Page 17 of Alien Devil's Wrath
“The spores have settled,” she said, her voice still breathless. “We should go.”
“Yes,” I agreed, but still neither of us stepped apart.
When she finally turned in my arms, her face was tilted up toward mine, lips slightly parted. For a heartbeat I thought about closing the distance between us, about finding out if she tasted as lethal as she looked.
Instead, I stepped aside and let her lead us deeper into the tunnel system.
The passage ahead narrowed dramatically, forcing us to move single file through a corridor barely wide enough for my shoulders. Worse, the air here was thick with concentrated spores. A tunnel of glowing death that stretched into darkness.
“I can get us through,” Bronwen said, studying the hazardous passage like she was analyzing a complex puzzle. “But you’ll have to trust me.”
Something in her tone made me look at her more carefully. She was serious. Deadly serious in a way I’d never seen from her before.
“What do you need me to do?”
“Close your eyes. Don’t open them until I tell you to.” Her hands came up to rest on my chest, and my heart hammered under her palms. “I’ll guide you step by step, but you have to surrender your sight. Completely.”
Give up on one of my greatest advantages. Let her lead me blind through a passage that could kill us both.
The very idea went against every survival instinct I’d honed over decades of violence. I’d survived by trusting nothing and no one but my own abilities. Control meant life. Vulnerability meant death.
“Zarek.” Her voice was soft but insistent. “I need you to trust me.”
I looked into her dark eyes, seeing the confidence there, the absolute certainty that she could keep us both alive. She knew this place better than I knew my own scars. She’d kept herself breathing in hell for five years through knowledge and skill I couldn’t match.
“Close your eyes,” she repeated.
I did.
The world went dark. Every other sense immediately sharpened. Her breathing, the warmth of her body near mine, the mineral tang of the cavern. Without sight, I was hyperaware of her proximity, the gentle pressure of her hands on my chest.
“Step forward,” she said, her voice becoming my anchor in the darkness. “Small steps. Follow my hands.”
Her palms pressed against my chest, guiding my movement. A step to the left. Another forward. The trust required was more intimate than any physical touch. I was putting my life entirely in her small, capable hands.
“Duck slightly,” she whispered. “There’s a low overhang just ahead.”
I obeyed, feeling displaced air brush my hair as we passed under some invisible obstacle. Her guidance was flawless. She was reading the tunnel, the spore patterns, the safe path through toxic beauty, and translating it all into gentle pressure against my body.
“Stop.” Her hands flattened against my chest, holding me motionless. “Heavy concentration here. Count to fifteen, then we move.”
I held still, trusting her, while death drifted inches from my face. In the darkness, nothing but her voice and touch to guide me, a truth settled in my chest that should have terrified me.
I would follow her anywhere. Into hell, into death, into whatever came next.
“Move forward. Three steps, then we’re clear.”
When we finally emerged from the passage, she didn’t immediately tell me to open my eyes. For a moment we stood there, her hands still pressed to my chest, my world reduced to the sound of her breathing and the warmth of her touch.
“You can look now,” she said finally.
I opened my eyes to find her staring up at me, something wondering in her expression. We were standing in a wider chamber, safe from the concentrated spores, but she hadn’t stepped away.
“You trusted me,” she said, sounding almost surprised. “I could have led you anywhere, and you would have followed.”
“Yes.”
The simple acknowledgment hung between us, heavy and undeniable. I trusted her in ways I’d never trusted anyone. The knowledge should have sent me running.
