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They must have been so scared when they first landed and found themselves here. They must have felt the same isolation I felt when I walked up here and felt the sheer alien-ness of the planet I found myself on. It looks like Earth, but it is not Earth. It is nothing like that world. It has its own secrets, its own monsters. I felt them in the dark, their eyes on me. They let me pass without harm. Perhaps they felt my anger. Perhaps they took pity. I don’t know.
What I do know is that this piece of ancient technology is still operational. And it has been fired. With accuracy. A single shot took me down at a distance of thousands of miles. There’s something about this that suddenly feels desperately, dangerously personal.
“Someone tried to kill me, Zion. Someone on this planet tried to kill me.”
His brows draw down over his eyes. He looks confused. Of course. He doesn’t know about this machinery. His weapons are meat, bone, and rock. He is a simple beast, a savage. Whoever took the shot is not.
“We thought you were a star. It is pointless to shoot at the stars.”
It’s hard to read his expression sometimes. Zion is a good name for him. He growls and glowers and he hides whatever is inside. I see his lust, but little else. He has gone cold right now, and I know he has his suspicions as to who did this.
“You were there,” I say. “You were ready for me when I came down. So were the hunters.”
“I was nearby…”
“Why?”
“Because I was,” he growls at me. “I did not do this to you.”
“No, but you know who did.”
His expression closes again.
“Who.”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s a damn lie.”
“You shouldn’t have come up here,” he says, changing the subject. “It’s dangerous.”
“Not as dangerous as being shot out of the sky thousands of miles over the earth. Not as dangerous as crash-landing on this planet, having my shuttle destroyed and buried… not as dangerous as anything you’ve done to me.”
I am furious. I thought I had made a mistake, but I didn’t. I should have been able to observe from the shuttle and return to the ship. I might even have reported it to the Patron when I returned. But someone down here wanted me dead. I am beginning to think that there is more to the exiles on Hades Exile than I first thought. These people live primitively, but they are just as scheming and nasty as the Patron’s worst enemies.
“It’s time to go back,” Zion insists.
“I’m not going back.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not. Your people want me dead. I’m not living with them. I’m not living with you. I’m going to go dig that damn shuttle out of the ground, and I’m going back to the stars. If this old piece of junk can bring me down, I can get myself back.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” he growls. “You’re mine now.”
“I’m not yours. You’re a filthy lying animal.”
* * *
Zion
She sneers at me, her pretty lip curled with disdain and disrespect. A night of sleep has recharged her energy, and her arrogance. I will have to prove my ownership again. She forgets so quickly. Whether she was attacked or not, shot from the sky, or fell according to fate, it doesn’t change what exists between us. She is mine. I have claimed her, and I will keep claiming her until she understands what it really means.
I cross over to her, reach out and take her by a thick handful of her silver hair. Using that grip, I bring her down to her knees. She stands with such arrogance. I need her on the ground. I need to break her. If someone wants her dead, I need her by my side to keep her safe. She could have been killed a hundred times over since she slipped out of my bed. She is fortunate that the huntresses slumber late when the food stores are full.
“Let me go!”
I will not let her go. I will never let her go. She doesn’t know what it means to be claimed. She doesn’t understand. She is used to having the power of the stars at her fingertips. She once rode on comets across the sky. But I control her now.
I turn her head up to me. I make her look at me. I say nothing. She craves words, and I will not give her them. A small whimper escapes her lips and she squirms, but I do not release my grip. I do not give her any kind of respite from the pressure I am putting on her. She has not earned it.
I am doing very little to her besides holding her where she belongs. She hates it. I can see anger coursing through her. I can see her fear. She has suffered because of me, because of us. Because someone saw the girl from the stars and had to bring her to earth. It was not me. But I will protect her now, with my life. And that will mean making sure she knows never, ever to speak to me that way again.
