Mirian’s eyelids
grew heavy, her energy depleted from running and swimming and fucking.
Xan will take care of me. She yawned. He won’t
leave me.
The roar of thunder interrupted her reverie. Mirian glanced
upward at the mist-covered sky. A monochrome ship zoomed above their heads,
casting a fleeting shadow over them. More visitors. “Are they with you?”
She pointed at the vessel. The pieced-together spacecraft stopped above their
camp and slowly descended, its panels different shades of gray.
“No.” Xan yanked his fingers from her ass. “They’re not with us.” He splashed through the water.
Mirian rolled onto her back. “Then who are they?” The answer
slammed into her and she gasped. “Slavers.”
“Furu,” the big warrior bellowed, his body blurring as he
ran toward their ship, his speed impressive, his panic palpable.
We won’t reach him in time. “Steve,” Mirian yelled,
her heart aching for Furu, for Xan and for herself, for daring to care, knowing
this was how her relationships always ended, with death or departure. “If you
care for me at all, protect Furu. Please. I’m counting on you.” She pelted
through the forest after Xan, heading straight into danger.
Chapter Five
“It’s five against one. Xan would love these odds.” Furu hid
behind a large blue boulder, grasping guns he’d never learned to use properly,
his poor aim a source of amusement for his Dreck lover.
Five hulking Palavian brutes approached, their
massive boots slamming against the ground, their bulging biceps decorated with
black tribal markings. They carried an arsenal any warrior would envy, the
restraints dangling from their waistbands proclaiming their occupation as
slavers.
Furu concentrated, his verme lifting, vibrating,
sending a wave of paralyzing thought toward them. The slavers’ steps didn’t
falter, their minds shielded, the Balazoid blockers they must have taken
disarming his mental weapon.
“I’m dead.” A cool liquid splashed against Furu’s back and
dripped down his skin. He turned, his guns raised, ready to attack. Blue mud
splattered over his face.
“Stop it, Steve,” he hissed, pressing his lips together,
bile rising in his throat, the stench eye-watering.
The plant slid his vine along the ground and flicked more
mud at him, covering his torso. Steve’s leaves parted, drawing back to reveal a
large hollow.
A male-sized hollow. Furu studied the slavers, the
probability of defeating them slim. I could hide. He glanced back at
their ship, the only home Xan and he had, their sole means of leaving the
planet. But they’ll take the ship.
“I’ll hold them off, delaying them until Xan arrives,” he murmured
under his breath. Steve heaved his vines, communicating his disapproval of
Furu’s plan. “He’ll arrive soon. He must have seen the ship. Xan’s paranoid.”
Furu raised his guns, debating which slaver to shoot first. “I love that about
him.”
The biggest Palavian male gazed toward a smaller,
nose-pierced thug, as though requesting approval. Furu swung the muzzle of his
guns, aiming at the leader. “If I die, tell Xan I love him. Tell Mirian…” He
lightly tapped the triggers. “Tell Mirian I could have loved her. I—”
“Son of the stars!” the biggest slaver yelled, landing hard
on his leather-clad ass, one of Steve’s thick vines wrapped around his boots.
“Get it off me!” He thrashed on the ground.
The males fired, blasting their big guns as they ran toward
him. Furu blindly shot into the chaos, aiming at their heads, avoiding Steve’s
vines. Red beams of light zinged around the slavers’ fallen comrade, bullets
hitting dirt and rock, kicking up clouds of dirt.
“Aargh!” a male screamed, the horrifying noise stretching
into silence.
The males stopped shooting, and the blue dust cleared.
Gaping holes punctured the big slaver’s torso and blood gushed from his wounds,
pooling around his motionless form. Another slaver slumped over his feet,
grew heavy, her energy depleted from running and swimming and fucking.
Xan will take care of me. She yawned. He won’t
leave me.
The roar of thunder interrupted her reverie. Mirian glanced
upward at the mist-covered sky. A monochrome ship zoomed above their heads,
casting a fleeting shadow over them. More visitors. “Are they with you?”
She pointed at the vessel. The pieced-together spacecraft stopped above their
camp and slowly descended, its panels different shades of gray.
“No.” Xan yanked his fingers from her ass. “They’re not with us.” He splashed through the water.
Mirian rolled onto her back. “Then who are they?” The answer
slammed into her and she gasped. “Slavers.”
“Furu,” the big warrior bellowed, his body blurring as he
ran toward their ship, his speed impressive, his panic palpable.
We won’t reach him in time. “Steve,” Mirian yelled,
her heart aching for Furu, for Xan and for herself, for daring to care, knowing
this was how her relationships always ended, with death or departure. “If you
care for me at all, protect Furu. Please. I’m counting on you.” She pelted
through the forest after Xan, heading straight into danger.
Chapter Five
“It’s five against one. Xan would love these odds.” Furu hid
behind a large blue boulder, grasping guns he’d never learned to use properly,
his poor aim a source of amusement for his Dreck lover.
Five hulking Palavian brutes approached, their
massive boots slamming against the ground, their bulging biceps decorated with
black tribal markings. They carried an arsenal any warrior would envy, the
restraints dangling from their waistbands proclaiming their occupation as
slavers.
Furu concentrated, his verme lifting, vibrating,
sending a wave of paralyzing thought toward them. The slavers’ steps didn’t
falter, their minds shielded, the Balazoid blockers they must have taken
disarming his mental weapon.
“I’m dead.” A cool liquid splashed against Furu’s back and
dripped down his skin. He turned, his guns raised, ready to attack. Blue mud
splattered over his face.
“Stop it, Steve,” he hissed, pressing his lips together,
bile rising in his throat, the stench eye-watering.
The plant slid his vine along the ground and flicked more
mud at him, covering his torso. Steve’s leaves parted, drawing back to reveal a
large hollow.
A male-sized hollow. Furu studied the slavers, the
probability of defeating them slim. I could hide. He glanced back at
their ship, the only home Xan and he had, their sole means of leaving the
planet. But they’ll take the ship.
“I’ll hold them off, delaying them until Xan arrives,” he murmured
under his breath. Steve heaved his vines, communicating his disapproval of
Furu’s plan. “He’ll arrive soon. He must have seen the ship. Xan’s paranoid.”
Furu raised his guns, debating which slaver to shoot first. “I love that about
him.”
The biggest Palavian male gazed toward a smaller,
nose-pierced thug, as though requesting approval. Furu swung the muzzle of his
guns, aiming at the leader. “If I die, tell Xan I love him. Tell Mirian…” He
lightly tapped the triggers. “Tell Mirian I could have loved her. I—”
“Son of the stars!” the biggest slaver yelled, landing hard
on his leather-clad ass, one of Steve’s thick vines wrapped around his boots.
“Get it off me!” He thrashed on the ground.
The males fired, blasting their big guns as they ran toward
him. Furu blindly shot into the chaos, aiming at their heads, avoiding Steve’s
vines. Red beams of light zinged around the slavers’ fallen comrade, bullets
hitting dirt and rock, kicking up clouds of dirt.
“Aargh!” a male screamed, the horrifying noise stretching
into silence.
The males stopped shooting, and the blue dust cleared.
Gaping holes punctured the big slaver’s torso and blood gushed from his wounds,
pooling around his motionless form. Another slaver slumped over his feet,
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