“Back door, go.”
Zariah glances around her as she runs out the back door. I had hoped to chat longer, but this seems to be the way we see each other—in passing.
“You’re going to regret this!” Lingon says.
I press my gun harder into his back. “You’re going to regret all the women you have hurt over the years, Lingon. They are the most precious thing in this universe, and you treat them like garbage.”
“Not all of us care about the future,” he defends. “What’s the point of procreating if we cannot enjoy the life we have?”
I steel my emotions, shift my sensory parameters to the males most ready to shoot, and plan my escape route. Jaaka closes the bar behind a shield. And everyone else hurries out.
“You don’t get it. And I pity you,” I say.
He cackles. “Youdon’t get it. But you are going to get a lot of lead to pick out of your teeth in Hell, Nytheralian.”
“Wrong.” Few have seen one of my kind, but I know he has.
“Must be so miserable,” I jeer, as I switch my Harrow unit to a smoke canister. The lights blink on, showing me which port will fire.
“What’s that?”
“To not know love.”
I launch the smoke grenade, filling the bar with a rush of green clouds, then slam myself to the floor as the bullets whiz overhead, and scramble out through the back door.
Zariah’s scent fills my nostrils as I leave the bar behind. I scramble up and chase her path through the hallways, hoping she’s safe. Voices follow but become more distant the further I get from the bar. I don’t pick up the scent of others with hers, but I can’t stand the thought of letting her get away from me again. My core compels me like a starved junkie.
I track her scent to the stairs and burst through the doors onto the stairwell to pace the landing. Her scent fades going up but comes back to me on the descending side. I take the steps down to the next level and find she’s dropped another.
I exit into a maintenance room with an array of steaming heating systems and a maze of pipes. A few paces inside, a slender stick of rebar swings toward my head.
The angle is too low, the movement too slow to be a threat to me. I catch the bar with one hand and look down as Zariah’s sweet aroma consumes me. Each time I’ve seen her, the pull grows stronger. I hear her rapid pulse, the breath that escapes her. Time slows for a blink.
“Elix?”
“Zariah—” I rasp, hoping she thinks it’s just because I’ve been running and not from the scorching desire that tears through me.
Her ample hips sway as she slumps to rest against a row of pipes, and it nearly kills me to just stand here like a helpless idiot. But I cannot take her. I won’t for moral reasons. That’s all anyone has ever done to her.
I have to tell her the truth and find a way to make her mine.Just don’t fuck it up this time.
3: Elix
I wish she had come with me all those years ago, but I didn’t know what this feeling was back then. I masked it as desperation to be free. But it broke me the moment I knew we weren’t escaping together, and she’d stayed behind to ensure my freedom.
“How did you find me?” She releases the rebar like it’s suddenly raging hot. “Never mind, I can wager a guess, since you’re Lazariot. Sorry for attacking you.”
She paces away, then comes back. “I’m really starting to regret this whole thing.”
“Are you hurt?” I ask, wishing she’d stop and look at me with those inky gems of eyes once more. They remind me of the ore back at home, the same one that lines my armor and my weapons.
“Not any more than normal.” She glances at her knuckles, then up at me. “You’ve sure grown.”
“I was malnourished when we met and you covered for me. Haven’t had a close encounter since.”
“I don’t remember you having this muchmusclewhen I saw you last. Have you found any others like you?”
She likes my grown form?Something in the back of my mind compels me toward her. “A few.”
