Agatha

Disbelief warred with a traitorous flutter in my chest. Had I actually been falling for this man?

This scheming, underhanded...

Norsuk had the grace to look sheepish, but it wasn"t nearly enough. Not for the betrayal churning like acid in my gut.

"Listen," I bit out, injecting as much ice into my tone as I could manage. "I"m going to keep exploring the building. Alone. You can stay here, check out the city, I don"t care. Just... don"t follow me."

I spun on my heel before he could argue, marching out of the too-intimate bedroom on legs that barely trembled. The door across the hall yielded to my touch, revealing a space much like the one I"d just fled—all muted luxury and alien angles. But mercifully empty of smug dragon-men.

My only company was one of the ubiquitous lizard-things, clinging to the far wall like a living decal. I bit back a hysterical laugh, the urge to cry rising like a wave in my throat. What was wrong with me?

Norsuk had all but admitted to criminal intent. I should be livid. Disgusted. Not... whatever this swooping ache in my breast was.

Determinedly, I turned my focus to the room, drinking in every detail. The whorls of the wainscoting, the dense warp and weft of the carpets. Anything to keep my mind from circling the drain of might-have-beens.

The view from the window was darker than the city-facing suite, the bioluminescent haze more diffuse. I took a steadying breath, willing calm into my roiling thoughts. I needed to keep moving, find some sort of purpose or distraction. If I stayed still too long, I"d be lost.

The remaining rooms on this level could wait. I didn"t trust my composure if I ran into Norsuk again so soon. Mind made up, I ventured back into the curving hallway, making for the stairwell at the far end. A few experimental tugs proved the upward door locked, resistant even to my most mulish shoulder-checks. Down it was, then.

I vaguely recalled passing a number of floors during my initial, heart-stopping elevator ride. Norsuk"s obvious distaste for the contraptions aside, they seemed the quickest way to cover ground. I punched the call button with more force than strictly necessary, trying not to picture his disapproving scowl.

The doors whispered open on a gust of recycled air and I stepped inside, jabbing at the control panel. As the elevator sank smoothly downward, I did a quick tally of the floors—three more above the bedroom level, and who knew how many below. Plenty of room to lose myself for a while.

I disembarked two floors down, blinking as my eyes adjusted to the gloom. This level was cavernous, dominated by hulking machines that loomed out of the shadows like slumbering beasts. Consoles flared to life as I approached, jewel-toned tell-tales blinking in mesmerizing patterns.

Coils of unidentifiable cabling snaked between the devices, threading into sockets and ports of eldritch design. It was all hopelessly esoteric, leagues beyond me. I completed a circuit of the room, but couldn"t begin to guess at the equipment"s purpose. The ever-present thrum was louder here, resonating up through the soles of my boots.

But without a handy instruction manual, I was loathe to start fiddling with random switches. With my luck, I"d probably initiate a self-destruct sequence.

The stairs beckoned again, promising distraction if not necessarily relief. Down, down, the gloomy shaft, an all-too-apt metaphor for my sinking spirits.

The next floor was darker still, piled high with unidentifiable detritus. Narrow windows grudged what little light they could, the angles all wrong to catch the spectral glow of the city. I resigned myself to a quick sweep, if only to say I"d been thorough. Overhead, the ceiling vanished into gloom, making the space feel cavernous. Sepulchral.

Something crunched wetly under my boot and I glanced down, nose wrinkling at the grayish smear. Mold? Toeing the stuff over revealed the unmistakable curve of bone, yellow with age. A bolt of pure atavistic dread shot up my spine.

Slowly, hardly daring to breathe, I scanned the room with new eyes. Now I saw them everywhere—heaps of gnawed bones, tatters of papery skin, coarse sprays of desiccated fur. All the leavings of an apex predator"s lair.

Choking down my gorge, I took a cautious step back the way I"d come—and froze as the walls came alive with skittering motion. It was subtle at first, a trick of the shadows—until hooked, segmented limbs unfurled from the masonry, probing the air like nightmarish feelers.

All around me, the spines extruded from their camouflaged nests, slate-gray carapaces melting into lurid stripes of yellow and black. The pattern nagged at some primal part of my brain, screaming danger—the universal herald of venom, toxicity, nature at its most inimically malevolent.

Near the elevator, a twitching mass of chitin and glistening exoskeleton resolved into a knot of serpentine bodies, bristling with spines. Bulbous, glowing eyes emerged from the morass, multifaceted jewels that fixed on me with a terrible awareness.

I was surrounded. The spines jutted further into the room, seeking, grasping. The majority converged on the elevator door, weaving a living barrier of needle-tipped menace. The rest stretched improbably across the yawning space, making for the stairwell. For me. Ropes of saliva or some fouler secretion dripped from the barbed ends, spattering the grimy floor.

My mind flashed to a dozen natural analogues—the flared spines of lionfish, the hooked proboscis of assassin bugs, the arched stingers of warrior wasps. All the better to pierce and poison, my dear. If those vicious points so much as grazed me...

The thought galvanized me, drove me to action. My hand scrabbled for the comforting heft of the mini-pickaxe at my belt, some deep-seated instinct insisting I arm myself.

The flurry of motion enraged the creature, spines clacking and scissoring in a frenzy. I brandished the makeshift weapon before me, falling into a crude fighter"s crouch. Against a pack of feral dogs, I might have stood a chance. But this?

"Norsuk!" His name burst from my throat, tinny with fear. The primal scream for aid, for rescue. My voice bounced crazily off the walls, hurled back in mocking echoes. He was two levels up, probably nursing his wounded pride. He"d never hear. And if he did, why would he come? A slave wasn"t worth the trouble.

But my cry provoked a dramatic response from the creature. As one, the questing spines snapped back to the walls, once more blending seamlessly with stone. Even the kraken-like main body withdrew, eyes dimming to dull embers in the gloom. Trembling, hardly daring to breathe, I edged a half-step toward the stairs...

Only to leap back as a lone spine scythed toward me, fast as a cracking whip. Unthinking, I swung the pickaxe up and around, bracing for a bone-jarring impact. The haft met chitin with a sickening crunch and the segmented limb exploded, foul ichor splattering my face and arms.

All around me, the walls erupted into rustling pandemonium, an elemental susurrus of scales on stone. Bracing for an attack, I raised the ax again, but the spines stayed retracted, quivering with what I could only pray was pain. Or caution. The wounded appendage dangled brokenly, weeping viscous fluid.

I had hurt it. Driven it back, if only for a moment. And I could do it again.

"Hey!" I barked, marveling at the steadiness of my voice. "Hey, ugly! Pick on somebody your own size!"

I punctuated the words with a demonstrative thwack of ax on stone and was rewarded with another full-body flinch from the creature. While it recoiled, I took another step toward the stairs, then another. One of the spines twitched but I rounded on it, jabbing threateningly until it subsided.

A rhythm developed—a step, a shout, a warning brandish of my weapon. I bulldozed my way forward, heart in my throat, fending off the occasional pushing proboscis. Sweat coursed down my back, plastering my shirt to my skin. The creature"s secretions smelled like burnt rubber and cheap cologne, a noxious miasma that clogged my sinuses and set my head to spinning.

I was almost to the base of the stairs, pulse thundering in my ears. The lizard-thing was agitated now, walls rippling with pent-up violence. I felt the weight of all those gem-like eyes, cold and covetous on the back of my neck. Sucking in a desperate breath, I raised the pickaxe high and screamed my defiance, a single ululating note?—

Only to choke on it as Norsuk dropped from the upper landing like an avenging god, knives flashing in each fist.

He slashed and parried in a whirlwind of deadly grace, hacking through the forest of lunging spines like a machete through jungle vines. Acid droplets hissed where they spattered his blades, his armor, but he paid them no heed, a tundra of intent as he cleared me a path.

"Run, you stubborn female!" He punctuated the command with a twisting flick of his wrist, sending an ichor-slick limb pinwheeling through the air. "Get to the stairs!"

I was too relieved to bristle at his autocratic tone. Hefting my own gory ax, I spun and sprinted for the promised safety of the landing. In my peripheral vision, I saw Norsuk laying about with savage abandon, dark blood sheeting his forearms, his snarling face. The creature screamed, an ululating wail torn from a hundred alien throats.

Then I was on the stairs and climbing, stale air sawing in and out of my lungs. I hazarded a glance over my shoulder and immediately wished I hadn"t. Norsuk stood at the base of the steps, feet braced wide as he faced down the writhing horror. His blades were a blur of silver, but I saw at least a dozen spines buried in the meat of his shoulders, his biceps. Still he showed no pain, not a flicker of hesitation as he held the line.

For me. To buy me precious seconds to escape. After everything I"d said, the accusations I"d leveled...

Choking on a sudden, vicious sob, I forced my leaden legs to redouble their efforts. I would not let his sacrifice be in vain. Would not let those be the last words I ever hurled at him, jagged with hurt and betrayal.

I erupted from the stairwell an eternity later, gasping and wild-eyed. My abused thighs screamed with every movement but I pushed through the cramp, staggering back the way I"d come. I had to put as much distance as possible between myself and that thing. Had to trust that Norsuk would find his own way clear.

But no sooner had I gained the elevator bank then a nerve-shredding howl sounded from below, overpowered by a bellowing roar I knew all too well. Something shattered wetly, horribly. Then a terrible silence fell, broken only by the jackhammer beat of my own heart in my ears.

"No," I breathed, the word a tattered scrap of sound. "No, it can"t... You can"t..."

Heedless of the danger, I turned back for the stairs, one hand braced on the wall for support. Inside, a litany of denial crashed around my skull, a prayer and a repudiation all at once. Not him. Please, gods, not him. I"d only just found him, only just realized what I... what we...

A dark shape detached itself from the gloom, moving with a slow, slightly uneven tread. I shrieked, but the sound devolved into a wordless cry as Norsuk stumbled into the guttering light of the elevator lobby, his left arm clutched tight to his side. But he was alive. Breathing.

Whole.

"There," he croaked, shooting me a blood-tinted approximation of his heart-stopping grin. "I saved you."

It was too much. The relief, the delayed reaction, the casual arrogance threaded beneath the exhaustion in his voice. A dam broke within me, releasing a flood of tangled emotions too snarled to name. I bent double, hands on my knees, and indulged a slightly hysterical laugh.

"I had it handled," I managed when I could form words again. "Everything was completely under control."

Norsuk limped closer, one brow arched over his good eye. "Is that so? Because from where I"m standing, it looked like you were about thirty seconds from being a walking husk." He tapped the flat of his knife against one muscled thigh, the move deceptively idle. "Puncture wounds, paralysis, exsanguination... not a pleasant way to go, trust me."

I huffed, the sound guttering like a blown engine. "Fine. You saved me. It still doesn"t change anything."

I brushed past him before he could argue, before I did something foolish like fling myself into his arms. Forcing down the ache in my chest, I fixed my gaze on the upper landing and climbed.