes, this guy is the Tussoll chief’s First Warrior. The right-hand man of the leader and the guy in charge of training and commanding the warriors of the tribe.

“Because to harm a female, even one from an alien world, is to betray the very essence of our beliefs. And for my tribe—” He stops for a moment, then continues, a growl edging into his voice as he speaks. “For my tribe to join forces with our enemy against our own people, it is a violation of everything that makes us Laediriian.”

His gaze locks with mine, and for a split second, beneath the flat unreadable expression, I see a flicker of something else—something that looks a lot like regret. But before I can react, it’s gone and his eyes are a blank mask of gray again.

Once I’m untied, I rise unsteadily. My thigh burns, but there’s no time to deal with it now, so I push past the pain. He leads me silently out of the hut and along a back wall that’s at least twenty feet tall and made of logs. In the distance, I can hear the murmur of voices coming from the central fire pit.

Finally, we reach a small, unobtrusive wooden gate that’s set into the wall. It’s bolted with a thick bar of iron, but he opens it with a flick of his hand and waves me through.

As soon as we step outside the village walls, he speaks in a hurried whisper. “I cannot accompany you through the—” But his words are abruptly cut off by another voice. One that makes goosebumps rise on my arms and a relieved smile tip up the corners of my lips.Thank God.

I don’t want to examine too closely why I’m so happy to see Sorrin, so I don’t. I just simply drink in the sight of his long, muscular frame emerging from the shadows. His gray eyes look brighter, almost like they’re lit from within as they sweep over me.

“Mara? How did you...” His gaze shifts, locking onto the scarred warrior behind me. His expression twists with fury, and his sword is in his hand before I can blink. “Step away from her,traitor, or prepare to die,” he hisses, each word out of his mouth dripping with venom.

Sorrin stands just feet away, his feet braced, and his sword held steady in front of him, ready to attack. For a second, I freeze in stunned silence. I’m so used to carefree, arrogant Sorrin that seeing him replaced with this vicious warrior who looks ready to slay anyone who dares to look at him wrong is startling.

But even more worrying is the tingle of desire that moves through me as swiftly as an arrow and settles low in my abdomen.Fuck. Now is definitely not a good time for that. Actually, there’s no good time for that.

The sound of a growl from the warrior at my back snaps me out of whatever weird, horny trance seeing Sorrin go all feral put me in and I react instinctively by taking a step forward and throwing my hands up in the hopes of stopping the fight that seems to be fast approaching.

“Stop it! Both of you!” I turn my head to look at Sorrin. “He helped me escape.” The tension crackles like a thunderstorm about to break, but Sorrin doesn’t back down and his unflinching gaze never leaves the other warrior. A muscle in his jaw ticks letting me know he’s barely holding himself in check.

Okay, maybe I should try a different tactic to diffuse the situation.

“What’s your name?” I ask the scarred warrior.

He hasn’t drawn his sword, yet, but his hand grips the hilt of the large knife at his waist as if he’s just a second away from pulling it out of its sheath.

“Zahrik,” he growls, still eyeing Sorrin warily.

“Zahrik, tell him why you helped me.” I gesture to Sorrin.

The words spill out of his mouth in a rush, raw and bitter. “The things that are happening in my tribe are wrong. Joining forces with the Pugj, taking females against their will, all of it because my chief has decided he wishes to be a king and the Pugj have promised him that as long as he assists them.”

Sorrin still hasn’t lowered his sword, but the snarl is gone and I can tell he’s listening to every word the other man says.

“You’re the First Warrior, right?” Sorrin asks. At the other man’s confirmation, he hisses, “Then, you are complicit.”

“No.” Zahrik slices his hand through the air. “I am trying to undermine my chief’s plotting, but I am only one male against many. My tribe…”

He glances back to his village and I can practically feel the sorrow echoing through his voice. “My tribe is no longer the tribe I have honored and served my whole life. They have changed. Our chief has changed. He has become blinded by greed and ambition.”

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