Chapter 38 On Our Own #2
“Oh, great. I feel so much better, thank you…” I suck down a deep breath and regret it as the hot, sandy air burns my throat. Holding back a cough, I ask, “Do you still want to know about the bond?” With shaky hands, I reach down and start to unwrap the gauze from my knee.
“Is someone trying to strike a deal?” Marius asks slyly.
“Sure,” I answer, parroting his earlier response as I wrap the gauze over my mouth and nose.
“Then yes, tell me everything, and we can go from there.”
Everything. “Alright,” I say slowly, as my brain works overtime trying to decide what I should and shouldn’t reveal. “For starters, he can feel my heartbeat in his chest.”
“Obviously.”
“And my emo—” Wait. Did Vexar actually hear me when I screamed at him through our connection earlier? I feel like he did.
“And?” Marius prompts.
Shit. Focus. “Uh, he can feel my pleasure. When he makes me come …” I continue describing, in great detail, the most uncomfortable things I can think of while mentally screaming Vexar’s name into the space between us.
A few seconds later, Vexar’s eyes flick to mine.
Holy shit. I think it worked. “As far as connections go, it’s pretty powerful.
I’ve never come so hard …” I keep rambling out loud, while I shout internally at Vexar, saying, “Marius is not a friend! We have to go. No ship.”
“What about your shade? Has that made an appearance?” Marius asks.
“My shade?” I parrot. I’m still not certain if Vexar can hear me, so I repeat myself a few more times, praying for another sign of acknowledgement.
Marius hums and then asks, “Have his eyes gone black?”
“Black? No. Should they?” I’m not sure why I’m keeping this piece of information from Marius, but I’m running on gut instinct here, and it feels like he really cares about this detail.
I keep talking to Vexar through our connection, adding, “Marius is watching. He’s going to kill us. We need to go.”
Vexar finally looks at me, his eyes narrowed with confusion. He definitely heard me.
“He’s not sending the ship. We’re on our own,” I tell Vexar.
Marius makes a non-committal sound. “So he has not exhibited any … violent tendencies? Beyond the incident in the arena?”
“No. He’s been a perfect gentleman. You on the other ha—”
A loud crack splits the air. Gunshot. My body reacts automatically, and I drop to the ground. If Marius is the one calling the shots, it’s clear he’s done talking.
Vexar lunges towards the guards, sweeping one of them off the edge of the box with his axe.
I tuck the holoCom between my boobs as another crack pierces the air.
With as much speed as I can muster, I crawl along the wall, scramble to my knees, and wrap my fingers around the metal bar.
With a heaving tug, the bar pops free, and the microphone drops.
Wielding my improvised weapon, I turn towards the melee.
Vexar’s moving on the second guard, but the third has turned towards me. I tighten my grip, wincing as the cuffs dig into my flexed forearms.
The guard steps forward, weapon raised, but he doesn’t shoot.
Idiot.
I take a short step before lunging and swinging.
The bar impacts the guard at his knees. I take another step, bringing myself nearly chest-to-chest with the guy, and slam my elbow into the barrel of his gun, pushing it away.
It goes off. Heat sears the back of my arm.
I swing again, aiming higher. There’s a nasty crack as the bar hits his head and he crumples.
I say a silent “Thank you” to Gunny Biggs for all the hours he spent kicking my ass. Who woulda thought I’d need to whack someone with a stick one day?
Something grabs me from behind, and I spin, already swinging, but a massive hand stops the bar.
“Holy fuck,” I pant as I recognize the hand and let go.
Vexar drops the bar, and it clatters to the stone as I glance around us. Two of the guards lay in bloody pools, but the third is missing. Where did the third— Oh, right. He was launched over the edge and is probably somewhere in the stands below.
“What do you mean, ‘there is no ship’?” Vexar asks, grabbing my chin and staring down at me.
“Marius isn’t who you think he is, and he isn’t calling your ship.”
Vexar’s brows drop, and he gives me a hard, uncertain look.
“There’s no time. Please, just trust me. We need to go.” My eyes dart between Vexar and the shadowy passageway that could be hiding more guards. “If we go now, we can still use the crowd as cover.”
The muscles in his jaw tick. Then he sweeps me off my feet, sets my ass in the crook of his left arm, and takes off towards the edge of the box.
He jumps from the box onto the nearby staircase and somehow manages to keep me from falling.
I toss my cuffed hands around his neck, and I hang on for dear life as he bounds down the stairs.
This is not a normal way to be carried, and it’s terrifying.
Sure, he’s holding onto my thighs, but I’m literally just sitting on his forearm.
We hit the first level of stadium-style seating, and through the sandy haze, a crowd appears.
I expect Vexar to slow, but he doesn’t. He barrels onward, propelling us into the densest part of the throng as people dive out of the way.
Shouts of terror spill from the trembling faces around us, and I watch in horror as the crowd surges forward like a wave, condensing and colliding in a dangerous, writhing mass.
“Vexar, someone’s going to get killed,” I shout over the noise.
They’re terrified of him, and who can blame them? They just saw him brutally kill a monster, and now he’s charging through them, carrying an axe, covered in blood, and looking absolutely deranged.
“Vexar!” I shout, as someone in front of us is swallowed up by the horde.
“Hold this.” He shoves his axe into my hands. It’s awkward and impossibly heavy. My arms shake as I do everything in my power not to drop it. A second later, Vexar pulls someone up from the ground. It’s the person who fell.
A furry face and yellow eyes lock on Vexar, and instead of terror, I see gratitude. They exchange a few words, and when the badger-like alien is walking on their own, I hand the axe back to Vexar and shout, “Put this away.” He doesn’t need it right now, and it’s just freaking people out.
He listens to me, but his expression stays static. He looks like a statue, and it’s starting to worry me. On top of that, his eyes are still black, and our connection’s empty. I press my forehead into his cheek and whisper, “It’s ok. We’re ok.”
As the visibility gets worse, the crowd seems to calm, and so do I. I might be dressed like a fishing lure, but in this storm, we’re just as invisible as everyone else.
“Do you still have the holoCom?” he asks.
I pull the device from my top and hold it out, staring wide-eyed at the illuminated screen. I guess Marius didn’t end the call.
Vexar takes the device like it weighs more than I do, and slowly raises it to his ear. “Marius,” he says coldly. There’s a long pause, and his expression hardens. “Is it true?” he asks. A moment later, the holoCom turns to dust in his hand.