Page 45 of Kissed By the Alien
My fist pounds into the wall beside the male’s head, cracking the plaster. Torn between killing Hunzu and finding Lexi, I storm from the room.
I traverse the building quickly, staring down anyone who dares even look at me. No one will get in my way.
Two hours.
So much time.
Anything could have happened to her.
Or she could be safe, I remind myself. She’s a clever female who has survived this world without me.
A clever female who inserts herself into dangerous situations without the proper training, weapons, or backup.
I was a fool to leave her in Hunzu’s care. She’s my responsibility, even if I don’t formally claim her.
From this day forward, Narzan is your responsibility, Lutan.
My father’s words ring in my head with the same intensity that he first said them.
Final.
Haunting.
And they fuel me, make me more determined than ever to prove him wrong, that Narzan is not a liability.
Iwas the liability.
Drekk, I’m not sure where to look for Lexi. The answer strikes me a moment later. Her safehouse.
Deducing that took me longer than it should have. I’m not thinking clearly, too worried about her.
Last night, I lay awake, troubled by the knowledge that I had placed my sholani in a cell. A drekking cell. No matter how many comforts I arranged for her, it was still a cell. And the ultimate message that I do not trust her.
Which is not what I intended.
I hope she’ll come to understand why I arrested her. In time, she might even forgive me.
When I couldn’t fall asleep, I began my hunt early and eventually found two dozen blasters, but no leads on the supplier. That’s the person I need, more than the remaining three dozen blasters. Those will be found in time, though potentially after many deaths and much damage.
I’m half-way to the embassy entrance when I realize I lost two knives in the fight earlier tonight. A warrior never heads into battle without a full complement of weapons on his body. Quickly, I divert to my rooms, to retrieve additional weapons.
The security plate recognizes my palm print and admits me. The second the door shuts behind me, cutting off the light from the corridor and thrusting me into darkness, my horns pitch forward.
I hear breathing, soft, restrained, but still too loud to miss.
I’m not alone.
I pinpoint the intruder’s exact location. Inside the cleanser.
The door’s ajar, the lights off as he lies in wait.
The control panel is next to me, but turning the lights on could temporarily blind me. Quietly, I slide a knife from my boot and edge across the room in complete silence.
With lightning speed, I thrust the door open, grab the assassin, and shove my knife against his throat while pinning him to the cleanser wall.
“Move and you’re dead,” I warn in Common since I do not yet know if this assassin has followed me to Earth or was contracted here by the og’dals I hunt. Either way, the pressure of my knife against his flesh will tell him I won’t tolerate anything less than full obedience.
He doesn’t move.
