Page 53 of Taken for Granite
He fled, encountering another squad and more bullets, keeping his wings tucked tightly to his back. If the membranes of his wings took too much damage, he would not be able to fly. Bullets pierced his shoulder and arms. While his skin was denser than a human’s, the gunfire still stung, and an armor piercing round would do serious damage. He needed to keep moving, to make himself a difficult target to hit.
Finding the elevator disabled, he climbed up the shaft. As he exited the shaft, a canister rolled across the floor, hissing noxious fumes.
Holding his breath, he extended his wings and beat them, pushing the gas back. The agents apparently didn’t think to wear gas masks, so they scattered. There really was a drop in quality with the American branch, it seemed.
Taking flight, he launched over the gasping agents and flew out of the building.
He raced to the motel, pleased to find the black vehicle parked in front of the room Juniper rented. He wanted more than anything to burst through that door and take his mate in his arms, but he had necessary work first.
He crouched at the side of the vehicle and listened. Running his fingers under the chassis, he found nothing suspicious. However, he found a tracking device under the hood.
He flew to the nearest river and dropped it in.
18
Tas
Tas kept vigil all night, but Syndicate agents did not approach the motel. Just before dawn, he jumped down from the roof and knocked on the motel door.
The door cracked opened. “What?”
“I require admittance. Typically one knocks for entry,” he said.
The youngling opened the door, standing there with a pen in her mouth and a notepad in one hand. “Tas?” she asked, removing the pen.
“Chloe?” he asked in return.
“Junie, your date is here,” Chloe shouted.
The youthful slang confused him, but he said nothing. Juniper appeared at the door, hair mussed from sleep and her eyes half-shut.
“Tas, get in here. Don’t just stand there where anyone can see you.” She pulled him in, wrapping her arms around him. Instinctively, his wings wrapped around her to form a shield. “I was so worried. I honestly thought I’d never see you again,” she whispered.
“I am here.” He buried his nose in her loose hair. She smelled of sleep and soap, a warm bed and drowsy kisses.
The youngling cleared her throat loudly.
Juniper pulled back, then noticed his pock-marked skin. She ran her hands up and down his arms, over his shoulders and torso. His flesh had been gouged, the wounds red and raw but no longer bleeding.
“What happened to you? Does it hurt?” She carefully touched the wound.
It did hurt, but he would not admit to that. “The damage can be repaired with sleep.”
“Duramna?”
“Yes,” he said.
She chewed on her lower lip. That she did not remove her hand from his arms pleased him exorbitantly.
“Is it safe enough to do that here?” she asked.
He considered Rhododendron’s warning about the Syndicate tracking the sigil. “No. Not while I have this.” He held up the sigil. Symbols lit up along the surface. Even after a millennium, it was still fully powered and functional.
“What is that?” Juniper asked.
“They were talking about that,” the young female said. “The Rose people. They couldn’t figure out how to open it.”
“That is because it is designed to only respond to a Khargal’s genetic signature. But this one, in particular, is mine.” He pressed his thumb to the base of the device and it unfolded like a blossom. Red light bathed the room and a holographic displayed popped up on top.
