Page 78 of Tempted By the Alien Warrior

He’s still breathing, but the echo of his spirit inside me faded to nothing miles ago. Now there’s only a cold, hollow silence where he used to be. Panic claws at the edges of my mind. I keep telling myself he’s still alive, but the emptiness inside me feels too much like the end.

By the time the distant outline of the Anuriix village comes into view, the sky is streaked with burnt orange and deep violet as the sun sinks below the horizon. Its wooden walls rise up from the ground like a beacon of hope.

We come to a stop in front of the heavy, closed gates. My throat is raw from the wind and dust, but I force out the words. “It’s Emily! Let us in!”

Someone should be manning the gates, but for a terrifying moment, there’s only silence. Then, a shout rings out, followed by the groan of wood as the gates begin to swing open.

Two Anuriix warriors appear in the gap, their eyes widening when they see us. One of them, a younger guy that I’m pretty sure is Enosir, steps forward, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“You’re the one who’s been missing.” His gaze shifts to Vrok, slumped in my arms, and his eyes narrow. “Is that Vrok?”

“He’s hurt. He needs help.” My voice cracks, and I blink back the tears that threaten to spill over.

The guards exchange a look, confusion flickering in their eyes. Enosir hesitates, then says, “We thought Vrok escaped and abducted you. Daggir believed he?—”

“You’ve got it backwards,” I snap. “He saved us. You have to help him.”

Enosir’s eyes widen, and shock ripples across his face. His gaze slips past me to Lily and Zahrik. He stiffens. “And what is a sarding Tussoll doing here?”

Zahrik straightens in the saddle. “I got them here. Now let us through, or he’ll die.”

Enosir curses under his breath, but his eyes flick back to Vrok’s still form. Then, he nods. “Go.”

The gates swing open enough to allow us to enter, and Zahrik urges his eponir forward. I follow, clutching Vrok to me as we ride into the village.

Everyone is gathered in the center of the village at the firepit. Laughter and soft conversation drift on the air as humans and Laediriians share the evening meal, but the moment they see us, the noise dies. A hush spreads like wildfire as heads turn and eyes lock on us.

I spot my friends in the crowd. Haley stands near her mate, her eyes wide with shock. Mara’s gaze snaps to Lily, then to Vrok, and her hand flies to her mouth. Aria and Maddie sitside by side near the fire, laughing about something. But their laughter trails off as soon as they see us. Even Crystal is silent and watchful.

And then Chief Daggir steps forward with Draggar at his side. The chief’s eyes sweep over our strange little group. His eyes linger on Zahrik, narrowing just slightly. Recognition flashes across his face, but he doesn’t speak. His attention shifts to Lily, then to Vrok’s limp body in my arms.

My heart pounds in my chest. Will they believe me? Will the tribe actually help Vrok? What if this whole trip’s been nothing but a water haul—just a wasted effort, and we’re too late to save him?

“What happened?” His voice cuts through the silence.

“Vrok rescued my cousin from the Tussoll. He fought against them, and now he’s dying,” I say, my voice breaking.

Daggir steps closer, his gaze moving over Vrok’s bloodied, unmoving body and his gray pallor. “We thought he betrayed us. That he took you to trade to our enemies.”

“He didn’t,” I say, more forcefully this time. “I begged him to help me find my cousin, and he did. He saved us.”

Then I meet Daggir’s gaze. My voice drops, but the words carry the weight of everything I’ve kept inside. “He’s my amoris. You have to help him.”

A collective gasp ripples through the crowd. Draggar’s eyes widen. Haley presses a hand to her chest.

Daggir’s expression changes. The suspicion melts away, replaced by something softer that looks like regret. “Perhaps I misjudged him,” he says quietly.

Draggar steps forward and lays a hand on his father’s shoulder. “Then let’s save him. There’s time to make things right.”

The chief straightens, resolve hardening his features. “Warrix!” he shouts.

The crowd parts as the medic strides forward. His eyes widen when he sees Vrok’s condition. “Sard. Get him to my hut, now.”

Draggar and two other warriors lift Vrok from the eponir with careful hands. I stumble after them, my legs trembling and every muscle screaming in pain, but I don’t stop. I won’t leave him now.

Inside the hut, the air is warm and heavy with the scent of herbs. Warrix gestures toward an empty bed. “Lay him there,” he orders. His voice is steady and all business.

They settle Vrok on the bed before the two warriors file out, leaving just Draggar, Warrix, and me with him. My chest tightens as a sob becomes lodged in my throat. He looks so fragile. So different from the strong, stubborn warrior I’ve come to love.

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