Spears pierce the air and cut through their targets like magnastrikes.
The ground beneath our feet rumbles with the echoes of their massive forms.
Battle cries erupt around us and blood splatters like rain.
Somehow, within the shock of it all, me and my brothers move as one, choosing in a second which side we’re on.
Fellow Mortuus dwellers or vile aliens from the heavens.
The choice was easy.
Breccan’s roar reverberates through me, waking my own inner beast. These human men have no idea who they’re dealing with. No idea. Amongst the slashing of magknives, bright bursts of zonnoblasters, and unforgiving throws of handmade spears, the people of this planet fight with beastly brutality these humans have never known.
This. Is. Our. Home.
One of the human men aims his weapon at Julie. On impulse, I grab her arm and yank her out of harm’s way. It was probably unnecessary because a golden streak—one of those she arrived with—launches himself on the attacker. I get a flash of his pointy fangs as he bares his teeth. As though he’s a sabrevipe himself, he sinks the sharp points into the human’s throat and rips at the flesh as though it’s nothing.
“Thank you,” Julie mutters to me and then calls out to one of the other Mortuus dwellers. “Xorion!”
She plucks her arm free and races toward the creature—Xorion—who just killed to protect her. Their bond makes my own hum to life. This entire battle I’ve felt my mate and our mortling behind me—a force strong and an invigorating shower to my need to protect. But, because I need to see them, I toss a quick glance back.
Stella holds Henry to her, a hand crushing his head against her side so he doesn’t have to see the violence unfolding. In her other arm is a zonnoblaster, her finger ready on the trigger. She raises the weapon and for a split second I’m reminded of a time when she’d rather kill me than accept my presence. So much has changed with my sweet zelfyre.
A flashed beam coupled with a crackling zap shoots just to my right. Crashing to the floor beside me is one of the human men, a gaping hole where half of his nog once was. I recognize his orange hair—or what’s left of it—as one of the men in the Tower who held our mortling captive.
That’ll teach him to mess with a mother and her young.
Draven snarls somewhere close. As much as I’d love to admire my lovely, brave mate, I must attend to my brothers and aid them in this fight.
The sounds of blasting weapons go silent. All that can be heard are the heavy breathing of those left and the crackling fires that still burn parts of the Facility.
And a sniveling human male.
“Are there any more?” Draven demands, shoving the male against a wall. “Answer me, mortarekker.”
“I-I d-don’t know,” the man stammers. “If there are, I don’t know where.”
“I don’t believe you,” Draven growls in response. “But, rest assured, wherever they are, we will find them. We’ll feed every last one of you pieces of filth to the sabrevipes.”
There are worse ways to go than being fed to sabrevipes.
Theron catches my eye and winces. He’s no doubt imagining just exactly what that would feel like. Since I nearly got eaten by a pack of them myself back in the caves when I first met Stella, I cringe too. It’s horrific, to say the least. As much as I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, these human males who’ve attacked our planet and our people deserve that and more.
“Take him to one of the cells,” Breccan barks out. “We’ll get all we can out of him.”
Xorion, who appears to be their leader based on his size and air of authority, chuffs. His skin is decorated with the most tattoos. “He is ours, yes? Gift for our aid in your battle?”
The human male pales, shaking his head. As if he actually gets a say in this exchange.
“You can’t claim everything you find,” Julie grumbles. “Seriously, Xor, what are we going to do with a soldier?”
“Eat him?” one of Xorion’s men offers, a wild grin on his face.
The human pisses his pants at that statement.
“Mama,” Henry whispers loudly. “He peed his pants.”
“No one is eating anyone, Xanto. You’re such a psycho freak.” Julie motions at the one called Xorion. “Your brother isn’t right in the head.”
“I’m sure we can negotiate,” Breccan says to Xorion. “I’m Breccan, commander of this Faction.”
Xorion stares at Breccan for a long beat until Julie elbows him. He shoots her a narrow-eyed glare before turning his attention back to our commander. “Xorion. Chieftain of the Xixians.”
Breccan nods. “We have much to discuss. Can I trust your men to assist mine with removing the bodies while we meet?”
Several of Chieftain Xorian’s men dart curious looks at our females. My sub-bones pop in response and someone—Hadrian maybe—growls in warning.