Page 2 of Keeping His Mate

Eye Patch leans in. “Do you think he would notice if we had a little fun?”

I have grown tired of seeing these males alive. I slip behind the crate closest to them, directly behind Greasy Mane. Launching from my feet, I leap over the crate and slam an elbow into the side of his head, knocking him to the ground.

Eye Patch has a dagger to my throat before I land, but flixiels are as slow as they are hideous. I knock the dagger from his hands, and it clatters to the ground. He thinks I crouch to steal his blade, but that is because he is stupid. As I sweep my foot in a circle, knocking him off his feet, he comically flies in the air for a moment before landing in a pile on the ground.

I grab Eye Patch's dagger while I’m down, and before a now-angered Greasy Mane can charge me with his sword, I hurl the dagger in his direction, and it lands with a wet thud into his neck. Bright green blood spurts like a fountain from the wound, and I smile as he gurgles with panicked eyes for a heartbeat before he collapses into a pool of green.

But my work is not done. Eye Patch is back on his feet, shaking the dizzy from his skull as he reaches for a pistol holstered at his side. A bullet will not kill me, but it will slow me, interfering with my mission. There is also no guarantee that what is inside his pistol is a simple metal projectile. After Varrek’s father was able to coat a bullet with flesh-eating bacteria, causing the infection in Ahlvo’s leg to spread and decay at a frightening speed, I no longer underestimate the lethal power of weapons pointed at me.

But I can certainly pretend to be unbothered.

I wait until his pistol is aimed at my heart, giving him a false sense of confidence, then I reach for a wide steel disk, a common shipping component, which lies to my right on the ground. I toss it in front of me and it distracts Eye Patch’s one good eye long enough for me to roll toward him and throw myself into his gut, shoulder first. The air leaves his lungs with a satisfying “oof” as he falls to the ground, pistol dropping from his hand and skidding away.

Pinning his hands beneath my knees, I straddle Eye Patch and revel in the look of fear that flashes across his face. “What is wrong, little flixiel?” I ask as I pull my dagger from my vest and rise over his face. “I thought you liked fighters…” then I drive my blade through his good eye and into his brain, sending him into eternal darkness.

I take a moment to admire my work before pulling the dagger free and wiping it on my tunic. Then I check my screen pad.

Two minutes remaining.

This seems like an opportune time to depart anyway.

I get to my feet and drag the rolling med tube behind me. I can only save the one female, the biter that Eye Patch and Greasy Mane wanted for fun. I quicken my pace, running past the other med tubes, wishing I could save more, but there is no time.Passing some of the larger ships, I know there are several more before I reach ours.

“What is that?” I hear Ahlvo ask accusingly behind me. I turn and his eyes widen when he sees the blood on my shirt. “Bruvix…wha–”

“You there!” a flixiel guard yells.

“Run,” I tell Ahlvo as I break into a sprint, pushing the med tube in front of me. Ahlvo goes as fast as he can, but stays behind me, and fires an occasional shot from his laser gun over his shoulder as we make our way around the docks.

“How many guards are left?” I shout.

“I do not know!” he replies, irritated. “How many were there to begin with?”

“Just keep shooting,” I tell him. I suppose the number doesn’t matter as long as we make it out of here alive.

The door to our ship opens as it registers our heat scan, and I shove the med tube up the ramp as I run inside. Ahlvo fires off another shot and then curses after a click sounds from his gun where a red beam of skin-melting radiation should be emerging. “O fah! I did not remember to charge this.”

I put the med tube behind the command chairs and join him by the door to finish the job. But I am too late because as soon as I reach him, Ahlvo is slicing the gilded sword that was once his cane through the neck of a single flixiel guard. The guard’s head lands next to Ahlvo’s foot.

“Are we clear?” I ask him, looking down at the blood that covers more of his tunic than mine.

“For now,” he replies as he searches the dock. “Let us go before more arrive.”

Once I secure the med tube inside the room Varrek typically sleeps in, I join Ahlvo on the bridge. We have taken off, safely, and are well on our way back home.

“That was fun,” Ahlvo says with a smirk. “I enjoyed that very much.” His tone is that of someone who has just received a thoughtful gift.

I dip my chin once, unsure how to reply.

“Now, are you going to tell me why we slaughtered those flixiel guards, inevitably leaving a trail for Bzzsil Chi to come after us, endangering our clan?”

I swallow. I did not think this through at all. “We saved a human female,” I tell him.

He holds my gaze for a moment, then nods. “Good,” he says with a sigh. “That is good. We will figure out the rest later.”

After two days of travel, we reach home, our skin free of blood and wearing clean clothes. We receive many questions when we stroll onto the main path of the village while carrying a med tube, but we answer none and head straight to Kaiva’s.

Varrek follows the moment he sees us, as does Cloh-ee.

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