Page 6 of Entangled by the Alien Mercenary (Monster Mercenary Mates #4)
Elyssa
I lay in an exhausted little tangle at the bottom of a tree, cradled between two large roots. A rope had been tied snugly around my neck and then looped over a branch above my head. I could not reach it to undo the knots without strangling myself. My fingers were going numb at this point anyhow, making any fine motor skills impossible. The leather twine that bound my wrists had dug into my skin and left red welts. In some places, the skin had broken. Didn’t predators smell blood? Were they drawn to me because of those cuts? Great. I really hoped I was wrong. The last thing I wanted was a repeat of last night.
Instantly, my mind flashed to the green Viridara male who had shown up out of nowhere to battle the mouth-holes in the ground and the swooping birds with their giant beaks diving at us from above. He was not an ally of Tahirel. If I hadn’t already recognized that fact last night, I knew it now. Jalima’s deputy had been cursing the male’s presence all night as we fled through the dark forest. He had called him a mercenary—Varakartoom scum. That meant nothing to me, but it had clearly worried Jalima’s men.
His black eyes, his green skin, and his hair marked him as Viridara, which gave him the home advantage out here. His black armor had been damaged but was high-tech. So he’d been in a fight before he got to us last night and saved the day—of that, I had no doubt. Was that damage because he’d been in a shuttle crash? Could he be a friend of Brace? I dismissed the hopeful thought as soon as it surfaced—doubtful. Brace was a cantankerous bastard, hurt by his life, scarred by his fights. He wouldn’t trust a green-faced, young male like that guy—a fighting hotshot and a risk-taker. When Brace got out, he said he’d buy a restaurant and cook food all day. He wouldn’t be associated with some kind of mercenary. So why was he here? And who was he? Tahirel and his goons did not know his name, just that he was bad news.
This could be an “enemy of my enemy” type of situation, but I found it hard to trust anyone I did not know. There hadn’t been many people in my life I could trust, and a mercenary was such a shady figure that they ranked at the very bottom of the list—only a step up from Jalima’s men, hardly better than what my brother had been up to all his life. It was a moot point anyway—he was not here and could very well be at the bottom of one of those toothy holes by now.
Nearby, Tahirel and his surviving men had lain down to catch some sleep. They had stabbed the ground with wooden spears they had improvised, testing for any more of those creatures before making themselves vulnerable. One male sat on a tree root close to me, his gaze watchful as he scanned the woods. He had not looked my way, but then, I was pretty much helpless anyway; I couldn’t escape this rope without killing myself. Rhico weren’t very good at being quiet, but they made excellent guards. They needed very little sleep and had good hearing, though not-so-great eyesight. This one was beginning to show signs of exhaustion, though—the night and the race through the woods last night were catching up to him.
They had caught up to me hours ago, but I couldn’t seem to fall asleep. My thoughts kept spinning—fear for my future, unexpected desire for the Viridara stranger, and worry for Brace. What was I going to do? Stall. I’d set that plan in motion, and I’d keep it up as long as I could, but eventually, Tahirel was going to figure out that there was no data hidden somewhere secret. Then he’d do a more thorough search of my body and discover I had a datachip on me after all. I had to escape before that happened.
My eyes were aching from the smoky campfire over which my captors had roasted some kind of rodent a few hours ago. I had not received a single bite, but my stomach was so empty I was past the point of feeling hunger—for the moment. Tahirel lay with his back toward me, wrapped beneath a thermal blanket, his head tucked onto his folded jacket. He looked neat and somewhat prepared, while his companions had just gone to sleep where they sat. Nobody else, apparently, had a blanket, and the Rhico keeping watch did not even have a coat. His gray arms were thick and bulging, his skin covered in tattoos of images that appeared nonsensical but vaguely threatening at the same time.
When the Rhico’s head drooped to his chest, my heart leaped in response. He was nodding off—this was my chance. I forced my aching body to shift upright, my bound hands carefully holding the rope around my neck to keep it from growing too tight. Scanning my surroundings, I searched for something sharp. A pointy rock would work—anything to cut the rope. It was the only way out of these nasty bindings. Could I scoot close enough to the Rhico to snatch the knife from his belt? I wasn’t even sure if he was asleep or just lightly dozing. Would he notice if I moved closer? Only one way to find out.
The leaves and dirt under my knees seemed to rustle awfully loudly when I began to move. Every crack and whisper made me wince, certain that the Rhico would wake—and if not him, surely Tahirel. I held my breath and waited, poised so close to the Rhico that I could feel the warmth radiating off his thick skin. Morning had been upon us for a few hours now, but the cold of the night had yet to leave my bones. Nobody moved. Nobody had noticed what I’d done.
I shifted my bound hands away from the rope at my throat, slowly—so slowly—reaching for that gleaming knife. My fingers brushed the leather of the hilt, and the Rhico snorted and shook his head, the sharp horn on his snout glinting dangerously as he twisted that huge head left and right. It was very tempting to snatch the knife quickly then, to have a weapon. But I would never be fast enough to cut the rope around my neck without severing my jugular by accident. I could try to stab the Rhico in the back instead, but after that, Tahirel and his remaining goons could easily overpower me—and they’d be hopping mad. On top of that, I wasn’t sure if the knife was sharp enough or if I was strong enough to even sink that blade into the Rhico. They were very tough opponents, with even tougher skin.
The Rhico tossed back his head and yawned so loudly that I could hear his jaw pop. Then he rolled his shoulders, blinked his beady eyes, and I knew I’d lost my opportunity. Cursing inside my head, I tried to casually shift to my hip so I didn’t appear to be so close to him. He did not seem to notice my nearness but jerked his head suddenly to the left, ears twitching. He’d heard something. I held my breath and focused too, hoping to hear what he had.
There. A whisper of leaves out of place, out of tune with the rest of the forest. The scuttling and chirping of birds had also lessened, as if they were waiting for something. The predators of this planet I did not know about, but I feared them all the same. Could it be one of them? Or had we faced the worst already in the form of those holes with teeth and the big, clawed birds of prey? My mind wanted to leap to another option: the Viridara male. I told myself that was impossible, and if he had survived, why would he have followed us? Unless, of course, he was after the same thing Tahirel was after—my stolen information.
No, he had to be dead—eaten. I could not get my hopes up, especially not because I’d found him so incredibly sexy last night. It had been the worst, most inappropriate time to feel any semblance of attraction. I had to be mistaken, and I had to stop hoping that he was alive. He was dead, and the only reason I kept thinking of him was because he was a mystery.
Biting my lip, I scooted even further away from the Rhico with the creepy tattoos. The rope bit into my neck, and my breathing hitched as I struggled to draw in air through the tight loop around my throat. My hands immediately went up to ease the noose, but for a few panic-filled moments, all my attention was on my air supply rather than my surroundings. When I drew my first easy breath again, I refocused and was shocked to see the Rhico topple sideways off his tree root. He struck the ground with a thud that reverberated through my body, and I was not the only one who felt it. Tahirel jerked upright, laser pistol in hand, sharp eyes searching. He gave me a quick warning glare, but he dismissed me as the threat instantly. That was a little humbling, but it did give me the chance to observe what was happening.
The Rhico had a hole in his back that was bigger than my fist, and it went all the way through, punching out the front through his rib cage. Whatever had done that had to have been incredibly strong to slam through a fully grown male Rhico like that—and without making so much as a sound. No wonder Tahirel had instantly dismissed me as the threat; there was no way I could have done that. Blood was rapidly spreading from that hole, but the ground seemed to soak it up as quickly as it left his body. It made me uncomfortable to watch, so I looked away.
Tahirel had risen to his feet now and was talking into his comm device as he spun slowly in a circle and searched. The others were also up, weapons drawn. I could see the fear on their faces. These hardened criminals had been rattled by the attack last night, and now another of their number was dead by some inexplicable means. They were spooked. They were getting superstitious, and when one of them fired at what looked to be nothing more than a branch swaying in the wind, it was like a powder keg blew up. They all began firing into the woods around them. Only their boss kept it together, shouting at them to stop wasting their weapon charges.
I tried to duck out of the way, scared their wild firing would hit me, but all I managed to do was yank on the rope around my neck again. Gasping for air, I was on my bound hands and knees, dragging air frantically through my bruised windpipe. When the rope above me suddenly snapped, it unraveled and spooled, and finally, I could breathe. I twisted my sore neck, searching for answers, and saw a pair of black eyes glittering at me from high above. There was the gleam of a knife blade as it caught a sunbeam, and then he was gone.
Blazing stars, it was the Viridara male. He had survived last night’s mayhem. He was here! My heart thudded against my ribs, beating frantically with a fresh surge of hope. He was helping me—did that mean he was the good guy after all? I wanted so badly to trust him that it hurt. Tired beyond exhaustion, I had been on the run for so long that the dream of having someone to lean on was too tempting. I couldn’t trust that feeling—because I wanted it so badly. Did that even make sense? I wasn’t sure of anything right now.
“There he is!” Tahirel yelled, and for the first time, he fired—the shot sizzling through the air and slamming into the tree above my head. There was a rustling noise, and then I saw a shadow blot out the light as it leaped from the tree straight for the Elrohirian leader. I blinked, then raised my fists to rub at my tired eyes, but the shapes did not make any sense to me: long green wings, a writhing set of thick green tentacles, several black-clad limbs. And then a head raised, and I looked straight into a pair of eyes blacker than night. What in the name of the god of cold and death was he? Because, by Vamor, that was not normal. That was not Viridara at all.
I was not the only one terrified and confused by his appearance. The Rhico was dead, but all the others were abandoning what little gear they had and running for their lives. I had never seen a Kertinal with notches in his horns look that terrified before—eyes wide and glowing, his tail whipping wildly behind him as his long-legged stride propelled him behind some bushes. I could hear their steps, the breaking of twigs, and their cursing as they ran for their lives, but in the clearing, silence reigned.
My legs felt unsteady when I climbed to my feet, my knees shaking, my thighs burning, and my toes feeling like ice inside my pretty boots. Without the rope around my neck, I was also free to make a run for it, but something kept me rooted to the spot: the black eyes, the chiseled jawline, and the way this strange, not-Viridara seemed familiar to me. It was him—the guy from last night—but not him at the same time. How was that possible?
The large green wings were more like a pair of giant leaves, sprouting from his shoulder blades along with a pair of writhing, twisting vines. Vines, not tentacles—they even had leaves sticking daintily from the coiling lengths. The rest of him, when he rose and turned to face me, was still normal—devastatingly normal. His armor outlined his sleek body and each bulge and dip of his muscles, from his six-pack to his defined pectorals. I was even treated to the dips of his hips, and if not for the belt with several pouches, the bulge at his crotch would have looked obscene. He might have extra appendages that were bizarre, but his body was a work of art.
“Are you all right?” he asked, taking a step toward me. It was the first time I had heard his voice, the first time in days that someone had spoken to me with any semblance of kindness. A roiling pit of emotions opened up inside my belly at that question. Was I all right? When was the last time someone had asked me that? I couldn’t recall. My brother had certainly never cared about my state of mind, and since his death, I had even fewer people who cared about me. Zero, in fact. Unless I counted Brace—and right now, I wasn’t even sure if Brace was still alive.
His voice was so calm and polite—too friendly. I wasn’t sure what to make of this. Was he friend or foe? He was clearly chasing after us, or he wouldn’t be here now, so what did he want? Until I knew that, I couldn’t trust him—but I wanted to. Very badly. My exhausted, bruised body was more than ready to surrender to someone else for a bit, to find shelter where it could. I swayed, my head dipping, and then I shook it, my trembling bottom lip struggling for control. The medallions dangling from my Caratan chain chimed gently as they swung together, but the sound was not soothing to my jangled nerves.
He took a step toward me, and my eyes snagged on a hint of pink and purple. It was a flower, tucked partially beneath a panel of his armor where a tear allowed me to see pieces of his gleaming green skin. Why was he wearing a flower? His hand came up, and my eyes left the pretty bloom to look at that open palm. “It’s gonna be okay. You are safe now,” he said.
I didn’t believe it for a second—at least, my mind didn’t think I should believe it. My body? It was so onboard with that sentiment that it simply shut down. Enough was enough—the stress of last night, the stress of fleeing my brother’s home, and the stress of evading those who chased me. It couldn’t take more, and at that first offer of safety, it leaped.
Swaying, my knees began to give out. I tried to lock them so I’d remain upright rather than fall over like an idiot at the feet of this big, handsome, green stranger. He stepped toward me, his black eyes growing wide with alarm. Viridara did have an iris and pupil, but they were so large and dark that they did not appear that way. Like a prey animal, my mind helpfully supplied, but this guy exuded nothing but lethal, predatory grace. He was definitely not anyone’s definition of prey. I, on the other hand, very much felt like a small, helpless animal.
Fainting was the last thing I wanted to do, but I had little choice in the matter. I gave it a good fight, but as my vision began to gray around the edges, I knew it was all over. The last thing I remembered seeing as I collapsed was the stranger’s face right above mine. Gah, his cheekbones were sharp enough to cut, and those weird extra eye spots his species had gleamed golden at his temples. His lashes were dark green and enviously long, and his dark lips looked incredibly tempting. I slipped into darkness, wondering what it would be like to kiss him, and I did not even know his name.