Page 18 of The Edge of Dawn

It was inhuman.

But it was happening, and it hurt, and all of a sudden, a large figure appeared in front of her, and she didn’t know how, but his back was to her, and now she was lunging forward, and one of her arms clamped around his neck, and even though he cried out in surprise and bucked and twisted and did everything in his power to get her off him, her arm was completely immovable.

She—no, Dragek—wrapped both her legs around the man’s body and started to squeeze. At the same time, the grip of her arm grew tighter and tighter, and she could tell she was cutting off his air supply because his movements became weaker and slower, and then he offered no resistance at all; he just kind of flailed about like a fish that had been hauled out of the water.

Surely, this was enough.

Surely…

Dragek didn’t stop. Pain ripped through her arm as he pushed her far beyond human limits. She swore she felt something snap: a ligament or joint or lord knows what.

That’s enough, she protested, her voice sounding weak in her own head against the onslaught of Dragek’s ruthlessness.

And now she was truly terrified, for she’d allowed a fucking alien psychopath to take over her body, and he was going to kill this guy.

What had she expected?

She dropped to her feet as the man slumped and fell to the ground.

Is he dead?

He lay there, facing the ceiling with his eyes closed, a lifeless expression blunting his features. A respirator partially concealed his lower face, but Jade could tell he was young—probably only in his twenties.

She—he—reached down and unclipped the respirator. Then she put it on, deftly fastening the straps.

She took a deep breath and inhaled clean, filtered air.

What difference does it even make now?

In time, your body will recover. This helps immensely. It takes great effort for me to sustain you this way.

Her gaze dropped to the man’s waist, where a gun was holstered.

Before she could even think, Dragek was forcing her to bend down.

Jade could only watch in horror as her own slender fingers quickly examined the gun and found the safety.

She flicked it off, causing a small green indicator to glow.

Her hands didn’t tremble. She didn’t fumble, even though she’d never held a gun in her life.

Don’t…

Horror and revulsion grew inside her, even as she looked on in morbid fascination. She wasn’t in control anymore.

She was just a passenger along for the ride.

He made her raise the gun, testing its sights through her eyes, feeling the trajectory of its aim with his damn sixth sense or whatever it was.

She got the sense he could hit whatever target he wanted with perfect aim.

The thought made her blood run cold.

How does he even know how to use a human-made gun?

They’re all the same.

What?

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