Page 63 of Phoenix's Last Heist
“I’m coming with you,” I insist. “I’m not leaving you. You don’t understand. I can’t—I can’t just let you go.” The words tear out of me, ragged and raw. It’s not logic speaking—it’s something deeper, older. The bond already tethered to her, whether she knows it or not. My body feels ready to ignite with it.
The distant din of voices quiets, and as I peek around the side of the crates, my fears are confirmed: the Drellers and Void Stalkers are heading in our direction.
“We’re out of time!” Lyra hisses. “Promise me you’ll take the idol to the Feds. Maybe they can help. Maybe they can find another way to get the false idol into Brill’s hands. But I won’t risk Brill getting the real idol and finding out about the Dark Star. And I won’t risk your life, Orion.”
“Lyra…” This is happening too fast—I have too much to explain to her. There’s too much tosay.
“Promise me,”she demands.
I can’t refuse her anything, but it feels like my heart is shearing in two. My mating instincts are sparking beneath myskin, buzzing with the need to argue—to protect her. To launch myself at the group of Void Stalkers and cut my way through them with my bare hands and smoldering rage.And with what weapons, the shreds of my rational mind demand. I want to tell her I’d rather face Brill, Kraxis, and the entire Void fleet than live in a world without her in it. But she’s looking at me like this is mercy, and that my survival is the only thing that matters. And so I lie—to her, to myself—and say the words she needs to hear.
“I promise,” I hear myself say. Where are the guiding voices of my ancestors? Why can’t I think of a better plan?I need more time!
The Void Stalkers are closing in, and Lyra’s poised to intercept them.
“Evie was right,” she whispers suddenly. “About me dragging you into something you don’t deserve. And you were right—the sex didn’t meannothing.It meanteverything.”
Before I can come up with a reply or handcuff her to me to prevent her from running headfirst into her own event horizon, she smashes her lips to mine in a furious kiss. The buzzing beneath my skin vibrates to the point of pain when she pulls away and steps out from behind the stack of crates. My knees almost give out with the loss of her—with the realization of what’s happening. I can barely contain the growl of anguish that spills from my lips when I hear the shouted exchange between the Void Stalkers guttural native tongue and Lyra’s lilting reply.
“‘Sup, assholes? Were you looking for me?” she chuckles darkly. She strides into the open with that same reckless grace that first made me fall for her—hips squared, shoulders loose, head high despite the danger closing in. There’s a glint in her eyes like a dying star—brilliant, defiant, and gone too soon. My pulse thrums in my throat as she walks away from me, into hell.
“Sorry about your ship, by the way—my hands must’ve slipped on the trigger of those plasma cannons. But it’s nevera good idea to follow someone too close. That’s how accidents happen! Now, where’s your shit-for-brains boss?”
There’s an angry response and a scuffle, which sounds like Lyra being led above decks. Every muscle in my body screams to go after her—mating instinct or not—but I gave her my word. I’ll find a way to get back to her, if I have to drag the entire Federation down to Brill’s front door to do it.
It meanteverything.
She’s mine.
And I’m going to do whatever it takes to get her back.
I sit hunchedbehind the crates for a good long while to ensure the hangar is empty before I dare to move. By the time I unfurl my legs and stretch out, the only sounds are the faint dripping of water from the pipes lining the walls and the occasional clanging of activity on the decks above.
I crawl forward slowly at first, then jump up to a jog when I realize I’m well and truly alone.
Alone again. Serves you right.
My thoughts are dark and laced with regret, but dwelling on them will only derail me from doing what I need to do.
The ramp to Lyra’s ship is down—presumably so the Dreller mechanics can come and go easily for repairs. As soon as I sneak onboard, I hurry to the lab, quietly calling for Ada.
Ranger Asterth. How may I be of assistance?
“Oh, thank the stars. Lyra’s in trouble. Kraxis caught up with us, the repairs aren’t finished, and Lyra’s going back to Ooneryx and to Brill. I need to take the idol to her buyer on Epsilon-6—the Fed. Do you know who he is? Or how I can get in touch withhim?” I ask, at once relieved and filled with dread that the Solar Mother is still safe and sound in its stasis cabinet.
I am unfamiliar with the identity of Lyra’s contact on Epsilon-6.
“How is that possible? She shared everything with you,” I say, wrapping the Solar Mother in a soft cloth and stashing it in the bottom of a small duffel bag I repurposed from Lyra’s forgotten storage lockers.
It is unlikely Lyra would share such information with me, since it could be pulled from my hard drive if searched thoroughly. Brill has done so in the past and Lyra has taken steps to obscure her digital trail whenever she returns to Ooneryx.
“I don’t know anything about Epsilon-6,” I admit. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin looking. What can you tell me about it?”
I’m rushing through the ship, shoving my meager assortment of clothes and supplies into my bag. Without thinking, I find myself in Lyra’s room.
My heart throbs in agony and the tingling at the base of my spine reverberates throughout my whole body. The room still smells like sex, making my cock harden painfully in my pants. Knowing the danger she’s in and the limited time I have to get when I need and flee, I try to push past the raging mating instincts that have my body in a chokehold. Rifling through her drawers, I find what I’m looking for—the tattered remains of her father’s journal, hidden behind a messy pile of undershirts, socks, and underwear. And because I’m edging close to insanity with the urge to fuck her again—to fill her cunt with my seed until I can watch it drip from her wet slit—I steal a pair of her underwear and hide it in the bottom of my bag, along with the journal. There’s a cool, slithering brush of shame, but it incinerates in the heat of my need.
Find her. Free her. Fuck her until the stars burn out.
