Page 55 of Uncovered By the Alien Commander
I run an absent hand over my charred, branded skin, remembering in surprise that Urgnaw had torn my shirt, leaving my upper body exposed. My eyes glance down at my pale breasts, heaving with rapid breaths, yet I feel no embarrassment, only emptiness.
My eyes flicker to the clothes that Urgnaw had scattered across the bed, then back to Xandor. He stands there, watching me as he always does, ever since he arrived on the Mutalisk Hammer. This relentless hunter never fails to track me down, no matter where I hide. Yet, his golden eyes don’t linger on my exposed breasts; worse, they pierce into my soul with an unnerving intensity.
What does he desire from me if not my body?
Xandor’s eyes flick to my clothes for an instant. He’s like me, always noticing, always examining every detail. “I’ll let you dress,” he offers, retreating with slow steps into the furthest corner of the darkened, cluttered room.
His implied permission grates on my nerves. “I’m the one with the gun, so you don’tletme do anything,” I remind him, maintaining my pistol on him, hoping to keep him at bay as I shuffle with careful steps towards the bed. My gaze constantly switching between my clothes and Xandor, wary of any sudden movements.
“You know, that puny weapon can’t kill me,” Xandor remarks, his tone laced with a hint of amusement.
He’s trying to scare me, wrench my control away.
“This puny weapon killed four Suns of Omega, so unless you want to join them, stay where you are,” I threaten, glaring at him.
“Four!” Xandor exclaims, raising four massive fingers. “Seems my little puffrio has claws, after all,” he chuckles, extending long razor-sharp claws from his fingers. A lump forms in my throat at the shocking sight.
Suppressing my unease, I continue to search through my clothes while keeping my gun trained on Xandor. “I’m not your little anything. Don’t test me, Xandor, I will shoot you. I swear it,” I sneer back at him.
Xandor’s amusement fades, leaving behind only his intense gaze. “What have I done to earn such hatred? Some unknown insult? An absent lingering gaze? Mere fear at my presence? Tell me, I demand to know!” His words carry unexpected emotion, catching me off guard.
Because I stole from you, and now I fear your approach.
I dare not reveal the truth, instead racking my brain for a response. “You attacked Quad and would have tortured Urgnaw to death had I not stopped you,” I reply, trying to justify my animosity.
“Quad had to be stopped, and the Tuskarian deserved it for what he did to you.”
“No, you take pleasure in causing pain.”
“I take pleasure in my skill, in my Gods’ given superiority.”
“You abuse others who cannot fight back.”
“I never abused you, yet you stand exposed and helpless before me.”
“I’m not helpless!”
“You teeter on the brink female, lost and alone. Only with me can you find what you’re longing for.”
“I want nothing from you, murderer! I hate you and rue the day you arrived on the ship!”
“You lie female.”
“No...I...”
“You’ve killed four, you admitted it yourself. But you judge me as a murderer... It feels good, doesn’t it? You feel powerful pointing that gun at me, and when you took the lives of the others,” Xandor says, his usual casual humor and easy smile now long gone.
Our frantic exchange leaves my mind reeling with confusion as my gun trembles, forcing me to support it in two hands. He’s right: a part of me relished the sensation of power and control for the first time in my life when I killed. The realization terrifies me.
I must flee from Xandor. It’s only a matter of time before he discovers my treachery. I take a steadying breath, renewing my resolve. “No, I’m not like you. I’ll take my chances on my own,” I declare, stuffing my clothes into my satchel.
As I do, I uncover a fraction of Xandor’s warvisor, prompting a gasp to escape my lips. Panic grips me.
Shit, did he notice my reaction?
I steal a glance at Xandor who’s expression remains unchanged. “You’re infuriating, female. The Gods have truly cursed me,” he sighs, folding his massive arms.
Although I’m unsure what the Gods have to do with cursing him, when I am the one cursed. My eyes shift back to the mostly obscured warvisor, a bold, desperate plan forming. I conceal the object in my remaining clothes with sly hands and shove it into my satchel.