Page 116 of Shielded Heart 1
Arcanthus sprang forward, swinging his arm and releasing the shield’s tether to throw it at Vaund. The hardlight disc hit Vaund as he was charging another shot, knocking his arm aside and sending the blast into the nearby wall. Arc struck an instant later, driving his knee—with all his weight and momentum behind it—into Vaund’s chest.
Caught between Arcanthus and the blast door, the subdermal armor beneath Vaund’s skin buckled, and he released another choked grunt. Vaund swung a fist at Arc’s head, but Arcanthus raised his damaged left arm and blocked the blow. When Vaund angled his other palm —the circular opening at its center still glowing orange—at Arcanthus, the sedhi caught his wrists and forced them up.
Vaund shoved off the blast door, forcing Arcanthus back a few steps before the sedhi braced his feet and halted Vaund’s advance.
Their bodies trembled as they struggled against one another, and Vaund’s wheezing breaths intensified. Not for the first time, Arcanthus was grateful that he’d undergone the expensive and painful procedures to reinforce his bones and muscles; his flesh would not otherwise have withstood the immense strain placed upon it in these moments.
The heat vents on Vaund’s arms flared, making the air around them waver. Arcanthus lost a centimeter of leeway on either side. He gritted his teeth and forced more out of his already overburdened muscles and prostheses.
Vaund snapped his head forward. Arcanthus dipped his chin, blocking the headbutt with his horns. The blow sent a jolt through his skull and down his spine.
“I was going to cut off your head,” Vaund said, “but I think I’ll rip it off with my bare hands, instead. Just for the satisfaction of watching your blood ooze from your tearing flesh.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
Fear had spread through Samantha like frost across a windowpane, chilling her limbs and forming a sinking weight in her stomach. She’d known she never stood a chance against Vaund, even before seeing him and Arcanthus fight; it was a small miracle that she’d done any damage at all in her desperate attack.
But Arcanthus was struggling. She knew he was pushing himself to his limits,beyondhis limits, and what if that wasn’t enough? What if she lost him?
She clenched her jaw and curled her hands into trembling fists. There had to be somethingshe could do. Some way she could help.
She refused to let fear prevent her from protecting her man, her mate, her everything. Even if she wasn’t nearly as skilled or capable as Arcanthus, she would fight just as hard as him to protect the people she cared about.
Samantha forced her body forward, dropping onto hands and knees to pick up Arcanthus’s discarded blaster. She pushed herself to her feet and adjusted her grip on the weapon,accounting for her clammy palms. She aimed the barrel toward Vaund—he and Arcanthus were locked up like two goats butting heads—and advanced.
There was no point in trying to shoot from anywhere but point-blank range; the chance of hitting Arcanthus was too great, and her shots wouldn’t do any harm to Vaund. He’d taken at least three direct blasts from Drakkal without slowing, and she’d heard the dull, metal-on-metal clangs when Arcanthus’s fists and feet connected with his body. He had armorbeneathhis skin.
To her knowledge, Vaund only had one exploitable weakness—but she had to get close to make sure it worked.
Damnedclose.
The first time she’d attacked Vaund from behind, he’d reacted as though he’d seen her coming; she had to assume he couldand act accordingly.
She crossed the space that separated her from the males quickly but cautiously, giving Vaund a wide berth as she circled around to his back. Her eyes repeatedly flicked to his hands as she moved; though Arcanthus had managed to keep Vaund’s palms pointed up, all it would take was a miniscule gain by Vaund to angle those arm-canons lower. She had no chance of evading such a blast.
Once she was facing Vaund’s back, she pressed straight ahead. Her thundering heart and ragged breaths dominated her hearing. The paces between Samantha and her target diminished, and thoughts swirled in her head—deriding her foolishness, questioning her apparent death wish, telling her she would fail now just like she always had. James’s voice bubbled up from her memory to say she was worthless and weak, that she needed him, but she shoved it aside and clenched her jaw.
I never needed you. I need Arcanthus—and he needsme, too.
I can do this.
Vaund wrenched his head back from Arcanthus’s as Samantha neared. Her chest constricted and her stomach knotted for an instant; in that instant, Vaund growled and twisted his body, sending a kick backward—directly at her.
This time, she’d been expecting it—had been counting on it. She dodged to the side; Vaund’s leg brushed over the fabric of her shirt as it cut through the air in front of her, narrowly missing her abdomen. The way he’d moved had angled the side of his helmet toward her. Before she could think, she slid her leading foot forward, closing the last bit of distance between her and her foe, and pressed the barrel of her blaster against the valve opening on his helmet.
Samantha pulled the trigger twice.
Fiery sparks flared from the other connections on Vaund’s helmet. The sound he released was unlike anything Samantha had ever heard, unlike anything she could’ve imagined, even in her wildest nightmares. It was at once bestial and robotic, guttural and staticky, agonized and furious; she couldn’t know if he was even making the sound himself or if it was a malfunction caused by the internal damage to his mask.
Arcanthus swung Vaund around by his wrists and heaved him toward the blast door. Before Samantha could move, he spun to face her again and leapt at her. His body collided with her heavily, knocking the blaster from her hand. He wrapped his arms around her as they fell; they landed hard, but his arms absorbed most of the impact and prevented his full weight from coming down atop her. Arc shielded her with his body.
She pressed her hands to his chest; it expanded and contracted with his quick, ragged breaths, and the rapid pounding of his heart matched the pace of hers.
The terrifying sound from Vaund continued, gradually diminishing into a static hiss that ultimately ended with adrawn out, gurgling release of air. Seconds passed; anticipation kept Sam’s muscles tense, but whatever she was waiting for didn’t come.
Sam and Arc lifted their heads and turned to look toward Vaund. He lay unmoving, pale gray smoke curling up from his helmet.
“Is he dead?” Samantha asked.
