Page 61 of Havik: Warlord Brides
Havik
The blade hit its mark, sinking into the throat of the male who lunged for Thalia. The male touched the handle of the blade, as if in disbelief, and pulled it free. Blood pulsed and he slapped a hand over the wound, falling to his knees. Havik recognized him as the male who Thalia had saved from an allergic reaction.
The iron bar the male held clattered to the floor.
Thalia kicked the bar away and scrambled to her feet. “He was going to brain me! That fucker.”
Under his armor, his tattoos burned with pleasure. He had missed his mate and her colorful language.
“Thalia—” The visor slid open. A smile blossomed across her face, and the air felt clean, like after a storm. For the first time since the smugglers took her, he could breathe.
Then, because the universe could not bear to see him happy, a Terran female grabbed his mate. With an arm wrapped around Thalia’s chest, the female pressed a knife to her throat. Havik recognized his own blade.
Thalia’s oasis-blue eyes went wide but she remained still.
“That was my man,” the female hissed. “No one gets to end him but me!”
“Sue, we can be reasonable,” Thalia said.
“Is that your alien? Is he going to compensate me for my lost inventory? For the fuel I burned hauling your ass here?”
“Sue, this is a raid.” Thalia’s voice remained calm and steady. “Look around you. Those are Mahdfel soldiers. If you leave now, you have time to get away. They can’t stop every ship.”
“Do as my mate says and leave. We will not pursue you,” Havik said.
“Please leave,” Thalia said, her voice continuing to be a source of calm in the noise and confusion of the raid.
“You ruined me! You have no idea what the boss will do to me if I don’t give him his money. Do you think he’s the kind of man to accept an IOU?”
The knife dug in. A drop of scarlet trickled down Thalia’s throat.
“I’m sorry,” Thalia said. The back of her head slammed into the female’s nose, followed by a crunch and cry. Blood gushed from her nose.
Moving with a speed he did not suspect; she grabbed the blaster from the female’s shoulder holster. With the barrel pressed directly to the female’s thigh, she pulled the trigger. The female crumpled to the ground, wailing.
Thalia stood motionless for three heartbeats. He counted out the thuds emanating from her chest. She shook her head, then kneeled over the prone female, pinning her body down with her weight. She checked the female’s pulse. “Idiot,” she muttered. “If you were going to keep your blaster charged and on the highest setting, why didn’t you have a thumbprint scanner? Or at least the safety on?”
Havik knelt next to his mate. “The female requires a medic, but I am not inclined to find one.”
Retrieving a square of cloth from the female’s pocket, Thalia mopped up the blood. “Be quiet. You’re not dying. You’re welcome, by the way. I hope you enjoy a nice long life in prison.”
The female bared her teeth, all bloody, and spat. Thalia shoved the filthy rag in the female’s mouth. “Do you have handcuffs? Oh, shut the fuck up, Sue. I begged you to leave.”
The female thrashed, kicking ineffectively with her good leg.
“Stop that! Bad Sue!” Thalia bopped the female on her broken nose. A new howl of ragged agony tore from the female, only partially muffled by the rag stuffed in her mouth.
Havik handed his mate a set of cuffs and supervised as she bound the female. Finished, she turned toward him and placed a bloody hand on his chest. Pride swelled that his mate marked him with the blood of her enemy, slain by her own hand. That part of his chest had the marker for his clan. He would cover the old tattoo with a new emblem, with her handprint.
Overcome by the need to hold his mate, he pulled her into his arms. A glittery powder covered every inch of her. The sharp, chemical smell masked her clean, blossoming scent and made his nose itch. She felt so fragile in his arms as she buried her face against his chest.
They were an oasis in the chaos. People shouted and ran. Weapons clashed. Caged animals growled and roared. They could endure in that moment forever, sheltered in each other’s arms and safe.
“Thalia,” he moaned. Clutching her, he vowed to never let her go again. He had so many things to share with her, to confess his heart, that he did not know where to begin.
His mate let out a hiss and stiffened. “Fuck, that smarts, but I don’t want you to let go.”
“I will not.” Never again. Somehow fate gave him another chance to redeem himself and prove that he could be more than a selfish, image-obsessed male. If he achieved nothing else in this life than being a good mate to Thalia, then he would count himself an accomplished male.
