Page 18 of Champion (The Outlander Book Club… in Space! #6)

Twenty-two steps.

It took twenty-two steps to carry me from one side of my room to the other. Twenty-eight steps to cross it lengthwise. The yellow glow from the one electric light swayed on its cord, casting the room in shadows that taunted me with their ethereal dance.

I hated déjà vu.

I hated the feeling of knowing I’d traveled these same steps dozens of times before, although on a different planet. First, when my husband was out on a mission. Afterward, with my son. Now Charick.

Pacing.

Waiting.

Hating the feeling of worry that settled in my gut, burning and squirming. Worry that would torment me until he opened the door, and I could fly into his arms, feeling his strength and warmth, knowing he was okay.

Charick was a seven-foot alien warrior who moved like a combination of the Terminator and Bruce Lee. I shouldn’t be so worried about him.

Yet I was.

That familiar combination of tenseness, restlessness, and nausea was a companion I knew all too well.

When did my feelings change? When did I go from liking him to an emotion that I was afraid to name? Granted, last night was incredible. Great sex sat as a big old checkmark in the pro column of my Charick would make a great mate list.

Seriously, I had it bad.

I’d even found it sexy when, just before he left, Charick made sure the blade Atdovar left fit well in my hand. His faith that I was competent enough to keep myself safe in his absence did all kinds of gooey things to my insides.

I settled on the cot, trying to convince myself that I was simply letting my imagination run away from me.

My heartbeat kicked up a notch, but only for a second before it jerked to a slow, incremental pace.

Copying Charick’s heartbeat, perhaps? A slow heartbeat was a good thing, right?

If he was fighting or in any other danger, his heart would be hammering.

Ugh… where was he?

The blankets I sat on held the faint remembrance of his spicy, musky scent, and I let myself spin into daydreams of being in Charick’s arms again.

The feel of his lips against my skin, how he’d held me as I fell apart under his touch.

I couldn’t wait for round two. Of course, that meant Charick needed to show up.

Ugh. Where was he?

I promised him I’d wait inside… but I didn’t promise not to peek.

I crept to the door stealthily, almost as though I expected him to be waiting on the other side to pounce because I didn’t stay put.

I hoped for it, actually. My heart slowed in beat when the ramshackle door creaked open, revealing nothing on the other side but darkness.

I squinted as though somehow that would help me see through the din.

Nothing.

The air was silent and still, and I nearly slammed the door shut just to give some resonance to the night. But just as I laid my hand against the door, I heard it. While too far away to see the owner, the unmistakable thud of heavy footsteps against the cobblestones traveled in my direction.

Excitement and relief warred for dominance in my chest. I shut the door, grimacing at the faint creak.

Rushing over to the cot, I fluffed the stained pillows and blanket before sitting, taking a moment to smooth the pale gray shift I used as a nightgown.

I’d showered shortly after Charick left and washed my hair, not wanting the sweat and dirt of the day to linger between us.

My heart jumped at the twist of the door latch, realizing that, in my elation, I’d forgotten to bolt the door. Oh well, Charick could just be angry about that… as long as he walked through that door unharmed.

When the door pushed open, and he stepped into the room, I shivered with expectation and jumped to my feet. I took a step, nearly running into his arms, but something stopped me.

Something… odd.

While his golden eyes hadn’t left me since he entered, the adoration in his gaze had waned. His perusal was more assessing and seemed somehow colder.

“Charick?”

He tilted his head, and the corners of his lips ticked upward. But even that seemed wrong.“Did everything go okay?” I asked. Perhaps the oddness of his demeanor was due to something that happened… or something he found out.

“Yes. Everything is fine.”

Charick took a step away from the door, and instinctively, I moved to the left, keeping the table and chairs between us.

There was something wrong with how he spoke, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

He watched my movements curiously, and an expression flickered across the golden eyes that I couldn’t quite read.

“What took you so long?”

“The guard was late for our meeting.” The broad shoulders shrugged, definitely a Charick gesture, but the thing about his mouth….

“Did he have any new information?” I wanted to keep him talking, trying to pinpoint what seemed so strange to me.

“Nothing of consequence.” He took another step toward me, frowning when I moved to put the table squarely between us. His eyes flickered apathetically over the long blade lying on the tabletop.

I’d trained all my life to be a soldier.

Trained to trust my instincts and recognize when my gut told me something was amiss.

And at this moment, staring into a pair of golden eyes I didn’t quite recognize any longer, every instinct I had screamed that something was wrong. I just needed to figure out what.

“I missed you.” I took care to make my voice soft and sultry, which wasn’t hard. I had missed him.

“Yes.”

Charick took my words with a curt nod, without a flicker of emotion. The other day, I mentioned being worried when Charick took longer than expected while scouting. His grin at hearing of my concern was so broad I honestly worried he might hurt his face.

Something was definitely off.

“Tell me you missed me, too.” I insisted, gooseflesh pimpling my arms and neck.

“I missed you too.”

There was something in the way he said the words... something. Damn! Why couldn’t I figure this out?

He took another step, issuing a low hiss when I squared myself to the table, putting my hand within grabbing distance from the hilt of the blade.

“Tell me you love me.” I met his gaze, challenging.

Charick sighed with more frustration than affection. “I love you.”

Wrong. So wrong. The Charick I knew would feel elated to express those words to me. His eyes wouldn’t narrow in displeasure, and his mouth wouldn’t twist with….

Holy shit!

His mouth!

I took a staggered step backward, realization hit me like a slap.

Charick wasn’t speaking English. The words I heard didn’t match up to his mouth movement.

While his voice sounded the same, comprehension came through my translator.

For a split second before the words formed in my head, I thought I detected a garbled hissing noise.

Something twisted painfully low in my gut. Why would Charick not speak English to me?

Unless it wasn’t Charick at all?

Oh God.

I needed to be sure.

“I love to hear you say it. Tell me you love me again.” I blinked my lashes, fighting against the tears and trying to hold a smile.

“I love you.”

It was like watching a badly dubbed Japanese movie.

Even if I hadn’t noticed this one glaring clue, the male standing in front of me didn’t feel like Charick.

My heart wasn’t beating right, and I didn’t feel the same sense of affection that normally emanated from his every pore.

I didn’t feel the same, either. Deep in my soul, I knew… . This wasn’t Charick.

Oh God.

Muscular arms opened, inviting me to step into the safety of his embrace. Only I knew his touch no longer offered safety. It offered only heartbreak.

“Come to me, Willa.”

A few minutes ago, I wanted nothing more than to feel his arms around me. Now… the idea of touching him made me cringe. This wasn’t Charick. I knew that to my bones. And if this wasn’t Charick, it meant only one thing.

This was the Zarpazian… and Charick was dead.

Fury overshadowed heartbreak as I faced the male I knew killed my mate.

“Of course.” It took no effort to force a smile to my lips.

I never got the chance to face the enemy soldiers who shot my husband in the back.

Nor had I been able to seek revenge on the insurgents who shot down the helicopter carrying my son to freedom.

This time, though... I would exact revenge on the creature who stole Charick from me.

Stole him before I truly experienced the joy of being with him.

I would never again enjoy the feel Charick’s touch or kiss. But this—what came next—I would enjoy… a lot.

I opened my arms, stepping around the table. Charick—or whoever this bastard actually was—smirked.

He smirked .

When I stepped closer, he reached for me. I stilled, and the universe stilled with me. I didn’t even breath until a second before fake Charick reached for me, his fingertips only a breath away.

Just before his hand made contact with my flesh, I darted right, snatching the blade from the tabletop and driving it into his chest.

Golden eyes went wide, and fake Charick laid his head back, issuing a scream that belonged to one of those YouTube videos about cryptids. His hands went to where mine pressed against the hilt of the blade, his touch feeling like the pour of boiling water over my skin.

I screamed, more with anger than pain, and twisted the blade.

Fake Charick jerked away, stumbling a few steps before going to his knees. Garbling high-pitched moans issued from his mouth. Writhing and shaking he fell to the floor as the creature shifted, the tan pelt morphing into black scales, muscles spasming and shrinking.