Page 7 of Myra’s Monster (Romance Among the Stars #3)

7

MYRA

T he creature came out of nowhere. One second, we were alone in the creepy garden of wonders. The next, a monster rushed down the trunk of the tree, four long limbs gripping the bark and two more reaching out with razor-sharp claws extended to tear and slice.

I squeaked in alarm and leaped backward, tripping over a tangled vine and falling on my ass. A bolt of light shot overhead, scorching into a black tree as Hess tracked his laser pistol towards the sapphire-blue carapace of the attacker.

That’s a fast draw, I thought, a facade of calm over the raging torrent of panic that filled my mind. The creature tore past me, moving faster than anything that size had a right to, dodging to the side as Hess tried to bring the laser to bear.

With reflexes as impressive as its speed, the Tyradyn creature ducked under the blinding laser beam and crashed into Hess. The mobster screamed as he bounced off a tree and landed in an ungainly tumble, dropping his pistol. The creature followed close behind him, claws out, and I thought that was the end of Hess.

I hadn’t taken Volkov into account, though. The giant smashed into the Tyradyn’s side with enough force to drive it away from Hess, and the two of them slammed into a tree with bone-cracking force.

Volkov rebounded, just avoiding a slashing claw that would have opened his stomach. Ducking under a second claw, he drove a punch into the creature’s belly. With his augmented strength and speed, I wondered if he had a chance.

Not the time to take bets, I told myself, scrambling to my feet and looking for a way out. Volkov and Hess were welcome to fight this monster, but I wanted to put a door between me and it. Preferably a door and several light years.

Hess’s shot had carved a smoldering line through the plants ahead of me, and seeing it made me wince. If I hadn’t fallen, the beam would have sliced through my head.

No wonder he’d been so quick on the draw. He’d already been aiming at me, which meant I needed a door between us, too. I scrambled through the undergrowth, trying to circle toward the rope while the mobsters and the monster fought it out.

A line of red light burned past me, slicing through the colorful flowers ahead and making me swear as I ducked behind a tree. Hess had recovered his pistol and yep, he was shooting at me rather than the Tyradyn monster.

It wasn’t comforting news, but at least now I knew.

“Where d’you think you’re going?” His shout carried a mix of panic and anger. “Going to abandon us to this thing? I’ll kill you first.”

“We’ve got to get out of here,” I said. Reasoning with Hess wasn’t much of a plan, but I didn’t have a better idea. “Come on, we’ve got plenty of samples. Let’s go.”

No answer, but no laser fire either. I took that as a sign Hess might go for it. That would have to do, because we didn’t have time to argue.

Cautiously, I popped my head up from behind my tree trunk cover. Hess was right there, laser pistol aimed between my eyes, a savage grin on his face. I wasn’t even surprised. Yeah, that’s predictable. Disappointing, but predictable.

His finger tightened on the trigger, and everything slowed down. It was like we were both moving through treacle, and I was going to watch myself die in slow motion. There wasn’t time to throw myself back into cover, or to do anything at all.

Not for me, anyway. While everything else moved at a crawl, the Tyradyn beast moved as fast as ever, appearing from nowhere to grab Hess’s gun arm and pull. Hess screamed as his arm came off at the shoulder with a wet ripping sound.

The screams cut off when the beast’s claw mercifully sliced open Hess’s neck. He dropped like a sack of potatoes, and time snapped back to normal.

Volkov’s fist smashed into the back of the creature’s head, taking advantage of its distraction. It staggered back and he followed, hammering brutal blows into its carapace.

I looked around for some way to help, though I wasn’t sure which of them I’d rescue from the other. Volkov was human, at least, but his boss had tried to shoot me twice. And both times, the beast had saved my life.

Before I solved that dilemma, the Tyradyn did it for me. Rearing up on its hind legs, it lifted its middle limbs as another pair of arms, catching Volkov by surprise. The big man’s genemodded reflexes were fast enough to dodge the monster’s grapple, but that left him open to a punch that sent him flying.

He tried to recover, bouncing back to his feet as soon as he hit the ground. It wasn’t enough—the Tyradyn’s claws slashed across his torso and blood sprayed everywhere as he collapsed.

I’d watched the exchange frozen in terror, only snapping out of it when Volkov collapsed. That broke my paralysis and I ran for the rope. Not that I had a hope in hell of outdistancing the monster, but I had to try.

I made it perhaps five steps before it bounded into my path. Heart pounding, I skidded to a halt and looked up at it, shuddering.

Hess’s laser hadn’t saved him. Volkov’s genemods hadn’t done him any good. Now here I stood without either, face to face with a ten-thousand-year-old alien war machine.

It was beautiful, in the same strange and alien way the forest was. Shiny blue carapace covered it in articulated plates, each piece perfectly fitting to the next, letting the creature move with the graceful elegance of a tiger. Purple markings down its flanks and long limbs might have been writing or body art. Its rear legs were thick and powerful, middle legs slender and dexterous, and its arms precise and deadly.

But it was the eyes that caught me. Three pairs of huge purple orbs, an orange circle like fire around each pitch-black pupil, met my gaze with an intensity that made my breath catch. Those eyes were stunning, and I couldn’t look away.

They were expressive too. Or perhaps I was fooling myself into thinking that the monster looked lonely? But I couldn’t shake the impression. This creature was all alone, and the feeling was like an ache in my soul.

My heart beat loud in my ears, reminding me I was still alive. My breathing sounded deafening in my helmet, my pulse raced, and my skin tingled all over. Death loomed over me, and all I could do was wait for the end.

But the monster didn’t attack. Cocking its head to one side quizzically, it lowered a hand to tap claws on my helmet’s visor.

It (he? Somehow, I was sure he was male) leaned in, jaws opening wide. His teeth gleamed, a row of vicious fangs ending in needle points. This was a killing machine, built or grown for war, and I suddenly had a lot more sympathy for the politicians who’d banned salvage of Ancient technology.

It was a pity, because he was also hotter than I could have imagined. Perhaps it was the fight-or-flight reaction flooding my system, but the huge, powerful body of the monster before me called to me.

“… hello?” I knew he wouldn’t hear me through my helmet. And even if he did, he wouldn’t understand. I had to try. “Please don’t kill me?”

Those eyes, the piercing, impenetrable gaze, pinned me in place. I wouldn’t have moved even if he’d let go of me. His sorrowful orbs transfixed me.

With a loud snap, frills opened up around his neck, framing his head with a glittering rainbow circle that wavered back and forth. The effect was mesmerizing, and somehow, I heard words as I watched the colors flow.

No, not heard. The words were thoughts, but not in my own voice. Calm/peace/safety.

They weren’t quite words, but to my surprise, I felt safer. My breathing slowed from panicked gasps and something else formed in my mind. A question.

Why other humans attack you? Are you dangerous?

“No,” I answered quickly, shaking my head for emphasis and hoping I wasn’t imagining things. “Nope, they’re just assholes. Thank you for saving me from them! I’m not here to cause any trouble, I didn’t realize there was anyone alive here, I’ll just be going.”

Myra will stay. The command wasn’t needed. Against his strength and speed, escape was impossible, and if he wasn’t planning on killing me, I didn’t want to run off. But I wondered how he knew my name. He could project thoughts into my mind. Did that mean…?

Are you reading my mind? I thought my question at him as best I could. It was an embarrassing question, but I comforted myself with the knowledge that if I was wrong, he’d never know I’d asked.

Yes/affirmative/listening. I shivered, trying not to show my surprise at being right. Pointless—I felt a strange, dry amusement at the edge of my mind, reminding me that he heard my thoughts. That only made things worse, and a blush spread over my cheeks.

The amusement faded into concern. Was the telepathic killing machine worried about me?

Yes. Concern/confusion. Myra is clever, has a beautiful song. Why is it bad to listen?

God, now my cheeks burned red. I tried to keep my mind focused on staying alive. The last thing I wanted was the creature knowing how attractive I found him.

Shit. Fuck.

I’m giving myself away, aren’t I?

To my relief, he didn’t reply. But he didn’t need to. Not thinking about how hot he was would have been impossible, and he’d confirmed he was reading my thoughts. I did my best to find something else to focus on before I started thinking about how his carapace would feel against my naked skin or what his cock would be like.

Shit!

“What’s your name?” I blurted the question out, the first thing that came to mind. The only answer was a confused mess of emotions with no words. “You don’t have one? Oh. You don’t have one that fits in sound, do you? Why would a telepath need a name, right?”

Yes/correct/am. The medley of emotions played out again, slowly, like he was enunciating his name. Fear and shock, anger and pride, joy of accomplishment and gratitude for rescue, all mixed. It fit, I realized, looking up at the towering killing machine. When his kin were afraid and angry, he would be there for them. His pride in saving his family, his joy at defending his home, their gratitude, it all mixed into a bundle that was quintessentially him.

A pity I can’t emote on command. Though I’ve got no trouble with the gratitude after he saved me from Hess and Volkov.

But the rest? Yeah, no, the closest I got was grateful/scared/admiring/kinda-turned-on , which wasn’t even close. As soon as I realized what I was broadcasting, I added apologetic to the mix, and he sent amused tolerance back at me.

“I think I need a name for you,” I said, trying to break the cycle. “If you’re okay with that? I can call you…”

I trailed off there, my embarrassment mixing with his projected anticipation. The huge and deadly alien waited patiently as I struggled for focus. Again, his amusement pressed at the edge of my thoughts, amusement tinged with something else.

Something hungry and eager. I shook my head, trying to clear it.

The fear was still there, but it was the breathless, exciting fear of an adventure, not the more immediate terror of my death. I’d had quite enough of that from Hess and Volkov, so the difference was obvious.

“Fearjoyangergrateful is a bit of a mouthful,” I said aloud, trying my best to summarize the emotions that made up his psychic ‘name’ and rejecting the result as soon as I spoke it. “How about, uh, Tyradyn? No, Tyr is better. Right?”

I didn’t know how much he understood, or how he’d react. It would be like someone calling me ‘Human’ or maybe ‘Hue’ because they couldn’t pronounce my name. He stared at me, six eyes blinking in pairs, until he finally nodded.

Tyr it is.