Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Cair launched himself at me and Xelthar.
My heart slammed against my ribcage to see Cair’s muscular form barrel down on us.
I closed my eyes, steeling myself for the collision.
A smooth hand clamped around my upper arm—the grip firm but not bruising—and yanked me from Xelthar’s loosening hold.
I careened sideways before toppling over and landing, bare ass on the ground. Thank god for those silky flowers.
The world narrowed to sensation: the sting in my throat, the ache in my upper arm, the cold sweat slicking my spine.
A thin ringing filled my ears, as if my body was still readying for the next shove.
I hugged my arms around myself and realized I was trembling.
Not from cold, but from the delayed shock of being yanked and held and choked.
The fear arrived late and sharp, adrenaline finally recognized.
My eyes popped open in time to see Cair wrap Xelthar in a bear hug.
They grappled like gladiators. Muscles straining.
Limbs flailing. A chaotic dance of power.
Cair’s biceps bulged under his taut, shiny skin, veins pulsing as he tightened his hold.
Xelthar’s hands scrabbled at Cair’s arms, leaving jagged scratches in the luminous skin.
The air filled with the sounds of their combat—a cacophony of guttural grunts, the heavy stomp of boots on the ground, and the sharp slap of flesh colliding with flesh.
Each impact sent a faint vibration through the earth, tingling against my palms where I pressed them into the soft ground.
I tried to push myself up on wobbly arms. Humiliation flared hot in my face as I sank back into the flowers, naked and useless, reduced to watching.
And watching wouldn’t stop Cair from losing.
My gaze flicked over the ground for anything—rock, branch, anything—and found nothing that would matter if Cair went down.
The realization hit hard that I couldn’t help.
I wasn’t combat-capable; I was barely upright-capable.
All I could do was watch and pray Cair stayed stronger than the monster he was holding.
The ambient hum of Novaelus itself—the distant chirps of unseen creatures, the low drone of wind weaving through the towering plants—faded, as if the planet held its breath.
All I heard was the raw intensity of their struggle.
The ragged breaths and the occasional crack of a twig-like plant snapping underfoot.
Cair spun Xelthar in his arms, the Brakian’s frame twisting like a trapped animal.
Cair’s arm snaked under Xelthar’s chin, his fingers digging into the Brakian’s thick neck.
Cair’s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching as he applied pressure, likely targeting whatever passed for a carotid artery in Xelthar’s physiology.
Xelthar’s dark eyes bulged, the whites stark against his ashen skin, visible beneath his beard.
His mouth gaped in a silent gasp for air.
A twisted thrill curled in my chest, my lips parting as I whispered, “Fuck you, fuckwad. You deserve to be choked out.” My voice trembled, a mix of exhilaration and unease, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.
I should’ve felt only horror. Instead I felt satisfaction, sharp as a spark, and anger followed right behind it.
Anger at him, but also at me for enjoying even a second of it.
This wasn’t justice in a story. This was my survival, and it had teeth.
Clenching my hands, my nails bit into my palms, the sharp sting grounding me as I watched Xelthar’s desperate struggle.
His long fingers clawed at Cair’s arm. Given his impaired strength, the action proved ineffective against the tracksuit between Xelthar’s nails and Cair’s skin.
Xelthar’s thrashing slowed, his limbs hanging heavy.
His eyelids fluttered, the dark lashes stark against his paling face.
Finally, those fathomless eyes rolled back and closed, his body going limp in Cair’s iron grip.
Was I about to watch someone die? Fantastic. My stomach twisted at the thought. As I opened my mouth to object, Cair released Xelthar, who dropped like a stone to the ground. Unconscious. The rise and fall of his barrel chest made clear he remained alive.
Novaelus exhaled the moment Xelthar hit the ground. Sound flooded back. The soft rustle of leaves in the wind. Insects chirping from being disturbed. The planet pretending it hadn’t watched. I realized my lungs were burning—I’d been holding my breath without noticing.
“Did you believe I would kill him?” Cair asked.
“In the heat of the moment…” I trailed off, shrugging, my shoulders stiff with lingering tension.
“Xelthar seemed to have no problem killing one of us or simply leaving us here to die.” My skin felt raw, exposed to the cool air, and I shivered involuntarily.
Cair’s gaze flicked over my nakedness, his yellow eyes—now that deep, molten amber—lingering for a moment before he moved.
He stepped over Xelthar’s prone form, his boots sinking slightly into the soft earth, and gathered my clothing from where it lay strewn across the ground.
Cair closed the gap between us in two steps and held out my prison garb.
“As much as I hate to cover you, I do not like to see you uncomfortable.”
I quirked an eyebrow at the alien chivalry.
“Thank you,” I mumbled, accepting my clothing, making quick work of sliding first the shirt and then the pants over my delicate skin.
I sighed in relief now that I had a barrier between myself and the elements—both the alien planet and the alien at our feet, who could awake at any time.
While I’d dressed, Cair looked away, posture rigid, like he was guarding me from his own attention as much as from Xelthar. This increased my sense of safety, but also left me unmoored, unsure what kind of protection this was.
As if reading my thoughts, Cair produced one of those annoyingly clever all-purpose metal discs from his belt.
He knelt beside Xelthar, the ground crunching softly under his weight.
The alien metal glinted with that eerie, luminescent glow as it flowed over Xelthar’s wrists like liquid before solidifying with a soft click. Secure.
“Now what?” I asked, my voice steadier, though my hands still trembled slightly.
“Who do you think will arrive first, the Syndicate ship or Xelthar’s people?
If the former, will they take me back to Earth?
If the latter, do we convince Xelthar’s people to take us with them?
Or do we overpower them and take their ship? Or, maybe—”
“The Syndicate will arrive first,” Cair interrupted my frenzied stream-of-consciousness questions.
The alienness of it all, and what almost happened with Xelthar, slammed into me.
I nodded like a bobblehead, reassured by Cair’s certainty.
Adrenaline still coursed through my body, heightening all my senses.
The planet’s now-familiar sounds flooded me and my nostrils flared as I drank in the floral scent of Novaelus tinged with a faint, acrid note of sweat and fear.
I leaned against the purple trunk of a towering plant, my skin prickling where bare skin touched alien bark. I wobbled on my feet.
“I believe you are going into shock.”
“I’m fine.” I tried to make it sound like a fact. But my legs buckled and my throat tightened, and the edges of the world went fuzzy. I kept swallowing, like I could force the moment down and keep it there if I didn’t give it air.
Cair scooped me up and held me against the hard planes of his broad chest. “You can rest now. The danger has passed.” One hand reached up, his fingers brushing a lock of my short hair behind my ear, the touch gentle but electric against my scalp.
“When the Syndicate ship arrives, they will fix my ship and take Xelthar to Vadhea in theirs.”
My mind raced—What about me?—but exhaustion overwhelmed me, my eyelids growing heavy. The safety of Cair’s arms, the steady rhythm of his breathing, lulled me into a haze. The alien world faded, and I let myself sink into the darkness, trusting, for now, that I was safe.