Page 102 of Warrior's Captive
“This is not personal, Zhiannur,” Darosheiil said coolly. “This is business. We do not act until the best advantage presents itself. We are not thugs to bloody our hands. These will do that kind of low work, when it is time.” He gestured contemptuously to the impassive guards.
One of his guards murmured something, and he glanced over his shoulder, straightening. “Very well.” Darosheiil turned and walked away. “This one we do not need, however. Kill the mother and take her child. Bring the other one.”
Vivian sprang up, allowing the matebond fueled muscle memory to pilot her movements. Darosheiil streaked out of her path, moving faster than expected, but he wasn’t her target.
“Stun only, do not kill!” Darosheiil exclaimed.
The first guard jerked, bringing up his weapon. Even then, the others didn’t seem to take Vivian’s threat seriously. Darosheiil would need a better quality mercenary in the future, if he had one.
She feigned left, grabbed the guard’s wrist and twisted, pulling his weight forward to disarm him and take control of the weapon. His second of surprise was the advantage she needed, following the disarm up with a kick to the back of his knee. He collapsed to the ground and Vivian turned, firing. His body jerked and he went down, stunned into unconsciousness.
There was a moment of shocked silence. “Do your jobs,” Darosheiil growled, his affable exterior vanished.
Byeo-mi-cha’i surged up from her huddle next to a guard. Vivian had seconds to observe that her long limbs must be dense with muscle because one punch and the guard next to her went down. Byeo-mi-cha’i retrieved his weapon, and chaos broke loose. Another attacked Vivian, and she snapped back into focus.
Shira’s job was to remain out of the fight and protect Ori. The other females all had their tasks, and they knew they’d only get this one chance. The guards must have allowed their hushed conversations only because they had never fought back as a group.
Vivian shot her assailant, turned to find two more attacking. Byeo-mi-cha’i rapped instructions to three of the females who swarmed another guard. He was faster, shooting into the trio. There were screams, one woman collapsing to the ground, but the others grabbed his weapon arm, clinging for life as others jumped on his back and brought him down.
Inelegant, but effective.
Fire scored Vivian’s torso, the reward for allowing herself to become distracted by her worry for the others. She engaged her assailant, reminding herself that her muscles might think they possessed Tai’ri’s strength, but they didn’t. She was still a short, slight woman who only recently began physical conditioning.
But still. Experience, even borrowed, counted.
“Vivian, behind you!” Shira screamed. Byeo-mi-cha’i whistled, a high-pitched shriek of fury.
“Comm for backup,” a male voice snapped.
Vivian whirled, throwing herself to the side to evade the blaster shot and follow up kick which would have caved her head in if it connected.
“Alive, you idiot!” Darosheiil screamed again.
A blow from behind stunned Vivian. She collapsed to her knees, fighting the disorientation. Zhiannur darted forward, grabbing her by her hair and pulling her to her feet.
“You will pay for this,” he hissed, and dimly she thought that the increasing glow of his eyes boded nothing good.
She snarled. “I won’t be taken again.”
He froze. He wasn’t looking at her though, but over her shoulder.
“Release the female,” a cool, peaceful voice said. “Death is your reward if you do not comply.”
“A slow, painful death,” Tai’ri growled.
She barely recognized his voice, clogged with rage and bloodlust. But she’d know him anywhere. Her marks flared, and she aimed a strike at Zhiannur’s neck.
He gurgled, releasing her, and stumbled back. The enemy closest aimed his weapon, but dropped to the ground when a blast took him in the chest.
Darosheiil did not move, not even to raise his hands in surrender. He stared at Vykhan, expression fathomless.
“You overestimated your forces,” Vykhan said. “I find that is a mistake your kind often makes. Curious.”
Vivian looked around for Shira, finding her standing over an injured woman, a weapon clutched in her hand and her teeth bared in a snarl, her free arm clutched protectively over Ori.
“Vivian,” Banujani said. “To us.”
Warriors streaked past Vivian, taking out the rest of the enemy guards. One of Tai’ri’s team stopped several feet from Shira, hands up, until the expression on her face faded and she blinked, arm lowering. He spoke in a low tone and she nodded, handing him the weapon.
