Page 5 of Entangled by the Alien Mercenary (Monster Mercenary Mates #4)

Tasseloris

When I woke up, light was filtering, warm and nourishing, through the leaves above me. My head was pounding something fierce, and for a second, I thought I’d gotten dared again by Aramon to chug an entire bottle of Aderian wine. That had been a disaster, and my body had felt as messed up then as it did now. Even the roots of my hair ached, but the thick strands were raised and swaying gently in the breeze. That was different; they didn’t do that on the ship. There was only one kind of place where my body would have that kind of reaction. I groaned. Stars, now I remembered where I was.

Blinking away the remnants of confusion and exhaustion helped. My arm felt heavy when I raised it, but it got easier once I’d rubbed at my tired eyes. There was a cliff rising to my left, a chasm to my right, and the familiar shape of trees native only to the Viridara worlds. I was home—or as close to home as I’d been in a long while.

I sat up slowly, tilting my aching head left and right to take in the destruction that surrounded me. There were dozens of Takchaw pits, the chasm a particularly large specimen. A smattering of singed or burning corpses of the Kovar birds of prey dotted the battlefield as well. The birds often hung out at the tops of cliffs and joined in the mayhem when the Takchaw woke—a sort of symbiotic relationship. But they were not the only dead that surrounded me; there were several males of various sentient species too. A Rummicaron with beady black eyes lay staring sightlessly up at the sky only a couple of feet away, while a pair of Asrai lay in a tangle of limbs at the bottom of the cliff.

I knew they were part of the group that had tried to kill me. One of them still had the control unit for the ground-to-air missile dangling from his belt. That was plenty of evidence, yet I still felt a pang of sadness at the sight of all this death. It was doubtful anyone would ever find the bodies, given how quickly the jungle reclaimed anything. What I did not see anywhere was any sign of an Elrohirian. So they had gotten away. She had gotten away. I was not sure if that was good or bad news.

Rising to my feet was slow going, and I swayed unsteadily once I got there. The ground was there to support me, firm and true beneath my boots, ready to catch me should I fall. Glancing down, I wondered if I should take the boots off and receive the full blessing of the land. I might need it while I contemplated the new knowledge that sat in my stomach like a pile of lead: the female with the tied hands and the large sapphire eyes.

“Well, damn it,” I muttered, rubbing my knuckles against my sternum, where a deep ache sat that had nothing to do with bruises. “How am I going to fix this?” A mate in the middle of this mess was both unexpected and a horrible complication. On top of that, given her tied hands, I was pretty sure she was the contact I had been supposed to meet. No wonder they shot me out of the sky before I got here; they had known I was coming because they had her. Luckily, I was the best tracker this side of the galaxy, and Jalima’s scumbags were not going to be able to hide from me.

I did not bother to check the bodies of the dead for any supplies. I did not even take a comm, certain that kind of line would be compromised. My backpack I’d hidden a ways back in the branches of a tree, and it was the work of a moment to retrieve it. Then I was on my way, regaling food and water to a task to occupy me while I walked. My eyes never left the ground, tracking the stumbled steps of the female—my female—and the longer strides of the male who had taken her.

A few minutes after I set out, I discovered that more tracks had caught up with the pair of Elrohirians who had slipped from my grasp last night. My female was now outnumbered four to one, but I was not worried about facing them once I found her. My hand touched the spot on my collar where the tracker of my suit was embedded, certain it would not be long until my backup arrived. Even without any backup, I was confident I could take them. They were in my house, so to speak—I had the home advantage on a Viridara planet. I might hate being back in many ways, but surrounded by familiar plants, I was in my element.

With a group of five to track, my female included, it became that much easier. They did not even bother to hide their tracks, and their path was mostly straight, aimed away from the city and deeper into the jungle. I could not fathom why they were doing that. Bloom was the only way off the planet, and if they had Brace’s contact, why would they stay?

I pictured the female as I walked—her pale, frightened features, bright sapphire eyes, and tangled, pale hair. She’d worn a Caratan chain, which proclaimed her Elrohirian just as easily as her delicately pointed ears did. But her chain had been oddly lacking in the medallion department. I tried to recall what I knew of the custom, but all I could remember was that most chains I’d seen tended to have five to six disks hanging from them. Hers had only four. It didn’t seem right. Why was that?

“Krekik?” The sudden sound startled me, and I jerked to a halt, scanning the trees and underbrush around me. It was not a sound any animal I knew made, and I would have heard or sensed them if they had managed to get that close. This was something else—something different. There, at the foot of a tree, nestled in a hollow between two roots, was a flash of pink. Oh no. If that was what I thought it was, I could be in serious trouble.

She popped her flower-crowned head up when my gaze landed on her and repeated the cutesy, delicate sound. Her emerald eyes gleamed and glittered as a sunbeam hit her tiny face. It was the Entling, and she elegantly waved her leafy hands at me, swaying in the breeze in such a way that it almost looked happenstance—like she was simply a plant in a breeze, flowers aimed for the sun. “What are you doing here, little one? You need to go find your Sire. This isn’t safe.” It wasn’t safe for me either if she kept following me around. Her Sire would not take kindly to it, and if a Viridara saw… I would be a dead male.

Of course, the pink Entling did not understand what I was saying, blinking her large eyes at me and smiling serenely. Then she shifted her leafy hands again, and I discovered she was holding something, raising them as if she wanted me to take it. A flower—pink, of course, but with a purple heart that matched the markings decorating my body beneath my armor. I had no use for a flower, but her liquid green eyes made it impossible not to reach out and grab it. Her leafy fingers were soft as silk, the flower so tiny I was afraid I’d crush it in my clumsy fingers. She made a soft, cheerful noise, blinked at me, and—I swear—she smiled. I was pretty sure Entlings were not supposed to act like this; she should be scared of me. So why wasn’t she? Because I’d saved her?

Slowly backing away, I thanked her, flower loosely clutched in my fingers. Now what? Was she going to follow me again? I craned my head left and right to search for any sign of danger or her Sire. There was none, as I’d known already. The Sires did not wander this close to a city, away from the sacred groves. If there was danger, I would have noticed that too, because I’d been tracking, and my senses were heightened to notice even the slightest changes in my environment. I did not have time for this—my mate was in danger.

It could be considered rude or sacrilege by some, but I thanked the pink Entling once more, dipped into a bow, and then began tracking again. If she followed me, so be it, but I would not wait for her. I could not waste any more time on interactions that might get me killed if anyone saw. My mate needed me, so I could not take such risks.

Of course, this Entling seemed to have a mind of her own, wholly unaware of the danger she put me in by trailing after me. I could not hear her move, and she left no trace, but the tiny creature was right behind me each time I looked over my shoulder—her green eyes glowing warmly at me, a smile on her tiny, delicate face. She thought I was safety. She thought I’d protect her. And she was not wrong. I could not blame her for following me, even if it complicated everything .

“Focus,” I muttered, reprimanding myself for letting the Entling distract me from my goal. She would hide if we encountered any obstacles. My only concern was my female. Her image flashed in my mind again, and this time, I was distracted by the thought of her pale hair. Would it be as soft as it had looked? It would be better if I were to inventory my opponents in my head. I needed to think of them and what I would do to them once I’d caught up. The Elrohirian male who had dragged her around with his filthy paws. The distinct footsteps of a Tarkan male with his clawed paws. There was a Rhico, too, recognizable because of the large boot size and heavy tread.

Two admirable opponents—both had thick skin that protected them. It would have made them hard to digest for the Takchaw, which was possibly why they had escaped last night’s massacre. They were not going to escape me—I vowed that to myself. They would not escape, and they would pay for harming my woman and frightening the little Entling. They would pay for forcing me to trek through these woods and remember the past.

“Pay attention, Tasseloris,” my mentor growled, his impatience slapping me in the face as if he’d struck me with his open palm. Master Eryngium stood to my left, draped in his drab brown robes as if he w ere the King of the Glade. In a sense, he was ; he was the most powerful man I knew, and I wanted to please him more than I wanted to please my parents. If only I could — but nothing I did was ever good enough.

Eyeing the looming shapes of the Sires that sat at the center of the Sacred Grove in a circle, I wondered what they were doing. They had not moved once since we’d gotten here , and Eryngium had started my lessons. Each Sire was as large as a tree, and some had their arms raised to the sky, their leaves soaking up the sunshine. Others were hunched down as if they were resting or sleeping ; those had buds along their shoulders, some as large as I was myself. What were they for? Was that how they reproduced?

“I said, pay attention! How do you expect to grow anything if you can’t focus for more than two seconds?” Master Eryngium was thoroughly fed up at this point, and I couldn’t blame him. This was my fault ; I couldn’t seem to make my mind focus on the things he wanted me to focus on. It was boring to just listen to my breathing, feel the grass beneath my bare toes, and do nothing else. What did he think would happen? Nothing ever happened.

I really wanted to please him and make my parents proud, but what if they had made a mistake? Clearly, I did not have the gift. I did not belong here, and soon , they’d know it too. Raising my head to the sky like Master Eryngium wanted me to, I opened my eyes. Focus. Focus , and make things grow.

The Sire on my left had a smattering of tiny blink blooms with purple hearts along its chest and shoulders. Several dotted its craggy green and brown face as if they were freckles. The blooms were pretty, but the Sire was not. It was a large, twisted shape of gnarled roots and warped limbs. Could it even move from where it sat? It had not moved in a very long time, if the grass and vines that had grown over its legs were any indication.

And then , it blinked open an eye — large and green.