Orc’s Forbidden Claim (Red Planet Dragons of Tajss #33)

29. Saylor

29

SAYLOR

“ H e’s going to be fine,” Wren whispers. Again.

It’s a mantra that she’s been whispering to herself for some time. Maybe hours, maybe not. Time became a foreign concept once we moved into the bunker and being under the mountain hasn’t changed that. I miss living on the open planet. The two red suns passing over, clearly delineating day and night as well as the passage of hours. I hope we can return there soon.

The bunker was better than here from a time perspective. In the bunker, the lights were on set timers to tell you it was ‘night’ or day. Under the mountain, outside the Zmaj compound, there is nothing to indicate times passage. One moment in the dark is pretty much the same as the next moment. Dark, lonely, scary, and yet another painful step. Every foot forward is accompanied by the sharp, shooting pain that comes hand-in-hand with the shin splints. It’s bad enough now that I am struggling to not whimper.

We have to be getting close. If for no other reason, I don’t think I can take much more of this. Wren and I have our arms around each other’s shoulders, and I wish I could say it was only for emotional support, but it’s not. Neither of us is in the kind of physical condition that lends itself to walking for this long.

“Days,” I whisper.

“Huh?” Wren asks.

“I think it’s been days,” I answer.

“Shhh,” Khiara’s shush comes out of the dark from his shadowy figure.

I frown, knowing I should be quiet. Stupid.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and it itches. I scratch at it with my free hand, unsure why it’s bothering me. It doesn’t quit though. If anything, it gets worse. Something is wrong, but I don’t know what.

Wariness spreads out of my core with a strange physical sensation. I’m certain of there being a problem but I have no idea what it is. Then I hear it. A shuffling step that comes from behind us.

“Wren, hurry,” I whisper, pulling on her to move faster.

And she stumbles. Of course, she does. We’re both exhausted what else should I expect? She falls forward tugging me alongside her. Limbs tangle together pulling us both down. I pinwheel my free arm in a desperate attempt to not land right on either of our faces.

“Heh,” Khiara says from ahead.

I see he’s turning to look but he won’t reach us in time. There’s no way he could. We’re screwed. Wren yelps, then she’s able to get her foot in front of herself which keeps her from falling onto her face. I fail to do anything similar, and I’d be down except for my arm around her neck which, though it throws all my weight onto her, stops me from hitting.

Awkwardly, I twist my neck to look up at her with a wide grin. She’s chuckling and shaking her head.

“Clutz,” she says.

The moment she speaks something behind her jerks my attention to it. A shadow is moving.

“Move!” I yell, pulling her towards me.

Not my best or brightest move. Our fall, which she only just prevented, lets gravity take over reclaiming that which it was denied. As we fall in a heap, I’m below her, hitting the stone first. My breath is knocked out by the impact, but something flashes over Wren.

“Grawrrr!” Khiara’s roar resonates inside my chest and continues as he leaps over the two of us with his weapon drawn.

The clash of weapons rings in my ears. Wren and I struggle against each other in fear, neither of us managing to break free of the other. We wrestle, attempting to get untangled, managing to roll to the side right as Sek’su stumbles past.

Realizing we’re getting nowhere, I quit fighting. Wren gets herself disengaged and crawls off my chest. Side-by-side we crab walk away from the sound of the fighting. I can’t see enough details to know what’s happening.

The boys are fighting, that’s clear of course, but they’re far enough down the tunnel that the darkness has them engulfed. The sounds of steel on steel and flesh striking flesh and the grunts of pain and exertion are the only insights. None of which tells me if our guys are winning.

Sek’su is so badly injured he must be running on pure adrenaline. Is that enough to win against whatever he’s fighting? Are they outnumbered? Is it another one of the things that hurt Sek’su in the first place?

My hand bumps against the lantern. Fumbling, I get a grip and swing it around to illuminate the fight. The hood is mostly closed allowing only a small beam of light to stretch out which does no good.

Cursing under my breath I work the shield. It doesn’t want to move. I don’t know if its bent from falling or always this hard to work. Wren leans in trying to help but our fingers end up in each other’s way. Finally, I shift my grip to hold the lantern tighter and let her work the hood. She gets the thing to open and the bright flame casts its light.

“Shit,” I curse when I see the scene.

Four Urr’ki are fighting Sek’su and Khiara. Fear hits first. Hard and fast like an ice comet slamming into my guts, causing cold chills and a nervous stomach. Wren grabs my arm, clenching tight.

Khiara roars. It’s a primal sound that reverberates in my chest. It’s so raw, so pure, that it also makes me hot, but that’s way below all the other emotions. He is fighting with a ferocity I have never seen in my life. His weapon and his other hand blur through the air, striking here, there, and then somewhere else, all before I can blink.

Three opponents are trying to pile onto him, using their numbers and bulk to take him down. The fourth one is fighting with Sek’su a little further down the hall, but Sek’su is holding his own despite his grave wounds.

Khiara ducks, weaves, and dodges. They land blows but nothing that slows him down. I yelp when a blade slices his bicep. Blood sprays across the tunnel painting the wall but instead of slowing him, it makes him move faster.

He is an elemental of rage and the three facing him seem to realize there is no stopping the raw force they’ve unleashed. He grunts, growls, and hits. Blood spills. My stomach clenches, then one of the Urr’ki drops, and my tension eases knowing it isn’t his.

The remaining two fighting him step back. He doesn’t give them the space. He roars again and rushes ahead. His fist connects with the face of the one on the left and his sword clangs off the chest armor of the right one.

I hate feeling helpless, but I do. I can’t fight these guys, they’re way too big. Anything I could do would only be a distraction. A stupid one that is just as likely to get Khiara killed as it is to help. More likely.

This is not my arena. And that’s okay.

I look at Wren, knowing her more than well enough to see she’s wanting to help too but also knowing there is nothing she can do. I grasp her hand and squeeze. We can’t help them, but we can support each other.

The Urr’ki that Khiara punched looks like his nose is broken. Blood pours down his face, coating his front. He tries to back up further but comes to a sudden halt. I don’t register at first why but when I do my stomach flips, and I almost lose the little bit of content it has.

Sek’su stabbed him through the back of his skull with the point of his lochaber and in what looks like the same motion to my untrained eye slices the blade part across the throat of the one he is fighting.

Leaving one opponent. This last Urr’ki realizes he’s in trouble. He backs up and turns to run but Khiara pounces. He takes him to the ground and in moments it’s over. Khiara rises like a battle god. Covered in blood, his own and theirs.

His nose flaring, a sneer on his face, his chest heaving with exertion and exhilaration he raises his sword and growls. It’s a momentary celebration of victory. A grim smile forms right before he turns to Sek’su.

“Good?” he asks.

Sek’su is swaying. He reaches out and presses one hand to the wall to steady himself. He’s hunched and clearly not well but there is almost nothing we can do for him except try to get him back to the compound.

“Fine,” Sek’su huffs.

Wren goes to him, and he pushes off the wall, straightening. I go to Khiara. His arm is bleeding. A lot. But we have nothing to bind it with.

“Your arm,” I murmur.

“It is fine,” he says.

His eyes bore into mine with intensity. A shudder emerges from my core and ripples across my body. I don’t know what is wrong with me, but I am really turned on. He smells of sweat and blood which he is covered in splashes of. Yet all I want to do is take him. Claim him as mine with every part of my body.

He is mine.

I’ve never considered myself to be a dominant kind of woman. I do know what I like and will ask for it in bed but that’s about it. Nothing like this. Nothing like what I want to do right now.

And I feel it from him. Pulsating need. The way his breath speeds up, the quiver in his lips, the twitching of his fingers. He wants me. Bad. I let a smile slowly form, placing my fingertips on his face and trailing them to his lips which I trace with a delicate touch. My pussy spasms when he groans.

“We… go,” he says, his voice even rougher than usual, more husky, and reluctant.

I don’t say anything until I finish the trail I’m making with my fingers across his cheek and then down his neck. Only then do I nod my assent knowing we need to go but needing to make this quiet, subtle claim.

Mine.

He shudders as I remove my hand. We stare into one another’s eyes for a moment longer. He goes to help Sek’su and then resumes the lead.