Fallen: A Sci-Fi Alien Romance (Rogue Alien Warriors Book 4), page 16
“Because I swore an oath.”
“On the death of your sister. She wouldn’t want this, Myk. No one who cared for you would want you to do this, for you to sacrifice yourself.”
“You don’t know Lyra…”
“But I like to think I know you, just a little. You care, Myk. You pretend you’re some grumpy loner but that’s about as far from the truth as it’s possible to get. You want everyone to be happy, except yourself. Don’t you deserve some happiness?”
“Once this is over.” Myk drops his head to his chest. “Once Proto is defeated, my work is done.”
“But you’ve never had any intention of returning from the fight.” The tears that I’ve been desperate not to shed spring to my eyes and course down my cheeks. “You’d leave me. You’d be just like all the others, and I promised myself I wouldn’t be hurt again.”
“I am not hurting you.” Myk raises his head, and his eyes burn like coals from hell, “I’m saving you. I’m saving everyone. It is my destiny.” His hands ball into fists. “I have to do this, don’t you see?”
His intentions are clear in the set of his jaw. In this moment, I can see. He’s spent too long creating weapons of destruction in his forge. Too long beating the metal into submission. Too long believing that happiness comes from his own demise. He needs revenge, and he will take it however and wherever he can.
“Then there is nothing for us.” The words trip out of my mouth as if I mean them.
Myk looks at me for what seems forever before he turns and walks out of the kitchen. My world crumbles as his wings disappear. I sink to the floor and sob.
I’ve lost him. My one chance at a life here on this planet. The father of the child he doesn’t know about.
This time I have no one to blame but myself.
MYK
Her sadness follows me like a clinging mist. I did that. I made her feel lesser.
It was the last thing I ever wanted. I didn’t want to take a mate because of this, and yet I still came when fate called. I filled her with my youngling, and I made her believe we had a future.
All before I had taken my revenge and struck Proto down.
I had all the time on Ustokos to claim her, nurture her, and be a father to our child, except I chose exactly the wrong time to give away my heart.
“Lyra.” I call out her name through gritted teeth as I enter my forge.
I’d give anything to see her sweet smile or to hear her gentle voice. To run my claws through her soft feathers.
And I’d give so much more to hold my eregri in my arms, to see her joyful smile, hear her laugh and breathe in her delicious, enticing scent.
Now I will have neither.
All I have is the fight, the one that’s been coming for a very long time, and I have to prepare.
Back in the supply depot, Fyn has done an impressive job of mustering the warriors. Off to one side a set of four Gryn relax, laser weapons on their hips. Ryak’s team are seemingly unconcerned about being in the first wave against Proto.
Either they are well trained, or they are prepared to put their lives in the hands of unproven tech. I place my hand on the pommel of my sword, enjoying the feel of the hard metal and maraha hide handle. I know I can rely on it for as long as I need it.
“Do you have everything you need?” I ask Fyn as he inspects his ranks of warriors.
“They are well prepared, brother, with your finest.” Fyn hitches the corner of his mouth, to expose a sharp canine. It’s his version of a smile, and I can feel the energy rolling from him down his thoughtbond.
I channel this back into the warriors, pushing it at them, and they straighten, wings flaring as it hits. The best and purest of us all, Fyn is truly a great warrior.
“Legion of the Gryn!” Jyr’s voice rings out above us. Our Prime is in the air, circling the enormous depot as he looks down on his troops.
Even though Fyn tried to persuade him not to leave his mate and newborn youngling, he made it perfectly clear that not a single warrior would go into battle without their Prime.
“Today is our time. Through all your diligence, all your struggle, we have found a way to defeat Proto and we will triumph!”
His words cause a roar to erupt from the troops below him. Wing feathers rattle and the sound of sword against shield reverberates. A wave of sound that shows just how much this means to the lair.
“ALL HAIL PRIME!” Fyn is in the air, and I take off to join him and the other seniors as we circle above our mercs, all of them the bravest of the brave, and all prepared to take on the might that is Proto.
Jyr draws his sword and, as one, our army lifts from the ground and shifts into a tight formation as we leave the lair. The air is filled with the beating of hundreds of wings.
I look back at the lair. Standing at the entrance to the supply depot, a rapidly diminishing figure, is my eregri. She is so fragile and so perfect.
I may never return to her, but I will be giving my life so she may live. Whether that is what she wants or not. It is my destiny, and fate is never wrong.
EMMA
Seeing most of the lair take off en masse is an incredible sight. They fly in rows, reminding me of World War Two airplanes. Dark and filling the sky, their purpose is oh-so-clear. Proto doesn’t know what’s going to hit it.
I didn’t intend coming to see them off and I certainly didn’t want one warrior to see me watching. But as usual, I was inexorably drawn down from the kitchens where I was throwing the pastry around, down to the supply depot.
On the outskirts of the lines of warriors, I see Myk. He’s large, even in the air, compared to the other warriors and he’s unmistakable. Magnificent.
The memory of his arms encircling my body slams me like a heat wave. I’d give anything in this moment to be there, with him. The lair might be going to war but being with him would be the only thing that would make my heart whole again.
The male who stole it away, whose baby I carry, and who has no idea he’s going to be a father.
I should have told him. Not telling him makes me selfish, it makes me no better than my ex who used me for his own purpose and cast me aside.
It makes me no better than my ex who thought it was okay to walk out of my life hand in hand with the woman who replaced me.
If I had told him, maybe he would have stayed.
But my inertia, my refusal to believe in myself, made me do what I always do. Nothing. In that one, single moment that will define my life forever. Nothing is my beginning and my end.
“Emma?” I turn away from the rapidly disappearing feathered army to see Oly behind me.
“Oly? Why are you here? I thought it was all you ever wanted, to be part of a patrol.” I point out of the lair. “That is the patrol to end all patrols.”
“We all agreed,” Oly dips his head and twists his hands. “The lair needs feeding. Someone has to keep the kitchens going. For when they all come back.” His voice cracks.
I should be comforting him. He’s just watched all his comrades leave. They are his family, and this is his home. He knows that all of them might not return, and he’s given up the one chance he had for the glory he’s always craved.
I know this because it’s what I’ve always done.
“Maybe.” I reply, unable to bring anything positive into my dull voice.
“They will come back.” Oly says with a bit more confidence. “They are the Legion of the Gryn. The seniors will return for their mates.”
I try, and fail, not to snort out my displeasure.
“Myk will return for you.” Oly hesitantly places his hand on my arm.
“It doesn’t matter if he does. We both know it won’t work. We know that it isn’t to be.” I’m struggling to hold back stupid, fat tears that want to soak my face and make me feel like shit.
“Fate isn’t what we choose to do. Fate just is.” His liquid dark eyes stare into mine. “You are meant to be with Myk, and he is meant to be with you.”
“I can’t believe that. What he wants…” I pull away from the young warrior, walking out from the supply depot. “He doesn’t want me, and I’ve lost him.”
I’m already on the ramps when there’s a rustle of feathers and the thump of a landing.
“Not now Oly, please.” I plead as he falls into step beside me.
“The seniors are always right. If he has chosen you to carry his youngling, then he does want you.”
“Oh, Oly,” I stare up at the crumbling ceiling of the lair. “It’s not that simple.”
Except Myk’s words reverberate in my head.
I love you.
But they are just words. We have no thoughtbond; we have nothing that the others have.
“Mating is simple. When fate picks a mated pair, they are inseparable, they are forever.” Oly persists.
We’ve reached the kitchens, but I don’t want to go in. Cooking has become tainted, because I was doing it for Myk, and now I have no way of knowing if he will ever want me, or my food again.
“Forever is an awfully long time, Oly.” I fix my gaze on the young warrior who isn’t prepared to let me alone.
“I know, that’s what’s so good about mating.” He grins, and his innocent happiness that the seniors are finding mates and the lair is filling with younglings shines out of him.
I shake my head. “I wish it was that easy.”
“You taught me everything is easy, just as long as you put the ingredients together in the right order.” Oly replies, feathers fluttering as he pushes past me, proprietorially, into the kitchen.
It smashes into me. The realization I could have easily done one thing, one simple thing that might have made Myk understand.
I could have told him I loved him, too.
It might not have stopped him from going into the battle, but it would have given him a reason to return.
“I can’t be here today.” I stumble over the words, my head and my heart in turmoil. “I’m sorry, Oly.”
Now the waters flow, ugly sobs and slippery tears that soak me as I run, blindly back to my quarters.
It all came down to one moment, a moment where I was too caught up in myself to see what I could have done.
Letting go of my past to embrace my future.
And my future just flew away to be a martyr to his cause. I might not have been able to stop him from going, but he could have gone with my blessing and not my curse.
If I never see him again, he will never know that he is the center of my world and that without him, my life is poorer.
But with him, it is the brightest sun that ever shone.
MYK
The laser whip slices through the flesh of my arm, hot blood pouring out until the gash seals itself. The superior healing Proto programmed into us is proving something it hadn’t contemplated being turned against the sentient AI.
It means I can continue to rend each and every bot within reach to a pile of useless parts. It’s mindless and so I do it, because I don’t want to think of anything but destruction. Another bot falls away, and I am one step closer to destroying them all.
My phalanx has been tasked with softening up the main Proto base, the one closest to the lair, lying just on the border between our land and that of the Kijg. It’s the same one that Kyt and his mate used to unleash the virus, and Jyr believes that it should be the starting point for the weapon in the underground lair, provided we can get inside.
Resistance from Proto is unrelenting. It’s as if it knows we mean business and, for once it’s using every bot at its disposal. Wave after wave of joykill, capturebot, and guardbot.
A thin cry to my left indicates a merc in trouble. The youngster has been grabbed by a capturebot, and it’s dangles him by one wing in the path of a joykill, laser whip crackling as it approaches.
For tech that isn’t supposed to have emotions, both bots seem to be enjoying torturing the hapless merc as I dive towards him. I pump my wings to gain as much speed as possible, pounding into the capturebot and slicing off its pincer-like arms, allowing the merc to drop away, bloodied, but alive, as I spin around in the air, stabbing my trusty sword into the joykill and reveling in the feel of metal slicing metal.
I hear the merc shout something at me, but I’ve moved on, to the next one, and the next and the next.
Until I land in the center of Proto’s base, parts of bots raining down all around me, pattering like metal rain.
There’s one fallen merc who needs to be rescued, his wing twisted in an unnatural way, I scoop him into my arms and lift him off the ground. Another young one, he groans in pain as I beat hard to get him away to where Orvos has set up a small field surgery.
“Myk.” A pair of eyes, bright with pain, look into mine. I recognize the youngling as one of those who worked in the kitchens with my eregri.
I don’t meet his gaze, the last thing I want is to be reminded of the mistake I made in letting her go.
I don’t want to be reminded of the first time I saw her in the kitchen, her dark hair curling around her face as she worked on making delicious morsels to eat.
And all I wanted to do was eat her.
I don’t want to be reminded of how I mated her properly for the first time on the kitchen table, covering us both in sweet and fragrant food, how her body responded to mine, and how she cried my name.
And all I wanted to do was claim her.
I should have kept my promise, returned to the lair, and built my nest for her.
“You’ll be fine, youngling. Orvos will look after you.” I set him down on a stretcher as gently as I can, but he hisses in pain, tears springing to his eyes.
These mercs are too young to be on the battlefield. No matter what’s at stake, they should not be made to face such hardships.
They should be with my mate in the kitchen, messing around like all younglings are, happy and content.
They should leave the revenge to those of us equipped to deal it out, who have no option but to sacrifice everything.
“Don’t leave me.” His hands clutch at my feathers.
“Stay for a while, Myk. The battle isn’t going anywhere and I could do with a senior to give some support to the injured.” Orvos says. He’s calm and collected as he quickly and swiftly checks over the young merc I brought in.
“I can’t tranq you. If we have to move, you have to be conscious.” He tells the youngling. “I can give you something for the pain, but your wing needs resetting and it will hurt.”
“What is your name, youngling?” I ask the merc, who grits his teeth.
“Pytr.”
“I will stay, for you.” I hunker down next to him, aware of just how blood streaked and filthy I am.
Orvos holds a sponge under Pytr’s nose, and he inhales.
“Ready?” The medic asks, but before the young one can reply, Orvos shifts the bones back into position with a click, and the merc moans in pain.
“You did well, Pytr.” I tell him, patting his shoulder as gently as I can, sending him as much of my thoughtbond that I can muster to shift the pain from his mind. “Not many your age would have borne such a procedure with the same grace.”
Pytr grasps at my hand, struggling to lift himself up, and his grip is greater than I would expect for one as badly injured as he is.
“Emma needs you.” He says and I try to pull away. “I can feel it. You are meant for each other. She is your eregri.” His voice takes on an awed tone. “How could you leave her behind?”
“I don’t know what you speak of, youngling.” I growl, tugging my hand away from him. “My mating has nothing to do with you.”
“The pain relief I have given him has an effect on the mind.” Orvos gently pushes the injured merc back onto his stretcher. “It makes him more suggestible, but he doesn’t mean anything by what he says.”
The youngster’s eyes become glassy and fixed. His life force ebbing.
“No! He only had an injured wing!” I place my hand on his chest, willing the merc to stay with us.
I will not lose anyone, not now, not ever. That is not who I am, not anymore. The merc’s color returns, his heart beating strongly once again, and I withdraw my hand in surprise.
“If you are life, why do you not live it?” Pytr says, his voice low and hoarse. He coughs painfully and looks up at Orvos. “What happened?” He asks in a voice more like his own.
“You’ll be fine, youngling. The painkiller will help, rest now, and we’ll arrange for you to be evacuated back to the lair.” Orvos frowns at me.
He pouts. “I’m okay, I can still fight.”
“You will return to the lair youngling. The fight is all but over here. We will need you once you have your full strength back.” I run my claws through his uninjured wing, knowing how much the mercs like to preen each other.
“And what about you, Myk?” Orvos asks as Pytr closes his eyes and this time his entire body relaxes. I feel him allow the pain to drift away. “How will you be strong for the lair?”
“It’s too late.” I stare down at the drugged male, now comfortable and relatively safe. “It was always too late for me.”
“Fate doesn’t know the meaning of the word, and the lair doesn’t need another senior who is unable to accept who they are and what they are capable of. Finding your eregri, that’s only the beginning. Making a future for you both, that is why Nisis chose you.”
“I am the lair’s blunt instrument, Orvos.” I reply, clutching the pommel of my sword, sticky with my blood. “No more, no less.”
“You are anything but that, Myk. You are the lair’s heart and soul. You beat for it when it cannot beat for itself. What you deny, denies the lair its ending. And your beginning.” He grasps me by my forearm. “You need your eregri. I feel it.” He thumps his arm across his chest. “We all do.”
“But I don’t. There is no thoughtbond. There is no bond.” I snarl at the male who thinks he can teach me about the links of our minds.
