Chapter 7

WINN’S GRIP tightened on Jo’Nay’s hand, her pulse quickening as the confrontation escalated. Just moments ago, the marketplace had been a delightful sensory experience, filled with vibrant colors, enticing aromas, and the lively hum of bartering and laughter.

Now, the air throbbed with a palpable tension. Fear, sharp and acrid, permeated the atmosphere, replacing the pleasant scents of fresh produce and baked goods with the metallic tang of adrenaline and impending violence.

The four masked assailants moved with a brutal efficiency, their actions sending a ripple of shock and fear through the crowd. Stalls toppled, scattering their wares across the concrete walkway. The vendors, caught off guard, cried out in alarm, their voices swallowed by the rising tide of panic. The cheerful bustle of the marketplace dissolved into a chaotic scramble as shoppers scattered, seeking safety amidst the escalating violence.

Winn’s heart hammered against her ribs, afrantic drumbeat echoing the chaos unfolding before her. She watched, horrified, as the masked figures lunged, their movements a blur of aggression and violence, targeting vendors and shoppers alike. Acollective gasp rippled through the crowd, followed by a cacophony of screams and panicked cries. Her breath caught in her throat, aknot of fear tightening in her chest.

Her free hand instinctively moved to her belly, asmall, delicate gesture of protection for the tiny life growing inside. Fear, sharp and cold, pierced through her, afear that transcended her own well-being. She was no longer just responsible for herself. She carried a precious cargo, afragile being thrust into this dangerous, unpredictable world.

The nausea, apersistent companion in these early days of her pregnancy, surged with renewed intensity, awave of sickness washing over her. She fought the urge to gag, forcing herself to focus on her breathing, on maintaining a semblance of calm amidst the escalating panic. She had to stay strong, for herself, for Jo’Nay, for their unborn child.

Jo’Nay stiffened beside her. She could feel the shift in his posture, the subtle tightening of his muscles, the barely perceptible increase in his body heat. He was a warrior, his instincts honed by centuries of training, his body primed to react to any perceived threat. His disguise, so carefully crafted, so meticulously maintained, threatened to crack under the strain of his suppressed instincts.

His hand, calloused and strong, tightened around hers, areassuring presence amidst the escalating panic. She met his gaze, her eyes wide with fear and a desperate plea for restraint. She knew the warrior within him yearned to intervene, to unleash his Vettian strength and skill upon these criminals, to restore order with the swift, decisive brutality of his kind. But she also saw the love in his eyes, the concern for her safety, the awareness of their precarious situation.

He took several steps away from her, shifting so he stood in front of her, silhouetted against the late morning sun. He was tall, broad-shouldered, the embodiment of power and grace. His human disguise faltered, the mask of normalcy slipping away, revealing the alien warrior beneath.

It happened so fast, ablink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment, atightening of muscles and the sudden gleam of gold as canines flashed in a silent snarl. And then, the sword. AVettian blade, humming with an otherworldly energy, astark contrast to the crude weapons wielded by the four masked figures who had descended upon the marketplace, intent on mayhem.

The agreement they had forged on the ship, the careful construction of his human facade, it all hung precariously in the balance, threatened by the escalating chaos. She had to remind him, to anchor him to their shared purpose.

“No, Jo’Nay,” she whispered, her voice barely audible above the rising din. “Remember our agreement?”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering to hers, the conflict evident in his expression. She could see the warrior within him, the protector, the one trained to react swiftly and decisively to any perceived threat.

But she also saw the love in his eyes, the concern for her safety, the awareness of their precarious situation. He drew in a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he forced himself to control his impulse.

“No weapons,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against her ear, the Vettian inflection barely discernible beneath the practiced human cadence. “No Vettian displays.”

The words, though spoken with a hint of resignation, carried a weight of reassurance. He would honor their agreement, at least for now. But the tension in his body, the smoldering intensity in his gaze, told her that his patience was wearing thin. His warrior’s instincts, suppressed but not extinguished, clawed at the surface, yearning for release.

They turned to leave, to melt back into the crowd and escape the burgeoning commotion. But it was too late. One of the masked figures, his eyes glinting with malicious glee, had spotted them. He’d gestured with his weapon, acrude metal pipe, his voice a hoarsebark.

“Hey, you! The big guy! You think you’re too good for this? Think you can just walk away?” The thug grabbed a nearby woman, his hand clamping over her mouth to stifle her screams. He stepped forward, his posture menacing, his gaze fixed on Jo’Nay. It was a challenge issued, aline drawn in the shifting sands of the marketplace. “Go on, then. Walk away. Do it, while I have some fun with this one.”

Fear clawed at Winn’s throat, achoking sensation that threatened to steal her breath. She witnessed the shift in Jo’Nay, the subtle tightening of muscles, the narrowing of his eyes, the predator awakening, the warrior responding to the call of battle.

Winn gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, stifling a cry of alarm. The woman’s eyes widened in terror, her body trembling in the criminal’s grip. Awave of nausea, colder and sharper than the usual pregnancy-induced queasiness, washed over Winn. She couldn’t bear to watch, yet she couldn’t tear her gazeaway.

This was her world, her people. She knew the terror that gripped that woman, the helplessness that choked her voice. And she knew, with a certainty that chilled her to the bone, that Jo’Nay would not stand by and watch such injustice unfold. His warrior’s code, his ingrained sense of honor, demanded action. And action, in this world, in this fragile disguise, could shatter everything they were attempting to conceal.

She met Jo’Nay’s gaze, asilent plea for understanding battling with the primal fear that gnawed at her insides. She couldn’t ask him to remain passive, to ignore the suffering of another being, especially when his instincts screamed for intervention. But she couldn’t bear the thought of the consequences, of the potential devastation that would follow if he unleashed his true nature in this crowded marketplace. The options battled for a long moment. Then…

“Help her,” she whispered, the words barely escaping her lips, afragile plea carried on the wind of desperation. The fear in her voice was unmistakable, yet the urgency, the desperate need for action, resonated even stronger.

He nodded, his expression hardening, the decision made. The warrior within him, tempered by love and a newfound sense of purpose, was unleashed. “Get behind that table,” he ordered, pointing behindher.

Just moments ago, the square had buzzed with the vibrant energy of a bustling marketplace. Now, silence reigned, broken only by the gasps of fear, the rustling of bodies scrambling for safety, and the chilling hum of Jo’Nay’s blade as it sliced through the air, asilver arc of alien power.

Winn watched from behind the flimsy shelter of the overturned table, her heart pounding against her ribs in a frantic tattoo fueled by a potent cocktail of adrenaline and fear. How had such an easy task turned so violent?

“We’ll be quick,” she had promised Jo’Nay, her voice a low murmur against the sleek metal of his ship’s interior. “In and out. No one will even notice us.” But fate, as it often did, had a wicked sense of humor, not to mention a penchant for unraveling carefully laid plans with a swift and brutalhand.

Now Jo’Nay moved with a fleetness that belied his size, his carefully constructed human disguise a fragile veneer over the Vettian strength that pulsed beneath the surface. He intercepted the first criminal with a fluid grace that seemed almost effortless, his hand striking with a precision that sent the man sprawling to the ground, his grasp on the woman dropping free. With a cry, she disappeared into the crowd.

Jo’Nay continued his deadly dance, his hand once again reaching for his sword. This time, Winn didn’t stop him. She knew, with a chilling certainty, that it was inevitable. This was his world, the world of violence and conflict, aworld she had inadvertently pulled him into, aworld where actions had consequences, repercussions that echoed far beyond the pathway of the marketplace.

Jo’Nay’s next strike came swiftly, ablur of motion that left the second masked figure sprawling on the ground, his weapon clattering away, his cries of pain lost in the cacophony of the erupting crowd. Two down, two togo.

Winn’s gaze was drawn to Jo’Nay. His ballcap had fallen from his head and his hair, along, brilliant white cape, shimmered with an otherworldly luminescence. His eyes, once an earthen brown, now pulsed with a vibrant purple fire, reflecting the energy of his unsheathed blade.

He was magnificent. Terrifying. And utterly, undeniably alien.

The remaining two criminals, their initial bravado shattered, scrambled back, their eyes wide with a terror that mirrored the fear rippling through the crowd. One of them, the taller of the two, stumbled, his foot catching on a crack in the cement, sending him sprawling to the ground. He scrambled to his feet, his weapon falling from his grasp, his voice cracking with a mixture of rage and desperation.

“You… You monster! You’ll pay for this!” He lunged, his fist aimed at Jo’Nay’s chest, afutile attempt at retaliation.

Jo’Nay sidestepped, his movements flowing, effortless, his blade a whisper of silver as it sliced through the air, turned at the last instant so the grip broke the man’s arm at the elbow, instead of severing his limb. Ascream, raw and agonized, tore through the square, the sound echoing off the surrounding buildings, achilling reminder of the warrior’s power, the alien’s ruthlessness.

Winn watched, mesmerized and horrified, as Jo’Nay moved, his Vettian reflexes a blur of motion, his blade flashing, adance of death played out on the walkway of the marketplace.

She had seen glimpses of his power on the ship, during their passionate encounters, but this public display of his warrior’s prowess was both exhilarating and terrifying. He disarmed the remaining criminal with a speed and precision that impressed the hell out of Winn. Aprimal thrill filled her. Her mate exemplified an undeniable allure of power, as well as an awe-inspiring display of alien strength.

He was magnificent, his Vettian heritage evident in every movement. But this display of his true nature also filled her with a sense of dread. Every moment he remained exposed, every second he deviated from their carefully constructed human facade, increased the risk of discovery and attracting unwanted attention.

Her gaze darted to the surrounding crowd, her heart pounding in her chest. The initial shock had given way to a mixture of awe and fear. Some onlookers, their faces pale with terror, scrambled to escape the unfolding violence. Others, their expressions a strange blend of fascination and horror, stood frozen, transfixed by the spectacle. Worse, they were taking photos and videos with their phones.

She could sense their growing unease, the dawning realization that something was amiss, that the boundaries of their understanding were being challenged. The man they saw, the one she called Johnny, the one she had pretended was her boyfriend, was not what he seemed. The truth of his being, his alien nature, pulsed beneath the surface, asimmering current of otherness that threatened to break through the fragile facade she had helped him construct.