Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

CARLA

For fuck’s sake, this was humiliating.

Ari slung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and now those shoulders dug into her stomach. His wings were right there in her face, making everything worse.

“Put me down!”

“No, you are too slow.”

“I jog. Let me run.” She hadn’t gone for a run since the abduction, but she used to do an evening jog back on Earth. Sometimes. Mostly when her pants fit too snug. Gym memberships were pricey, and sitting all day in front of a computer did things to her ass that she didn’t appreciate.

“There is no time.”

Not that again.

“Listen, buster?—”

She never got a chance to finish. Ari pushed through a pair of swing doors into a service corridor. As he lowered her to her feet, the fabric of her dress climbed up, exposing more thigh than she was comfortable with.

“What is that discoloration?”

“Nothing. Just bruises.” She tugged the fabric back down, only slightly mortified.

“I allowed you to be injured.” Ari crouched at her feet, pulling the dress back up.

This guy certainly had a high opinion of himself.

Carla knocked his hand away. “They’re a couple of days old from my encounter with Tavat’s henchman. Are we running away or not?”

“You’ve been injured this entire time?” Ari sounded horrified. “You should have told me so you could receive proper treatment.”

The clock was ticking. If they didn’t have time for him to explain what the hell was going on, they certainly didn’t have time for Ari to have a meltdown over her human fragility.

“It’s not a big deal. Let’s go that way,” Carla said, pointing to the dimly lit end of the corridor.

“No. Vermin hide in the darkness.” On his feet again, he pushed through a set of doors into a busy kitchen.

“Excuse me, your lordship. I mistook you for someone with a warrant for their arrest,” she said, following him through the general pandemonium of the kitchen. No one seemed to notice them. Yet. “What could you have possibly done? You’re an antiques dealer. Unless you really are an art thief. You can tell me.”

“I am not an art thief.”

“That’s cool. I totally understand.” If he had been facing her, she’d give him an exaggerated wink, but that would probably be lost in translation. “All right then. Keep your secrets.”

A shout came from behind as armed men burst through the kitchen doors, knocking into a server carrying a tray. Ari grabbed her hand and hustled out the back, through a storage area with coolers, and onto a loading bay.

It was a dead end. Exposed to the elements, the short platform had no railings to stop a person from plunging over the side. No stairwells or ladders offered access from above or below. This place was a health and safety nightmare.

She shivered from the wind coming over the cool water. Exhaustion was coming fast as the adrenaline wore off. She felt shaky, like she needed a cup of strong coffee and a donut. No, a dozen donuts. Just pure sugar and delicious grease.

Shouts of alarm came from the storeroom.

Steel girders crisscrossed overhead. Ari stood near the edge and had a look on his face like he was considering climbing.

“I never made it up the rope in gym class, if you’re thinking of climbing,” she said.

“Feeble upper body strength. Note.”

Rude, if true.

The shouts got closer. Those guys with the creepy blank-faced helmets spilled through the door.

Ari grabbed her, wrapping an arm around her waist, and fell over the edge.

ARI

Carla screamed.

Loudly. Right in his ear as they plummeted to the water. Below, floating piers and watercraft used by the resort and staff were docked under the platform, hidden in the shadows. The water rushed toward them, and the crafts grew closer.

His wings snapped open, catching the wind. Controlling the glide proved difficult with Carla’s added mass—the squirming as she attempted to climb him, and the clutching did not help—but he managed to avoid slamming into the platform’s structural pillars.

Carla’s arms tightened around his neck like she was determined to strangle him.

He aimed for a maintenance walkway, a narrow metal bridge suspended between the pillars. Rusted and discolored, the metal did not look solid enough to hold his weight when shifted to his stone form.

With his wing tucked, he maneuvered around a pillar, but his aching wing made control difficult, causing him to clip the pillar with his shoulder. He spun, uncontrolled. With one arm holding Carla to him, he reached for a railing as he fell.

The metal groaned as he tightened his grip, threatening to give way. His momentum stopped, he hung suspended from the walkway.

Carla gasped and panted, her heart pounding hard enough to be audible.

Below, he spotted a walkway that looked sturdy enough.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice wobbling.

“Hold tight.” That was all the warning he gave, letting go and falling once more toward the water.

“No no no no nooooo!”

His wings opened, slowing the descent, but not enough.

Carla screamed again, somehow louder than before. Her arms tightened around his neck, threatening to cut off his air supply.

Metal groaned and shook as he landed and rolled onto his back, his wings and shoulders taking the impact.

They lay there, limbs tangled, with Carla sprawled across his chest. It wasn’t… unpleasant. His back stung and his wings were injured, potentially broken, but Carla…that’s where his thoughts began and ended.

“Are you well?” he asked.

She pushed herself upright, straddling his torso. Shadows obscured her features, but the dim light cast a halo around her form. They had been in this position before. Her usually smooth hair was in disarray. He liked it. He liked her.

Voices came from above. Ari clamped a hand over her mouth, preventing her from speaking. He felt her lips move and her teeth gnash, trying to bite into his palm.

“Remain quiet,” he advised. Somehow, he knew she glared at him.

He darkened his color, adding a deep navy to help blend him into the shadows. His wings pulled forward, hiding Carla. Well, one wing. The other moved stiffly, unable to flex all the way forward. That would be a problem.

He listened to the voices above and footsteps on the walkways. There was a static burst of comms and an engine. A craft rose from the water to a docking bay above. Tension eased as it became apparent that this was a routine shipment and not Patrol agents searching for them.

He removed his hand but cautioned, “Speak softly. We are being hunted. Now, I shall ask again: are you well?”

“No, I am not well,” she said, her voice taking a mocking tone. “What the hell was that?”

“A clever escape,” he answered.

“You shot that dude!”

“You were the one advocating a plan that involved guns.”

“Yeah, a plan. Not general mayhem.”

“I improvised,” he said, falling back on the haughty tone that came so easily to one of his social class.

“I thought that’s what we were doing with our words, then you went and got all rooty-tooty, point and shooty.”

He rubbed a hand on her back. “My actions have upset you to the point of speaking nonsense.”

“Seriously, what was that?”

Her tone was furious. Understandably. Her flesh was tense under his touch, but she did not pull away. This encouraged him.

“You are upset. That is to be expected. Humans do not fly,” he said.

“You think that’s why I’m upset? Because I don’t fly?” Her voice grew higher in pitch with each word.

“Remain calm. Do not attract attention.”

“Yes, because the space cops showed up, you started shooting like it was the Wild West, then you jumped over the edge into the ocean, but I should stay calm. I am calm. This is calm.” She poked him in the chest with a finger.

Despite her claims, her behavior was not calm. Ari had the good sense to keep that observation to himself.

“Running for my life is getting real old. My life on Earth wasn’t perfect, but it was safe,” she said.

“Sounds tedious.” Some good sense, but not enough.

“Don’t get an attitude with me right now. I’m not in the mood.” Another poke. “Explain. Start with the warrant.”

“Allow me to sit upright.”

“Nope. It’s talky time now. Be a good boy and spill your guts.”

“Human idioms are particularly violent. I am concerned.”

She huffed, as if amused. He hoped he had defused some of her anger. Alas, no such luck. She leaned forward, allowing him to see the fury in her eyes.

“Warrant. Talk,” she ordered.

“There is a warrant for my arrest, as I explained. I murdered my sire.”