Page 56 of Savage Devotion
Three of them at once, thick as a man's arm and moving with impossible speed. They wrap around her legs, her waist, lifting her off the ground before she can react. The knife spins from her grip as she's slammed against the opposite wall.
I'm moving before conscious thought kicks in, charging toward the writhing mass of green and brown that's trying to crush the life from her. No weapons, no armor, just fury and desperate need drove me forward.
The first vine whips toward my head. I duck under it, get my hands around its base where it emerges from the rock, andpull. The plant flesh is tough but not impossibly so, and my leverage advantage lets me tear it loose from its anchor point. Green sap sprays across the canyon wall like blood.
The creature, creatures, I realize, there are at least two distinct entities here, hisses through whatever passes for its mouth. The sound is wet, organic, utterly alien. More vines lashout from hidden positions, forcing me to dodge and weave while trying to reach Ressa.
She's fighting back now, using her smaller size and flexibility to slip partially free from the creature's grip. But every movement seems to trigger new restraints, more vines wrapping around her throat, her arms, cutting off circulation and breath.
She's going to die.
This is pack loyalty, the fundamental drive to protect what's mine regardless of cost or consequence.
I grab a loose rock from the canyon floor, heavy enough to do damage, and hurl it at the largest concentration of vines. The impact disrupts their coordination just enough for Ressa to tear one arm free. She immediately goes for the knife at her belt, her backup blade, smaller but still sharp enough to cut plant flesh.
Together, we work systematically to destroy the creatures' anchor points. Ressa slices through the vines holding her while I tear away the root systems that give them leverage. It's ugly, brutal work, like performing surgery with an ax, but gradually the grip loosens.
When the last vine falls away, Ressa drops to the canyon floor in a graceless heap, gasping for breath. Her skin shows the pattern of the creature's grip, red welts and scratches where the rough plant flesh abraded against her. But she's alive, already trying to stand.
"Easy." I kneel beside her, checking for serious injuries. "Take a moment."
"The supply run?—"
"Can wait." My hands move over her arms, her shoulders, checking for broken bones or deeper wounds. "You're bleeding."
She looks down at the scratches covering her forearms, and seems surprised to see them. "Just surface damage. Nothing serious."
But when our eyes meet, there's something in her gaze that has nothing to do with injury assessment. Something fierce and grateful and heated despite the danger we just faced. Or maybe because of it.
"You came after me," she says softly.
"Of course I did."
"Even though it was stupid. Even though we should have gone for help instead of charging in like heroes from a bad ballad."
"Even though."
She reaches up, touching the line of my jaw where vine sap has splattered. "This is what I was talking about earlier. This feeling makes tactical sense irrelevant."
"Ressa..."
"I know." Her hand slides to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. "I know all the reasons this is dangerous. All the ways it could compromise everything we're trying to accomplish."
The space between us disappears. Her lips find mine, fierce and demanding, tasting of adrenaline and gratitude and something deeper. When we break apart, both breathing hard, her forehead rests against mine.
"But I can't seem to care about the tactical implications," she whispers. "Not when you look at me like that. Not when you risk everything to keep me safe."
The canyon suddenly feels too small, too exposed. The vine-beasts are dead, but this isn't the place for whatever conversation we're stumbling toward.
"We should check on the supply run," I manage.
"We should." But we don’t move.
The moment stretches between us, loaded with possibility and threat in equal measure. Whatever choice we make here, in this blood-stained canyon with enemy sap still dripping from thewalls, will determine not just our personal futures but the fate of both our commands.
The spy watching from the ridge above captures every detail.
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