She is intoxicating.
"Behtu," she calls again, her voice steadier now, laced with an undeniable thread of trust. "We need to go! I know how to get back to your ship.”
Her command breaks through the haze of my savagery, and my sivot fixes glowing eyes upon her. She does not cower. She does not flee. Instead, she reaches out a trembling hand to clasp the sivot’s clawed one, daring to touch the beast that has slain for her sake.
“Climb on,” my sivot gently commands and takes a knee.
With a grace that belies the tension in her muscles, Jules climbs onto the sivot’s back, her thighs gripping my sivot’s sides, her hands entwining in the coarse mane that cascades down my sivot’s shoulders.
Her touch is a paradox, gentle yet commanding, fearful yet filled with resolve. It sparks a primal need to protect, toclaim, as her body melds into my beastly form. Her trust is a weightless treasure, heavy with meaning, and it fuels my sivot's desire to conquer any obstacle for her sake. With the metallic tang ofblood still fresh on my tongue, we turn to face the labyrinthine corridors.
"Left here," Jules directs, her voice a whisper against the deep rumble of my growl. My sivot lunges forward, powerful limbs propelling us through the dimly lit corridors.
My mate directs us at every turn as the sound of our pursuers fades into the distance, but we do not slow. The danger is far from over.
"Up the stairs!" Jules urges, pointing to the spiraling steps I barely recall being dragged down.
We ascend, the steps seeming to stretch into infinity. The air grows hotter, but it’s nothing compared to the heat between us. Jules' breath hitches with every leap, her body pressing ever closer. The sensation is maddening, a distraction that cannot be afforded, yet it binds her to us with cords stronger than steel.
"Almost there, Behtu," Jules says, her voice laced with urgency. "Just a bit farther."
My sivot snarls in response.
“Out that door,” Jules points over my sivot’s shoulder as we reach the top of the staircase.
The city explodes into view as we erupt through a side door of the palace. We’re immediately surrounded by Stryt warriors. My sivot surges with power, snapping the corium shield sheathing my arm into place with a resonant clang, a dark mirror reflecting the pandemonium of our escape.
"Go left, Behtu!" Jules' command slices through the chaos, her voice a lifeline in the frenzy. We veer sharply, my claws slicing through Stryt warriors stupid enough to block my path. The other warriors scatter their scaly forms no match for my onslaught.
A pair of guards raise their weapons, but they're slow, too slow. With a primal roar, my sivot barrels into them, shieldknocking one away as claws find the throat of the other. Blood sprays, hot and metallic, and my beast roars in grim satisfaction.
"Keep moving!" Jules shouts, hands gripping my sivot’s fur. Her trust fuels me, her touch marks me—she ismine, and we are hers.
We thunder down the maze of narrow streets, Jules pointing the way as my sivot makes a path with claws and shield.
"There," Jules points ahead to where a hover conveyance awaits idle. "That’s what Jurt used to drive us here.”
Her resourcefulness ignites a surge of pride within me. If it wasn’t for her guidance and cunning, I would not have remembered the way through the city’s maze. It has been a while since my last visit. My sivot might be the muscle, but she is the one that will see us to safety.
"Quick, get in!" Jules directs, already scrambling off my back with the grace and agility that define her. She's a warrior in her own right, and both my sivot and I swell with emotion as fierce as the battle that was just fought.
The hover conveyance is boxy and unsophisticated. My sivot reaches for the door, claws tearing through the metalloid. My sivot has little patience and rips off the door to assess the interior of the small craft. A snarl rumbles up my sivot’s throat, the fit will be tight.
"Come on, Behtu, you can do this," Jules urges, her voice a beacon of encouragement amid the chaos. Her hand pats the side of the craft as if coaxing a wild creature. “I need you. I don’t know how to drive this thing.”
My sivot crouches low, black claws scraping against the metallic surface. With a heave of my beastly frame, shoulders bunch, and hindquarters press against the confines of the cabin. The craft groans in protest, its boxy design never intended to accommodate the likes of a sivot.
"Maybe try putting one leg in first?" Jules suggests, biting back a laugh. "And watch the claws!"
Her amusement stokes a growl of frustration, but my sivot heeds her advice, tucking in one limb and then another. It's like threading a needle with sinew and scale, a ludicrous dance between predator and machine.
"Bliking dund," my sivot grunts, finally nestled within the cockpit, my body encased like a blade in a tight sheath. "Well met, tiny vessel."
Jules slides into the opposite seat with ease, her delicate form a stark contrast to my hulking presence. "Okay, let's get the fuck out of here. Right on the next street. Then hang that next left.”
My sivot follows Jules' directions until we reach the docks where my Lizordian freighter awaits, its metallic hull gleaming under the stark glow of the artificial lights. The air crackles with tension as we exit the conveyance. My sivot shielding Jules from the warriors poised for attack.
With a ferocious roar, the clash is sudden and fierce as the Stryt warriors launch themselves with savage determination. Each movement is a dance of deadly precision as my sivot meets their onslaught head-on, my beast’s massive form a whirlwind of lethal grace as we carve a path through the sea of adversaries.
