Page 88 of Havik: Warlord Brides
The other warriors stood still, as if a switch had been flipped. Havik slowly dragged himself to his feet.
Thalia flung herself at Havik. “You fucking idiot!”
He huffed, wrapping his arms around her. “A liar and a thief, indeed,” he said.
“Well, I thought you’d get the message. Sneak away when you could. I had it covered.”
Havik
“You require a medic. Now,” Havik said, clutching her in his arms.
In an instant, he weighed all his options. He did not trust the clan’s medic. Seeking assistance from another clan put him in the same position. He did not know their loyalties to protecting females—any female—or their sympathies with Kaos’ exclusionary policy. He could only trust himself. Unfortunately, he did not have the skill to treat Thalia’s injury.
He needed time.
“Your father—”
“Blast him into a black hole. The sand can take him.” That male. His treachery knew no bounds. Havik felt disgust for breathing the same air, let alone sharing a name.
“He needs a medic,” his mate said, because she was a good person.
“The kumakre venom struck his heart,” he said, as if his father had a heart. “He will be dead in moments. There is nothing to be done.” The venom burning through Kaos’ veins would be agony and the male deserved to feel every moment. Perhaps one of his honorless warriors would end his misery, but Havik sincerely hoped not. Regardless, he would not be there to witness his father’s end.
“Mais is still in the tunnels. She had a head wound that needs to be looked at. We need to find her.”
“Your compassionate heart will be your undoing,” he said. “Your condition is more urgent. When I can, I will find Mais. She can come with us or I will deliver her to a safe location.” His mate nodded in agreement. Adjusting his hold on Thalia to minimize contact with her reddened skin, he headed to the nearest ship.
“We need a fast ship!” he shouted as they approached the clan’s vessel. “I claim this craft. Does anyone challenge my right?”
Loitering crew members scattered, not a one with enough honor and self-respect to look him in the eyes.
“We have a ship,” Thalia said in a quiet voice. She sounded weak. The sun had already turned her skin an alarming red, and her lips were cracked with dehydration.
“Are you nauseous? Headache? Dizzy?”
“Yes, because you’re bouncing me around. Walk. Don’t run.”
“No.” He ran, footsteps thundering up the ramp.
The hatch closed and the lights turned blue, initiating decontamination. A computer-generated voice counted down. Havik set Thalia on her feet for decontamination. Summoning his patience as he wanted nothing more than to tear the hatch open with his hands, he held still.
The computer chimed with completion. He scooped up his mate and nearly kicked open the door.
“You!” He pointed to the closest male. “Authorize me to command this vessel.”
“I cannot,” the male stammered.
Havik growled, recognizing the falsehood. “I do not have time for your petty lies. Give me the code or I will rip off your thumb.”
The male gulped and rushed to a pad embedded in the wall. Frantically, he pressed buttons. “Press your thumb.”
The device chimed, recognized Havik, and authorized him to full use of the ship. Excellent.
He turned to the male, still clutching his mate. “Leave, unless you want to leave Rolusdreus in the brig.” He refused to trust any male from his father’s clan. It was rotten to the core.
Fortunately, the ship was a standard design. He headed to Medical. Immediately, he placed his mate in the emergency cleansing stall. Carefully he removed her spectacles and set them aside, then he tore the flimsy fabric of her garments. The tattered remains fell to the floor.
Coughing under the deluge of water, Thalia leaned against the walls. The computer measured radiation levels, continuing to rinse away the particles until reaching a tolerable level.
