Page 115 of Shielded Heart

She clenched her jaw and curled her hands into trembling fists. There had to besomethingshe could do. Some way she could help.

She refused to let fear prevent her from protecting her man, her mate, her everything. Even if she wasn’t nearly as skilled or capable as Arcanthus, she would fight just as hard as him to protect the people she cared about.

Samantha forced her body forward, dropping onto hands and knees to pick up Arcanthus’s discarded blaster. She pushed herself to her feet and adjusted her grip on the weapon, accounting for her clammy palms. She aimed the barrel toward Vaund—he and Arcanthus were locked up like two goats butting heads—and advanced.

There was no point in trying to shoot from anywhere but point-blank range; the chance of hitting Arcanthus was too great, and her shots wouldn’t do any harm to Vaund. He’d taken at least three direct blasts from Drakkal without slowing, and she’d heard the dull, metal-on-metal clangs when Arcanthus’s fists and feet connected with his body. He had armorbeneathhis skin.

To her knowledge, Vaund only had one exploitable weakness—but she had to get close to make sure it worked.

Damnedclose.

The first time she’d attacked Vaund from behind, he’d reacted as though he’dseenher coming; she had to assume hecouldand act accordingly.

She crossed the space that separated her from the males quickly but cautiously, giving Vaund a wide berth as she circled around to his back. Her eyes repeatedly flicked to his hands as she moved; though Arcanthus had managed to keep Vaund’s palms pointed up, all it would take was a miniscule gain by Vaund to angle those arm-canons lower. She had no chance of evading such a blast.

Once she was facing Vaund’s back, she pressed straight ahead. Her thundering heart and ragged breaths dominated her hearing. The paces between Samantha and her target diminished, and thoughts swirled in her head—deriding her foolishness, questioning her apparent death wish, telling her she would fail now just like she always had. James’s voice bubbled up from her memory to say she was worthless and weak, that she needed him, but she shoved it aside and clenched her jaw.

I never needed you. I need Arcanthus—and he needsme, too.

I can do this.

Vaund wrenched his head back from Arcanthus’s as Samantha neared. Her chest constricted and her stomach knotted for an instant; in that instant, Vaund growled and twisted his body, sending a kick backward—directly at her.

This time, she’d been expecting it—had been counting on it. She dodged to the side; Vaund’s leg brushed over the fabric of her shirt as it cut through the air in front of her, narrowly missing her abdomen. The way he’d moved had angled the side of his helmet toward her. Before she could think, she slid her leading foot forward, closing the last bit of distance between her and her foe, and pressed the barrel of her blaster against the valve opening on his helmet.

Samantha pulled the trigger twice.

Fiery sparks flared from the other connections on Vaund’s helmet. The sound he released was unlike anything Samantha had ever heard, unlike anything she could’ve imagined, even in her wildest nightmares. It was at once bestial and robotic, guttural and staticky, agonized and furious; she couldn’t know if he was even making the sound himself or if it was a malfunction caused by the internal damage to his mask.

Arcanthus swung Vaund around by his wrists and heaved him toward the blast door. Before Samantha could move, he spun to face her again and leapt at her. His body collided with her heavily, knocking the blaster from her hand. He wrapped his arms around her as they fell; they landed hard, but his arms absorbed most of the impact and prevented his full weight from coming down atop her. Arc shielded her with his body.

She pressed her hands to his chest; it expanded and contracted with his quick, ragged breaths, and the rapid pounding of his heart matched the pace of hers.

The terrifying sound from Vaund continued, gradually diminishing into a static hiss that ultimately ended with a drawn out, gurgling release of air. Seconds passed; anticipation kept Sam’s muscles tense, but whatever she was waiting for didn’t come.

Sam and Arc lifted their heads and turned to look toward Vaund. He lay unmoving, pale gray smoke curling up from his helmet.

“Is he dead?” Samantha asked.

“I would hope so,” Arcanthus replied. He turned his face toward hers. “Are you all right, little terran?”

Samantha reached up, grabbed his jaw, and pressed her mouth against his. She kissed him hard, kissed him with the despair she’d felt at the possibility of losing him, with the relief she felt for having him safe in her arms, with all the love brimming inside of her. She slid her hands up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself tighter against him. He returned the kiss with the same raw, unguarded emotions that flowed through her, holding her like he’d never let go again.

Arcanthus groaned when they finally broke the kiss, slipping his tongue out to lick his lips. “There’s a little voice in the back of my mind that says it’s an inappropriate time to want to make love to you, Samantha, but I am unreasonably aroused right now.”

Laughter burst out of Samantha; it hurt her sore throat, but she didn’t care. She could feel the evidence of his arousal against her thigh, and she’d have been lying if she said she wasn’t feeling a spark of desire herself, but…

Sam’s eyes widened. “Drakkal!”

Arcanthus’s brows rose in alarm. He slipped his arms out from beneath her, pushed himself to his feet, and took her hand to help her stand. “Go to him. I’ll be right there.”

Samantha rushed back to Drakkal’s side. He lay exactly where she’d left him, blood matting his mane. She pressed her hand to his neck, searching for a pulse through his thick fur, and gasped when he stirred. She settled her palm on his chest and leaned toward him. “Drakkal?”

Arcanthus grunted behind her. Samantha glanced over her shoulder to see him standing over Vaund with the blue energy sword in his right hand. He leaned down, grabbed something with his free hand—his body was blocking her view of it—and swung the blade. Straightening, he tossed the object aside—Vaund’s armored head, now cleanly detached from his body.

Movement from Drakkal called Sam’s attention back to him. He lifted his head off the floor slightly, eyelids fluttering open, before dropping it again. “Vrek’osh,” he grumbled, “my skull feels like a tralix stepped on it.”

Relief flooded Samantha. “You got hit pretty hard. You might have a concussion.”

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