Page 11 of Guard

Now as he prepared to steal away in the night so Myrria would no longer be afraid for her daughter’s safety and for his, he frowned. He should not be able to feel anything from the human. She was not Dothvek. She was not empathic. She had no way of sending her thoughts, her feelings, her fears, but he had sensed them, hadn’t he?

He touched a hand to his chest, sending nothing now. It was a relief to have only his emotions to deal with, but now that he couldn’t pick up anyone else’s feelings, he missed them. There had been something comforting and familiar about the pulse, hum, buzz of another’s emotions. Since he’d left his home world and then the ship, his thoughts and feelings had been desolately alone. Until he’d woken in Myrria’s home.

It does not matter, Rixx told himself. Picking up the faintest pulse from a human only meant that he was in a weakened state. He was in no position to defend Myrria and Zala. He was in no state to fight like a Dothvek warrior. The only way to save them was to leave.

When the rhythmic sound of snoring drifted down the ladder, Rixx padded from the bedroom to the front door, lifting the chair that Myrria had used to block it and placing it quietly to the side. He turned the handle and pulled open the door, pausing to makesure he hadn’t been heard. The gentle snoring did not falter, so he opened the door wider and poked his head outside.

The alley was only lit by the shadows of moonlight slinking through clouds overhead, but Rixx scoured the narrow, dark passageway. There was no sound, no movement. There was only the fetid smell of garbage and the lingering scent of mildew.

Rixx glanced over his shoulder to the warmth of the small house that had been his home for the past few days. Even in the dark, the shapes of the table and benches reminded him of dinner with Myrria and Zala, and the air carried a hint of the evening’s baked bread.

He steeled himself and glanced at the loft. “I am sorry I did not say goodbye.” Then he pulled the chair over and tucked it beneath the inside handle as he closed it firmly.

Rixx did not linger for more than a mournful moment before turning and walking down the alley away from the unassuming doorway. The more distance he put between him and his rescuers, the better, although he did not know exactly where he should go.

The Den of Thieves did not sleep. He knew this much from what he’d been told of the place and the many nights he’d spent as a captive. The low buzz of music and shouts never completely died, so he knew he had to be careful. The night would only provide a small amount of cover, especially since he did not blend.

Rixx darted a look at the baggy shirt that Myrria had made him. It did cover most of his exposed skin and his markings, but that did not mean he didn’t stand above most of the humans andaliens who populated Kurril. As soon as day broke and the sun hit his gold skin, he would be like a beacon to the Zevrians.

“Where does one hide in a city of criminals and those wishing not to be found?”

He turned from one alley into another, certain he was only one of many hoping to slip through the planet’s underbelly without being caught. So, where did those creatures hide?

As he reached the end of a deserted alley, he paused and took a deep breath. Charred wood and human flesh. He remembered those scents. The site of the burning building he’d escaped from was near, which meant that he should go in the opposite direction. He had no desire to see the destruction or get a stronger whiff of ashes and soot.

Just as he ducked down another narrow passageway leading away from the smell, he stopped in his tracks. There it was again, the pulse of fear he’d felt from Myrria. He shook it off, telling himself that he was imagining things. He wanted to feel her, but it wasn’t real.

Then Rixx was hit with a pulse of panic so powerful it almost knocked the wind from him. He had not imagined that. Myrria was in danger.

Rixx turned around and ran.

Chapter

Eleven

Myrria woke, not to a sudden sound but to a lack of sound. The house was too still, the air too heavy, the space too empty.

She sat up in the bed she was sharing with Zala, carefully pulling back the covers on her side but not her daughter’s, and swung her feet to the floor. As soon as her bare feet touched the wooden boards, fear tickled the nape of her neck. She took silent steps toward the edge of the loft, peering over to the dark room below. There was no movement, no sounds, no Zevrians creeping through the door.

Her gaze went to the door. The chair was still pulled underneath the knob. She allowed herself to exhale, but then caught herself.

The chair was tilted. It had not been tilted when she’d jammed it under the knob before going upstairs to sleep. Explanations raced through her mind as she gingerly climbed down the ladder. The chair might have slipped. She might not have noticed that it was tilted. Someone might have tried to come inside and knocked the chair to one side.

The last possibility made her whip around when she reached the bottom of the ladder, ready to defend herself from anyone who might be trying to break in. Had that been why she’d woken? Had she heard something and then woken once the noise had stopped? Was that why her senses were on high alert?

Myrria attempted to slow her breathing as she swung her head to take in the entirety of her home. One advantage to a small living space was there was nowhere for an intruder to hide, especially not one as big as a Zevrian.

She started to feel a sense of relief when she glanced at the bedroom. The curtain was open, and instead of the bed boasting the significant lump of the sleeping Dothvek, it was empty. It only took Myrria moments to work out what had happened. Rixx had snuck out and pulled the chair behind him so that the door would still be hard to open, but it had tilted when he’d closed the door behind him.

She stalked to the door, angrily pulling the chair out of the way. What did he think he was doing? Did he hear nothing she’d said before? Didn’t she tell him that the Zevrians were intensifying their search for him?

“Which is exactly why he left,” she murmured to herself. He left because of her and Zala. He left because if she got caught harboring him, there was no telling what the Zevrians would do to her. “He was being a bloody hero.”

As much as she was touched by the Dothvek’s sacrifice, it wasn’t one she wanted. She couldn’t live with herself if he was killed or captured, just like she couldn’t live with herself if she’d left him collapsed in that doorway. She knew it wasn’t the smartest way to survive in Kurril, but Myrria refused to live the rest of her life “just surviving.” She refused to let the corruptness of Kurrilcorrupt her. And she refused to teach her daughter that you gave into bullies.

Her heart was pounding when she opened the door and peeked outside. The alley was dark and quiet. How long had he been gone?

Myrria forced herself to think. She’d woken up because she’d either heard something or sensed a change, which meant that she must had woken not long after he’d pulled the chair back in front of the door. “And that means he can’t have gone far.”

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