Page 69 of What Makes an Alien a Dad?

He ripped Hezer’s coat off, then yanked his shirt down his shoulders, using the sleeves to tie Hezer’s wrists together. He then tied the ends of the shirt over the man’s hooves, trussing him up like poultry ready for roasting.

“Thormus, listen...” Hezer struggled against the restraints. Only there was no use. Kear’s knots had immobilized massive Ravil soldiers during surgeries he sometimes had been forced to perform on a battlefield without any pain medication to give them. “We can come to an agreement.”

Kear scoffed. “What makes you think you’re in any position to negotiate?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. Grabbing Egus by the scruff of his coat, he tossed him inside his aircraft, then locked the door from the outside and disabled all controls.

“Maya.” He rushed to the end of the platform and reached over the frame of the entrance to her. “Come here. Carefully.”

Leaning all the way back, her head resting against the glass, she gave him a weak smile.

“Hezer lost on all fronts, didn’t he? Not only is he behind you in research, but he sucks at kicking ass too.”

He rubbed the soreness out of his knuckles. Never had he thought he’d use his combat skills after the war was over. But his rage for those two burned hotter than even his resentment toward his war enemies, fescods. It took all he had not to beat both Egus and Hezer to a pulp, lift them on his horns, then toss them off this fucking tower.

But Maya was still in danger, standing on the narrow ledge over the abyss.

Her face suddenly crumbled into a grimace of pain.

“Maya?” He placed a hoof onto the ledge. It slipped on the smooth surface.

Climbing after her made little sense. He’d just subject her to a higher risk of falling with him. He had to let her make her own way back to safety.

“Can you move toward me?” He beckoned with his hand.

She bit her lip, shutting her eyes tightly in the way-too-familiar expression. He’d delivered enough babies to recognize the face of a woman in labor. Panic shot through his chest with chilling sensation. He gripped the metal frame of the opening in the dome and leaned toward her as far as he could, risking falling out.

“Breathe, Maya,” he said gently but firmly enough for his voice to cover the noise of the wind. “Don’t move for now. Just count your breaths with me. One...”

He watched her chest expand, inhaling a quick, shallow breath.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “Now, two...”

“Don’t move,” rushed through his head. “Keep your legs strong. Lock your knees. Don’t bend over. Don’t fall... Please, please, please my sweet, dearest flower, don’t fall.”

The begging in his head was pure panic. He couldn’t let any of that slip through. For her sake, he had to keep calm or at least pretend convincingly enough that he was.

“It hurts,” she groaned.

She could speak again. That was good. She could breathe. But she was going into early labor, standing on a narrow ledge over the city.

Terror twisted like a sharp blade in his chest, cutting his insides with cold, sickening fear.

Her breaths deepened. She gasped for air in the wind. The contraction must’ve ended, but a new one would come. He needed to do something quickly, while she could still hear him and follow his instructions.

“Maya, listen, don’t make any sudden movements, but try to slide your left foot toward me. Don’t take a step. Just a small, careful shuffle my way.”

She nodded, drawing a shuddering breath in. Slowly, ever so slowly, she slid her left foot along the ledge, then jerkily followed the movement with her right one.

“Good...” He grasped for her, but she was still out of his reach. His hands came back empty. “A little more, Maya. Keep your palms on the glass. Your back, too.”

He tore his gaze from her feet and met her eyes. They were darker than ever and opened so wide, he could see the whites all around her irises. She was terrified and in pain. Yet she held steady, slowly shifting closer to him.

He hated to think about what Egus and Hezer had done to send her to the ledge. Getting her back to safety was his priority. Otherwise, he’d wring their heads off their shoulders right that moment.

“You’re doing great, Maya,” he croaked. His throat was dry, and his hands sweaty. His heart thundered so loud, he could barely hear himself speak. “You’re doing simply amazing, my brave, beautiful girl.”

She shifted just a little closer, and he was able to grab her hand at last. Her fingers were as cold as ice. He gripped them in his, but didn’t dare pull her to him, afraid she’d lose her balance.

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