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“Cancel the launch!” I squeak.
“Confirm cancellation of launch?”
“Cancel! Yes cancel!” I scramble to unlatch the door, hating myself for doing it.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I mutter as I climb out of the emergency hatch and sprint back across the common area.
I run down the halls, blowing right by the pair of lizardmen that I must have overheard just moments ago. They blink at me, clutching their glasses of bubbly drinks and murmuring, “Where did she come from?”
I might not trust Niko, but he doesn’t deserve to die because the guy I stabbed has a vendetta against me. I don’t know why he wants to claim me as his own, and Isure as helldon’t wanna be his alien bride, but I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror if I blasted away in an escape pod while someone takes a bullet for me.
CHAPTEREIGHT
NIKO
It’sa comfort to know that my mate is not an entirely malicious being. I understand what it’s like to be alone in unknown parts, so I cannot hold a grudge against her for mistrusting me, especially when it was clear she felt nothing towards me—not even a glimmer of the spirit’s movements through her blood.
But she didn’t kill me. She had the choice to leave me for dead. But she didn’t even knock me unconscious, and she gave me the means to escape her bonds. While that was somewhat generous of her, it meant that she had every intention of making a speedy escape from our ship.
It takes a frustratingly long span of time to drag myself across my quarters and reach the abandoned blade. At first, I was alarmed to see red all over my clothes until I realized it was my own blood. Red is the color of matehood, and I have not gotten used to the thought of it running through my veins. The stabs she inflicted were shallow, but they will not stop bleeding.
I take a deep breath of relief once I have situated my chair directly in front of the blade.
I reach out my bound feet, trap the blade handle between them, and hunch forward.
“Ikani, heat,” I command it.
My blade burns through my collection of hair ornaments, the few memories of home I had kept. Braided leather, linked chains in color-infused metals, and delicately embroidered bands—singed in half like nothing under the heat. My mate might be resourceful for using them, but I am not pleased to see them ruined. Even an unsentimental male like me can feel the sting of that loss.
I try to imagine her next move based on what I know of her thus far. She is bold, clever, and fearless to the point of recklessness. I’m sure she will look for the escape pods, which will lead her to the more populated areas of the ship. This is what concerns me the most. She could encounter any of the less savory members of the crew and find herself in serious danger.
I toss the ruined hair bands aside and stretch my wrists, allowing myself only a moment before grabbing the blade and going to work on my ankles.
But before I can make any progress, I hear a thunderous set of footsteps coming down the hallway.
The door swipes open. All I see are big boots stomping over the threshold before I’m blown backwards by a powerful kick to the stomach.
My blade slips from my bloody palms and flies across the room, sizzling when it sinks into the floorboard.
“Kar’Kali fucker,” a gruff voice addresses me. “Your female owes me some flesh for what she’s done!”
With my feet still bound to the chair, I whip my head up.
Varger glares down at me. His four intact eyes are filled with unblinking rage. The fifth is covered with a healing patch.
He laughs coldly at my predicament.
“Let me guess. That slut did this to you? Just what you deserve for being soft on her. That female needs discipline—”
Upon hearing the term “slut” grace my ears in reference to my mate, a shot of fury tears through my chest. It is an Alliance-Common word, one that does not have a proper translation in my language. But I have heard it countless times in bars, brothels, and on every other ship I have served on. My translator is telling me it means “hole.” Disgust bubbles up in my stomach. He’s come here for a fight, and he’ll get more than that when he speaks disrespectfully of my mate.
What he’ll get is a swift death.
All reason flutters away from me as the mating hormones pump through me, igniting my rage.
This feeling is what my people callamma’ka, the spirit fever. My eyes will turn black from blown pupils and my strength and pain tolerance will increase. Some believe that the spirit inhabits your body in this state. I don’t believe that is possible in deep space, but I am thankful for its power.
It gives me the boost I need to break through the last clinging bonds that were holding me down. I take the chair from beneath me and swing it sideways at Varger’s knees.
