Page 8 of Surrendering Her Heart (Red Planet Fated Mates #10)

7

AVA

S omething bursts forth. I see the motion over my shoulder. I don’t know what it is. I’ve never seen its like before. All I know is it’s terrifying. Rows of sharp teeth snap as it arcs out of a dune coming towards me. Running, I feel it closing, and I try to zag to one side. The Zmaj grabs my arm and jerks me in the opposite direction.

It’s painful as my feet leave the sand. Flying through the air, everything goes into slow motion. The thing, whatever the hell it is, clamps on empty air where I was only a moment before. I’m swung wide, then the Zmaj tucks me under one arm, nestling me against his side as he runs.

The creature shrieks right before it burrows back under the sand. The Zmaj stops, spinning around, yelling something that I can’t seem to process.

Dan has his hands out, turning in a circle, looking for where the thing went. The other Zmaj are near him, their backs towards each other. My Zmaj, which I hate thinking of him as, moves into a gap in their circle.

“We need to run,” Dan says. “Now.”

“No,” one of the Zmaj that I can’t see says.

“Put me down,” I say, struggling to get free. He tightens his grip so much it’s hard to breathe. “You can’t fight with me here, damn it.”

He looks down, frowning, but can’t argue with my logic because we both know I’m right. He eases his grip and I slide out behind him, moving to stand back-to-back with Dan and Shaun in the ring of Zmaj.

“What in all the damn hells ever imagined is that?” Shaun asks.

The desert stretches ahead, empty and endless. All of us are turning in some weird, instinctive synchronous circle as we scan the desert for the next attack.

“Vorkesh,” one of the Zmaj says.

“A what?” I ask.

My heart is in my throat, pounding with fear. I have my knife in my hand, but I might as well be holding out a piece of raw meat for all the good I know it’s going to be.

“Akin to the zmelja, but not,” one of them says.

The sand shifts and there is a vibration beneath my feet. My pulse pounds loudly in sharp contrast to the eerie silence. Then, without warning, the ground erupts.

“Run!” Dan shouts, but we’re already moving.

The vorkesh bursts from the sand behind us, its massive, sinuous form writhing in the air before slamming back down. A spray of sand blinds me for half a second, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop.

The Zmaj takes my arm and pulls me forward, his grip bruising but necessary. The others are right behind us, sprinting toward the distant rock formations that are our only hope of safety.

A guttural screech rips through the air. The creature is fast, too fast. The vibrations return, the sand shifting, swallowing our footprints as we run. It’s tunneling beneath us, moving parallel, cutting us off?—

“Left!” the Zmaj roars, yanking me hard to the side just as the ground erupts where I was a second ago.

I stumble but keep running, heart hammering as the others follow suit. My pack bounces on my back and the straps dig into my shoulders. I don't dare look behind me. The rock formations are closer. Just a little farther. Then Shaun yells. A strangled, choked-off sound. I risk a glance back and my stomach lurches. He’s half-buried in the shifting sand.

“Shaun!” Dan pivots, reaching for him.

The vorkesh rises behind them. It’s going to strike. I don’t think, I just move.

I shift my grip on my knife and throw it. A wild and desperate attempt. The blade spins, flashing in the red light and it hits! The blade sinks into the creature’s side. Disbelief holds me for a split second.

The creatures shrieks, but I don’t know if it’s pain or irritation. One or the other, it does hesitate. That’s all the time we need.

One of the Zmaj grabs Shaun, hauling him up in a single powerful motion. Then we run.

The rocky outcropping looms ahead. The creature is still behind us. The sound of the churning sand as it gives chase…

We hit the edge of the rockfall, leaping between jagged boulders. My lungs burn, my legs scream. Then the Zmaj shoves me forward, and I tumble into a narrow crevice between two massive slabs of stone. The others crash in behind me.

The vorkesh slams against the rocks. The whole formation trembles, dust and pebbles raining down, but the space is too narrow, too uneven for it to squeeze through.

It shrieks again, a sound that makes my blood run cold. But then it stops. The vibrations fade.

Silence.

I don’t dare breathe.

Minutes pass, or maybe just seconds, but when I finally look out, all I see is the vast, empty desert stretching beyond the rocks.

We made it. Barely.

I press my forehead against the stone, my hands shaking. The Zmaj shifts beside me, his tail curling near my feet.

“That,” I gasp, “was too damn close.”

“Let’s not do that again,” Dan says, letting out a sharp, nervous laugh.

No one argues.

The silence stretches, thick and suffocating. We’re all listening, straining for any hint of movement beyond the rocks. My breath is loud in my ears, heartbeat a ragged drum.

The Zmaj moves first. His tail flicks once, then stills. He shifts slightly, adjusting his wings, and his body heat radiates against my side. A low, cautious rumble vibrates in his chest.

Dan exhales, soft and slowly. “Is it gone?”

“If it’s not, I vote we pretend we’re already dead so it loses interest,” Shaun groans, half-sprawled against the rocks where the Zmaj dropped him.

Dan lets out a dry, breathless laugh, but it doesn’t ease the tension. The air is heavy with the stink of the vorkesh, a thick, cloying scent that turns my stomach.

I press my hands to the rough stone, forcing myself to focus. Deep breath in, hold, release. Again. This isn’t fear. This is terror. If that thing is still out there we could be trapped for hours. Days. We don’t have the supplies for that, not even considering why we’re here. To save the rest of the human race.

“We need to keep moving.” My voice is hoarse and raw from the run. “That thing might be gone, but I don’t want to be here when it decides to come back.”

Shaun mutters something that sounds like agreement. The Zmaj doesn’t move right away. His gaze is still fixed on the open desert beyond the rocks, eyes narrowed, focused. His nostrils flare as he scents the air. Finally, he blinks and looks down at me.

“We move soon,” he says, his voice deep and calm, but there’s an edge to it. A warning.

“We have to try again,” Dan says, wiping sweat from his bald head. “We’re dead without those supplies.”

“Well, then, let’s get this over with before I have time to think about how stupid it is,” Shaun says, pushing to his feet.

He’s right. Hesitation won’t help us. I push off the rock and scan the terrain beyond our shelter. The desert is deceptively still, but I know better now. It only looks empty.

“Quick and quiet,” I say. “Grab what we can and get back here.”

None of the Zmaj argue, but they exchange a look amongst themselves. One of those silent conversations that seem to mean more than words. They move out first, and the Zmaj… my Zmaj?... steps in front of me as we move.

I don’t fight with him about it. If that thing does come back, he’s the only one fast enough and strong enough to keep me from being swallowed whole.

As we creep out from the shade of the rocks, the heat of the open desert slams onto us. The sand is broken and churned where the vorkesh attacked, jagged ridges and deep scars marking its path. Somewhere in that mess are the supplies we desperately need.

Dan spots the first one, half-buried. He lunges for it, shaking off the sand.

“Intact,” he whispers.

Relief flickers across his face as he pulls out a water canister. Shaun snatches up another bag a few feet away, but when he upends it, the contents spill out. Most of them are useless. Torn fabric and a shattered ration pack. He swears under his breath.

I scan the sand, my pulse hammering. Then I see a crate, barely visible beneath a layer of shifting dirt and sand. I dart forward, ignoring the way the Zmaj tenses at my side.

I grab the handle and pull. It’s heavy and resists. I lean back, using my weight. It shifts a little, but not enough. Gritting my teeth, I strain, muscles burning, until a groan slips out.

Then the Zmaj is at my side.

His hand closes over mine. Cool, despite the relentless heat, and so big . Heat of an entirely different kind flares through me. He adds his strength and the crate slides free easily.

His hand lingers on mine. Neither of us pulling away or breaking the moment of contact. His presence looms over me. My shoulder is touching his abs. Hard, like they’re carved from stone, and also cool. His hip touches the side of my ass…. I shift away.

Stupid. What am I even thinking?

Working the fasteners, I open the crate, hoping against hope that it holds something useful.

“Yes!” I exclaim, too loud when I see the contents.

The tightly packed crate has dried rations and, most importantly, water along with hydration tabs . It isn’t enough, but it’s a hell of a lot better than none. All we have to do is survive long enough to make it to the former Order outpost.

The sand vibrates and dances. My stomach drops.

“Run,” the Zmaj snarls.

I don’t hesitate. I turn and run.

Shaun and Dan are already moving. They each have bags clutched tight as they sprint toward the rocks. The Zmaj grabs the crate with one hand and my arm in his other. He half-drags me, his wings opening wide.

Behind us, the sand shifts. I don’t look back again.

We dive into the crevice just as the ground behind us erupts. The vorkesh lets out a shriek of frustration, but we’re already safe, barely.

“We got enough?” I ask, breathing hard.

“No,” Dan grimaces, shaking his head.

“I hate this planet,” Shaun mutters, leaning his back against the rock and closing his eyes.

The Zmaj—mine—is watching the desert, muscles tight, jaw clenched. Like he’s waiting for something worse.

And I don’t know what’s worse, realizing he might be right… or the fact that I believe him.