Page 64 of Saved By the Alien Hybrid

She felt bad eating without Rentir, but she was eager to get on the road now that they had a plan and an ally. Her plate was nearly clean when Rentir finally emerged. His short hair was still damp from the shower.

“There you are,” she called, setting her spoon down. “I made some food for you, but it’s…”

Rentir stopped a few steps away. His body language was stiff and tense, his breaths coming a little too fast. “Melam…” he grated. “Please.”

Melam caught onto the source of his distress faster than Cordelia. He rose smoothly, stepping back from the table and leaning against the next closest one. Rentir approached on wooden legs, dropping into the seat to Cordelia’s right. It put him between Cordelia and the other hybrid.

“I’m sorry,” Rentir mumbled, his eyes downcast.

“I suggested you were rabid before,” Melam mused, watching as Rentir began to eat. “I have not ruled out the possibility, but thanks to Cordelia, another has occurred to me. Over the manyyears I’ve spent in these forests, I’ve had ample opportunities to observe the fauna. One of the local creatures, the nithrax, is extremely protective of its mate during her breeding heat.”

Cordelia choked on the bite of food she’d been swallowing, prompting Rentir to leap to his feet and thump her hard on the back until she could breathe again. Her eyes watered as she gulped down a stinging breath.

One of Melam’s hands came up to cover his mouth as he cleared his throat, and she could swear he was cutting off a laugh.

“What the hell are you saying?” she asked, slamming down her spoon.

Rentir growled at him from over her shoulder.

“Nothing,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. “Nothing at all.”

CHAPTER 28

Cordelia was bouncingon 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 coursethey’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.