Page 74 of Tempted By the Alien Warrior

Zahrik stands beside me, his sword dripping and his shoulders heaving with every breath. His gaze is fixed on the last male still standing.

My father.

He stands at the edge of the clearing, his eyes sharp and calculating. “You’ve grown strong,” he says. “Stronger than I realized, but not strong enough.”

He draws his sword slowly. “You’re a failure, Vrok. You always have been. You think you can beat me?” He thumps his chest with the hilt of his weapon. “I trained you. I made you. You’re nothing without me.” The words are ripped out of him in a snarl, spittle flying out of his mouth.

I feel the anger rising inside me again, hot and fierce like a fire in my veins. “I’m more than you ever were,” I growl, stepping forward with my sword raised. “And I’m more than you’ll ever be.”

His lips curl into a cold smile. “Prove it.”

He lunges, and his sword slices through the air, fast and lethal. I block the strike and our blades crash together, sending sparks flying. Despite his age, he’s still strong and fresh, while I’m tired and bleeding after battling the Tussoll.

He’s faster than I remember, and his strikes are precise, aimed to cause the most damage and punishment. My father may be a traitor, but at one time, he was the most skilled warrior in our tribe, and it shows. But he fights with an arrogance that leaves him open. He underestimates me. He always has.

I deflect his attacks, my body moving on instinct just as he relentlessly trained me to do. I see an opening where his guard has slipped, and I lunge forward to drive my blade into his side. It’s a bad wound, but not one that will kill him immediately. Blood pours out of the wound, but he doesn’t stop.

Snarling, he slams his sword into my wounded shoulder, and pain explodes through me. I stumble back.

He swings again, his blade aiming for my heart, but I twist to the side and his sword plunges into my stomach instead. White-hot agony erupts through my body, ripping my breath from me.I choke on a gasp as the blade twists, carving deeper into my insides. Then he yanks it free. My knees hit the ground hard.

My hands clutch the wound as hot blood pours between my fingers. I look up, and his face looms over me, his eyes as cold and empty as ever. The same eyes I’ve stared into my whole life. The same eyes that belong to the male who gave me life and now means to take it.

His mouth curls into a sneer, his sword raised high, ready to deliver the killing blow. “You were always a disappointment,” he spits, his voice full of venom. “Time to put an end to this pathetic excuse for a son.”

A yell pierces the air. Emily barrels forward, faster than I ever thought a human could move. Her small frame collides with my father’s, and with a flash, she drives the knife in her hand deep into his chest.

His body jerks. His mouth opens in a strangled gasp as his sword slips from his grip, clattering to the dirt at his feet. He staggers back, his hands fumbling at the hilt, but he’s already too weak. His knees buckle, and he crashes to the ground in a lifeless heap.

Emily stands over him, her chest heaving with every breath. For a moment, she just stares, her expression hardening as she looks down into his glassy, vacant eyes. Then, she turns and drops to the ground by my side.

“Vrok!” Her hands press against my wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

Pain radiates from my abdomen, sharp and unrelenting, stealing the air from my lungs. I can’t move. Everything hurts.

Emily’s face hovers above mine. Tears streak down her face and fall onto my skin. Even like this, with her hands covered in my blood and terror twisting her beautiful features, she’s the most breathtaking sight I’ve ever seen.

I want to tell her. Want to tell her so many things. But my lips won’t move. My body feels heavy. And cold. Too cold.

“Please. Don’t leave me.” Her voice breaks on a sob, cutting through the fog.

I never wanted her to cry for me. Never for me.

Summoning the last bit of my strength, I lift my hand. Pain lances through me with the movement, but I reach for her. My fingers brush her cheek. Her skin is warm and soft. So beautifully soft.

“I’m here,” she whispers. “I’m right here.”

She leans down and presses her lips to mine. The kiss is over too quickly, but it lights something inside me. A spark of warmth that spreads through me, chasing away the cold. It burns through my veins and settles in my chest.

And then I feel it.

A second heartbeat, thumping strong and steady right next to my primary heart.

My amoris heart. The heart that beats only for my spirit mate.

I look up at her. My vision is turning dark at the edges, but I focus on her. My mate. My amoris.

The word slips from my lips in a strangled whisper. “Amoris.”

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