Bondmate (7 page)

Avanelle
couldn’t
breathe,
sure she’d be cut in half by the
huge curved sword the thing had raised. Instead it hissed at her and threw its
hand in the air, a gobbet of some sort of ink smacking into her chest. It
gestured for her to move aside, towards a huddle of women and children. She
did, stumbling over one of the now still men. The green demon nodded once and
then whipped its head in another direction, quickly firing a bolt of energy
from the end of the blade and cutting down more running men.

Hide
. Hiding was the
only option. She crouched and ran as fast as her cold and cramped legs could
take her, skirting the cluster of weeping women and children, toward the edge
of the camp where the garbage had begun to pile up as soon as everyone had
arrived. There would surely be a shelter there.

****

Mateen
smelled battle before the hover’s sensors alerted them to weapons fire at the
camp as they approached. They’d been following Avanelle’s trail as rapidly as
they could before the rain washed away all heat traces of her footfalls, but
the distant cracking sound of laser bolts was unmistakable. Bynton, who’d been
rigid with tension the whole journey, jolted as he, too, recognized the echo.

“Who
would be attacking the camp?”

Mateen
adjusted the scanner’s range, and his blood heated when he read the results. “
Xyran
phase signatures. Must be raiders, the treaty holds
them at bay.”

“Unless
war has broken out while we were distracted yesterday.” Bynton growled as he
unsheathed his lash and brought the hover cannon to bear on the settlement as
it hove into view.

Faint
pulses of laser light sparked from the huddled buildings, and he fancied he
could hear the screams of the dying.
Avanelle
was there.
She’d fled them only to find no sanctuary but a worse threat than any she could
have imagined from them.

Mateen
glanced over the readings. There were so many humans milling about that the
readings for them were indistinct, but the
Xyran
raiders were easily found.
Seven, with two waiting at the
nearby ship.
Heat signatures showed many cooling bodies, and for a
despairing moment, Mateen wondered if one of the pale silhouettes of the dead
was Avanelle’s.
No.
She was alive. He
knew it. She was a desirable young female, worth too much to
Xyran
slavers to kill.

“We’ll
find her and bring her home, Mat.”
Bynton’s
reassurance was appreciated, and Mat gave him a quick nod as he maneuvered the
hover in a wide loop to come up behind the
Xyran
ship
at a fast and low trajectory. The bandits were apparently too overconfident to
bother setting any sort of security perimeter, because he was able to come
within four hundred meters undetected.
Bynton’s
accuracy of fire was impeccable as usual. With a minimum of energy dispersal,
the
Xyran
ship was disabled and both pilots were
dismembered, their skin color shifting as their brains died.

Mateen
didn’t linger to take a blood trophy or pull the gems from their skin. Instead
he hopped the hover over the wall of the camp and set it down as close to the
main raiding party as possible. Taken completely unaware, two
Xyrans
were shredded by
Bynton’s
cannon fire, but too many humans crowded the scene for more firing.

Hand-to-hand
combat pleased
Mateen
. It sharpened his focus and
allowed a productive outlet for his turbulent emotions. First they had to
eliminate the threat, and then they could systematically search the encampment
for Avanelle.

He
and his bondmate exited their craft and advanced into the scattering crowd of
humans, seeking the biggest targets in the area. Three
Xyrans
whirled as one, sensing the
Alphans
’ arrival before
they could finish executing a line of kneeling humans. They spread out and
approached at a trot, growling and hefting their phase blades.

Mateen
unleashed his lash and adjusted his stance, bloodlust filling him with heat and
urgency even as the cold rain sliced down. Three quick whips and he’d taken the
arm off one while Bynton leaped to grapple with another using his blades to
make quick work of opening the hissing creature’s neck arteries. As the
disabled
Xyran
howled and stumbled, Mateen whirled to
track the third raider who’d accelerated in a futile attempt to flank him.
Forgoing the lash, wanting to feel fresh blood, he trotted towards his target,
the wet ground sucking at his boots. The
Xyran
launched himself into the air with a roar, swinging his axe in a huge arc
intended to decapitate. Dodging to the side, Mateen used the creature’s
downward momentum to embed deep within the chest cavity the quad blade he held.
He could feel the life convulse from the struggling body, the
Xyran
chest studs growing dark with fresh blood. His enemy
twisted his head feebly to stare at him, eyes blinking erratically as his mouth
gaped open. Its skin fluttered angry red,
then
faded
to dying green. Heat rose in Mateen at the sight, and for the first time since
he’d realized Avanelle had fled them, Mateen was nearly at peace.

“More
approach from the east!”
Bynton’s
shouted warning
brought him back to battle, and with a roar, he flung the dead away and went to
create another.

With
terrified screams and shouts, humans streamed past them, fleeing ahead of the
last two
Xyrans
. The bandits stopped and took in the crumpled
bodies of their companions, their chests swelling as they breathed in their
last. With quick arm movements they brought their axes round to fire, but
Mateen had already unleashed his lash, flicking the energy bolt at the
Xyran
weapons, disabling one before it could fire, and
landing a blow on the other’s shoulder. Within seconds both were upon him, and
Mateen countered each
Xyran
blow with one of his own,
hatred for these ancient enemies powering him past their defenses. As he slid a
blade into the lower gut of one, the other raider managed to strike him across
the face, and Mateen stumbled to his knees. He kept going, rolling over and
bounding to his feet, blade at the ready only to find Bynton on top of his
assailant, driving the edge of his dagger into the neck of the creature as it
thrashed desperately on the ground, straining to avoid death. It mattered not,
for with a quick punch, his bondmate severed vertebrae and nerves, and the
Xyran
gave a massive jerk and went still.

Bynton
rushed to his side as Mateen looked for the last mobile raider, the one he’d
stabbed in the gut. It was on its knees, chest heaving as it grappled
ineffectively at the dagger he’d left behind. Shaking wet hair and blood from
the wound on his face out of his way, Mateen approached the mortally wounded
bandit. Reaching out, he grabbed the handle of the weapon and pulled it free
with a tremendous sucking sound.

“That
will take some cleaning to put right,” Bynton commented as he watched the
Xyran
topple to the side, its skin color shifting as it
died,
blue
to green to pale yellow.
Disgusting
creatures.

“It’s
my favorite. I wanted it back. We need to find Avanelle.” He didn’t plan on
returning to collect trophies either. These raiders had only poor, inferior
grade gems in their skin, hardly worth the time it would take to pry free of
the scarred flesh. Once they had her safe, he meant to take her away and never
return to this cursed place.

****

From
her hiding place under a discarded panel from an escape pod, Avanelle listened
to the chaotic sounds of the camp under attack. She had no idea how many of the
green men were out there or how many people had died, only that she was
terrified for her life. Why had she been spared when she’d seen so many cut
down? She might survive the day, but what sort of life awaited her tomorrow?

There
was a crescendo of noise from laser blasts, screams, and the faint sound of
shouting, almost a roar, and she assumed the camp had fallen, especially since
near quiet followed. All she could hear were faint cries and screams for help,
and she waited, her body tight with cold and tension. Finally she convinced
herself to look out of a narrow gap between a broken shelving unit and a
compressed stack of half-rotted boxes. People were wandering about, finding
each other with hugs or crouching over the fallen with sad cries. There was no
sign of the hissing creatures. Had they been somehow driven off?
But by what?
No one in the camp had any sort of powerful
weapons, only small knives and hammers for daily tasks.

Swallowing
down the knot of fear in her belly, she crawled from her burrow, hands slipping
in the goo of mingled rotting food and mud. As she stood and looked at the
camp, she saw the glow of a fire in the distance. There wouldn’t be any sort of
assistance from the outside. Once they’d been deposited here, it was clear she
and the folk around her had been forgotten by her former government. It was
hard to contemplate what sort of repair and care they could manage on their
own.

With
unsteady steps, the wet socks heavy and slippery on her feet, she approached
the habited area of the camp. No one acknowledged her presence. Everyone she
saw was too shocked or injured. She passed a line of men sprawled on the
ground, the same huge wounds marring their backs. Not really thinking about a
destination, she approached the main gathering space of the camp, where she’d
been when the attack had commenced. She saw a dead alien, sprawled on its
stomach, dismembered. The head was about a meter away from the rest of the
remains, and several older children were gathered around it in fascinated
horror. A blackish forked tongue protruded from its half detached jaw while
wide smears of purplish blood mingled with the mist still falling from the sky.
How had anyone been able to destroy such a thing so efficiently?

These
were the creatures Mateen and Bynton killed.
The ones in the
pictures.
A sudden rush of fury filled her, and she kicked at the head,
realizing too late her toes were unprotected. Her foot hurt after landing the
blow, but the pain was nothing compared to what these beasts had done to those
around her. She watched the head roll away and then stop, held in place by the
sagging jaw and protruding fangs
..
She’d never been so
glad to see something dead in her life.

Keeping
a wary eye out for another one, she left the children to their prize and kept
moving forward.

Over
the murmurs and cries of the beleaguered camp inhabitants she heard a rumbling
roar, the low sound vibrating in her bones. She stood and listened, the
movements of the people around her fading away as she concentrated. Something
inside her chest swelled, and a low moan escaped her. She hadn’t made a sound
since the attack had begun, and had no idea why she’d broken her silence now.

The
roar had come from the other side of one of the common buildings, and despite
her fear and shock, she edged that way. She passed a pale yellow-green leg clad
in a shredded leather boot and shivered at the sight. Another roar, louder this
time and her whole body vibrated in response. It was familiar, and again she
couldn’t stop an answering moan. Maybe she was going insane. There were plenty
of triggers in her life at the moment: near death at the hands of
color-shifting aliens, a cold and brutal future,
an
odd sexual encounter with two men.
Aliens.
No, men.
Those green devils were
aliens,
Mateen and Bynton were … men.

Poking
a cautious head around the edge of the battered building, Avanelle saw Mateen
striding her way, his bronze eyes fixed on her like he’d been expecting her. He
was clad in dull grey armor that glistened in the rain, his head uncovered, and
his thick black hair clung to his shoulders. A large gash marred his cheek, and
bright red blood dripped along his golden skin. Her breath left her in another
weak moan, and her knees weakened. Clutching at the side of the building she
waited for him. Would he punish her for abandoning him and his bondmate? With a
cold stab of dread, she wondered where Bynton was.

In
a rush he was upon her and gathering her in his arms, the strength of his grip
magnified by the press of the plates of armor against her body. She felt and
heard a deep rumble in his chest, and she clutched at him, relief at seeing him
alive erasing the burden of terror she’d been carrying for what felt like
hours. It didn’t matter if he was angry at her desertion. She was simply overwhelmed
by his presence.

A
harsh cry escaped her throat, and he lifted her up, away from the muddy ground.
She found a scrap of courage and looked at his face, afraid she might see rage
or vengeance, but his expression was controlled, his mouth set in a firm line
as he inspected her. Only his eyes gave away his feelings. They glowed hot, and
her own
body warmed with his regard.

“We
have her. Rendezvous,” he said in a low voice, and she realized Bynton was
nearby and in contact with Mateen.

“Is
she injured?”
Bynton’s
quick question echoed from a
small device fastened to Mateen’s shoulder, and she moved her arm so as not to
dislodge it.