Page 18 of Venomous Lust
Zaxis got to his feet, then looked at her for long seconds before shaking his head.
“I wish I could tell you, I really do. But I can’t, and you shouldn’t pry. I mean it, Hazel. It’s for your own good.”
There was regret in his voice, but also resolve. Resolve, and a kind of dread that made Hazel’s spine tingle with the awareness of danger. Whatever scared someone like Zaxis should terrify her.
She opened her mouth to speak, not really sure what she wanted to say, but having to say something anyway. Then she cried out as the entire ship seemed to move under her feet. The floor met her knees and her face banged against the table, pain shooting through her body as a primitive fear took hold of her.
Sirens blasted a deafening alarm above her head as Zaxis cursed from somewhere on the other side of the table.
The door to the small kitchen burst open to reveal the broad, imposing frame of Khal. His blue eyes scanned the room and found her, then he was immediately at her side. Arms as hard as rocks wrapped around her and Hazel instinctively leaned into the Eok’s strength.
“What the fuck is happening?” Hazel screamed above the blasting of the siren, scrambling to her feet as another, lesser jolt shook the ship. “Are we under attack?”
“No. It’s much worse than that.” Khal shook his head, but somehow, his face was even grimmer. “We’re being boarded.”
His arms were still around her as they moved, heavy and warm, making her feel strangely safe and small at the same time. Like as long as those arms were around her shoulders, nothing bad could happen.
It’s insane. I’m not safe. I’m the opposite of safe.
But there was no time to think, to reflect on the craziness of the moment. On the craziness of what Khal made her feel.
A great shock rippled through the metal skeleton of the Myrador, toppling the unbreakable china inside the cabinets and sending her bowl of food ration to the ground in a great splash of gray, sticky sludge.
Thankfully, all the furniture stayed put, heavy anchors bolting it to the ground, the cabinet doors held shut by powerful magnets. The Myrador was a state-of-the-art ship, and safety codes had been upheld scrupulously.
Around her, above her, Khal held her as strongly and surely as one of the metal anchors.
Then stillness invaded the Myrador. All Hazel could hear was the breathing of those aboard—Zaxis to the right, on the other side of the table, fast and heavy, and Khal’s, steady and slow, playing in her hair. Her own breathing was shallow and uneven, too fast.
Dark spots invaded her vision as she breathed faster, but she was still starved for air. Panic set into her body, into the very muscles covering her bones. She couldn’t move, couldn’t talk. All she could do was breathe faster and faster, but darkness still came.
They’ve breached the Myrador. We’re losing oxygen. We’re all going to die.
“Hazel.” Hands large enough to cover her entire shoulders and wrap behind her shoulder blades closed on her and Khal turned her to face him. His eyes settled on her, his rough, masculine features twisted in lines of worry. “Slow down. You’re hyperventilating.”
But she couldn’t. All she could do was breathe and breathe more. Panic ruled her body as her mind rebelled against the oncoming death. Space, its merciless, aseptic void surrounded her, so close she could almost taste it.
Then a hard set of lips closed over hers, stopping the supply of oxygen. Strong hands pressed her body against a hot, warm wall of flesh and Hazel shut her eyes. His taste was male and clean, the feeling of his lips over hers like a brand, his willpower seeping through the contact.
Soon, her panic receded until all that was left was Khal and his body against hers.
Then he stopped. Blue eyes met hers, and she found out the darkness was gone. Her breathing, though still fast and shallow, had slowed down.
“Thank you.” Her voice was breathless, but she could talk.
“Come.” Khal’s eyes were blazing, glittering from behind that blue curtain with something both fierce and possessive. Something totally and utterly male. “Stay close to me, and whatever you do, don’t speak.”
Hazel nodded, her mind still foggy with the remnants of panic. Khal didn’t give her time to recover. He grabbed her wrist in one large hand and half-dragged her along. From the corner of her eye, she saw Zaxis follow, his face grim and his back stiff.
Then there was no more time for anything else but running. Khal dragged her behind him, his long legs giving him a clear advantage, the sound of their feet against the metal floor pounding above the beating of her heart. She followed blindly, knowing she might be running to her death, but also knowing her best chances lay with the Eok and his companion.
They ran through the surprisingly spacious interior of the Myrador until Khal suddenly stopped. Hazel’s breath was jagged and her throat raw, and she had to brace her hands on her knees as they stood in a large room, lit from the ceiling by a series of round white lights.
Hazel let out a startled cry as the floor opened, revealing a wide ramp. Fog invaded the loading dock as the ramp lowered. Figures emerged from the fog: two tall, bulky frames and a smaller, shapely form in the middle.
Khal tensed at Hazel’s side, holding the handle of an ionic gun she hadn’t even seen him pull out.
The fog dispersed, revealing the identity of the figures waiting at the bottom of the ramp. The two tall, bulky forms were creatures Hazel had no name for, with brown, rough skin made of scales and all-black eyes slashed by vertical, bright yellow pupils. Two long holes in the middle of their faces made for their noses, and lipless mouths melted into chinless necks. Their tall, oblong foreheads were covered in bumpy scales.
