Page 10 of Entangled by the Alien Mercenary (Monster Mercenary Mates #4)

Elyssa

“Aren’t you worried those men Jalima sent after me will track us down?” I asked a few hours into our walk. I’d picked a direction at random, and Tass hadn’t questioned it, but how long would that last? I felt hopelessly turned around at this point, certain we were lost—if not for the confident way my very strange Viridara companion navigated the currently wet, misty, and gloomy jungle.

“No,” Tass said, his leafy wing rising to hover near my shoulder. It prevented a nasty splash of water from landing on me. He’d been doing things like that all morning, and he was incredible at predicting when one of the large leaves above our heads got too heavy with water and would dump its load. That didn’t mean I wasn’t cold and wet, but it would have been a lot more miserable if not for him. I was starting to enjoy the views, especially the one right next to me.

Distracted by the way the water drops were rolling down his armor, his green skin, and his very muscular chest, I almost missed what he said next. “They can’t find us unless I want them to find us, trust me. You don’t need to worry about that scum.” He jerked a hand toward our left, waving vaguely. “They are currently regrouping over there. But they don’t know where we are.” I didn’t understand how he could know that unless he was psychic, had super hearing, or had scouted them before. Oh, he probably had scouted for them, when I was sleeping and he was catching our food.

“Okay,” I murmured, nibbling on my bottom lip as I thought this through. Pretty soon, Tass was going to figure out that I didn’t know where we were going. This wasn’t going to last a whole day. I needed answers, and I needed them fast. “Tell me why you’re here. Tell me why I should trust you.” Wow, those were barely even questions—they’d come out as demands. Breathless, I waited to see how he’d respond. Would he snap? Would he be upset that I wanted to know more? Doubted his integrity? That was what my brother would do: deflect with anger, make you feel small and worthless until you wanted to believe him just so he’d stop.

Tasseloris halted in his tracks, his form shivering and rustling as he resettled the large “sails,” as he called them, along his back. One of his vines snaked out from behind him and caught me around my waist, not fully closing—more like a half-embrace. The grip was firm enough that when it pushed me forward, I went, stumbling through the muck toward him. His hands caught me before I could fall—one arm sliding around my waist, the other cupping my shoulder. That one slid along my nape, then jaw, cupping my chin and raising it so our eyes met.

“Trust me?” he said in a low tone that could be mistaken for anger. There was a vein ticking along his temple, and I was certain it meant he was very close to letting his Iredese flare to life. “You can trust me, Elyssa. I have told you nothing but the truth, but you haven’t been so nice, have you?” Ah, stars, he knew. How long had he known? I still couldn’t tell if he was mad, either; his black eyes were indecipherable pools of darkness, his expression tight but not aggressive. He had none of the tells my brother had when he was mad but hiding it.

I nibbled on my bottom lip and resisted the urge to reach up and touch the medallions dangling from my Caratan chain. On second thought, maybe it was better if I fiddled with the chain dangling from my nose ring to my earlobe. My palms were pressed very inappropriately on his chest, the left hand perilously close to touching skin through the tear in his suit. Why was I thinking about what that strip of emerald would feel like, rather than my answer? I was going crazy, that was the only answer. My panties were embarrassingly wet, as if I liked the way he’d manhandled me into his arms. Why had he done that.

With his large hand holding my chin, I could not avoid his gaze, and I was certain he was seeing all my thoughts and feelings plainly on my face. He was staring at me, patient but firm, and I squirmed in his grip as I tried to figure out what to say. In the end, I went with the truth. “I did not hide the data about Jalima in the jungle.” Baldly stated, it felt so stupid that I’d misled him. Of course I could trust Tass; he was my protector… He was Brace’s friend, and he’d proven he’d protect me when he’d rescued me from Tahirel.

My lashes fluttered as they lowered. “Are you going to kiss me?” Holy crap, had I just said that out loud? Clearly, he was still mad that I’d gotten us lost in the woods for no good reason. Tass blinked twice with his large black eyes, the veins on his temples pulsed, and then the Iredese glimmered golden. See? Mad. But he didn’t look mad when his mouth twisted into a half-smirk I found far too sexy. Then his head lowered, and his mouth crashed into mine—an explosion of passion as he did what I asked. This was not just a kiss but a claim, and I felt it down to the very tips of my toes.

His vines curled around me, tugging me closer while his hand kept a tight grip on my chin so I could not escape. With his other arm, he stroked along my spine before cupping me beneath my ass and lifting me straight out of the mud. Our tongues tangled, sensation lancing through me as our mouths mimicked the act of sex. It was the longest, most devastating kiss I’d ever experienced—I never wanted it to end. Tass flooded my senses, my brain, until I couldn’t think straight. Everything had gone dark, as if the sun had set while our mouths were fused, but it was his sails wrapping us tightly into a private cocoon.

When he abruptly lifted his head from mine, I was not ready for that. A mewled protest escaped me before I could rein it in. My heart was pounding furiously in my chest, and my breathing was just as rapid. I couldn’t make sense of what was going on around me either. Everything was dark, and then it was too bright when he slid his sails down. The jungle was still misty, gloomy, and wet. Dampness clung to everything, and dripping sounds were prevalent. They weren’t the only sounds, though. Over my ragged breathing, I heard other noises too, my sharp ears picking them up now that I wasn’t quite so dazzled by that kiss.

Tass had not let go of me; his arm kept me pinned to his chest with my feet dangling in the air. But he was on high alert, his Iredese glowing brightly and his vines raised threateningly around his shoulders. “What’s happening?” I asked, unable to make sense of the rustling and squelching I could hear. It seemed to come from all around us, either because it echoed somehow or because we were surrounded by whatever this was. Then I heard someone curse—low but fiercely—under their breath, and my stomach twisted with fear. “I thought you said they wouldn’t be able to find us!”

“Quiet,” Tass hissed. “They shouldn’t. Which means there’s a tracker on you.” I wanted to protest fiercely that it wasn’t me, why couldn’t it be on him? But that didn’t make any sense. I was the one who had been tracked to the meeting place and then held captive by Tahirel, the leader of Jalima’s men down here. Tass had to have the patience of a saint to put up with me, or… he had ulterior motives. I hated how I kept circling back to that, but now that we weren’t kissing, it was hard not to be suspicious. Nobody had ever done anything for me out of the kindness of their hearts, least of all my brother, my family. So why would Tass? And he was a mercenary.

I couldn’t spend more time on these worries. There were much more pressing matters—like how badly were we surrounded? Did we need to fight our way out? And by "we," that really meant Tass, because I had zero fighting skills to speak of and no weapons to rely on. Could we locate the tracker on me, ditch it, and run before they discovered us?

Tass hadn’t been paying attention to me, so I had to assume he wasn’t going to search for the tracker. I racked my brain as I considered the options. It wasn’t in my boots—I was damn sure about that. I’d had them custom-made and then done final tweaks myself; I knew every inch of stitching, leather, and rubber. My satchel, with its meager supplies, had been lost when Tahirel caught me. Which left my clothing, or me… Dismay filled me when I considered the final option, but I realized I could not dismiss it. It was exactly the kind of thing my brother, Elpherian, would have done—a way to control my every move.

Sick to my stomach, I almost didn’t notice the change in my mercenary companion or the difference in the sounds that surrounded us. They’d gotten quieter, more stealthy, and there was no more swearing about the muddy jungle ground. Tass had gone tight as a bowstring next to me—against me. “We’re going up. Stay quiet,” he whispered. His vines hooked into the tree branches above our heads, and up we went, sailing into the air. I tucked my face against his chest as my stomach dropped, muffling any noise that wanted to escape at the shock.

We landed on a thick branch, and immediately, Tass was pushing me back, tucking me into a spot where the tree split. “Stay,” he murmured, and I feared he’d leave to fight a battle alone down below. But he only turned his back to me, shielding me with his body. One vine came to curl around my waist and the tree, effectively tying me in place so I could not fall, while his sails flared wide, giving him the ultimate balance as he lay in wait for those approaching.

When they came, there were dozens of them, circling around our hiding place with guns at the ready. I recognized some of these men, having seen them at my brother’s home on many occasions. Most of all, I recognized Tahirel and the male he was walking beside—De’tor, a Kertinal male with a high position in Jalima’s power structure. It would not surprise me if this male had taken my brother’s spot as right-hand male after Elpherian had been killed a few months ago. His purple glowing streaks and mane were a surprisingly good camouflage in a forest that was all greens, browns, and pink and purple blooms. The shrubbery at ground level often had purple leaves as well.

De’tor was a bad male, a very bad male. Elpherian had been a bastard and a killer when it suited him, but he was a male who enjoyed the finer things in life and tried to pretend he was sophisticated to boot. De’tor did not care one bit about appearances. He was a blunt instrument of destruction, whereas Elpherian had been a sharply honed knife in the back. If he was here, that meant things were getting deadly. This was no longer a situation I could walk away from unless they were the ones who ended up dead.

Tass was the one who opened fire, and he had rightly judged that De’tor was the true threat. If not for the personal shield the male wore, that first shot would have killed him—I was certain of it. A second shot winged Tahirel next to him, and then two more males dropped before they managed to rally and return fire. It got really hairy then—chaotic. Fire flew, Tass leaped from his perch to avoid it, and somehow, I went unnoticed in all of that. Unnoticed and useless. To my horror, Tass had leaped, but the vine that secured me to the tree had been left behind. No longer part of his body, it was turning brown, withering, but remaining a dried, yet shockingly strong, rope. What the blazing stars was he?

Sailing through the air, his leafy sails kept him aloft as he glided from tree to tree, using a pair of pistols to fight. And when the charges in those guns ran out, he pulled out his machete and dropped to the ground to fight them hand to hand. That’s when he lost the sails—they simply crumbled into dust and blew away on tendrils of fog and wind. His remaining vine was a deadly whip to contend with until De’tor managed to cut it in half. It was then that the tide of battle began to shift. Outnumbered twenty to one, the odds should have been impossible, but Tass had made it look easy to take out half their number. Now things changed.

I had to do something. I couldn’t remain stuck in a tree, waiting for the inevitable. After this, how could I not believe that Tass was on my side? I had to help. Wrenching the dried vine free from my waist took far too long. There were no weapons up here, nothing to throw. The battle had moved away from my tree, though, which I was certain Tass had done on purpose. I couldn’t run if a tracker was on me; they would find me again unless I figured out where it was right this instant. It did not feel right to run anyway—I would not abandon Tass.

Getting out of the tree was hard and left my palms all scratched up from the rough bark. Once on the ground, I finally had access to weapons, and that made it worthwhile. Several males lay where they were felled, and I headed straight for the pair that Tass had shot down in that first volley. They’d never gotten a shot off, so their guns had to be fully charged. It was a good plan. If I could spray some laser fire into that cluster to Tass’s right, I was certain he could defeat De’tor.

The metal of the weapon was cold and wet against my sore hands. It almost slipped from my grasp as I yanked it from the dead male’s grip. It was much heavier than I expected it to be, so I dropped to my knees and cradled it in my lap while I took aim, my finger already on the trigger as I sighted down the long, thick barrel of the thing. This was not a pistol but a rifle or something—I had no clue—just that it was probably going to make a big boom. I braced myself, urgency pounding in my veins. Tass was getting hurt, and the damaged armor he wore wasn’t giving him the right protection. Slashes of red blood decorated his back and chest. One gaping cut across his thigh had hobbled his left leg.

“Drop it,” a cold, vicious voice said from behind me. The tip of a barrel poked hard into the small of my back, and a shiver shot down my spine. No. By Vamor, how could I have forgotten about Tahirel? I should have known he was still crawling around like the vermin he was.

My entire body felt numb—my fingers especially—when I did as he wanted and dropped the weapon in the dirt next to me. He kicked it out of my reach with the tip of his steel-toed boots, the metal against metal clanking jarringly together. Then he raised his voice. “Surrender, or I shoot the girl. Now!” Tass raised his head, his dark eyes connecting with mine. I willed him to keep fighting, to escape and come back for me later. Anything but surrender. The fight halted as everyone froze to see what my mercenary was going to do.

His body twitched as if he fought to restrain himself, but he dropped the machete and raised his hands in the air. No, don’t surrender, Tass! I was certain they would kill him as soon as they had the chance. There was a certain resignation to his expression that told me he knew it too. De’tor raised his gun with a vicious grin on his black-and-purple visage. My breath stalled in my lungs, and now it wasn’t numbness that filled me but a full-body ache at what I knew was to come. I wanted to close my eyes, but Tass was looking at me, and it felt cowardly to do so. He deserved my full attention in his final moments.

Then the pistol whipped forward—not with laser fire, but with a sharp blow that struck Tass in his Iredese-brightened temple. My big green mercenary collapsed as he lost consciousness, slamming down into the mud with a thud I felt vibrate through my knees where I sat. Stunned, I blinked several times at the sight, certain I’d seen that wrong. Why would De’tor be stupid enough to spare him? Not that I wasn’t grateful—I was immensely relieved they had not killed him. But why?

I was not the only one who was confused. Tahirel yanked me to my feet by my arm and began dragging me to his boss, a snarl twisting his handsome Elrohirian features. “Why did you do that? He killed half our men again. Are you crazy?” He was a bold male for questioning his boss, but maybe he had enough clout to speak his mind. He was certainly getting approval for this line of questioning from the surviving males who either stumbled to their feet or had remained unscathed from that crazy fight.

De’tor clearly did not like being questioned; his expression grew murderous as he stared down my captor with brightly glowing purple eyes. But he proved to be smarter than he appeared, not just a brute. He had to be smart to have risen so highly in Jalima’s ranks, and this was when he showed it. “Have you ever heard of a Viridara male with powers like this one?” he snarled, and he slashed his hand down to where Tass lay face down in the mud. I feared he’d suffocate, but his head had twisted just enough that he could breathe. If any more rainwater pooled around him, he’d begin to drown, but surely it wouldn’t come to that.

I shook my head, just as most of the surviving males, including Tahirel, did. Tass was a mystery to me, his sails and vines a puzzle. It shouldn’t have shocked me when De’tor began raving about Tass’s value as a gladiator for Jalima’s stable. “Imagine what kind of crowds he’ll bring. The boss is going to be so pleased with this catch. Tie him up, tie him up really well. He can’t escape.” So that was it. De’tor had seen the credits roll in if he could pit Tass on the arena sands. He wasn’t wrong; with his skills and his strange powers, he’d draw huge crowds. Greed was the ultimate motivator, and today, I counted myself very lucky because of that.