Chapter 20 #2
Nansar materialized like a force of nature made flesh, his massive body blocking out the light as he threw himself between us.
The blaster's discharge cracked through the air—a sound that would echo in my nightmares forever.
His body convulsed, a violent jerk that seemed to steal the breath from my lungs along with his.
The acrid stench of seared flesh hit me a heartbeat later.
"No!" The word tore from my throat, raw and primal.
I lunged forward as his knees buckled, catching him before he could crash to the ground.
His weight was staggering—pure alien muscle and bone—but adrenaline turned me into something stronger than I'd ever been.
We went down together in a controlled collapse, and I cradled his massive frame against me as best I could.
Blood bloomed across his chest like a dark, terrible flower. Not the bright red of human blood, but something deeper—burgundy edging toward black, thick and viscous. It spread with horrifying speed, soaking through the fabric of his clothing, warm and slick against my hands.
Somewhere in my peripheral vision, Declan's form disappeared into the treeline. Let him run. Let him fucking run to the ends of the universe. None of it mattered. Nothing mattered except the male in my arms.
"Nansar, no, no, no—" My hands found the wound, pressing down hard. The blood welled up between my fingers, hot and relentless. "Stay with me. You hear me? Stay with me!"
His hand rose—trembling, uncertain—and settled over mine. Those eyes, usually so sharp and focused they could cut through steel, had gone hazy. Unfocused. The brilliant blue-green dulled to something that made my stomach drop.
"Chloe..." My name on his lips sounded like goodbye.
"Don't talk. Don't you dare waste your strength talking." My voice cracked, splintered into something I barely recognized. "We'll get you help. We'll—"
"Should have... told you..." Each word cost him. I could see it in the way his jaw clenched, the way his chest hitched with the effort. "The itching... in my horns..."
"What? Nansar, please—" I pressed harder against the wound, but it was like trying to hold back the tide with my bare hands.
The blood kept coming. And coming. It pooled beneath him, spreading across the dirt in an ever-widening circle, soaking into my pants where I knelt, painting my arms crimson up to the elbows. The metallic tang of it filled my nose, my mouth, until I could taste nothing else.
Under my palm, against his chest, I felt it—the rhythm that had lulled me to sleep more times than I could count. That steady, powerful drumbeat that had become as familiar to me as my own.
Thump... thump... thump...
But now each beat came weaker than the last. Slower. Like a clock winding down.
"No, no, no—stay with me!" Hysteria clawed at my throat, threatening to drag me under. "Nansar, you don't get to do this. You don't get to save me just to leave me. You don't—"
Thump... thump...
The silence between beats stretched. Lengthened. My own heart hammered against my ribs in frantic counterpoint, as if trying to beat loud enough for both of us.
"Please." The word dissolved into a sob. Tears blurred my vision, hot and stinging, before spilling down my cheeks to splash onto his chest. They mixed with the blood—his life and my grief becoming one. "Please don't leave me. Not now. Not like this. I can't—I can't do this without you."
Thump...
The pause yawned wide and terrible. I couldn't tell anymore if what I felt beneath my palm was real or just my own desperate pulse echoing back at me, my mind conjuring phantom rhythms because the alternative was unthinkable.
His eyes found mine. For one precious moment, they cleared—the fog lifting to reveal something so raw and honest it stole what little breath I had left. Regret. Longing. Something that reflected the love in my own gaze.
"My horns... the itching means..." His lips curved into the ghost of a smile. "You're my mate. Should have... told you..."
Then his eyes rolled back, whites showing, and his body went completely slack in my arms.
"Nansar!" I shook him, gentle at first, then harder. "Nansar, wake up! Don't you dare—don't you fucking dare—"
"Chloe!" Ahrick materialized beside us, dropping to his knees so hard I heard the impact. His hands moved over Nansar's body, checking the wound, pressing fingers to his throat. When he looked up, his expression made my blood run cold. "It's bad."
"He's not dead." I heard myself say it, but the words sounded hollow. Desperate. "He's not—"
"He's still alive." Ahrick's voice was gentle in a way that made everything worse. "But he won't be for long. Not without help." His eyes met mine, and I saw the truth there—stark and unforgiving. "The only thing that can save him now is a Garoot Healer."
The roar of engines cut through the air, and I glanced up to see a shuttle descending through the canopy.
Hope surged through me, painful and desperate.
The shuttle touched down in the clearing, landing gear crushing the undergrowth.
The hatch hissed open, and two figures emerged.
The first was humanoid but covered in bluish scales that shimmered in the sunlight.
The second male was massive—easily eight feet tall, with skin the color of jade and muscles that looked like they'd been carved from stone.
The green one stepped forward, his eyes scanning the scene. Bodies. Blood. Nansar dying in my arms.
"Chloe Blackwood?" His voice was deep, resonant. "I am Xabat, War Chief of the Historia. We're here to extract you."
"Do you have a healer?" The words burst from me. "A Garoot Healer?"
Xabat's eyes focused on me while the other male continued surveying the area. "Yes. On the ship. We need to get you—"
"Him." I looked down at Nansar, his blood soaking into my clothes, my hands, my soul. "You need to heal him. Now."
Xabat's gaze shifted to Nansar, and something hardened in his expression. "That's Nansar. Convicted criminal. Prisoner of the Alliance."
"I don't care what he is," I said, my voice rising with desperation and fury. "He saved my life. He's dying. You have to—"
"We're here for you, Miss Blackwood. Not him." Xabat's tone was firm, final. "Nansar is a prisoner. He can't leave this planet. Alliance law is clear."
"Then I'm not leaving either."
"Miss Blackwood—"
"He's my mate!" The words tore from my throat. "I won't leave him here to die."
Xabat's expression didn't change. "I understand this is difficult, but—"
I moved before I could think, scrambling away from Nansar, my hands slipping in his blood. There—a blaster, still clutched in a dead Romvesian's hand. I pried it free, my fingers shaking, and spun back toward the shuttle.
The weapon felt heavy as I raised it, pointing it directly at the Alliance ship.
"Chloe—" Ahrick's voice, warning.
"Nobody moves." My voice shook, but my aim didn't waver. "Nobody gets back on that ship. Not without him."
Xabat held up one massive hand. "Miss Blackwood, lower the weapon. You've been through trauma. You're not thinking clearly."
"I'm thinking perfectly clearly." Tears blurred my vision, but I blinked them away. "He protected me." My voice broke. "He chose me over his own life. And I will not leave him here to die alone on this fucking planet."
"The law—"
"Fuck the law!" The blaster trembled in my grip. "I swear to God, I'll shoot anyone who tries to take me without him. I'll blow a hole in your ship. I'll—"
The tears came then, hot and fast, streaming down my face. But I didn't lower the weapon.
"Please." The word came out broken, desperate. "Please. He's—please."
Xabat stared at me for a long moment, and I saw something shift in his expression. Resignation, maybe. Or perhaps grudging respect.
He let out a sound that might have been a sigh. "You're going to cause me a lot of trouble, aren't you, Miss Blackwood?"
He turned to his scaled companion. "Bring a stretcher. We're taking the prisoner."
"Sir, the regulations—"
"I'll handle the regulations." Xabat's voice dropped to a growl that brooked no argument. "Move. Now. Before he bleeds out and she decides to redecorate my shuttle with our internal organs."
The scaled alien vanished back into the shuttle without another word.
I lowered the blaster with shaking hands, my entire body trembling like I'd been caught in an earthquake. "Thank you."
"Save your gratitude." Xabat's gaze pinned me in place. "You just complicated both our lives in ways you can't begin to imagine."
I didn't give a damn. The blaster clattered to the ground as I bolted back to Nansar, my knees hitting the dirt hard enough to bruise. His chest still moved—barely, so barely I had to watch for three agonizing seconds to be sure.
"Hold on," I whispered, my palm finding his cheek. His skin felt too cold. "Just hold on a little longer. Please."
The scaled alien materialized moments later with a sleek metallic stretcher floating in his wake. Ahrick was already in motion, his movements efficient despite the network of cuts crisscrossing his pelt. He slid his arms beneath Nansar with surprising tenderness, lifting him.
"Careful," I breathed, my hands fluttering uselessly as Ahrick settled Nansar onto the stretcher.
I bent over him, desperate to find the reassuring rise and fall of his chest, but everything had become a blur of blood and stillness. The crimson had soaked through every layer, and his face looked like carved marble—pale and lifeless.
"Is he—" The words shattered in my throat. "I can't tell if he's breathing—"
Ahrick's hand landed on my shoulder, solid and grounding. "He'll make it, Chloe. Get him to a Garoot Healer within the hour, and he'll be fine."
I looked up at him, this male who'd thrown himself into danger for both of us. "Come with us. Please. You saved him. You saved me. Come with us."
Something soft and sad flickered across Ahrick's features. He shook his head with slow finality. "No."
"Ahrick—"
"I don't deserve freedom, Chloe." His voice carried quiet conviction. "I've done too much. Hurt too many. But maybe I can earn back some scrap of redemption." His jaw set like stone. "I'm going to hunt Declan Hewes down. And I'm going to end him for you."
I didn't think—I just moved, throwing my arms around him.
He went rigid, and I half-expected him to pull away. But then his arms rose, wrapping around me with careful pressure.
And the strangest thing happened. Nothing. No crawling revulsion under my skin, no desperate urge to flee. Just... warmth.
When had that changed?
The answer whispered through my mind even as I wondered. Nansar. It had always been Nansar. The way his touch had been reverent instead of demanding. The way he'd made me feel like my body was mine again, a sanctuary instead of a prison.
I pulled back enough to meet Ahrick's eyes. "Will you take care of Starfield for me?"
His brow furrowed. "The kuda? That irritating beast is nothing but trouble. Always underfoot, always whining for attention—"
Despite his grumbling, I could see the truth in his expression—he was as fond of the kuda as I was. I simply raised an eyebrow.
Something vulnerable flashed across Ahrick's face before he looked away. "Fine," he muttered. "The damn thing has grown on me. Like a particularly persistent fungus."
A real smile tugged at my lips for the first time in what felt like years. "Thank you."
My fingers found the small green stone in my pocket, its surface smooth and warm against my palm.
"Here." I pressed it into Ahrick's hand, folding his fingers around it. "This is a Welati stone. If you ever need help or sanctuary, find a Welati and show them this stone. They're friends."
Ahrick stared at the stone like I'd handed him something sacred, his throat working. When he looked up, his eyes gleamed with emotion he couldn't quite hide.
"Thank you," he whispered.
"Thank you," I echoed. "For everything."
He nodded once, sharp and final, then stepped back with the stone clutched tight in his fist. "Go. Get him to that healer."
I spun and followed the stretcher as it glided toward the shuttle, stumbling over the broken ground. Nansar's blood still coated my hands—dark and tacky, settling into every line and crease of my palms like a stain that would never wash clean.
"This is going to be a fucking mess," Xabat grumbled, following me inside.
Despite everything, I felt my lips curve into something almost like a smile. "Yeah. Well. He's worth it."