Page 32 of Saved By the Alien Hybrid (Hybrids of Yulaira #1)

Cordelia was bouncing on the balls of her feet with anticipation as Melam gripped the tarp covering the bikes.

She was trying to psych herself up for what was coming: more exertion on not enough sleep and a cryo hangover.

At least her wound was healed. She rubbed her hand over the spot.

The only lingering trace of the injury was the annoying, persistent itchiness as it healed.

Rentir edged closer to her, his arms crossed over his chest. He was like her own personal satellite in orbit, shifting to stand between her and Melam every time the other hybrid moved.

Melam pulled the tarp free in a loud rustle, gathering it up in his arms as she gaped at what he’d revealed.

“Hoverbikes,” she exclaimed, relief pouring over her. “Of course they’re hoverbikes.”

They bore a compact version of the hovercraft’s design, like a dirt bike with the tires laid sideways at the front and back.

Rentir’s mouth pulled into a grin at her enthusiasm. The closer he was to her, the less on edge he seemed to be. This morning, she’d thought she was driving him to madness; now, she wondered if she was the only thing helping him cling to sanity.

“I have shared the coordinates of the other pods with Melam,” Rentir said by way of explanation. “He will head north-west, and we will take the east.”

Melam pulled a pair of goggles out of his fur-lined coat—though perhaps ‘pair’ was the wrong word. There were three lenses instead of two, naturally. The four tentacles at his nape worked together to situate the bands around his head as she watched in open fascination.

Rentir stepped in front of her, cutting off her line of sight and replacing it with a scowl. “Here.” He held up a pair of goggles.

She let him carefully pull them down over her head.

He grabbed the excess fabric of her turtleneck and rolled it up over her nose and mouth, looping it over her ears somehow. “It gets cold at high speed, especially further up the mountain.”

“Take this,” Melam said, holding something out to Rentir.

It was a hunting knife. It looked oddly primitive to her under the circumstances, nothing like Rentir’s high-tech, glowing blade. It was just metal and leather, the cutting edge nearly as long as her forearm. Rentir looked askance at him. He pointed a tentacle at Cordelia.

“For the female,” he clarified. “No one should wander these forests unarmed.”

Rentir handed the blade to her, and she gratefully looped it around her belt. The weight against her hip was reassuring.

“Be safe,” Melam called to them, holding up his two right arms in a farewell. “Comm me when you can.”

He powered up the bike, and she was grateful for the goggles as sediment whirled around the garage.

Rentir followed suit, and she trailed after the males as they guided the bikes out into the open space of the paved launch pad.

Melam climbed onto his bike, offered them a strange salute, and lifted off into the air.

Rentir had tucked the long ends of her hair into the turtleneck, but the shorter strands around her temples whipped violently over her face.

Rentir climbed onto the other bike, holding out a hand to her.

He’d donned his own goggles and pulled his collar up over his face like a mask.

The effect was striking. He looked devilish with those curling horns, but in the best way.

She took his hand, using the leverage to swing her leg over the bike behind him.

When she was situated, he guided her hands around his waist, wrapping her in his tail for good measure.

“Hold on tight.” He flicked a button, and the bike roared to life in earnest. They hovered off the ground for a moment, only a foot or so, but Rentir did something with his foot and cranked his hand back on the handle and they were rocketing up into the air.

She couldn’t help the shriek that escaped her at the sudden climb in altitude, but it gave way to panicked laughter as they shot forward above the peaks of the trees. Rentir patted her hand.

Her eyes were everywhere, so drunk on all the beauty that she didn’t know what to take in first. Had Earth been like this once? Had it really ever been so lush, so alive?

She’d been so excited just to breathe fresh air on Lapillus, even knowing it would only be for a year.

Now… she couldn’t imagine ever leaving a place like this behind.

Would she have been able to do it? Would any of them?

Or would they have mutinied against Lyra’s plans, refusing to leave the moon that hadn’t yet been corrupted by corporate greed?

She wound her arms tighter around Rentir and pressed her cheek between his shoulder blades as tears pricked in her eyes.

The day the ship crashed, she had been so ready to die.

She was resigned to it, as though it had been her fate all along.

Because of Rentir, a complete stranger charging in to save her, she was alive to enjoy this.

He glanced back at her, his dark brows knitting together over his goggles. He said something to her, but the wind tore the words away. She shook her head, squeezing her thighs against his as she pressed in closer. His tail tightened in answer.

There were still so many things looming over her. Thea’s abduction, the missing passengers, the small matter that they’d all drifted through space for centuries just to wander into a battle for alien liberation. But up high, in that moment, it all felt so small.

Surmountable, even.

Cordelia couldn’t help squinting as Rentir brought the bike down into the forest, despite the goggles shielding her eyes.

Sediment pelted at her exposed skin; she could feel it settling in at the roots of her hair, undoing the work of her bath already.

A small creature that looked like a six-legged lizard scuttled away as they touched down.

The propellers of the bike slowed with a loud whine.

“We’ll continue on foot from here,” Rentir told her, tugging down his collar and helping her slide off the bike. “I have a short-range transmission link to the bike, so we’ll know if someone approaches.”

“Roger that.”

“Roger?” He echoed her, wearing a confused frown. He slid his goggles up onto his head until they caught against his horns.

“It’s just something we say. It means I understand.”

He nodded stoically.

She turned away and bit her lip before she laughed. Using the gestures Rentir had shown her, she pulled up her short-range scanner. They were a little east of where they’d found Thea’s pod.

“Should we split up?” she asked.

He could head north, and she could go south, and they could meet in the middle. She wouldn’t get lost with the navigation at her disposal.

Rentir looked affronted by the question.

“No,” he said immediately. “We stay together. Always.”

Those words, spoken so fervently, made her heart flutter in spite of the distance she was trying to keep between them.

“Besides,” he said, his voice dropping as a lazy grin stole over his face. “Have you forgotten about the yethor already?”

“You said it only hunts at night!”

He laughed, a rich sound that was pleasing to her ear. He seemed so much more at ease now that Melam wasn’t around. “I did, and so it does. That doesn’t mean the forest is without peril. The yethor is not her only predator.”

Cordelia shuddered, scanning the area. Her new knife suddenly seemed woefully inadequate.

“You’re sure I can’t borrow that blaster?” she muttered.

“I am sure.”

He held aside a tall fern aside with his tail so she could step over it. When the tip of her too-big boot caught the edge of a root, he stepped into her, catching her before she could tumble. Flush against his chest, she craned her head back to meet his gaze.

His pupils expanded as he looked down at her. The moment stretched too long for a casual touch. As he shifted to move away, Cordelia knotted her fingers in his shirt.

“Cordelia?” His voice wavered.

She could feel his erection growing against her stomach; he was so sensitive to her simple proximity. His hands skimmed up to cup her cheeks as his lids grew heavy. That black tongue flicked out to wet his lips as he ducked his head.

Her eyes fluttered shut. As his breath ghosted over her lips, a macabre vision played across her eyelids.

It was a memory of her final moments on the Leto, staring through the glass of her pod at the man she loved in the pod across from her.

Except now, where Felix had been gazing sadly at her, it was Rentir trapped, pressing his hands to the glass and calling to her in confusion.

She ducked her head and pulled away. “I can’t,” she said breathlessly, putting distance between them. “I’m sorry.”

“Why can’t you?” he asked in a pleading tone.

He’ll talk you out of it. Don’t.

She gritted her teeth. “It doesn’t matter.” She referenced her holomap and then set out again, trying to ignore the way her thoughts raced in the background.

“It matters to me,” he said, catching up to her. “There’s fear in your eyes when you pull away from me, Cordelia. Do you think of me as a monster? Is it me you fear?”

“No.” She looked up at him in exasperation. “Of course not. I’m afraid for you.”

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

He caught her by the elbow, drawing her up short. “Cordelia, please. You can trust me with this, I swear to you.”

She chewed her bottom lip, at war with herself. God, she wanted to trust him. She wanted to bare it all and let him talk her out of the blame she knew she shouldn’t be carrying and yet couldn’t lay down. It felt faithless to even consider it—both to him and to Felix.

Taking a deep breath, unsure what she was about to say, she opened her mouth to speak.

A distant rumble made them both freeze. The boughs overhead danced wildly in a rush of sound as a dropship soared by overhead, briefly casting them in shadow. They looked at each other for a moment, then turned and ran for the bike.