Page 3 of The Hunter's Mate

The pause gives me a chance to look at my attacker, my head swimming. It looks like an alligator…kind of. If an alligator stood on two legs and walked like a man, it would look like this thing. It has a reptilian head and snout covered in green scales, a frill like an axolotl’s at the back of his skull. His fangs hang over his lower jaw, sharp and menacing, while a string of gold jewels hangs along one side of its frill.

Other than that, it almost looks human. It wears a set of tight black armor that glistens with water, a tail swishing behind it. It doesn’t wear shoes; rather, it has two clawed feet, its knees backwards like a velociraptor.

It leans forward, then moves a little closer.

It’s not giving up.

I line my gun up and put my finger on the trigger, but its tail whips out to knock the gun from my hand. I cry out and reach for it, but there’s no time; all I can do is watch as it sinks below the water’s surface. I scramble to escape, the creature practically on top of me now.

It hisses and grabs my wrists, pulling me up to its chest. I lose all composure and shriek, kicking violently with my uninjured leg. My kicks fall on hard muscle and even harder scales, unable to do a single thing to my attacker.

He hauls me up over his shoulder and starts to stride back into the water until it’s up to his chest and trailing along my feet. I wriggle around, trying to escape, and I manage to writhe out of his grasp and fall face-first into the water.

It’s no use, though. He grabs me and pulls me up again, holding on tighter now. I feel the bite of claws on my thighs and along my ribs, and I beat on his back with my fists.

But he doesn’t let go.

And wherever he’s taking me…it can’t be good.

4

Nyrik

I carry the female back to my ship, kicking and screaming the whole way. She continues to bleed from the wound in her thigh, yet she never wavers in her desire to escape. She claws at my uniform, not knowing that it is impenetrable.

“Stop,” I say, hoping my tone will convey my message. “Cease this fighting before I’m forced to bind you.”

She screams louder, fights harder.

I grunt in annoyance and toss her down on a sliver of land, her breath huffing out in a puff. She spins to try to crawl away, but I drag her back with cords already in hand, winding silver twine around her wrists and ankles. She kicks at me hard enough to knock me back just once before I wrestle with her again, then toss her over my shoulder.

I could kill her. It would fulfill my duty to the Hunt and to our contract.

But…

…she has lived this long.

My conscience won’t let me finish it this way.

She is still trying to escape when we board my ship, her clothes clinging to her and her hair wet against her face. I put her down on the floor beside my sleeping alcove, stalking away as the frill on my head flares in agitation. When I look back at her, she’s flopped over on her stomach, blood pooling beneath her.

I need to get her treated if saving her life was worth anything.

I grab the medical kit I keep in the cockpit and stalk back toward her. In my other hand is the translator I’ve saved for the purposes of interrogation, hoping I can pacify her and explain our impasse. I put the kit down and reach for her as she screams at me, trying desperately to get away.

“Be still,” I command. She does not listen. I am forced to grip her around the neck, retracting my claws to pull her closer. She squeezes her eyes shut when I move the translator to her ear, her breath coming in harsh gasps.

Once the gold chain hangs from her ear, I speak again.

“Is it working?” I ask.

She goes still.

“You…you can talk,” she says, her brown eyes flitting to mine.

I flare my nostrils. “I have been trying to talk to you this whole time,” I say. “You have a translator now. We should be able to communicate.”

“What are you?” she whispers.