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Oyaz stared at his O.D.I. in disbelief. Who in Alodon’s hell would build a tunnel under a housing unit? He shook his head at the ingenuity of human women. At least, Lady Simmy burrowing deeper confirmed the presence of intruders. He and his four males were en route, keeping to the shadows of the dark green trees, and dodging the strange boxes on wheels thumping and glowing. Scans had revealed that humans lived inside, no doubt waiting for Lady Simmy to emerge or for Izabelle to arrive.
The solo moon was waning, the minimal light concealing them even more. No breeze stirred the air. Tapping his O.D.I, he indicated to the ground unit to stay alert as they neared the white structure. He directed them to scout ahead and re-join at the shed.
“Anything?” he asked Trav who fell into position beside him.
“Just those footprints. Unmistakable, Supreme Commander.”
Oyaz grimaced. “Seen Lady Simmy?”
Trav stared ahead. “Not once. Scans reveal she remains underground.”
Oyaz paused at the sight of the housing unit’s gaping front door. On instinct, he altered his plans. Garix’s latest information had stated all doors would be locked. And since Princess Oriana had told Oyaz to ‘get the bastards,’ he would follow her orders, as well. He flung out a hand, striking Danic’s chest to halt him. His armor and chest muscle muffled the slap.
“New plan. Get the human woman to the shuttle. I will take care of the intruders.” Oyaz pointed to the opened door. “Tell Lady Simmy, ‘Titanic.’”
Danic frowned before skirting the housing unit, keeping to the shadows, and staying true to his target.
“Trav, guard the front. Eriz, take the back.”
Oyaz crept to the front door, muting his footsteps as expected. All Etterians trained to be light on their feet, but as a warrior, he had access to advanced armor that assisted by utilizing a planet’s gravity. To an observer, he’d look like he glided just above the stone floor circling the home. He stilled to listen in the doorway. Hissing flowed from one room to another as Yithians tore through the rooms. He scowled, not liking this turn of events. Since they had yet to notice him, he punched his O.D.I. and activated the Yithian Language Protocol.
“He will be happy with any female. We have wasted enough time looking for this one,” said a Yithian.
A bang followed. “She bit one of us, Sdion. That is most promising.”
Sdion’s hiss was long, pronounced, showing his displeasure. “She is not here, Agma.”
Anger coursed through Oyaz, raising the sensitivity of his skin. He altered the temperature regulator of his armor and sneaked closer. Izabelle had bitten a Yithian, which meant these two referred to her. Trembling with barely contained fury, he peered through the crack between the door and its frame. Noting their location within the room, he slid around the door and stepped into the light.
The Yithians spun in slow motion, their mouths gaping. He fired two blasts in quick succession, stunning them. They collapsed to the floor.
Holding his finger on his O.D.I, Oyaz spoke to the unit’s channel, “Two Yithians to transport, Operative Trav.”
Turning to leave, he slammed into the metal door. Fire burned along his temple, making his left eye water. He cursed under his breath. No wonder Etterians had changed the design of their doors. He had no idea the danger they could pose. Ignoring the pulsing agony and the wet heat of his blood, he dragged the two bodies to the front of the house.
Trav met him at the door and took the weight of a Yithian. Oyaz acknowledged the assistance with a grunt, his eye twitching and stinging. Once they crossed the green grass around the housing unit, he flung the Yithian over his shoulder and jogged along the shadows. Glances to the side confirmed their unnoticed passing until he reached the ground marking that indicated the cloaked shuttle’s location. Dripping blood hindered the vision in his eye.
The shuttle door opened, revealing the unlit compartment within. Oyaz rushed up the ramp and dumped the Yithian on the metal grated floor, none too gently. Trav did the same.
Oyaz narrowed his gaze on Eriz seated at the console. “Is Lady Simmy—?”
“Onboard, but Danic is down.” Eriz gestured to the enclosed section at the rear of the shuttle.
Oyaz jerked back. Had there been more than two Yithians? “What—?”
“Lady Simmy hit him with a harvest tool,” Eriz growled. “I scanned him with a med-gun, but he has yet to awaken.”
As Eriz launched the shuttle, Trav raised a med-gun to Oyaz’s temple, but he brushed the male aside. “It is a cut, nothing more. A medic will attend to it soon enough.”
He strode the short distance to the back, rubbing the blood out of his eye with his palm. He entered the storage room and halted. A human woman with a wealth of blonde hair pressed a cloth to Danic’s temple on what looked to be a fading bruise.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, startling Oyaz, for he hadn’t made a sound. “I didn’t mean to hit him. I was in the tunnel listening to the hisses in my home when he came up behind me.”
Oyaz frowned. How could she have heard Danic approach her?
“He whispered the password before passing out.” Removing the cloth, she unfolded and refolded it. She dribbled water onto it from a bottle she clenched between her thighs before placing the wet cloth on Danic’s temple.
If Oyaz hadn’t known she was sightless, he wouldn’t have been able to discern so based solely on her movements. “Your actions are understandable, Lady Simmy.”
She sighed, her shoulders dropping. “I’ll apologize to your soldier as soon as he wakes up.”
“His name is Danic. I will escort you to medical myself.”
“Thank you, and perhaps have your injury attended to as well?” she asked with a raised eyebrow while staring at the bulkhead to the right of his position.
“You can scent my blood,” he stated.
She twisted her body in his general direction and offered him a small smile, her white eyes pretty in her pale face.
“I assume my sister will be awaiting my arrival?” Her chuckle was warm. “You don’t need to answer that. She’ll be there. Izzy can only be herself.” She offered him another smile. “Thank you for fetching me.” And she returned to her task.
He was dismissed but not in a bad way. “We will arrive shortly,” he told her and removed himself from the tiny room. He faced his males. “Well done this day.”
They acknowledged his praise with a quick bow of their heads. Oyaz lowered himself onto a seat. He gingerly tested his temple and winced. The pulsing pain added to his uncharacteristic impatience. Via his O.D.I, he updated Vorn and Garix on the status of the mission, specifically referring to the prisoners.
Oyaz had another mission to return to—assisting Malo. Perhaps these Yithian could reveal who’d taken Malo’s Dar Eth. Not trained in espionage, Oyaz would let Vorn do the interrogation. He grunted. This diversion may just be what he needed.
~ * ~
The shuttle touched down on the metal-grated floor of the bay, and the doors opened onto the pressurized area. As Oyaz waved his males past, a human woman ran toward them. Her hair cascaded around her in wild disarray, her familiar gray eyes were wide with excitement, and she bore the sweetest of smiles. He admired her pensive face, the gentle swell of her breasts, and a waist he could span with his hands. Beauty bolted toward him, colorful, vivacious, like an exotic creature.
White pleasurable heat exploded through him. He thrust out a hand for support and to prevent the sharp, intense pain from bringing him to his knees. Instead of the metal bulkhead stopping his descent, his hand slid, and he hit the grate with one knee.
He groaned, the wound in his temple all but forgotten. At the pinnacle of the fiery onslaught, a vision of Izabelle appeared. She was on her knees, her curved backside offered to him, her feminine folds glistening, her back arched with her curls everywhere. She wriggled before meeting his gaze.
“Oyaz, please,” she gasped, her gray eyes hooded, and her lips parted.
He shuddered as the pain merged into unadulterated pleasure, and his malehood hardened to its full length. Gritting his teeth, he clenched a fist, struggling to rein in his tight control. He tried to stand, but his knees refused to lock.
“Flaming nipples, Oyaz, are you all right?” Her voice rippled through him. Her every word caressed his hypersensitive nerves.
“Izzy?” Lady Simmy called.
“Simmy, I have a hurt soldier here. Do you need me, or can I help Oyaz first?” Izabelle’s hand on his shoulder summoned a shiver.
“I have an injured man too,” Simmy said. “We can chat later.”
Oyaz grumbled at having been called hurt and his rank ignored. He was injured. There was a difference. And he wasn’t just a soldier.
Izabelle’s warmth and scent were at his side, drawing him from his irritation. She lifted his arm, no small feat as muscled as it was, and slid under it as if to help him to rise. But as her body pressed to his, he groaned and tightened said arm. He crushed her to him, bringing her around to pin to his chest, with her backside dropping onto his bent knee. Her hand fluttered, and the gentle sensation teased him through the armor. With her scent surrounding him and her luscious backside on his knee, he forced himself to look at her.
Her gray eyes were wide in her small face. Dark blonde eyebrows rose with concern but not fear. He liked that she didn’t fear him. Her tiny nose tapered to full lips and a pointy chin. Stubborn. Riotous dark blonde curls tumbled around her. Untamed.
“Am I harming you?” he asked as soon as he realized how tiny she was. Although, as his gaze traveled the shape of her breasts, tiny did not mean immature. She was a ripe human woman.
Her mouth parted at his words, then a splash of pink stained her cheeks. “No.”
When the sweetness of her arousal assaulted his nose, he squeezed his eyes shut and trembled, drawing in deep breaths to memorize her scent, regardless of how detrimental it was to his control.
And he had longed for this?
“If you release me, we can get you to a medic.” At her concern, he snapped his eyes open to smile at her.
“Supreme Commander Oyaz, might I suggest releasing Izzy?” Garix loomed, his warning clear in his stiff posture and clenched fists.
Vorn stood beside him, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation. “Operative Trav has informed me about the...prisoners and their involvement in Lady Caroline’s disappearance.” With a fist to his chest, he spun on his heel and strode off. Males carried the unconscious Yithians behind him.
“Izzy?” Garix inched closer.
Dragging his gaze from Izabelle’s upturned face, Oyaz met Garix’s. The male froze then grinned and threw out two hands as if to appease. “Congratulations, Supreme Commander.”
So, it was true. Oyaz tightened his grip on his Dar Eth, enough to trap her, not enough to harm her.
“Why don’t we both find a medic?” his human woman suggested. She brushed a hand across his chest in a caress that was in no way soothing.
“I am fine,” he said, then grimaced at his hoarse voice. Awareness of his surroundings flooded back. He glanced at Garix’s understanding expression, the fear emanating from Lady Simmy standing just behind them, and settled on Izabelle’s furrowed brow. “See to Elite Warrior Danic. Lady Simmy hit him with a harvest tool,” he said to Garix.
Izabelle’s gray eyes widened, then crinkled with humor. Her reaction tugged on something in Oyaz’s chest.
“A spade?” she asked then laughed. “Proud of you, sis.”
“Not funny,” Lady Simmy mumbled, edging into the open compartment with a hand on the bulkhead while Garix carried Danic over his shoulder.
Izabelle wiggled, indicating she wanted up. Oyaz forced his fingers to release her. It went against every fiber in his being to do so.
She jumped up and circled him. “We’ll talk about this later,” she whispered in his ear, sending darts of white lust through him. Before he could snatch her into his arms again, she hugged her sister. “You didn’t hit him with the sharp edge, sis?”
“Of course not, the flat end. I’m not a monster.”
Izabelle looped an arm through Lady Simmy’s before escorting her off the shuttle. Oyaz struggled to his feet and watched helplessly as his Dar Eth strolled away from him.
“What the hell just happened?” Lady Simmy asked to which Izabelle shrugged. “Where is my soldier? Your man said he’d take me to medical.”
Izabelle gasped and snuck a glance at Oyaz. “He’s not my—”
“I did indeed say I would, Lady Simmy.” Oyaz bolted forward, testing his weight on his weakened knees.
~ * ~
Izabelle jerked at Oyaz’s smoky voice from just over her shoulder. Damn, he moved fast. He was huge yet so light on his feet. And when she said huge, she didn’t mean as big as Garix. Still, his presence stretched out and brushed along her senses. He might as well press his sculpted chest against her back. She stilled and tried not to peek. Curious how tall he was compared to her, she snuck a glance at his chest without meeting his gaze. She estimated that her mouth would be at the height of his nipples. Nipples. What color would they be? She sighed, enjoying the tingling warmth soaking her core.
He growled behind her before sliding his fingers down Simmy’s arm to her hand, guiding it to his forearm. “It is this way.”
Simmy shifted closer to him, pulled away from Izzy, and allowed him to lead her.
At her sister’s unusual behavior, Izzy’s eyebrows shot up. Simmy didn’t trust easily. With the narrow passage and Garix ahead of them, Izzy followed. Not that she minded. The view was spectacular. Oyaz had a backside like nothing shed seen. It was probably tight enough to bounce a quarter off it. She chuckled at that imagery.
“I can scent you, female.”
She gasped, and her panties drenched again. Damn. Now that was sexy. He growled and took in a deep breath, expanding his chest, and hummed.
Heat exploded across her face and tied her tongue.
“I would say get a room, but you’re my guide,” Simmy said.
Izzy pinched her lips—she doubted she could speak without sounding like a call sex operator. Frowning, she dipped her chin to her chest. Why did he affect her so? Perhaps it was the decisive way he’d pulled her against his body, as if he desired her and was strong enough to take what he wanted. That was indescribably magnificent.
They crossed a packed common to medical—same as on the Gladio. The medic, who wasn’t Brynr, rushed forward to guide Simmy to where Danic lay.
“He will recover, milady. You hit him hard enough to cause sleep and nothing more. I have treated the swelling and bruising and expect him to awaken soon.”
“Thank you.” Simmy smiled and ran her fingers along the bed, over Danic’s hand, forearm, and upper arm, across his collarbone to his neck and jaw, and finally into the locks at his temple.
“May I assess you as well, milady?”
She frowned. “I’m fine, but you can see to him?” She gestured in the direction of Oyaz before burying her fingers in Danic’s hair again.
“Certainly, milady.” The medic crossed the room to Oyaz. “Supreme Commander Oyaz, please allow me to attend to your injury.”
Oyaz seated himself on a lowered bed. His gaze settled on Izzy and didn’t budge. Under his intense scrutiny, she shivered but tried to hide her reaction. She liked his smoldering ice blue eyes and the tiny smirk on his firm, lickable lips. Hot jam and buttered toast. She wanted to run kisses along his razor-sharp square jaw and graze her teeth across the pulse in his neck.
Wait. Ice blue eyes? Was he someone’s soulmate? Disappointment dropped in her stomach like a led balloon. No, she would ask him first before she gave in to despair.
The medic blocked her view, so she crept closer. Her heart stuttered when Oyaz’s gaze followed her.
When the medic darted around medical, tidying things, Izzy rested a hand on the bed beside Oyaz. “I’m sorry you were hurt.”
“My fault, Izabelle.” He closed his eyes, and a dreamy smile claimed his mouth. Rubbing his chest, he flicked his eyes open and settled his gaze on her again. A potent emotion swirled in their depths, but she couldn’t read it.
“Please, milady. Etterians no longer encounter loss of sight in any form. It would be my honor to assess whether your sight can be restored.”
Izzy’s breath caught, and she dragged her gaze from Oyaz.
Simmy’s head whipped up to look in the direction of the medic. “Return my sight?”
Izzy had never considered that a possibility, that the Etterians could heal where Earth’s medicine had failed. She’d assumed, judging by Garix’s shock, that they could heal eye injuries as soon as they occurred but never long-term injuries. “You can do that?”
“Yes, milady.”
Simmy shook her head while a tear slid down her cheek.
Izzy’s mouth fell open in disbelief. Was she insane?
“My answer is no, Izzy. I’m not disrupting my life again.”
Izzy took a steadying breath, ready to argue her sister into capitulating. “But—”
“I tell you what.” Simmy tilted her head and settled an unseeing gaze on Izzy. “Forgive yourself, and I’ll consider it.”
Izzy jerked back as if slapped. Something tight, heavy, and dark cinched her chest. What Simmy asked was...impossible. Izzy curled her hands into fists, keeping her shoulders stiff lest she broke down and cried. “Simone, please.”
“Fixing my eyes won’t magically undo what you think you did, Izzy. Forgive yourself first. Then maybe we can try.” Simmy lowered her focus to Danic.
Izzy recognized that expression, one of determination.
Her vision blurred. Tears cascaded down her cheeks unchecked. As shards of cold agony pierced her heart, she choked back a sob and ran.
“Ensa?”
With a whimper, she dodged Garix’s outstretched hand, weaved through the males gathered to see Simmy, and sprinted along the passages, no destination in mind.
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