Page 70 of The Warrior's Oath
Korvin moved with speed and grace, weaving through the trees, silently avoiding obstacles that Nyota only saw when he pointed them out in passing, one hand or the other casually gesturing to them on the fly.
She marveled at the ease with which he filled his role of protector, guide, and warrior. He was a thing of beauty, a highly trained expert at ease in his element.
Nyota, for her part, managed to keep up, and aside from a few instances, she was just as quiet as he was, matching his speed and economy of movement as best she could.
He had a sense of restrained urgency to him. He wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible so he could return to his search for his general. And what was it that changed so drastically that he would put aside what he seemed to feel was a sacred vow? Nyota pondered that question as they drew closer to the campfire, the tiniest hint of smoke now reaching her sensitized nose.
He chose me over his friend, she marveled, watching his muscular body with a mix of lust, respect, and awe.And not just any friend. No one’s ever blown off so much as a Sunday football game for me, let alone some kind of war hero general.
Sure, they’d clicked on a physical level in a way she’dneverfelt with anyone before. Hot damn, after what he’d done, she was sure no one else could ever come close. But even beyond that, here was this absolutely impressive specimen of a man, feared and respected, the sort women would fawn over—and had, back in Molok—and despite all of that, he had chosen her.
A contented glow warmed her belly at the thought. Actions spoke far louder than words, and there was pretty much nothing that could shout his affections for her greater than putting her needs ahead of his own. And while he had been torn at first, the more he committed to it, the easier it seemed to be for him. Natural, even. Instinctive.
And she followed him with that same confidence. There was no doubt here. Whatever had formed between them was real, and they both felt it. They just had to accept it and carry on.
Korvin’s hand raised, signaling Nyota to be as stealthy as possible, but she knew his intent before he even gestured, picking up on the slightest shifts in his movement like their own secret shorthand.
They crept forward slowly, circling the source of the smoke. A small fire was visible flickering through the brush, but they could not see who was seated around it. Nyota listened. Silence.
She pointed toward the fire and Korvin gave a small nod. They would go closer.
The pair spread out slightly, approaching from about ten meters apart when they stepped into the small clearing. To Nyota’s surprise, the fire was unattended. There was no one there.
“Kor—” she began to say when a war cry rang out from her side.
A scraggly human male charged at her, wielding a makeshift spear, his hair disheveled and his eyes wild.
Nyota spun, deflecting the weapon aside before she could even realize what her body was doing. A fraction of a second later the survivor was flat on his back, Korvin’s boot on his chest, and his own spear, snatched from his hands, now pointing at his heart.
“Do you know this male?” Korvin asked. “Or would you prefer I end him?”
She could tell he was not serious, but his prisoner didn’t know that. The comment was merely to make the man under his foot fully realize that he had lost. Fighting back would be of no use, so he would have to either use his words or perish.
The tactic seemed to have the desired effect.
“You-you’re human!” the man exclaimed, staring at Nyota’s clean, alien garb.
“I am.” She glanced up at Korvin. “Let him live. I recognize him from the ship.”
The man looked at the Nimenni warrior towering above him, his fear shifting to vague recognition. Korvin quickly extinguished the fire, putting an end to the thin plume of smoke this fool had been sending up into the sky.
“Hey, you’re like that other guy on the ship. The one who gave us these tattoos behind our ears.”
“I am Nimenni, yes.”
Nyota was glad to see him coming to his senses, but she still had some pressing questions. “Why did you attack us? What were you thinking?”
“I thought you were one of them,” he said, sitting up in the dirt and brushing himself off.
“You thought we were Raxxians?”
“No, not them. The other ones.”
“What other ones?” she pressed.
“The ones hunting us. I don’t know what they’re called, but they have blue-gray skin and really flat noses. Broad foreheads too. When we crashed, we split up to look around. When I got back to the ship, we saw those things snatch Shalia and a few others. I stayed hidden as long as I could but finally came out when the rest of our people got back.”
Korvin looked grim. He knew what it meant if the Dohrags had taken them prisoner, especially a female. “You were wise not to engage them,” he said. “The Dohrags are formidable adversaries even when you are properly armed for a confrontation. Had you attempted to stop them you would have been killed.”
