Page 6 of Alien Devil’s Wrath (Vinduthi Stolen Brides #2)

T he dust storm finally began to subside, the howling wind dropping to occasional gusts that still sent grit swirling through the cave entrance.

The tension radiating from my Vinduthi companion was impossible to miss.

He’d gone silent since our conversation about the Claiming Bite, his massive frame rigid against the cave wall. His jaw was clenched, hands curled into fists, every line of his body radiating controlled fury.

I studied his profile in the dim light. The way his knuckles pressed white against grey skin. The muscle jumping in his jaw. The careful, measured breathing of someone holding back violence.

I’d clearly violated some cultural taboo, but the specifics were irrelevant. What mattered was the practical reality: my partner was angry, and angry partners made poor decisions.

Time to focus on what we could control.

“Storm’s clearing,” I said, pushing myself to my feet. “We should move before the next patrol cycle.”

He said nothing, but rose and followed me toward the cave entrance. The poultice had done its work completely. He moved without any sign of injury, his healing remarkable even by Vinduthi standards. The silence between us was heavy, but some wounds needed time.

Besides, we had work to do.

The clang of gear and muted cursing drifted up from the ravine below. My pulse quickened with anticipation. More opportunities to test the creative solutions this environment had taught me.

“Oh, company,” I whispered, gesturing for Zarek to take cover behind a nearby outcrop.

He followed my lead, moving silently despite his bulk. When he saw the scanners, his expression darkened.

Four guards moving in formation through the narrow ravine, but these weren’t random patrols. They carried tracking equipment. Scanner arrays. The kind of gear used to follow specific energy signatures.

“They’re following your trail from the crash site,” I said, unable to keep the excitement out of my voice. “Those arrays will lead them right to us.”

His hand found his weapon. “How long before they report back?”

“Standard patrol check-ins are every two hours.” I watched their methodical progress, already running through possibilities. “But with active tracking, they’ll call in the moment they find definitive proof.”

The situation was clear. Eliminate the threat or spend the rest of our journey being hunted.

“Can you disable their equipment?” he asked.

“Better. I can make it irrelevant.”

The communications relay box was mounted on an outcropping twenty feet above. Part of the network Slade had installed throughout the patrol routes. So useful.

I pulled a small vial from my pack, uncapping it carefully. “My timing needs to be just right.”

The bait spores inside were nearly invisible, but their scent would carry on the slightest breeze. I’d discovered their potential during my second year here. Glimmer Moths were drawn to electromagnetic signatures, but the spores amplified their feeding response exponentially.

I dusted the relay box thoroughly, then rapped my knuckles against the metal casing twice. A dinner bell for my favorite allies.

The response was immediate and deeply satisfying.

Glimmer Moths erupted from rock crevices in a living cloud of shimmering wings. They swarmed every piece of active technology in the ravine.

Equipment died in seconds. Comm units sparked out. Weapon sights went dark. The tracking arrays shorted in cascades of sparks. The ravine plunged into chaos as my allies performed their little dance.

“Excellent timing,” I whispered, watching the guards stumble in sudden blindness.

And then Zarek struck.

He moved between shadows, every motion economical and lethal. The first guard died before his scream could form. The second tried to run, but Zarek bounded up the rock face and dropped on him from above.

The third guard found cover behind a boulder, trying to signal with hand mirrors. Clever, but not enough.

I whistled. Three ascending notes brought one of my Stalkers flowing down behind him. The spines punched through before he knew the danger.

The fourth guard broke. Threw down his weapon and ran for the ravine mouth.

Zarek let him run ten meters before putting a knife between his shoulder blades.

“Precise throw,” I said, genuinely impressed.

By the time the Moths dispersed, four guards lay dead. Zarek stood among them, wiping his blade clean, breathing barely elevated.

“Efficiently done,” I said, dropping from my perch.

He shot me an unreadable look, but I was already scavenging. Death was wasteful if you didn’t extract value.

“Military med-kit. Power cells. Emergency rations.” I worked through their gear methodically. “Quality blade here. Good weight distribution.”

We worked in quiet after that. The efficiency of our partnership was remarkable. I provided strategic solutions, he provided implementation.

“Useful haul,” I said, shouldering the supply pack.

When I finished, the light had taken on golden tones. Evening approached fast.

“We need shelter before dark,” I said. “Temperature drops quickly, and night hunters will be active.”

He nodded once, then shouldered his pack. But his movements had changed. Slower. More deliberate. His hand never strayed far from his weapon.

Smart warrior. He was right to be cautious.

After all, the most dangerous predators were the ones that looked harmless.