Page 37 of Alien's Luck
“Enough,” he said, pressing a device to the nearest bit of Ari’s exposed flesh, his wings.
Ari felt the pinch of the device taking a genetic sample.
Such an act was beyond rude. It broke the most basic tenet of Khargal society: do not touch another’s wings. Touching a tail couldn’t be helped. They evolved to help with balance and spatial awareness. Tails were always brushing against something, mapping out the shape of the world, but wings… No.
“You broke three different protocols,” Ari said, now irritated. Beyond the issue with wings, he paid an exorbitant amount to the resort with the understanding that undesirables like law enforcement were kept out. The Patrol must have offered a hefty bribe to be admitted, which made Ari question who they were after. Surely not him. He had an active warrant, yes, but he was hardly important. Inconsequential even.
Still, now they had his genetic profile. Time for a hasty exit.
Ari spun on his heel, grabbing the pistol from the male’s hip. It went off with the barest of pressure, hitting the agent’s foot. The male hopped back, shouting as if that little blast was the greatest pain he had ever known.
The surrounding crowd fell silent; the only noise was the wailing of the injured Patrol agent. Pistols and various handheld weapons perfectly capable of ruining a day materialized. Tension filled the air, and no one breathed, waiting. One wrong move and the place would erupt into violence.
Carla, an agent of chaos, seemed unconcerned by the delicate balance. She grabbed a drinks tray from a nearby table and slammed it across the back of the first available body, which happened to be the Patrol agent. Ari’s tail grabbed the agent’s leg near the ankle and pulled. The agent shouted in pain as he tumbled to the ground.
Chaos broke out among the crowd. Shots were fired. Punches thrown. Tables knocked to the ground and glass shattered.
“I am embarrassed for you,” Ari told the still -wailing agent. “Making such a production over a little injury.”
“You shot me!”
“Yes, with your own weapon,” he agreed, his voice cheerful.
Ari stepped over the howling male. His skin shifted, hardening to resist damage from a stray shot, but Carla had no such protection. He disliked this human vulnerability. It seemed like an evolutionary flaw.
“We are leaving unless there is something else you need me to explain,” he said.
Carla swung the serving tray, connecting with another person who got too close. Her hair had worked itself out of the braid, golden strands swaying about her shoulders like it was caught in a summer zephyr. A fierceness settled over her face and hardened her eyes.
He knew that expression well. She wore it when she threatened to end him. How marvelous to see it again.
She was a menace and he wanted nothing more than to witness and admire her particular brand of havoc.
“I’m good,” she said, whirling around to face him.
Yes, he could tell. Very good. He had no doubt she could do this all night, or at least until the Patrol agents apprehended her.
As delightful as this was, one of them had to be the sensible one and flee.
“Now,” he said, grabbing his menace and tossing her over his shoulder.
CHAPTER 10
CARLA
For fuck’s sake, this was humiliating.
Ari slung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and now those shoulders dug into her stomach. His wings were right there in her face, making everything worse.
“Put me down!”
“No, you are too slow.”
“I jog. Let me run.” She hadn’t gone for a run since the abduction, but she used to do an evening jog back on Earth. Sometimes. Mostly when her pants fit too snug. Gym memberships were pricey, and sitting all day in front of a computer did things to her ass that she didn’t appreciate.
“There is no time.”
Not that again.
