Daegon: Alien Warlord's Conquest (Scifi Alien-Human Military Romance) Page 6

  It was madness, but he wouldn't expect nothing less from a man who could work with the raiders.

  "Do you remember what he looked like?" he asked Zoey as they were nearing the control bridge he'd noticed on his way in.

  "He looked like a warrior," Zoey said sadly. "Not much else. He was tall like you, but not as powerful. And I gave him a nasty burn, right on his throat."

  She was incredible to him. Alone, she'd managed to find weapons and escape her enemies. And she'd had the skill to wound the traitor, giving him a mark Daegon would be able to recognize. The little Terran's resourcefulness was truly amazing.

  And then she added, very quietly, "He wanted to kill me. Not just kidnap me. Execute me. To show that you couldn't keep me safe. Wanting to provoke the Union into another war with the Corgans. I don't think it would have worked."

  Daegon stopped again, turning her to face him. Her green eyes were shining, not with tears but with conviction. He wondered if he should tell her what a task it was, to make a warlord feel powerless under that gaze.

  He felt like he could do anything in that moment, but nothing to hurt her – as if his life belonged to her, were tied to her with unseen bonds that couldn't be broken.

  "I will not let that happen," he swore to her, making sure she understood. "No one will hurt you again, not while I'm still drawing breath. The man who threatened you, I will cut out his hearts."

  Zoey said nothing but her eyes shone like stars. She was the most incredible creature Daegon had ever seen, beautiful and fierce. It drove him on as much as it turned him on.

  The control bridge was up ahead. Telling Zoey to stay behind him, but not too far, the warlord charged in. The enemies there wouldn't die as easily as the troop he'd killed aboard the Wraith. While the Yemalan had regular soldiers to spare, the officers were different.

  Daegon wouldn't pretend he knew everything about their complicated ranks, but he didn't need to know the details to kill them. The Yemalan chose their officers from the ranks of ordinary soldiers, training them for years away from the front lines. He didn't know what their secret was, but they emerged bigger, faster and meaner. Some Corgans thought that it wasn't far from what they did themselves, improving the officers in the same way the Corgans augmented their warriors.

  Another thing about the officers was that they knew their worth. The regular soldiers were expected to die on command, but the officers wanted to live. No Yemalan officer would throw himself on Daegon's swords simply to buy time for someone else. They were too valuable for that.

  And they were tough. Even their wiry bodies seemed to be hardened with something, since he couldn't simply slice through them like he had the soldiers.

  Four of them manned the control bridge. The regular Yemalan died quickly, swarming Daegon to try and keep him away, but he cut them down mercilessly. Then it was time for the officers.

  “Get him!” one of the officers called.

  Four tall Yemalan charged him in perfect synchronization. He wouldn't be able to trick them so easily, especially if Daegon had to make sure none of them escaped. If they slipped out and saw Zoey, she'd be dead before he ever lay eyes on her again.

  The idea almost blinded him with rage.

  They wanted to execute her.

  She didn't need to say it, the intent was clear. The traitor wanted to show Daegon and his clan, along with the chieftain as weaklings unable to protect the holy world, unable to guard the Union's envoy.

  Roaring, he met the Yemalan officers. They had evidently fought his kind before. The thought occurred to Daegon that the traitor might have taught their enemies how to counter the Corgan warriors. He gritted his teeth, unable to wait until he had the traitor's throat in his hands.

  The officers took turns attacking him. When two of them stabbed at him with the short tridents, two others tried to grab a hold of him with the gloves. The crystals in their hands spat furiously, set for the highest level. One hit from that and he'd be burnt to a crisp.

  The tridents they carried were longer, heavier and sturdier. They caught him in their midst quickly, but that's what Daegon had wanted. Now he was able to watch for a mistake.

  For long moments, the only sounds to be heard were the clashes of blades and not a single death groan – it showed how good they were. The twin blades twirled in his hands as Daegon kept them away at the price of letting them chip his armor.

  The turn came when one of the officers took a glimpse at the door, realizing they were going to tire before Daegon did. The momentary lapse of attention cost him his life. The warlord couldn't believe the stupidity of the man. No one turned their eyes away in a duel with him.

  One of his long, thin blades flew through the air like a snake, right through the weak spot under the officer's chest plate. The Yemalan made a horrible croaking sound as he tried to seal the wound. That broke the pattern they'd so diligently kept.

  The others couldn't regroup fast enough. Daegon twisted the trident out from the grip of one of them, sending the weapon flying. Armed with nothing but the glove, the officer turned to run – as was common for the Yemalan – but his back was one big target. Daegon threw one of his swords and killed the runner, turning to face the remaining two officers.

  They came at him but couldn't surround him anymore. Their survival instinct kicked in, overpowering the will to work together.

  Every man for himself didn't work nearly well enough. Daegon allowed them to come closer, then ducked suddenly under the tridents and swung a wide arch with the sword. One of the officers staggered back, his guts spilling out from between the remains of his armor.

  The last one bolted for the door.

  Zoey.

  The thought was so sharp and strong that Daegon threw the other sword, not thinking that he was leaving himself unarmed. The Yemalan dropped with a scream and Daegon found himself alone in the room. Alone alive, that was.

  "Zoey!" he called, hearing the slight shake in his voice.

  He'd left her outside. If the same thing happened again... But no, she stepped into the room hesitantly, looking at the carnage with wide eyes.

  Daegon retrieved his swords, sheathing them on his back. He looked around. His plan had been to tamper with the mothership, slow it down, but he didn't know the details of Yemalan shipbuilding. He could only give an educated guess as to which panel could be designated for which cause.

  "Do you still have your glove?" he asked. "Try it on these panels."

  She looked at him oddly but obeyed. As soon as she touched her hand to the system controls, they fizzled out of life. Daegon was pretty certain it wouldn't last long, but the Wraith didn't need much. All they had to do was catch up.

  Heading back to the fighter now, he took a quick look at Zoey. Her robes were ruined and she was in the middle of a soon-to-be war.

  "I can't take you back," he said. "We need to finish this first."

  He'd expected her to protest, but instead she smiled the most disarming smile he'd seen on her yet. She had never been more beautiful to him.

  "Of course," she said, her voice surprised. "These bastards have to pay. I'm going nowhere. I'm staying with you."

  The look in her green eyes when she said that sent an overpowering need through him. Daegon didn't reply, but he knew. Now that he'd found Zoey, he couldn't let her go.

  Chapter Eight

  Zoey

  Impressions were funny things.

  When she first set foot on the Wraith, it, along with its master, had seemed intimidating and dark. Now, emerging alive and victorious from Daegon's fighter, it was like coming home. The warlord walked by her side, instinctively staying close. Despite them making it back to his flagship safely, he seemed to be tense and alert, especially when it came to her.

  Or maybe it was simply her wishful thinking.

  Zoey said nothing, waiting while Daegon dealt out orders, the first of which was having a technician come and check out her glove.

  Carefully, the man first turned it off. While Da
egon consulted his officers, the technician who seemed to know the Yemalan weapons well, introduced the basics to Zoey.

  "This dial here lets you change the impact of the shock," the man explained. "And the knob here turns the glove off. You seem to have already figured that out."

  "Yeah," Zoey said, smiling. "By trial and error, keeping a distance. So tell me, what's the scale with this thing? Is the lowest setting still deadly or is it more like tickling?"

  Now the technician grinned, although Zoey noticed the way he forced himself to become serious in the next moment, glancing at Daegon with a worried expression.

  "I haven't tried them all out," the man admitted. "But yes, the lowest setting is going to cause something like a muscle spasm or a twitch. The highest will fry the victim in his skin."

  Zoey nodded, listening carefully, absolutely intent on becoming proficient with the glove.

  After all, it was the perfect weapon for her. It didn't require much physical strength – which she lacked anyway – but she could put her agility and speed to use. Of course it meant the attacker had to be very close, but it was better than nothing. Paired with a gun, it worked.

  Zoey paid attention to everything the technician said. She definitely didn't want to accidentally kill herself – it would have been an embarrassing way to go.

  As she worked on her own defense, Zoey listened to Daegon and his warriors speak as much as she could. The Yemalan mothership was still running, but it was limping now. There would never come a better chance to catch up. The fighters were already in range, but Daegon didn't want to send them in without the Wraith's support.

  As much as she understood from the quick and precise instructions Daegon fired at his subordinates, her safety was to be top priority for everyone staying aboard.

  Zoey frowned.

  The warlord used military terms, of course, but basically Daegon told them to wrap her in a protective blanket of swords and cut everyone who tried to approach to pieces.

  Nice. Very romantic. But not gonna happen.

  Having heard the words "don't let her out for any reason", Zoey finally interfered.

  "I will not be cooped up like that," she said firmly. "I already spent some time as a prisoner. I don't want you to treat me the same."

  The hurt look on Daegon's face when the warlord turned to her was almost enough to make her take back her words.

  "I would never treat you like that," he said, his voice gentler than ever before.

  "I know," Zoey explained quickly, "that’s not what I meant. I just don't want you to stick me somewhere out of the way where I don't know what's happening."

  Daegon didn't reply. Instead, he left a fierce-looking warrior called Yarl in charge of the rest of the preparations and took her away from the others. They walked through the corridors – blessedly lit now – and finally reached a huge set of double doors that required Daegon’s handprint to open.

  Stepping inside, Zoey realized she'd been brought to his private rooms. She didn't know how she could be so certain, but something about the chambers spoke of him.

  They were sparse but impressive. The walls were lined with trophies and weapons – a testament to his prowess and position. There were other items too, mementos and personal belongings, neatly arranged on shelves and displays. She let her eyes wonder, feeling like she was glimpsing a side of him that Daegon didn't share with just anyone.

  However, an unpleasant thought followed – who did Daegon invite to his rooms?

  Zoey found herself ridiculously jealous of a woman or maybe even women she didn't know. Perhaps they didn't even exist, although she found that hard to believe. Daegon was a clan lord, surely he could have any woman he liked.

  And probably has.

  The thought had a bitter taste to it.

  All those images were gone in an instant when Zoey felt herself being turned around and found the warlord's arms around her. It was for the best that the glove was turned off – she had pressed her hands against his armor without realizing.

  Zoey stared up at the amazing eyes she'd come to long for and sensed her body leaning into the embrace as if it was the most natural thing.

  "I won't let anything happen to you," Daegon said and his words carried such conviction that Zoey almost forgot all her concerns about the coming war.

  It was more than a promise, it was a threat to the whole world to leave her alone. Zoey could imagine Daegon's enemies freeze on the spot that very second, contemplating if going after her life was worth dying for.

  She didn't know how to respond. It was safe to say that Zoey had had the most extraordinary day of her life. Everything she had known in the morning had been turned upside down.

  She was beginning to think she should have asked Mara James different questions, starting with whether the chieftain had flipped her world around in the same way.

  Zoey had never fallen for a guy that hard that fast. Back on the mothership, chased by the man she knew would show her no mercy, her heart had called to Daegon. Against all odds, reason, and even luck, he'd found her.

  She was beginning to think it was something else altogether. The way he looked at her now, his entire attention focused on her alone, made the word "fate" come to her mind.

  "And what about me?" Zoey heard herself ask. "I’m supposed to stay here, locked up? Blind, deaf and unaware of whether you live or die."

  That brought a smile to the warlord's lips.

  "You may find that hard to believe," he said, his voice heavy with amusement. "But I'm told I'm not completely useless in battle. You don't have to worry about me."

  Zoey glared, amazed at how easily they'd gone from a formal relationship to something much deeper.

  "You are not immortal," she said seriously. "A stray shot, a lucky hit and you'd be dead like anyone else."

  "That is true," Daegon agreed, but the smile stayed. "That is the life a warrior leads."

  "So you can't blame me for worrying."

  The warlord cocked his head to the side just a bit, looking at her with curiosity.

  "I'm not," he said, "I find it quite charming, in fact. Even though you're questioning my capability as a warrior. This is why I brought you here. If my men heard you, they would consider it an insult to my honor."

  Zoey sighed deeply, making Daegon laugh.

  "I don't think I'll ever understand warriors," she said, "or Corgans, for that matter."

  "You do, better than you think," Daegon replied, pulling her closer. "But none of this changes anything. I will lead the attack, as is my place. And you can't be there. After what you told me, you're bound to be a target."

  All that made sense, but it also made Zoey's insides turn. The thought of being left behind to wait was unbearable. She'd experienced moments like that before.

  Her parents had died in a shuttle accident back on Terra. Zoey remembered sitting in the hospital, unable to do anything but watch the seconds tick by on the clock.

  The walls had closed in on her; the minutes had stretched like ages. Every moment that the door didn't open brought the realization closer – her parents were gone and nothing she'd done had helped one bit.

  She didn't know how to express all that to Daegon, especially since he was right. A healer would have helped her parents and a great warrior could have aided Daegon, but she was neither.

  She wanted to say that there had to be something she could do, but the warlord seemed to read the request from her eyes. The amazing, strong arms around her tightened once more.

  "I think I understand the chieftain a bit better now," Daegon said, and Zoey could see that it wasn't easy for him to accept that. "He admitted that his bride had turned his world around in an instant. I thought he was using it as an excuse, but now I know better. I can't imagine a world where you're gone or hurt. Don't make me lose you."

  Zoey thought he wanted to say more, but her heart was beating loud enough for her to hear it. She'd assumed that the strange sensation she felt, pulling her to the warlord again
st all sense and reason, had been one-sided. Sure, the man thought she was a fine piece of ass, but every time he spoke it became clearer to her that they were in it together, that his feelings were deeper than he was letting on.

  She didn't pull away when he leaned in to kiss her. Nothing in the world made sense that day, but Zoey felt that her head was clearer than it had been in ages.

  His lips touched hers softly at first, then more demandingly. Zoey felt his hands slip into her hair, gripping her head gently while his mouth was hot and passionate against hers. Their tongues danced as the warlord tasted every inch of her, making her feel like she was floating in a current.

  She didn't want it to end, ever, throwing herself freely into the stream. Daegon felt like the only solid thing in the world and she clung to him like a lifeline, holding on for dear life. She was running out of oxygen but breathing didn't seem to matter, not when she was being kissed like that.

  It hurt to want him so much, to press herself against him so tightly that they were almost one.

  Then the dream ended. With another soft kiss to her lips, Daegon pulled back and Zoey was – literally – swept up into another, even better fantasy.

  The warlord lifted her up and carried her to the bed. Zoey didn't think about protesting once, although she knew that "compromised" was the least the Union was going to call her if they found out.

  That was not one of the tactics of negotiation she'd had in mind, but Zoey didn't feel like they were conducting business right at that moment.

  It was their time, personal and secret. She let Daegon lower her to his bed and laughed when he climbed on top of her.

  "That armor of yours will get in the way," she pointed out, but the warlord didn't listen.

  Instead, he kissed her again, driving all other considerations from her mind. There was nothing to be done, no way to resist him, and Zoey couldn't find one inch of herself that would have wanted to. She'd spent years working for others, putting the interests of the Union before her own.