Page 14 of Aura Awakened
I close my eyes. I really, really don’t want to have to tell her this.
“Fillian,” she says, her tone thick with warning.
“What I’m saying is, without Malifect technology, there’s no way I know of to get back to Earth within either of our lifetimes. In fact, if we can’t use the gate that brought us here to get out, we might be trapped in this strange galaxy forever.” I rub the back of my neck, trying to soothe the tension that prickles there.
She gapes at me. “What?”
“I was maybe a little reckless, okay? When I saw the Malifect ship, I made a…let’s say, an impulsive decision. I followed this ship through a jump gate, because I needed to know where they were mining the gas. I’m assuming that it’ll eventually jump back, because that’s the way to Malifica Prime. It won’t just stay here forever. My plan was to just follow it back through the gate in my own ship, but I wasn’t counting on a malfunction.”
“So not only does your ship not work, but even if it did, we can’t get back to either of our planets? We’re just stranded on this ship from hell? Waiting for the Malifects to find and enslave us? What kind of plan is this?”
“A spur-of-the-moment kind, like I said! I had a chance to track this ship and I took it. You should be glad,” I point out.
She rolls her eyes. “I mean, sure. I’m glad you woke me up and freed me from the pod. But our current situation is only marginally better.”
4
AURA
Yep, I said it.Our.I’ve completely thrown my lot in with this him, because the alternative is far worse. And because Tree-Man, Prince of Power here really does seem like he wants to help me. I don’t know why he chose me to be his partner on this doomed mission, but I do believe he was genuinely trying to rescue me. And let’s face it, I have no hope of escape without him.
Furthermore, whatever his reasoning, he’s not treating me like I’m an obligation or anything. In fact, based on the glances he sneaks when he thinks I’m not looking, he seems to actually like me. More than a little.
The thing is, I think the liking might be mutual. For an alien, he’s distractingly hot, a fact I’m trying—and failing—to ignore. Tall, ripped, concerned for my safety. It seemed totally natural for me to volunteer to help him with his mission, like this is a thing I do. Like, what is that? But when he started stressing about my safety and the sensors, my gut reaction was to soothe him. I mean, sure, I’m scared, but I also don’t want him to worry. Why would I do that if I didn’t feel something for him? Something beyond gratitude, that is.
Also, for a tree, he smells good. I don’t think it’s cologne; he seems to have this natural evergreen-and-vetiver scent that would sell for hundreds if you put it in a bottle and slapped a French label on it. Something likearôme des bois.
Adding to the attraction is the fact that he seems like a badass, though I haven’t actually seen him in action. I never really thought I was into the alpha-male, bad-boy type, but I have to admit, it’s doing it for me. He just cowboyed in here like it was no big deal, without any real assurance that he’d ever get home, ready to yippee-ki-yay these motherfuckers. That takes balls. Which I assume he has? He does seem mostly humanoid, sap and thorns notwithstanding.
It’s weird, because I can’t even remember the last time I went on a date. Romance has been the last thing on my mind as I’ve worked to establish my life in Tenpenny. But an hour or two with this guy, who is both a stranger and a freaking alien, has me feeling things I shouldn’t. A desire to help him. A desire to get to know him better. A desire for…other things.
Down, girl. I need to focus on the important stuff, like surviving.
We huddle, mostly in silence, for several more minutes. I have no idea what he’s thinking about, and I’m not about to ask him about the finer points of his reproductive anatomy, despite the fact that I’m intensely curious.
The mechanical whirring sound of the sensors finally fades. Once Fillian deems it safe, we crawl back to the corridor and cautiously evaluate things.
“I don’t see or hear any signs of the sensor sweep,” he says. “Let’s move.”
I follow him as he weaves and winds through various rooms at the heart of the vessel. I can’t tell what any of it is for—it’s all black walls and neon lights and alien markings—but he seems to know what he’s doing. Or at the very least, he’s doing a good job faking it.
At last, we enter a massive room filled with a sort of hovering fog. Multiple vats squat in the center like fat toads, with pipes linking them to each other and to the miscellaneous equipment that lines the walls.
“Aha!” Fillian says, clueing me in that we’ve found the lab. “I can’t believe I guessed the right deck on the first try! Finally, something’s going our way.” He pulls a device out of one of his many uniform pockets and immediately begins tapping on it and using it to scan the panels around the room, presumably photographing or recording his findings. The device reminds me of a cell phone, if somebody zapped it with a shrink ray. Despite its miniature size, it seems to get the job done.
It doesn’t take him long to collect the data he needs. After about thirty minutes, he turns to me, a grin lighting up his stern face. “Got it! Now all we have to do is get off this ship and take the intel back to the Coalition. It’ll be a huge blow to the Malifect Empire.” He rests a hand on my shoulder, guiding me back the way we came, and once again, his personal electricity gives me a buzz.
It’s not painful; on the contrary, it feels like firework sparklers fizzing in my blood. Little volts of pleasure dance along my limbs, making their way south. Somehow, his electrifying touch makes my whole body sit up and take notice. And I do mean my whole body.
I can feel a flush heating my cheeks and I step away from him, just enough to break contact. I don’t know why he has that physical effect on me, but I have no business lusting after anactual space alien, especially when we’re stuck in enemy territory. Even if he is hot and tough and rescued me from the evil monsters.
We’re still hurrying through the corridor when yet another alert goes off, multicolored lights flashing along the walls. This one is different. I freeze. “What do we do?” I hiss.
Before we can answer, more of the little auto-bots come scuttling down the hall, red lights sweeping in front of them as they search, possibly for motion or body heat. They’re small and round, like my robot vacuum back home. They’re also everywhere, closing in on both sides.
We’re trapped.
Fillian is frantically studying the smooth walls of the corridor, no doubt looking for a handhold—some way to climb above these bots. Nothing emerges, so he finally picks me up, muttersfuckunder his breath, and just starts stepping on the things. They crunch beneath him, and while I know they’re mechanical, the sound still reminds me of crushing insects underfoot.