Page 3 of Surrendering Her Heart (Red Planet Fated Mates #10)

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AVA

T he wind howls around us, carrying the first stinging lashes of sand. It’s hard to breathe. The sky darkens as the two suns are swallowed by the roiling storm.

“Faster!” Shana yells, but the words are barely audible over the rising shriek of the wind.

I pull the cloak tighter, hating that I need it, hating even more that it smells like him. Earthy, smoky, and something sharp, something wild. The Zmaj warrior stays at my side, his movements fluid despite the shifting terrain.

The sleds struggle, the humans even more. The Zmaj among us take turns pulling them, but even they are slowing. A gust slams into me. I stagger, nearly losing my footing. A hand grips my arm, steadying me. Clawed fingers, rough but careful. I jerk away instinctively.

“I’ve got it.”

“You do not.”

His eyes gleam through the dust-choked air. Before I can argue, another gust hits, stronger this time. Sand pelts my face and exposed skin. I squint against the grit, barely able to see the silhouettes of the others ahead.

“We won’t make it,” Dan shouts, his voice ragged. “We need to find cover!”

Cover? There’s nothing but endless dunes and scattered rock. The outpost is still too far. Panic knots in my chest. This storm is just starting and it’s going to get worse. A lot worse. It’s going to bury us alive. The Zmaj warrior grabs my wrist.

“Come,” he says, shouting to be heard.

“Let go!”

“I will not.”

He pulls me forward, grip firm, slightly less than bruising. His wings snap open against the gale, giving me some relief from the worst of it. The others struggle, the sleds half-dragged, half-abandoned.

“Where are we going?” I demand, my voice hoarse from the sand in my throat.

“Trust me,” he says.

Trust me? I snort. I don’t trust anyone.

The wind roars like a living thing, and the world is quickly turning into a shifting, suffocating blur of sand. We don’t have a choice. I have to follow him. Him and his fellow Zmaj are our one hope of survival. My instincts scream to hunker down, to curl into myself and wait it out, but that would be a death sentence. The Zmaj warrior grips my arm, his touch firm but not harsh.

“There’s shelter,” he says, voice raised over the wind. “Caves. North.”

Caves. A chance. Hope.

“Shana!” I shout, barely able to see her shape through the swirling grit. “We have a heading—north! There are caves!”

She hesitates for half a second before nodding sharply, turning to Dan and the others.

“You heard her! Move!” she shouts to be heard over the rising wind.

The group surges forward, fighting against the storm’s relentless fury. The sleds are nearly useless now, their runners sinking too deep into the loose, shifting sand. The Zmaj take the brunt of the burden, dragging supplies with raw strength as the rest of us push ahead.

I stumble, the wind throwing me sideways. The Zmaj warrior catches me before I hit the ground. His grip lingers, steadying.

“This way,” he says, keeping me close as he leads us forward.

The storm deepens. The world shrinks to the few feet in front of me. And then movement. Not ours. Something shifts in the haze. A flicker of movement against the swirling sand, there and gone in an instant. Then another. I grab the Zmaj’s arm, my pulse hammering.

“We’re not alone.”

His head snaps up, eyes narrowing. His nostrils flare, scenting the air. His growl reverberates through my bones.

“They’re hunting us.”