Page 39 of Alien's Luck
With his wing tucked, he maneuvered around a pillar, but his aching wing made control difficult, causing him to clip the pillar with his shoulder. He spun, uncontrolled. With one arm holding Carla to him, he reached for a railing as he fell.
The metal groaned as he tightened his grip, threatening to give way. His momentum stopped, he hung suspended from the walkway.
Carla gasped and panted, her heart pounding hard enough to be audible.
Below, he spotted a walkway that looked sturdy enough.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice wobbling.
“Hold tight.” That was all the warning he gave, letting go and falling once more toward the water.
“No no no no nooooo!”
His wings opened, slowing the descent, but not enough.
Carla screamed again, somehow louder than before. Her arms tightened around his neck, threatening to cut off his air supply.
Metal groaned and shook as he landed and rolled onto his back, his wings and shoulders taking the impact.
They lay there, limbs tangled, with Carla sprawled across his chest. It wasn’t… unpleasant. His back stung and his wings were injured, potentially broken, but Carla…that’s where his thoughts began and ended.
“Are you well?” he asked.
She pushed herself upright, straddling his torso. Shadows obscured her features, but the dim light cast a halo around herform. They had been in this position before. Her usually smooth hair was in disarray. He liked it. He liked her.
Voices came from above. Ari clamped a hand over her mouth, preventing her from speaking. He felt her lips move and her teeth gnash, trying to bite into his palm.
“Remain quiet,” he advised. Somehow, he knew she glared at him.
He darkened his color, adding a deep navy to help blend him into the shadows. His wings pulled forward, hiding Carla. Well, one wing. The other moved stiffly, unable to flex all the way forward. That would be a problem.
He listened to the voices above and footsteps on the walkways. There was a static burst of comms and an engine. A craft rose from the water to a docking bay above. Tension eased as it became apparent that this was a routine shipment and not Patrol agents searching for them.
He removed his hand but cautioned, “Speak softly. We are being hunted. Now, I shall ask again: are you well?”
“No, I am not well,” she said, her voice taking a mocking tone. “What the hell was that?”
“A clever escape,” he answered.
“You shot that dude!”
“You were the one advocating a plan that involved guns.”
“Yeah, a plan. Not general mayhem.”
“I improvised,” he said, falling back on the haughty tone that came so easily to one of his social class.
“I thought that’s what we were doing with our words, then you went and got all rooty-tooty, point and shooty.”
He rubbed a hand on her back. “My actions have upset you to the point of speaking nonsense.”
“Seriously, what was that?”
Her tone was furious. Understandably. Her flesh was tense under his touch, but she did not pull away. This encouraged him.
“You are upset. That is to be expected. Humans do not fly,” he said.
“You think that’s why I’m upset? Because I don’t fly?” Her voice grew higher in pitch with each word.
