Page 4 of Alien Warlord's Fury
NIRAKO
Istood by the edge of the settlement, the cool night air a stark contrast to the chaos raging inside me. Below, the lights of the Eastern Settlement flickered—orderly, controlled. The council meeting replayed in my mind: Claire's outburst, her pain, her fury when she'd stormed out.
I'd remained seated, bound by Aerie discipline and duty, while something primal had strained to follow. The memory of her pain lingered. The younglings.
Hammond's experiments. Her visions.
I understood her urgency. What warrior wouldn't? But the hunt-path required patience, planning, reading the signs.
Lives hung in the balance—not just the captives', but those of any retrieval band. My hunters. My responsibility.
A sharp sensation lanced through my chest, startling me from my thoughts. My lifelines flared, golden light spilling across my skin in an uncontrolled surge. I pressed my palm against the stone wall, steadying myself as the sensation intensified.
Not physical pain—something deeper, more fundamental.
Claire.
The connection that had been forming between us since our first meeting pulsed with renewed strength. I could feel her distress like a storm gathering on the horizon, her determination hardening into something dangerous. Something reckless.
"Prey-fool woman," I muttered, the words carrying no real heat.
The bond had grown despite my attempts to maintain distance. Professional. Strategic. The council had assigned me to monitor her, not to?—
Another surge rippled through my lifelines, stronger this time. My fingers dug into the stone as understanding crashed through me with the force of an avalanche.
Mate.
The word resonated through my body, ancient and undeniable. The golden patterns across my chest and arms brightened in response, seeking their silver counterpart. Her.
The revelation thundered through me, rearranging every priority I thought I held. Her survival stopped being strategy; it became the axis on which my universe now turned.
I pushed away from the wall, suddenly restless. The mate-pull was not unknown among my people—rare, yes, but documented. Sacred.
I had never expected to experience it myself. Had believed myself immune, focused solely on my duty to protect the settlement.
Yet here it was, demanding acknowledgment. And with the worst possible timing.
My senses sharpened, focusing outward. Beyond the settlement's perimeter, I detected a shift in the energy patterns of the night. Chaotic.
Frantic. Familiar.
Claire.
I knew with sudden, bone-deep certainty what she intended. The council had refused immediate action—so she would act alone. Tonight.
"No," I growled, the sound rumbling from deep in my chest. His tail rustled restlessly across the stone beneath his feet.
She would get herself killed. Or worse, captured by Hammond, subjected to the same experiments as the younglings she sought to rescue. The thought sent my lifelines into painful, bright spirals across my skin.
I moved without conscious decision, descending from my overlook with silent efficiency.
Each silent stride felt preordained, as if some ancient instinct were steering me toward her. The night air bit at my lungs, but devotion blazed hotter than any cold.
The settlement guards nodded as I passed—they would not question my movements. As hunt-master, my comings and goings were my own to account for.
Claire had no such freedom. She would need to slip past the perimeter unnoticed. Difficult, but not impossible for someone determined enough.
And few burned with determination like Claire.
