Page 31 of Alien Devil's Prey
Her head lolled against my shoulder, her face pale and bloodless. The wound in her side was deep, catastrophic. The ship's med-kit would be useless. She needed a real medical bay, and she needed it now.
My gaze swept the docking bay—the "Walmart parking lot," as she'd called it. Freighters, luxury yachts, and a sleek, black Syndicate courier ship, its engines still warm. A predator's ship. Armed. Fast.
Our only chance.
Carrying Tamsin in one arm, my rifle in the other, I ran. I laid down suppressing fire, forcing the remaining enforcers to keep their heads down. We reached the courier ship's boarding ramp. The hatch was sealed with a biometric lock. I didn't have time for finesse. I jammed the tip of my rifle into the seam and fired, blowing the lock mechanism apart in a shower of sparks.
I dragged her inside, laying her gently on the deck before sealing the hatch behind us. The cockpit was dark, the controls unfamiliar. Vinduthi tech was intuitive, but this was Kythara design—all sharp angles and cruel efficiency. I strapped her into the co-pilot's seat, my fingers fumbling with the harness. Her breathing was so shallow now it was almost non-existent.
"Stay with me," I growled, jamming my fingers into the ignition panel and bypassing the security protocols. The ship's systems roared to life.
Too late. Through the viewport, I saw two Syndicate fighters lift off from another bay, their engines flaring as they moved to intercept us.
The ship's engines shrieked as I blasted away from The Maw, pushing the unfamiliar vessel harder than it was ever meant to fly. My hands moved across the controls, instinct guiding me through the chaos of the pursuing ships while my mind fractured into a thousand pieces.
Tamsin lay bleeding beside me.
A fighter screamed past the viewport, its weapons charging. I rolled the courier hard to starboard, feeling the ship groan under the stress. The fighter's plasma bolts seared past us, close enough to make the hull sing with heat.
I should have been calculating vectors, analyzing threat patterns. Instead, all I could think about was the way her eyes had fluttered closed, the way her skin had gone pale and cold beneath my touch.
Another ship moved to intercept us. I didn't even look at the display—just fired. A missile found its mark, and the enemy vessel bloomed into a silent flower of fire and debris. The dogfight cost me precious minutes, time she didn't have.
"Tamsin." Her name tore from my throat, a raw prayer to a universe that had never answered me before.
No response.
The rage building in my chest was primal, possessive, a roar of denial against my own helplessness. I would not lose her. Not when I'd finally found something worth protecting again. Not when she'd become the one thing that made the silence of the void bearable.
Another fighter broke from the pack. The enemy pilot was good, but he wasn't desperate. He wasn't fighting for the one person who mattered more than breath itself.
I was.
The fighter's weapons locked onto us. I waited until the last possible second, then rolled inverted and fired everything I had. The explosion lit up the viewport, and I flew us straight through the expanding cloud of superheated gas and metal.
The last of the pursuing fighters fell behind us. The sensors showed clear space ahead. Just me, and her, and the choice that would damn us both.
I engaged the autopilot and turned away from the controls. Tamsin was slumped in her seat, one hand pressed weakly against the wound in her abdomen. Her face was gray, her lips bloodless.
"Talon?" Her voice was barely a whisper. Her eyes fluttered open. "Are we... did we make it?"
"We made it." I knelt beside her, my hands hovering over her body, afraid to touch her, afraid of her fragility. "We're safe."
She tried to smile. It was a faint, heartbreaking thing. Her eyes started to drift closed again.
"No." I caught her face in my hands. "Stay awake. Stay with me."
"Tired," she mumbled. "So tired."
I could feel her slipping away. In minutes, maybe less, she'd be gone. Another failure. Another ghost to haunt my dreams. Unless…
The Claiming Bite. It would take her choice, bind her to me, change her forever. But she would live.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, unbuckling her harness and gathering her into my arms. I carried her to the small crew cabin, her breathing so shallow now it was a ghost of a sound. I laid her on the narrow bunk, brushing the tangled, sweat-damp hair back from her face. Her eyes opened, just a sliver, and she looked up at me with a trust that made my chest ache.
"I held back before," I said, my voice rough with an emotion I couldn't name. "I wouldn't take your choice. But now there is no choice—it's this, or I watch you die. And I will not watch you die."
She didn't understand. Couldn't understand. But her hand found mine, her fingers cold and weak as they curled around my wrist.
