Page 22 of The Alien's Captive Bride

NINE

The alien sun hung low on the horizon, a bloated red orb that cast an eerie, blood-tinged light across the desolate landscape. Venus squinted against the harsh glare, her eyes scanning the terrain before her. Cracked dirt stretched as far as she could see, punctuated by jagged rock formations that thrust upward like the teeth of some long-dead beast. The air was thick and acrid, carrying the faint scent of sulfur and something else—something alien and vaguely threatening.

“I don’t like this,” Venus muttered, her hand instinctively moving to the makeshift weapon at her hip. “It’s too quiet.”

Beside her, Azlun nodded, his silver skin gleaming in the strange light. “Stay alert,” he whispered, his deep voice carrying an undercurrent of tension. “We’re still a distance from the ship.”

They moved cautiously, each step calculated to avoid loose stones or anything else that might give away their position. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the soft crunch of their footfalls and the occasional whisper of wind across the barren plain.

Venus’s senses were on high alert, every nerve ending singing with tension. She couldn’t shake the feeling they were being watched, hunted. Her eyes darted from one rocky outcropping to another, searching for any sign of movement.

Suddenly, a flash of light caught her attention. “Azlun!” she cried, diving to the side just as a blast of energy sizzled past her ear.

The air erupted with the sound of weapon fire. Blasts of crackling energy illuminated the dim landscape, casting wild shadows across the rocky terrain. Venus rolled behind a boulder, her heart pounding as adrenaline surged through her veins.

“Damn it,” she hissed, peering around the edge of her cover. A group of alien mercenaries was advancing on their position, their weapons glowing with energy. “So much for a quiet escape.”

Across the battlefield, she caught sight of Azlun. He moved with fluid grace, his powerful form a blur of motion as he engaged two attackers at once. His face was set in a mask of grim determination, his eyes flashing with a fierce intensity that made Venus’s breath catch in her throat.

There was no time to admire his skills, though. A mercenary loomed over her, its alien features twisted into a snarl of triumph. Without hesitation, Venus sprang into action. She swept the creature’s legs out from under it, following up with a swift strike to its midsection as it fell.

“Not bad for a political princess,” she quipped, allowing herself a small smirk of satisfaction as she snatched up the fallen mercenary’s weapon.

The battle raged on, a chaotic dance of light and shadow. Venus moved like a whirlwind, her martial arts training flowing as she dodged, struck, and parried. Each movement was calculated, each strike precise. But for every mercenary she took down, two more seemed to take its place.

“Azlun!” she called out, spotting him across the battlefield. “We need to find a way out of here!”

He nodded, his eyes scanning the area for an escape route. But before he could respond, a cry of pain escaped Venus’s lips. A stray energy blast had caught her in the side, the heat of it searing through her clothing and into her flesh.

The pain was immediate and intense, radiating outward from the point of impact. Venus stumbled, her hand instinctively clutching at the wound. She could feel the warmth of blood seeping between her fingers, and for a moment, the world seemed to tilt on its axis.

“Not now,” she thought fiercely, gritting her teeth against the pain. She couldn’t afford to falter, not here, not now. With a herculean effort, she pushed the pain to the back of her mind and forced herself to keep moving.

Across the battlefield, Azlun had heard her cry. His head snapped around, his eyes widening as he saw Venus stumble. A roar of pure rage tore from his throat, startling even the mercenaries attacking him. The sound took Venus by surprise.

Azlun moved like a force of nature, his powerful strikes fueled by a fury Venus had never seen. He cut through the mercenaries like they were made of paper, his eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and fear.

“Venus!” he called out, his voice tight with worry as he fought his way to her side. “Hold on!”

Venus tried to respond, but another wave of pain stole her breath. She sagged against a nearby rock, her vision blurring at the edges. She was vaguely aware of Azlun reaching her, his strong arms wrapping around her protectively.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice a mixture of relief and concern. “Let me see.”

Venus wanted to protest, to insist that she was fine, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she leaned into Azlun’s support, allowing him to examine her wound.

His sharp intake of breath told her all she needed to know. “It’s bad, isn’t it?” she asked, her voice sounding weak and far away to her own ears.

“Nothing we can’t handle,” Azlun replied, but the tightness in his voice betrayed his concern. His eyes met hers, and Venus was struck by the depth of emotion she saw there. Worry, yes, but also something else—something that made her heart skip a beat.

“Venus,” Azlun said softly, his hand gently cupping her face. “I need you to trust me. Can you do that?”

For a moment, Venus hesitated. Trust had never come easily to her or her sisters. But as she looked into Azlun’s eyes, she realized something fundamental had shifted between them. This wasn’t just about their arranged marriage or political alliances anymore. This was about two people who had been through hell together and had come out stronger on the other side.

“I trust you,” she whispered, surprising herself with how much she meant it.

Relief flooded Azlun’s features. Without another word, he scooped her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest as if she weighed nothing at all.

“What are you doing?” Venus protested weakly, even as she found herself nestling closer to his warmth. “Put me down. I can walk.”

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