Page 68 of Infala: Bonded to the Enemy
A twinge of pain broke his concentration. He looked down at his makeshift bandage, a frown on his lips. It was already soaking through. Shit. This had to be addressed, and now. Hewouldrescue her no matter what, but he had to be in peak fighting form to do so. It was an internal battle with himself, one that required all his willpower to push down the urge to simply charge blindly after her captors. He moved ahead slowly, eyes scanning all around, forcing himself to walk, not run. The tracks were fresh enough. He wouldn’t lose them. But he had to be smart about this.
Valin had walked for nearly an hour when movement at the base of a tree caught his eye. A relieved smile crept onto his lips.
“Ah, good. That will do nicely.”
He stepped into the brush, careful to move quietly while alsonot leaving obvious signs of his passage. In just a few strides he reached the tree. A feeling of relief washed over him. Normally a swarm of insects would not elicit such a response, not by a long-shot. But these were a particular variety, and one that would prove most useful in his current state.
“Come here my little beauties,” he said, grasping one of the twelve-legged creatures behind its head and lifting it from the caravan of its hivemates.
The insect was only as long as his thumb, its body segmented into three parts. There was a stinger on the rear, allowing it to pivot and strike at its enemies. Valin was well aware of that defensive mechanism and rested a finger on its lower rear area preventing it from driving its weapon into his hand. That wasn’t its only tool, however. Powerful pincers snapped hard, searching for a target. When in a fight, they would latch on tight, not releasing their grip even in death.
Normally, they were used to cut leaves and small branches for the construction and repair of their hive, but they could also be used quite effectively to fend off attackers. Smaller ones, at least. And that trait was precisely what Valin needed.
He lifted his shirt, pulling the bandage free and holding his shirt up with his teeth. He used his free hand to pinch the edges of his injury together.
“This will be fun,” he muttered, preparing himself for the pain.
The snap of the mandibles and accompanying sharp jolt of sensation when the insect bit him flooded his body with endorphins. He knew it would hurt; all the books he had read on this unusual survival technique had pretty much agreed on that part. What they didn’t say was how much.
“Shit,” he hissed. “You’ve got quite a bite, my little friend.”
The insect had no ears, and even if it did, it wouldn’t have replied. It was focused on one thing and one thing alone. Biting. Hard.
Valin pinched behind its head, popping it off with a snap,tossing the body aside. The head maintained its grip, holding his flesh together.
“One down, several more to go,” he said, picking up another.
Valin would repeat the process a total of seven times before he was satisfied with the results. The injury still leaked a tiny bit, but the combination of pressure, as well as the painful but disinfecting venom they excreted in their bite, was already doing its job. They weren’t quite stitches, but they would suffice quite nicely given the lack of other options.
He admired his handiwork and lowered his shirt. “Thank you,” he said to the churning line of their comrades. If he’d possessed whatever it was they ate he’d have left a little sacrifice for them, but that wasn’t in the cards. Only one thing was, and that was finding his mate. He carefully returned to the tracks and continued his pursuit.
His pace increased now that he wasn’t constantly leaking blood. The wound burned as the venom seemed to force coagulation, but that was a good thing. His skin would mend quicker than he’d originally thought, it seemed. If he was to charge into battle, he’d need every drop of blood he possessed.
“Whatever it takes,” he said over and over to himself, the words almost a mantra. He would stop at nothing until Shalia was safe. There was simply no other choice. He had found his mate, and he wouldnotlose her.
The tracks were clear enough, easy to follow and numerous. One set, he noted, were a bit deeper than the others. It all but confirmed his belief. One of them was carrying something heavy. Heavy like a prisoner. He would be outnumbered, and greatly, it seemed. But he had the element of surprise, and the several fallen limbs he had sharpened into crude spears would be put to use before they knew what hit them.
It was unheard of, a Dohrag officer rushing into combat without so much as a pistol. Hand-to-hand was always a last resort—it was why they had their technology, after all. But he didn’t care. He would do it however the situation necessitated,standards and tradition be damned. Besides, he had already thrown away his rank. He was a Dohrag commander no more, and if this wound up costing him his life, so be it. At least he would die with honor saving his love.
He almost laughed at himself. This was a thought so foreign to the Commander Valin of just a few weeks ago he almost couldn’t believe he was thinking it. But the Infala bond had been formed, and with it his world had turned on its head.
His heart and mind were one, focused in unison, drawing on his Infala’s strength, reaching out for his mate with all of his being.
“I will find you, Shalia,” he whispered to the air. “Be strong.”
34
Shalia’s head was pounding, a dull throb radiating from the back to the front, nestling in behind her eyes. Eyes that, she noted as her senses returned, were closed.
“What the fuck?” she grumbled, forcing them open, her fingers moving to the small knot on her head.
She held them in front of her. Not sticky. No blood. At least she had that going for her. She pushed herself up onto one elbow, her vision clearing and sounds now growing clear in her ears. There were people around, she realized. And they were looming over her.
Shalia jolted up to one elbow, a fist forming on instinct, ready to fight.
“You are safe,” a strangely familiar voice soothed. “Take it slow.”
“Zepharos?”
