Page 19 of Alien Warrior’s Claim (Nyxari Bondmates #1)

MIRELLE

F or the first time since the crash, I woke with clarity instead of doubt. The markings on my skin caught the dawn light, no longer foreign but integral to my being. I understood now—this wasn't about yielding. It was about becoming.

Lazrin's arm encircled my waist, his skin radiating warmth against mine. The warning horn had pulled us from sleep hours before, but Hammond's forces had vanished. Scouts reported they'd veered east rather than advancing on our settlement—tactical repositioning, not retreat.

I shifted, examining the golden patterns beneath Lazrin's midnight-blue skin. They mirrored my silver markings in cadence and geometry, our physiologies aligned even in rest. The bond resonated between us, a neural bridge that now anchored rather than unnerved me.

"Your thoughts are almost audible," Lazrin murmured, his golden eyes meeting mine.

"Strategic planning waits for no one," I replied, tracing a lifeline along his forearm. "Hammond doesn't mobilize military formations only to redirect without purpose."

"Perhaps he sensed our preparedness."

"Or perhaps he found an easier target." I sat up, the practical logistics officer in me already cataloguing possibilities. "The eastern ridge contains the old Nyxari medical facility Rivera mentioned—the one where you recovered the healing salve."

Lazrin's expression sharpened. "The facility houses no warriors. Only healers and the injured."

"Exactly." I was already reaching for my clothes. "He's looking for a symbolic victory. Somewhere he can strike with minimal resistance."

Lazrin moved with the fluid grace I'd come to admire, dressing with efficient purpose. "I'll alert the warriors."

"No." The word emerged with unexpected authority. "Not yet."

He tilted his head, studying me. "You have another plan."

It wasn't a question. Through our strengthened bond, he'd sensed my thoughts consolidating into strategy.

"Hammond doesn't know about our connection," I explained. "He thinks the marked women are being controlled, not choosing to bond. He won't expect us to coordinate a response without verbal communication."

"You suggest we use the bond tactically." Lazrin's tail swayed with interest, his warrior's mind recognizing the advantage.

"I suggest we do what Hammond least expects." I fastened my jacket, checking the blade against my hip. "We rescue his victims before he creates more."

Outside, the settlement had returned to guarded normalcy, though warriors remained positioned at strategic points. Rivera spotted us emerging from Lazrin's dwelling, a knowing smile crossing her face before her expression turned serious.

"Three more women arrived during the night," she reported without preamble. "They escaped during Hammond's mobilization. It's worse than we thought."

My chest tightened. "The decontamination procedures?"

"Surgical attempts to remove markings." Her voice dropped. "Selene was among them. She’s gotten tools and medicine and treated one of the group that came. The scarring is extensive, and the woman still bears the markings—they simply reformed deeper beneath the damaged tissue."

Anger rose within me, hot and sharp. "Where are they now?"

"The healing chambers. One may not survive." Rivera's expression hardened. "Hammond's calling it 'purification.' Says he's freeing them from alien manipulation."

Lazrin's lifelines flared with golden light, reflecting my own fury. "He cannot remove what is integrated with their nervous systems. He's killing them out of ignorance."

"Or spite," I added grimly. "Where's Selene?"

"Still with the injured women." Rivera gestured toward the eastern side of the settlement. "Kavan's teaching her Nyxari healing techniques."

I nodded. "Gather the marked women. All of them. We need to rescue whoever remains in Hammond's camp before he kills them with his 'purification.'"

As Rivera departed, Lazrin touched my arm. "You intend to lead this mission yourself."

"Yes." I met his gaze steadily. "These are my people, Lazrin. Women who bear the same markings I do. I won't abandon them to Hammond's butchery."

His eyes held mine for a long moment before he nodded. "Then I fight at your side."

The healing chamber was a larger structure near the settlement's center, its walls pulsing with subtle energy. Inside, marked women moved between pallets where the injured lay. The scent of medicinal herbs hung in the air, mixed with the metallic tang of blood.

Selene looked up as we entered, her face drawn with exhaustion. Beside her stood Kavan.

"." Selene’s relief was palpable. "We need your help. Hammond's gone mad."

"Show me," I replied, moving to the nearest pallet.

The woman lying there had been beautiful once. Now, crude surgical scars crisscrossed her face and arms, raw and inflamed. Despite this mutilation, silvery markings pulsed beneath the damaged tissue, reconfigured but undiminished.

"This is Maya," Selene’s explained quietly. "Former botanist. Hammond had her taken for 'decontamination' three days ago."

I knelt beside the pallet, gently taking Maya's hand. Her eyelids fluttered open, recognition dawning slowly.

"?" Her voice was fragile, barely audible. "Is that really you?"

"I'm here," I assured her, fighting to keep my expression neutral despite the horror of her injuries. "You're safe now."

"He said—" she coughed weakly, "—said the markings were alien parasites. That he could cut them out."

Fury burned through me, my markings flaring with silver fire. "He was wrong, Maya. The markings are part of us now. They can't be removed without killing us."

"I know that now." A ghost of a smile touched her ruined lips. "But Hammond... he's bringing others to the procedure room. More marked women."

I squeezed her hand gently. "How many remain in camp?"

"At least five," she whispered. "Held in the old storage compartment. He's scheduling them one by one."

Lazrin moved closer, his presence steady at my back. "How did you escape?" he asked, his voice gentled from its usual rumble.

Maya's eyes widened slightly at being addressed directly by a Nyxari, but she answered, "During the mobilization. The guards were distracted. But the others..." Her voice broke.

"We'll free them," I promised, rising to my feet. "Rest now. We will care for you."

Outside the healing chamber, I turned to Lazrin. "We strike tonight."

He nodded once, understanding the urgency. "I'll select warriors to accompany us."

"No." I touched his arm, the silver markings on my hand brightening where they met his golden lifelines. "Not warriors. Marked women. All of us."

His brow furrowed. "Hammond's camp is armed. Military. The risk?—"

"—is necessary," I finished. "Hammond expects Nyxari warriors. He'll be prepared for that. But marked women, moving in silence, using our enhanced abilities?" I shook my head. "He won't see that coming."

Lazrin studied me for a long moment, conflict evident in his stance. His tail swayed with barely contained tension, betraying the protective instinct that urged him to shield me from danger.

"I know you want to protect me," I said softly. "But this is why the bond exists. Not so you can fight my battles, but so we can approach them strategically. As partners."

His expression shifted, understanding dawning. "You would have me coordinate from a distance, through our bond."

"Exactly." I closed the space between us, taking his much larger hands in mine. "Our connection transcends physical proximity. You can guide us, warn us of dangers I might not see."

"And if Hammond's men attack you?"

"Then we defend ourselves." I squeezed his hands. "The women are developing abilities, Lazrin. Rivera can sense objects—she'll know where guards are positioned. Jen can hear conversations through walls. Talia can identify which plants will provide distraction or cover."

A reluctant smile curved his mouth. "You've already planned this."

"Since I woke," I admitted. "I'm still a logistics officer, remember? Planning is what I do."

His hand lifted to my face, palm warm against my cheek. "Your markings have strengthened your natural abilities, not replaced them."

"As you said they would." I leaned into his touch, allowing myself a moment of connection before stepping back. "We need to move quickly. Maya's condition suggests Hammond's procedures are growing more aggressive. The next women might not survive."

By midday, we'd gathered in a secluded clearing at the settlement's edge. Fourteen marked women formed a circle, their silver patterns visible to varying degrees beneath their clothing. Some, like Rivera and myself, bore extensive markings that spiralled across visible skin. Others showed only faint traceries at wrists or collar.

"Hammond holds them in the storage compartment near the western side of camp," I explained, sketching a rough map in the dirt. "Maya escaped during the mobilization, which means security might be lighter than usual."

"Or heavier," Jen countered. "If he realized women escaped."

"True," I acknowledged. "Which is why we'll approach from multiple directions. Teams of three, moving through the forest rather than along established paths."

Rivera studied the map. "Maya mentioned guards. How many?"

"Unknown. But they'll be armed, likely with energy weapons from the ship as well as conventional blades."

"We're armed too," Talia pointed out, touching the Nyxari blade at her hip. It seemed all the marked women had adopted the curved weapons, their silver patterns often echoing the blades' design.

"This isn't about weapons," I cautioned. "It's about stealth and coordination. We get in, free our people, and get out without triggering open conflict."

"And if Hammond himself appears?" asked a quiet voice from the edge of the circle.

I turned to face Elana, whose markings traced delicate patterns around her eyes like silver tears. "We avoid him if possible. This isn't about revenge. It's about rescue."

"And if that's not possible?" she pressed.

I met her gaze steadily. "Then we do what's necessary to protect our own."

As the women dispersed to prepare, Lazrin approached with Kavan. The healer's solemn expression conveyed the gravity of our mission.

"The women you rescue will likely be injured," Kavan said without preamble. "Some severely. I've prepared healing salves and bandages, but they may need more than field treatment."

As twilight approached, we gathered at the forest's edge. The women had dressed in dark clothing, their faces smeared with a paste Talia had created from local plants that would mask both scent and heat signatures. Only their markings remained visible, pulsing with silver light beneath the camouflage.

Lazrin stood before me, his golden eyes reflecting the fading sunlight. "I've positioned scouts at intervals between here and Hammond's camp. They won't interfere unless absolutely necessary."

"Good." I adjusted my blade at my hip, checking my small pack of medical supplies. "Our bond..."

"Will remain active regardless of distance," he finished. "I'll sense immediate danger to you. Your fear, pain?—"

"Or triumph," I added, offering a confident smile I didn't entirely feel. "Don't focus only on the worst possibilities."

His hand clasped mine, golden lifelines flaring where they met my silver markings. "Guard yourself well, ."

"Count on it," I answered, conviction replacing sentiment.

The journey through the forest took nearly an hour, our group moving in careful formation. As we neared Hammond's camp, the women separated into predetermined teams, each taking different approach vectors as we'd planned.

Rivera, Jen and I formed one team, moving toward the western edge where the storage compartment stood. Through our bond, I could feel Lazrin's steady presence—a warmth in my chest that pulsed with reassurance. He could sense our position, our safety, even from a distance.

Hammond's camp had changed drastically since my last visit. What had been a disorganized collection of salvaged structures had transformed into a military-style compound. Guards patrolled in regular patterns, makeshift watchtowers stood at intervals, and a perimeter fence constructed from wreckage created a defensive barrier.

We crouched in the underbrush, observing from a safe distance. Rivera closed her eyes, her markings brightening as she extended her unique ability.

"Six guards on this side," she whispered. "Two at the storage compartment itself. Energy weapons, plus conventional blades."

Jen tilted her head, her enhanced hearing focused on the compound. "Voices inside the compartment. Women. Five, maybe six. One sounds injured."

I nodded, signalling to Rivera and Jen. We waited, tension building as the minutes passed. When the guard changed, we moved—a brief window of opportunity as one patrol left and another had yet to arrive.

The perimeter fence proved little obstacle. Handholds formed naturally from the irregular salvage materials, allowing us to scale it quietly. Once inside, we pressed against shadows, moving with the silent precision we'd practiced.

The storage compartment loomed before us—a large section of the crashed ship, repurposed with a heavy door and reinforced walls. Two guards stood at attention, energy pistols holstered at their sides.

I glanced at Jen, who nodded in understanding. She removed a small device from her pack—a sonic emitter Rivera had salvaged from the crash site. With careful aim, she tossed it toward the opposite side of the camp.

The device activated on impact, emitting a high-pitched whine that immediately drew the guards' attention.

"Check it out," one ordered the other. "I'll stay here."

As the second guard moved toward the distraction, Rivera closed her eyes briefly, her markings flaring beneath her camouflaged skin. "There's a third guard," she whispered. "Inside the compartment."

I touched the silvery patterns at my wrist, feeling them pulse with renewed energy as I embraced their enhancement rather than fighting it. The world shifted subtly, potential threats glowing red in my mind's eye, safe paths illuminating with silver clarity.

"Follow me," I whispered. "I know how to do this."

Moving with newfound certainty, I approached from the guard's blind spot. My hand found the pressure point at the base of his neck and the guard collapsed without a sound, unconscious but unharmed.

Rivera and Jen dragged him into the shadows while I examined the compartment door. A simple mechanical lock secured it—Hammond relied more on guards than technology to contain his prisoners.

"Can you hear what's happening inside?" I asked Jen.

She pressed her ear to the metal, her markings brightening as she focused her enhanced hearing. "The guard is talking to someone. A woman. She's... pleading with him."

My fingers curled into fists. "The other guard will return any moment. We need to move now."

With silent efficiency, I picked the lock using tools Elana had provided—her time in the botany lab had given her surprising skill with delicate instruments. The door swung open with a faint creak.

Inside, the scene froze. Five women huddled in the far corner, their faces gaunt with fear and hunger. A sixth lay on a crude cot, bandages covering most of her visible skin. The guard stood over her, a blade in his hand.

"What are you doing to her?" I demanded, stepping into the light.

The guard spun, startled recognition dawning. "Duvane? How?—"

His question died unfinished. My blade pressed against his throat before he could reach his weapon, the silver markings on my arm illuminating the compartment with glacial radiance.

"Drop it," I ordered. The knife clattered to the floor.

Rivera and Jen entered behind me, securing the guard while I turned to the imprisoned women. Their expressions shifted from fear to hope as they recognized me.

"You came for us," one whispered, disbelief evident in her voice.

"Of course I did." I moved to the injured woman, checking her bandages. "Hammond doesn't get to decide who deserves protection."

Through our shared bond, I felt Lazrin's urgent warning. Second guard returning. Hurry.

"We need to move," I told the women. "Can you all walk?"

Five nodded. The sixth, the injured one, struggled to sit up. "I'll try."

"I'll carry her," Rivera volunteered, her stronger frame easily supporting the woman's weight.

As we prepared to leave, I turned to the guard, who watched with unconcealed hatred. "Tell Hammond something for me."

"What?" he spat.

"The marked women aren't his to 'purify.' We're not contaminated. We're transformed. And we won't be hunted."