Page 109 of Shielded Heart

God, Arc, please be okay. Please.

She had no idea where he was, no idea what he was facing right now—no idea if she’d ever see him again.

No, Iwillsee him again. This isn’t the end, damn it. We’re both getting through this.

Though she was grateful to have Drakkal there, she longed to have Arc beside her so she could cling to his warm, solid body, so she’d know he was safe.

Hell, she would’ve felt more comfortable—or at least less powerless—with a blaster in her hand. She wasn’t a great shot, but it would’ve beensomething; even theillusionof being able to fight back might’ve been enough. Having no practical means of defending herself was frightening; it reminded her too much of how helpless and weak she’d always felt around James.

“Shit,” someone yelled; it might’ve been one of the cren, but Sam wasn’t sure.

Samantha ducked as plasma bolts struck the nearby wall, punching orange-ringed holes in concrete and metal. Drakkal shoved her into the shallow recess of a doorway and blocked the opening with his body. She pressed her face against the door and clenched her jaw, caged in the tight space as a cacophony sounded around her—shouts, gunfire, growls—all underscored by her rapidly beating heart.

We’re going to be fine.

Drakkal hissed as a bolt zipped past his head; an instant later, the acrid odor of singed fur stung Sam’s nose. Smoke curled from the spot on his bristling mane that had been burned away.

We’re going to befine.

Unfortunately, she found her own thoughts unconvincing.

Twenty-One

Arcanthus clenched his jaw as he retrieved the blaster from its hidden compartment beside his bed. Fear had coiled through his insides, touching everything with its cold, slimy fingers, but it could not extinguish the firestorm of his rage.

Once again, Vaund had violated Arc’s sanctuary. He’d attacked Arc’shome.

My home, my friends…now mymate. You don’t get to take everything again.

He checked the surveillance feeds as he hurried to the door. Fighting had already spilled into the compound, but he couldn’t tell how many Syndicate attackers had entered, couldn’t tell how many of his people were up and fighting, couldn’t guess which corridors would be safe to travel. Samantha, Drakkal, and a few others had escaped the lounge and were involved in a fighting retreat toward the workshop, and more of Arc’s people were battling elsewhere in the compound, all outnumbered. Two of them—Sekk’thi and Urgand—were a relatively short distance from Arcanthus, caught in a firefight with several of the invaders. There was minimal cover available to them.

Arc’s deepest instincts demanded he ignore everything, everyone, and charge across the compound to reach Samantha as quickly as possible, but he couldn’t obey them this time. He had to help his people, hisfriends, as best he could along the way. He would not allow a repeat of the slaughter on Caldorius. He would not fail the people who followed him—not again. Arcanthus had no doubt that Drakkal would do everything in his power to protect Sam.

That had to be enough for now.

He dismissed the holocom screen, formed his hardlight shield, and entered the corridor, hurrying to Sekk’thi and Urgand. Each step forward intensified the furious heat in his chest.

My home. My friends.

My mate.

Arcanthus raised the shield as he turned into the hall where Sekk’thi and Urgand were fighting. Two of the gunmen at the far end were dead, but the rest—four or five, at least—shifted their focus to Arc and fired; plasma burst and dissipated in flashes across his shield. He spread his fingers wide, pushing the shield to its maximum size, and advanced toward his friends.

He moved just beyond Sekk’thi and Urgand’s positions, allowing them to duck behind his shield. Both the ilthurii and the vorgal were clad only in what appeared to be undergarments; they had likely been sleeping between shifts in their quarters when the alarm had sounded. They fired around the edges of the shield, taking down another attacker.

“At least we’re all dressed for the occasion,” Arcanthus said without humor as they retreated down the hallway backward.

“Where’s everyone else?” Urgand asked.

“Scattered. They hit us from all sides, and we were spread too thin,” Arcanthus replied.

The energy he was expending to maintain the shield was creating a build-up of heat in his right arm; it wouldn’t be long before that heat reached a critical level and caused internal damage to the prosthesis. But cutting off the flow meant the shield would collapse within seconds—the enemy’s fire was too concentrated and unrelenting.

There was undisguised concern in Sekk’thi’s voice when she asked, “And Samantha?”

“With Drakkal. They’re fighting their way to the workshop.”

They turned at the next intersection. Arcanthus slammed the shield into the floor and released its tether, blocking the entrance of the corridor. He and his companions spun around and ran. Arc’s right arm hissed as its heat vents opened to expel scorching steam and draw cooler air over its power cells.

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