Page 35 of Chieftain (The Outlander Book Club… in Space! #1)
I swallowed back a wave of revulsion, my attention flickering to Khaion.
He was stone-faced—anger and determination were the only emotions allowed.
He shucked the leather jacket from his body in order to move more freely, muscles rippling as he tensed for an attack.
Utar was larger, but Khaion didn't rely on size and brute strength.
He was well-trained and highly skilled. Not only that, he was fighting to protect me, something I knew would not be a distraction but a strength.
Utar struck first, the clang of his sword against Khaion’s blades deafening. Khaion was faster and spun, slashing back with both blades. Utar blocked, using his brawn to push Khaion away before raising his sword to swing overhanded at my mate.
My mate.
Just thinking the words tugged at my heart.
Khaion might never claim me publicly, but in my heart and soul, the word lived, with all its meaning.
Less than a month ago, I was still on Earth—still so bitter about my divorce I couldn't think about trusting another man.
But Khaion wasn't another man. He was just more—more loyal, more devoted, more loving, more trustworthy, just more everything.
My feelings for him were more, too. More than I thought I could ever feel for anyone.
His presence filled my heart and soul with warmth and contentment unlike anything I had ever experienced.
His touch sent an electric tingle throughout my body that left me feeling connected to him in a way I never felt connected to another person.
A furious roar jerked me back to the action.
I noticed quickly the scream was a sound of frustration.
The Kerzak, besides his sword, had two paw-hands tipped with razor-sharp claws.
He was using them, swiping wildly as he switched the sword from hand to hand.
Khaion moved wickedly fast, and despite the Utar’s determination, he didn’t land a single blow.
Until I moved.
Crouching behind the wide stone column with the pool at my back wasn’t the best vantage point.
I stepped to the side, bringing myself out into the open a fraction of an inch, my boots scuffing on the stone patio.
It was enough to draw Khaion’s attention for a split-second, and more than enough opportunity for Utar to land a swipe, five lines of blood welling across Khaion’s chest.
Khaion gave a roar, more aggravation than pain, I noticed.
He lunged, capturing Utar's single blade against both of his, and with a flick of the wrist, the Kerzak's blade went clanging against the cobblestones.
Khaion and Utar stared at each other for a long moment, both panting with exertion.
With a slow, graceful movement, Khaion sheathed his blades.
“No!” I screamed at him to stop. I believed Khaion, but he shouldn't give up the advantage.
The slow, dangerous smile spreading across my mate's face stilled me.
This was Khaion, the warrior trained for blood and death.
He lifted his chin and bellowed a battle cry that made the pool slosh and ripple and shook the surrounding columns.
The next few moments were a flurry of swinging fists, roars, grunts, and groans.
As if this moment alone contained all of war in a few heart-stopping seconds.
They lunged at each other, throwing punches that were met with equal strength and ferocity.
Arms flew in arcs of attack as they circled around each other, shouting insults and taunts with every blow.
Utar had a longer reach, the razor-sharp claws leaving deep rakes of blood across my mate’s pelt.
Khaion didn't slow, though blood trailed down his arms and chest like ivy vines crawling up a tree.
If anything, the injuries strengthened his resolve.
He dove at Utar's slashing arm, using it as leverage to flip himself upon the Kerzak's back, his muscular arms wrapping around the furry head.
Utar's spine gave a sickening crunch as it broke. His black eyes flashed with astonishment before going dim as his massive body fell to the ground, his neck bent, and his head tilted like a wet rag doll wrung out by an impatient child.
"Khaion!" I ran, flinging myself into his arms, heedless of the blood smearing over my clothes and skin. Khaion released a deep sigh of exhaustion as his arms came tightly around me, and he buried his face in my neck, inhaling deeply.
I assumed his low grunt was from the ravages of battle until his knees gave way, and he slumped in my arms.
“Khaion! What….” I went down beside him, knees painfully hitting stone. My words trailed off as I spotted the garish feathered dart dangling awkwardly from the side of his neck. I glanced around, spotting Nansar a few feet away, grinning smugly as he lowered a small gun to his side.
“Emmy.” Khaion rasped, fighting the poison. His body flushed with fever, a thin sheen of perspiration making him slick and hard to hold.
"It's going to be okay," I lied. The dark hair that I meticulously dressed this morning was askew, falling over his forehead, and I brushed it away with a gentle touch. I went to caress his face, but several Aljani guards grabbed my arms, yanking me backward.
The roar ripping from Khaion’s throat was terrifying, although I heard the weakness.
Gritting his teeth, he surged forward, trying to dislodge the guard’s hold on me.
The alien, who would have been no match for him otherwise, easily evaded the drugged grasp, bringing the hilt of his sword down atop Khaion’s head.
“No!” I kicked the guard closest to me and lunged for my mate.
Khaion’s eyes were shimmering, rebelling against unconsciousness. The hand he held out wavered as he desperately reached for me.
“Emmy,” he muttered, golden eyes rolling in his head. “My mate.”
I can never utter the words to make you my mate. To speak them aloud would be a prayer to Valana that will doom you.
Every muscle in my body went taut, like a spring pulled too tight.
Everything was still: Nansar’s emerald eyes went wide, his mouth forming a perfect “O” shape.
The ripple of surprise splintered outward from where we stood, and the hands that held me flexed in waiting.
But for what? My heart slammed wildly in my chest, but only for a second before I felt invisible fingers tighten around the organ, squeezing it to stillness, and everything faded to black.