Beyond the Shadows (7 page)

But she had never used them in earnest until now.

Without saying a word, he was pointing out her hypocrisy once again.

She checked her sono. It was a cold, clean weapon. A guilt-free, no-mess solution. The end result was the same, and so it was no kinder.

Blaster or knife, she had to come to terms with the idea that whoever was up there was going to kill her, if she didn’t kill them first.

She arranged her grip on her sono so she could more easily fire.

The freezing air seeped into her skin as she listened to the footsteps on the floor above them.

Cyrus offered her a hand then pulled her in close. His warm breath caressed her cheek as he whispered in her ear.

“Climb up the rungs between the stacked crates behind you. Take Tuz. When the hatches open, start firing. It needs to be a bloodbath, or they won’t retreat.” His fingertips brushed her hair, and she placed her hand on his chest for balance.

She could feel the harsh ridge of his scar beneath the material of his shirt.

“Yara?” he continued. She met his hardened gaze. “Don’t hesitate.”

She nodded.

With practiced stealth, she climbed up the rung ladder as he disappeared into the darkness. Tuz clung to her shoulder, his claws digging into the fabric of her shirt.

Voices sounded muffled and tinny through the sidewalls. She didn’t understand the language, but the confused tone was unmistakable. Their prey would be wary.

Would she have the strength to act?

She thought about her old training partner, Cyani. Her rival beat her more times than not when they sparred, and for the first time, Yara realized why. Cyani knew what it was like to fight for her life.

“Wherever you are, Cyani, thank you,” she whispered. She knew what to do. Cyani had shown her.
Don’t hesitate
.

Yara reached the hatch and perched on the top of the stack of crates to her right. The hatch was large enough to push smaller top-load crates into the secret compartment. She’d be too exposed once it opened. Pressing her back as far as she could into the closest frame, she waited. Each noise echoed in her ears and made her heart stutter in her chest. She had never felt the rush of such stark terror. She fought to control herself, chanting training mantras over and over in her head.

She lifted her sono, ready to fire.

The hatch doors released, clattering to the floor.

Cyrus’s gunfire filled the bay, the staccato shots ricocheting off the sidewalls as they embedded themselves in the dirty group of men. The men scrambled, gathering weapons and looking up at the open hatches even as they shouted and fell, blood bursting from open projectile wounds.

Yara focused, aimed, fired, repeating the pattern over and over. Some fell. She couldn’t tell how many she hit. They collapsed to the cold floor. She didn’t have the luxury to think. She had to wedge herself to the side of the open hatch and hold on for her life as a shock blast fired through the hatch, crashing into the fuselage behind her. The spent energy made her skin tingle and go numb, but she turned and fired into the fray below.

Tuz leapt out of the hatch with a terrifying war-scream and landed on the head of one of the men. The man’s shout was cut short as Tuz’s thick tail wrapped around his neck, choking him.

One of the pirates raised a blaster to her scout, and Yara fired on instinct. She missed. The pirate shot at Tuz, but her cat leapt just in time. She had to get him out of there.

Yara held her breath and jumped.

She landed on the ground, immediately swinging her blade. It cut across the back of the thigh of one of the men, as she fired her sono at the pirate rushing toward her.

“Yara!” Cyrus shouted.

She leapt and wielded the blade beneath her, feeling it connect with flesh again. Time seemed to slow, and her body felt heavy and weak as her muscles moved from instinct honed by years of repetitive motion and training. Her blade couldn’t swing fast enough. She couldn’t strike hard enough. The room sounded like it was filled with water, the only clear sound the constant drumming beat of her heart.

She fired her sono again. In the corner of her eye she saw Cyrus drop into the thick of the crowd. He became a blur of deadly motion as his blade whipped through the air. “Bug!” he stabbed one of the pirates in the chest. “Initiate defense charges!”

Sono blasts reverberated in the bay as Yara ducked. Tuz darted through the crowd, his claws and teeth sinking into the calves of the pirates, distracting them whenever they focused their wild eyes on her.

She caught sight of one at the ramp. He started to enter, then turned around.

“Cyrus,” she shouted. He turned and saw the pirate retreating, but one of the mudrats stabbed a blade into Cyrus’s thigh. He roared and swiftly cut through the man’s arm.

Her distraction cost her. A ripping burn lanced into her shoulder, tearing her nerves as she watched a bright splash of blood fall to the floor. Her breath slammed out of her lungs as she fell forward onto her hands.

Her vision blurred, but she rolled and fired at her attacker. She didn’t know what hit her but could feel her blood rushing down her arm.

“Yara!” Cyrus shouted.

She barely comprehended the fall of bodies or the smell of death as she fought back to her feet, grabbing her blade in her weak hand.

Tuz screamed, the haunting sound distracting their attackers as more of the wounded crawled back through the gaping ramp.

Cyn rushed forward, desperately grabbing one of the blasters off the floor. He fired, dropping any pirate still moving, as he fought to reach Yara. She tried to swing her blade, but her bloody arm fell back to her side.

“Get the fuck off my ship!” he shouted, his rage burning as intensely as the pain in his thigh.

He shot another one in the head. The pirate spun as he fell, flinging blood in an arc against the sidewall.

The pirates threw their bloody bodies back through the open ramp, dragging several of their fallen with them.

Good, less for him to clean up.

“Bug, fire charges now,” he shouted. Bug’s affirmative whistle broke through the speakers in the security link.

He couldn’t give them time to regroup.

The emergency lights flickered, then dimmed, covering him in shadow.

Cyn accessed the control panel at the back of the bay and secured the ramp.

Blood soaked into his jeans, trickling down into his sock. He spared a quick glance at Yara. She swayed, but remained on her feet, kicking weapons away from the fallen.

“Damn it, Bug, hit the charge.”

A series of loud explosions rocked the ship, and the ship groaned as it peeled away from the clutches of the pirate’s docking link.

“Jump us forward,” he ordered. Bug’s loud beeps rang through the speakers. “I don’t care what it takes, just do it. Yara, you okay?”

She turned to him, her eyes glazed. The blast wound cut through her shoulder. It looked ugly, like some beast had chewed a chunk out of her muscle. Blood dripped off her limp fingertips onto the slick floor. He had to stop her bleeding before they both passed out.

Pressing a hand to the wound on his thigh, he limped to her and lifted her good arm over his shoulder. She accepted his help without protest as he opened the bulkhead door to the living quarters and helped her to a bed.

“We don’t know if they’re all dead,” she stated, closing her eyes briefly, then shaking her head and blinking as if trying to wake herself up.

He wiped his thumb over her forehead, smearing a trickle of blood there. “Tuz will take care of them. Are you wounded anywhere else?”

The ship shifted beneath his feet, and he nearly fell over. His limbs ached, his head screamed, and amidst all of it, a choking feeling clenched in his chest. He didn’t have time to wallow in ugly memories. He had work to do.

Using every milligram of mental strength he had, he focused on the task at hand.

“I’m okay,” she insisted.

“That’s a load of shit.” With a knife, he sliced Yara’s shirt away from the gaping wound. The torn and singed muscle wouldn’t pull together and heal easily. He’d have to use a knitter. “This is bad.”

He had to stop the bleeding fast. He threw open one of the lockers and swiped all the contents onto the floor. He found his med kit and tossed it onto the bunk, then opened one of the cases and pulled out a large jug of kiltii water.

“Drink as much of this as you can,” he insisted as he pressed a bandage into her wound and then poured some of the water on it. He tied the bandage as tight as he could, then found his cup and filled it with the water.

“Are we safe?” she asked before downing the glass of elixir and coughing. The jarring cough made her shoulder bleed worse.

“Don’t know.” He inspected a cut at her hairline then let her wispy hair slide through his bloody fingers as he reached for his med instruments.

He took a deep breath, then let his mind loose. Shifting through the waves of information flowing through his consciousness, he plucked out the relevant medical data on repairing flesh wounds, and brought it to the forefront of his mind.

“Bug, are they following?” he asked.

“
Pip!
”

“Let out a cluster of mines just in case.” Cyn grabbed the med sterilizer. His leg throbbed.

“The next time your cat decides to drop into a crowd of bloodthirsty pirates, could he at least be considerate enough to get hurt, too?” Cyn grumbled. He had to keep her focused on him. “At least there’s some good news.”

“Yeah?”

“I think your lag is gone.”

She huffed, but the corner of her mouth twitched.

He took a quick drink of the kiltii water himself and shuddered as a rush of heat poured through his body. The plant extract in the water healed injuries quickly, but not quickly enough if he couldn’t stop her bleeding.

He filled the cup again. “Drink it,” he commanded.

“What is it?” she asked as she drank more of it and groaned.

“It speeds healing.” He filled the cup one more time and handed it to her before untying the bandage. The raw flesh looked pink for only a second before blood seeped out of the torn tissue. He ran the sterilizer over the wound and grabbed the knitter.

“I’m sorry, Pix. This is going to suck.”

Holding her as tightly as he could, he initiated the knitter. The small instrument glowed bright blue in his hand as he touched it to the wound. The skin around the knitter turned white and sizzled as the smell of burnt blood filled the room.

Yara screamed.

Her hands gripped his thigh and arm, squeezing so tight, her nails cut into him through his blood-soaked jeans.

“Hang on, baby,” he whispered, holding tight to the knitter even as her blood flowed over his hand. Every muscle in her body had contracted with the pain. “It’s almost over.”

He felt a forceful thump at his back, as knifelike claws dug into his shoulder.

“Bug, get Tuz!” he shouted. All he needed was for her scout to kill him.

“
Werp, wheeeeeeeeeee!
” Bug fired off discharges at the cat. Tuz yowled and leapt off Cyn’s back.

Cyn concentrated on the wound as he used the knitter to pull the gaping flesh back together, leaving a clean but ugly scab over the hole in her shoulder.

Yara grabbed his forearm, clinging to his bracer. Her glazed eyes locked with his. His own memories of being knit without tranqs overwhelmed him. God, she was in so much pain.

He could feel the stabbing, burning as if he were feeling it in the moment, not years ago.

Finally he turned the thing off.

Yara inhaled, her breath filling her lungs with a shaky hiss.

“You okay?” he asked, offering her another drink.

She nodded and tried to take the cup, but her hand shook so badly, she couldn’t lift it.

Cyn wrapped his hand over her elegant fingers and let his palm slide over the soft skin of the back of her neck as he lifted her toward him. He helped her bring the cup to her lips.

When she finished drinking, he let her hand fall but kept ahold of her neck. The woman had guts. He felt the knot in his stomach tighten.

Her beautiful golden eyes blinked slowly, as a drop of moisture from the kiltii water clung to her full lower lip.

He found himself transfixed on that drop of water, longing to taste it. He could feel the adrenaline in his blood beginning to wane. The shaky loose feeling in his body overtook his senses. He wanted to taste her so badly.

“You did good,” he murmured. She was glorious. She lived up to the promise of her royal blood. She’d been amazing. His body burned with battle lust. It would be so easy to fall down on the bed and pull her into his aching body.

He brushed his thumb behind her slightly pointed ear and leaned closer, inhaling the scent of her hair, hoping it would wash away the scent of death and blood all around them.

She didn’t pull away as his cheek brushed hers. He leaned back just enough to look her in the eyes again.

Her expression had softened with relief, relief and something else, something raw and potent.

He held his breath, leaning in until his lower lip barely brushed the warm skin of hers.

She stiffened.

This was wrong.
She is the enemy
.

Damn it, he couldn’t do this. Cyn pulled away, letting her fall gently back onto the pillows. She watched him with those sex-honey eyes as she pressed a protective hand over the wound above her heart.

Ona help him, he wanted her.

What was he going to do?

YARA FELT HER HEART BEAT WITH A STEADY, ACHING RHYTHM. SHE LET HER hand linger over the wound as Cyrus pulled back, but remained sitting on the bed.