Page 54 of Retribution
“I sensed feelings of betrayal in them, but now they are too far away, and I can no longer detect their emotions. That probably means Commander Vavvis tricked them into coming here and they are refusing to fight, as they don’t view the fight as righteous.”
“Oh. Well, that has to be good,” Layla said. “But why won’t they turn on the commander and join Zamek and Xazzok?”
“Because it’s no longer their fight,” Fallonn said.
Layla supposed that made sense. Sort of. For all the years she’d spent studying Kall culture, the aliens still confounded her now and then. But they were a warrior race whose sense of honor ran deep, she reminded herself. The two males who’d retreated into the airship likely viewed Commander Vavvis as Zamek’s fair kill.
When Xazzok backed up and appeared to be chuckling about something with Zamek, Layla emitted an exasperated sigh. “I can’t believe they are joking around and having a laugh right now. This is serious.”
Fallonn patted Layla on the back. “I sense Zamek’s confidence. I am sure he will—ohhhhh! Look away!”
In the time it took Layla to blink, Commander Vavvis had withdrawn a knife from his boot and hurled it straight at Zamek. Though Zamek had tried to move out of the way, the knife had still caught him and embedded in his flesh. She could see the handle of the knife protruding from his chest. Or maybe it was his shoulder. From this angle, she couldn’t be certain.
But still. He had a knife sticking out of him. Fear washed through her and she started shaking. It had to hurt, and it bothered her to know he was in pain.
To her shock, Zamek yanked the knife from his chest, tossed it in the air once, allowing it to flip over and over, then caught it by the hilt. He promptly tossed it at Vavvis, and the knife sank straight into the male’s… eyeball.
Holy shit.
Zamek and Xazzok exchanged a look and started laughing again, and Layla wanted to run outside and scream at them for having fun with this. Her husband was a general, which meant he was a much better fighter than Vavvis, yet he hadn’t finished the male off yet. Her anxiety kept cranking up notch after notch. She suspected Zamek could end this quickly if he wanted to, the key word beingwant.
Did he wish to draw the fight out just for his own amusement? She knew he was a fierce warrior, and also that he had a dark side, a vengeful side, but she hoped he ended this fight soon before something went wrong. What if Vavvis pulled a surprise?
Vavvis stumbled and reached for the knife, pulling it from his eye. With a snarl, he tossed the weapon aside. Blood gushed down his face and he wiped at it with the back of his hand. With his good eye, he peered at the knife on the ground for a moment. Even from this distance, Layla noticed the unblemished side of his face turned quite pale and his one remaining eye widened. He was regarding the knife as if it were a venomous serpent ready to strike, then his focus abruptly returned to Zamek.
The fight continued, with Zamek and Vavvis charging at one another. When they clashed, Layla winced and fought the urge to cover her eyes. But she forced herself to watch. Zamek was her husband, and she cared about him, and dammit she could not turn away from the battle. She had to know what happened as soon as it happened.
“Hm. I sense Zamek’s growing arrogance,” Fallonn said.
“You don’t say,” Layla mumbled under her breath.
Zamek’s battle-ax repeatedly clashed with Vavvis’s sword, over and over, from this angle and that, and Layla was starting to get dizzy just watching them move in circles below.
Finally, Vavvis sustained another wound—namely, the loss of two fingers. And somehow, somefuckinghow, Zamek got a hold of said fingers and held them in the air, clearly taunting his foe. Then he tossed the fingers straight at Vavvis, and they bounced off his chest and into the dirt. Blood flowed from the commander’s injured hand.
Layla wondered how much blood was flowing from Zamek’s wound. His uniform shirt was black, making it difficult to see dark red blood seeping into the fabric. She prayed he wasn’t injured worse than he was letting on.
Zamek finally knocked Vavvis’s sword from his hands. The commander scrambled for his weapon in the dirt, and as he bent over, Zamek dealt the final blow—slicing his skull clean in half with the battle-ax.
Relief mingled with disgust—holy shit what had she just watched?—and Layla sank to her knees in front of the window, no longer able to hold herself up. Her legs had turned to jelly, and nerves were wreaking havoc on her system.
“Fluxx, I need a drink after watching that,” Fallonn announced.
“Me too.” Layla took a few steadying breaths and grabbed hold of the windowsill, using it to draw herself to her feet. Though her legs were still shaky, she managed a couple of steps without collapsing. “God, I don’t think my heart will ever stop pounding. Also, I’m seriously considering stabbing Zamek myself. He should’ve ended it quickly.”
“I told you not to watch, human,” a deep familiar voice called up the stairs.
Layla moved to the landing and peered down at Zamek. Then she practically tripped over her feet as she rushed down the stairs to greet him. Apparently, a closer view of him alive and breathing had given her the burst of energy required to get her legs working properly.
He caught her in his arms and kissed her soundly, clutching her face as he growled into her mouth. She pushed at him and withdrew from the kiss.
“Wait! Stop! You’re bleeding.”
He glanced down at his shirt, then at the front of Layla’s dress, which was now covered in his blood. “I am fine, human, I promise. I’ve endured worse. Xazzok will stitch me up, he’s done it before and is just as skilled as a healer, in my opinion.”
“Xazzok!” Layla called, as the male joined them in the entryway. “Xazzok, we need you immediately. Zamek is bleeding. Please help him.”
“Shh, Layla, all will be well,” Zamek said, stroking her hair.
