Page 19 of Fated to the Hunter
If we were lucky, we’d get to the camp without incident.
As we flew, I sat on the shuttle floor and went through everything in my pack. It was the only thing I could think of to distract myself from the fact that I was alone in a shuttle withBael’k, and that we’d started our mission with a toe-curlingly passionate kiss.
It was impossible to focus on anything else but him. His broad shoulders. Proud curving horns. Warm golden eyes. I kept replaying that kiss in my head. And when I closed my eyes, I could still feel his touch. His firm lips. His warm hands. And gah! That hard cock pressing between us.
I blew out a breath, realized I was doing it again. I was thinking about him and that kiss. Maybe it was because I was so touch- and sex-starved. I’d shoved my body’s needs neatly into a drawer for years and tossed away the key, too afraid to fall in love when the world was such a mess.
Travis and I hadn’t been soulmates. That much I was sure. But we checked all the boxes. We met in college. Went on dates. Our family approved. So he proposed, and we moved into the only two-bedroom apartment in the area we could afford.
The wedding got put on hold for a few years as our white picket fence dreams were waylaid by rising living costs and inflation. We’d just been fighting about him blowing all our disposable income on a boys’ night out again when the bugs hit. He’d wanted to hide, and I wanted to run. He’d called me crazy, and I called him chicken shit. In the end, the scuttlers in our hallway, breaking down our door, had forced us to run anyway.
I forced my attention on my pack. The first thing I took out was a bundle with a note in Janice’s super neat, I-swear-she’s-a-cyborg handwriting. The bundle was still warm, and I opened it to find two foil-wrapped breakfast burritos. Even with the foil still on, the scent of eggy goodness filled the shuttle, catching Bael’k’s attention.
I read the note out loud. “Breakfast for our brave adventurers. Good luck and come back in one piece. PS, the bigger one is for your stud muffin hunter.”
That was nice of her, except I really didn’t need the reminder that there was a very big chance I might not come back at all.
I tossed the larger burrito to Bael’k.
“Shuttle, what is a stud muffin?” he asked innocently.
“According to the humans’ online dictionary, a stud muffin is a male perceived as sexually attractive, typically one with well-developed muscles,” his shuttle replied.
He looked pensive for a moment, then declared loudly into the shuttle, “I shall be your stud muffin.”
I burst into a fit of giggles from the sheer ridiculousness of it all. “I accept, brave warrior. I accept.”
Bael’k was still grinning when he unwrapped his burrito and started devouring it in huge bites. I wasn’t hungry yet, so I turned back to my bag and its contents.
There were two bottles of water and a small stash of emergency food bars, the kind that claimed to last thirty-plus years, stored in the right conditions. Then came all the survival gear and special tech. Bael’k had stopped eating, his eyes focused on the mini drones.
“Have you ever flown one?” I asked.
“I have attempted. They are challenging. Different from our shuttles.”
“Yeah, they’re a bit tricky, but there’s very little to do in the winter months so we have a drone racing league at New Franklin. I’m not great at it, but I’ve gotten better with practice. Do you know who our current champion is?”
“I do not.”
“Connie. It surprised everyone, but that woman flies a drone like it owes her money. Some of the guys are royally pissed that the title has been held by a woman two years running.
“She says she uses them to keep the flyers busy while Jorg’k fights the scourge on the ground. So she gets a lot of practice. In our case, we can use them to explore places that are too dangerous, or as reconnaissance.”
“But they cannot cloak.”
“No, they can’t. But they are quick. And if we lose one, it’s not the end of the world. They’re replaceable.”
“What else do you have?”
I pulled out the next device, which I recognized as a sonar repellent. “Here’s the repellent that we’re supposed to use on the way in and out.” I reached into the bag again and out came a pair of Eye-Spies. This pair had freaky bloodshot eyeballs painted around their cameras. I wondered who owned them before?
Bael’k furrowed his brow. “I have not seen those before. What are they?”
“We call them Eye-Spies. We just officially announced them at the market and already have more orders than we can fill. They’re basically sticky darts with phone cameras attached, powered by solar energy.” I showed him the small power cells we’d taken from old calculators. “They don’t take the best footage, but they do their job.”
He still looked confused. “And what’s their job?”
“We stick them on the flyers, and they transmit aerial views of the area. There are actually several flyers that frequently hangout around the edges of New Franklin with Eye-Spies attached to them for weeks now. We let them live so they can spy for us.”
