Page 48 of Alien Warlord's Fury

"It's practical too." I gestured to her now-stable markings. "What I did to help you wouldn't have been possible without it."

"So it's just a useful tool for our task?" A challenge in her voice.

I shook my head. "No. It's much more than that." I took her hand in mine, watching as our energies intertwined.

"It's a connection that transcends duty or purpose. It simply... is."

Claire studied our joined hands. "I've never been good at connections. At staying. At..." She paused.

"At trusting someone else with my life."

"I've noticed." The dry comment earned me a small smile.

"But this—" She gestured between us. "I can't deny it. I've felt it from the beginning, even when I wanted to hate you."

"You did hate me," I reminded her. "Quite vocally."

"You were being an ass."

"I was being cautious."

"Same thing." She squeezed my hand. "But you came with me anyway."

"I did."

The simple acknowledgment carried weight beyond the words themselves. We sat in companionable silence, the ancient clearing quiet around us except for our breathing.

"Nirako." Claire's voice was soft. "If we don't make it?—"

I pressed a finger to her lips. "We will."

"You don't know that." She pulled my hand away, holding it between both of hers. "Hammond is dangerous. What we're attempting is nearly impossible."

"We could both die tomorrow."

"Yes." I didn't deny the reality. "We could."

"And that doesn't scare you?"

I considered the question carefully. "Death has always been a possibility in my life. As a warrior, I've faced it many times."

I met her gaze. "What scares me is the thought of you facing it alone."

Claire's markings brightened at my words. "I'm not alone anymore, am I?"

"No." I brushed my thumb across her knuckles. "Neither of us is."

CLAIRE

Ilay on the rough stone floor, my body still aching from the energy feedback that had nearly torn me apart. The ancient chamber felt both too small and too vast, trapping me with my fears while reminding me how insignificant we were against what we faced. My markings pulsed erratically beneath my skin.

Nirako moved with that infuriating grace of his, checking the perimeter, tending our small fire, arranging his weapons. Always in control. Always so damn disciplined.

I watched him through half-lidded eyes. The golden lines across his skin flowed in perfect harmony, not a flicker out of place. Not chaotic.

Not broken. Not like mine.

My fingers curled against the stone, nails scraping against ancient symbols. The sound of my own heartbeat thundered in my ears, too fast, too loud. The children's screams from my visions echoed beneath it, a constant reminder of what waited for us at Hammond's compound.

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