Page 11 of Tempted By the Alien Mercenary

Chapter 9

The Sineater

I was very good at making myself feel like shit, but what I’d done this time was probably my worst move ever. Frederique—small, brave little human that she was—had more guts than I had in my pinky finger. She’d known, and what had I done? I’d slapped her in the face, made her feel cheap and dirty. Made myself feel that way too.

The tiny escape pod was so small that there was no escaping one another, but all my anger—all my rage—had withered until I felt like I was about to fade into the walls. She could not retreat from me, though she clearly wanted to, and I could not leave her and her feelings in peace. No, what she felt now was so richly fulfilling to Val that it was a veritable banquet: pain, shame, despair, and yes, all the grief from before over discovering the loss of her crew, piling on top of it.

I’d played my crewmates, incited their feelings, sometimes to feed, sometimes because I knew, in the end, it would help them see the light. It had never made me feel like shit, but this did. If I could take it back, I would, the words, not the sex. This was probably when I owed her an apology, but those words never managed to pass across my lips.

Val was feeding, soaking it up, and still, it was not enough to lessen the intense things Frederique was feeling. Never did any of it show on her face—not when I finally released her so she could slip off my cock, not when she cleaned up with the scraps of her torn panties, and not when she dressed in her uniform. In the limited space, all of it meant touching me, bumping into me when she stuck her legs in her pants, a brush as she sat back down against my knees. It all felt cold, impersonal, distant. She had retreated in her mind, even if she could not create physical distance.

I told myself it was better this way. She couldn’t be my mate, given the wreck my life was. My bond with Val was messed up; I’d mess up the one with Frederique even worse. I already had. I slanted a look her way through my lashes and ached when I realized her lower lip was trembling.

Val hadn’t cradled my body in armor since I’d started the sensual dance with my mate. Now I realized that she had not returned at all; she was on the other side of the tiny pod, wrapped around Frederique’s shoulders like a cloak. It might simply be to give her easier access to all the things my mate was feeling—to feed—but I had a sinking feeling that it was not. I’d managed to piss off both my ladies in one fell swoop.

I didn’t know how to fix any of it, and I was actually relieved when an alarm started blaring. A distraction, we could all use that, even if it came in the form of a dangerous alien life form attacking a tiny, fragile little escape pod.

Val responded to the emergency by circling my mate and creating protective armor that covered her entire body. She made a surprised sound but quickly muffled it. Hunching over the control panel forced my shoulder into her face, but I could not feel the warmth of her breathing through the armor, only the ghost of it against the edge of my neck. I forced myself to focus on the emergency, quickly appraising the risk and our options. There was no way I’d let Frederique into the water, where they could grab hold of her.

“Hold on tight,” I warned, though it was mostly for Val, so she could secure my mate against the coming acceleration. I forced the pod to divert power from life support to the engines, and it leaped toward the surface. Though capable of flight, the pod was never meant to go far and was better suited for space than atmosphere. We were lucky to have gotten this close to the ocean’s surface already. There wasn’t enough power to get us out of range of the shadowy threat and to the strip of rock in the distance.

Lifting my hand, I thumped it against the tightly sealed hatch. “It’s going to be rough,” I warned. She resisted when I grabbed her around the waist, but Val slid over her head, covering her face with a helmet. I never heard her words as I gave the hatch another strike. It spun away, and the pod lost all pressure. We didn’t need it—Ysa’s armor also came with a helmet and oxygen. It slid over my face, and then I was throwing both of us out of the narrow opening. The boosters in my suit did the rest. Val kept Frederique’s body safely encased and protected, but I still cradled her carefully against my chest as we flew.

Well, “flying” was too grand a word for it, we were careening through the air at high speed, falling. The boosters could only prolong that, but aimed right at the distant island, I was certain we’d make it. On our approach, Val spread around my chest, then unfurled on my back like a parachute. Rock crunched beneath my boots, boosters depleted, and with a screech, darkness sank back into the waves behind us, unable to reach.

My human stray was wobbly when I put her back on her feet, and Val seemed to take a moment before she retracted from around her face. Her expression was furious and pale, and I worried she was slipping into shock. Her eyes met mine, just a brief flash of green before she turned away, a metaphysical slap that I deserved.

Val was watching her, guarding her, so I focused on what needed to happen. It was easier to think about the mission than about potential futures I wasn’t sure would ever exist. Although Val was far from hungry right now, and there was nothing gnawing at my gut other than my own turmoil. In fact, Val seemed to have gained a little bulk since we’d met Frederique. Now, she could cover her in armor, and still have plenty for her Gracka shape—and then some. It was far larger than normal, and that couldn’t all be attributed to the much smaller person she was covering. I didn’t want to let that stir hope in my chest, but it did.

The island was a slab of granite shaped like a crescent. I’d parked my small shuttle on one end, behind several craggy outcroppings and spindly black trees. On the other end, the island rose sharply, twisting into the gray skies. Cliff faces were a barrier against the water, and their height provided ample protection against whatever stirred beneath the surface. The beach we were on was closer to my shuttle than to the cliffs, but we would still be in view of anyone who cared to look.

On the cliffs, a building squatted, large and domineering. Walls of gray rock and reinforced steel, towers and turrets, and several gates separated the castle from the rest of the planet. From a handful of tiny windows near the top of one spire, lights glowed. Someone was home, but it could hardly be called an overwhelming force. It was unfortunate, but it meant Jalima was likely not here.

The water itself was placid, lapping at the rocky beach behind me with an almost pleasant sound. I had not forgotten the massive shadows beneath the surface that had traced our path through the sky. Whatever was in the water, it was far bigger than the creature aboard the Lancing Light. Far bigger. I glanced at Frederique, covered in Val’s silver form, and wondered what would have happened had I encountered one of those on my way down to the ship. It might have swallowed me whole, and I might not have been able to get it to spit me back out.

“Come,” I said, “I’ll take you to my shuttle first, and then I’ll finish my mission.” I did not remind her that my mission was to kill someone, anyone in that castle, if they stood in my way. She heard me speak in what was perhaps my kindest voice yet, but it did not make her look at me. She nodded vaguely in my direction, but her eyes were on the castle in the distance. I knew enough of her by now to know it would have made her curious, but I did not explain.

The path to the shuttle was rocky, uneven, and far from pleasant walking. Encased in Val, it was easy for my stray thoughts to wander, and I was glad she didn’t give me any reason to touch her. I didn’t want to know how she’d respond if I so much as touched her finger—probably snap at me. It was shocking how tempting it was to try, to provoke her, to force her to be close to me. I kept my distance instead.

The shuttle was only barely visible against the dark landscape, and the triple suns were setting in the south. Streaks of green, purple, and red faintly tinted the horizon, but not enough to make this planet look anything but morbid. It was almost night, which provided the perfect cover to infiltrate the stronghold and take care of any resistance.

It was clear that Frederique was having trouble with the rapidly fading light, and though Val could do a lot, she would never go so far as to direct her movements, control her. That was very different from holding my mate in place for me during sex. The thought made me recall Frederique’s heat as I sank into her, the sounds she’d made as she came apart. It heated my flesh, hardened my cock until I ached. But then I recalled the wounded look in her eyes when I’d snarled at her. Just to punish her for her bold words, for daring to call me a coward unwilling to face his feelings, snapping at her like a wounded beast because she was right.

Moving past her, I opened the rear hatch of the shuttle, but I did not touch her to guide her inside. She was flagging, and even with Val lending her strength, she needed a break. She needed rest. My symbiont told me she was in good health, and because she was my mate, just like Frederique had boldly dared me to admit, that meant Val could heal her. That left emotional exhaustion as much as physical, after all she’d been through.

“Sit down,” I said, sounding angry even to my own ears. I flicked a finger at one of the jumpseats just behind the pilot and nav chairs. Half-expecting a fight, I only felt more worried when she trudged by to do as ordered, sinking into the seat and pulling up her legs until she was just a small ball inside the too-large chair. All pale face, huge, wounded eyes, and messy black curls. Pretty. Downright gorgeous. And if my life weren’t a mess, all mine.

Then the thought curled through my gut—that Talac males always shared their mate. With only a small portion of the population female, at close to an 80-to-20 ratio, every male knew they had to share. In fact, most Talacan males were attracted to either sex and happily settled into bonds with one, two, or even three males before they ever went looking for their female. If Frederique was supposed to be my mate, did that mean I had to find her more males? The thought killed any desire for mating, for having her, for thinking about the future. No, I couldn’t do that. I was a bastard for it, but I simply didn’t share. A faulty Talacan, and a faulty Son of Ragnar. Perfect.

Moving past the crates of supplies that had been tightly packed into the back of the ship, I located a stack of blankets and dropped them in her lap. A pack of ration bars, which held several different flavors, followed. That should do it. Best I had to offer right now.

“I’m calling my captain. Don’t go anywhere,” I warned, piercing her with a look she barely returned at all. Her hands were busy with the blankets, smoothing them around her into a cozy little nest. Val was helping, rumbling a purr and pulling on corners with her Gracka snout. Most of the armor had slid away from Frecderique, leaving circles of silver around her throat and wrists once again. She looked… small, tired, weak. And instead of feeling a sense of distaste, a feeling of wanting to step away as fast as possible, I only felt the desire to remain at her side.

I was swearing loudly—internally—when I stalked from the shuttle to make my call in private. My fingers were rough on my comm device, stabbing at the small screen until a crack webbed across the surface. Then I cursed loudly again and forced myself to breathe deeply. Focus. Forget her. Think only of the mission and what I wanted to report to Asmoded. He was my only friend out here, and I wanted—perhaps even needed—to be reminded of that.

It took a moment to connect, not because there was any interference on the planet, but because I used extra precautions to make the call untraceable. A built-in feature Ysa had provided, particularly necessary for this mission since we didn’t know who was in that castle on the cliff. My gaze flicked to it as I waited for Asmoded to answer, noting only a handful of lights and, otherwise, only dark walls and impenetrable fortifications. Unless, of course, you were me. With Val’s help, I’d breach that hold in no time at all, and I was anxious to get started.

“Sin, everything all right?” Asmoded asked in lieu of a greeting. His voice was cool, calm but I could sense the concern anyway. I never called unless I had good reason, and not enough time had passed yet for them to worry. The only reason I was making this call was because I wanted to get away from Frederique’s pale face and the heavy weight of guilt that pressed on my shoulders when I looked at her. Even picturing her green, wounded eyes made my chest feel tight, my lungs struggling to draw in air. I’d never struggled to put my emotions aside before. Never. I didn’t like feeling out of control.

“Fine, I had a run-in with the locals, whatever they are. I have samples for Dravion; that should make him happy.” Blood from the mutant freak I’d slashed to bits aboard the Lancing Light, collected after the first scuffle. I’d been somewhat rational then, unlike now. With Frederique stowed in my shuttle, it was tempting to abort the mission altogether—because completing it meant leaving her alone, or leaving Val with her, and myself open to attacks, vulnerable.

“I will pass along the news, but I doubt that’s why you called. Are you coming back?” Asmoded drawled. It was silent, no background noise, no murmured voices. That probably meant he was in his ready room, going over reports, doing payroll, or selecting new missions. We had nothing lined up, but I had no doubt he’d have something before I got back from this desolate water world.

“No,” I hissed, furious at the thought of not completing what I’d set out to do. I was going to invade that stronghold, damn it, and I would destroy it and come back with further data on Jalima’s operations. I might not personally have had a beef with the bastard crimelord, but enough of the people on the Varakartoom did that I owed it to them to see this through. Like Asmoded, like Solear, who had not long ago been my main source of sustenance. Nowadays, I had to skulk around outside the crewquarters just to get a trickle of the darkness Val needed to survive.

“Okay,” Asmoded responded, amused by my vehemence. He chuckled as if I’d made a joke. “Shall I leave you to it?” I faltered, realizing how pointless this call was in the first place. Unless, of course, I did as I really should and reported finding the Earth vessel and its sole survivor. Would Frederique have passed out from her exhaustion by now? Was she sleeping? My eyes flicked to the open hatch. I could not see her from here, and I refused to move so I could peek in.

“I wanted to know if there was any activity, considering my delay.” Not phrased exactly like a question, Asmoded responded to it anyway with an all-clear. Then the call disconnected, as if he were done with the hand-holding. Well, so was I. Enough weakness. It was time to get this over with.