Page 6 of Bride of the Enemy Alien

“No time.”

“Then you die without one,” Syin says.

“Rhazek,” he says, his mouth twisting.

He looks past Syin, back to me, and I have an awful feeling he understands more about our position than he should. The slope. The gap I marked. The number of guards. The way I’ve shifted my weight toward the safest retreat path.

“You,” he says.

I stiffen, shaking my head.

“Absolutely not,” I say.

“You know the way out.”

“I know many things. None of them are for you.”

He gives a short, disbelieving huff.

“Then keep your secrets and die with them.”

I step toward him, bold or stupid is up for debate, but I do it anyway.

“Listen, sky trash, you don’t get to fall on our planet, bleed on our sand, insult our escape routes, and act like you’re the only person here with a working brain.”

Behind me, Renn makes a small choking sound. Syin looks briefly delighted, which is just weird. The alien stares, then he laughs once before it turns into a cough. Blood spots his teeth.

“Good,” he says. “You have anger. It may keep you alive longer than obedience.”

“I’m going to let Syin stab you.”

“No,” he says, and his voice changes.

One word. Flat. Certain. Commanding enough that every weapon tightens.

The clicking inside the ship speeds up. It doubles, each three-beat pattern crowding the next.

The sand under my boots trembles in answer and cold races over my skin despite the heat.

“The basin,” I say. “Now.”

Syin hears it in my voice and acts. He snaps an order, and the warriors back toward the cut between rocks. The alien sways.

I hate what happens next because it’s stupid, predictable, and apparently I’ve learned nothing from watching other women ruin their lives around dangerous males with excellent shoulders. I move toward the enemy alien.

“Kessa!” Syin snarls.

Rhazek’s eye narrows as I duck under his arm and take some of his weight. One damaged wing drags close enough to brush my shoulder, hot and leathery, the torn edge trembling against my sleeve. He’s hot from fever and smoke, heavy as sin, and made of more muscle than sense.

“You are small,” he says.

“You’re bleeding on me.”

“You should leave me.”

“That was my first idea.”

“Return to it.”