Page 13 of Nansar
I raised my hands, palms out in surrender. "Understood."
"Who are you?" Her voice had steadied, but those storm-gray eyes still tracked my every movement.
I kept my hands carefully away from my sides, every muscle screaming at me to close the distance between us even as my brain insisted on maintaining it. "The Prime and Duke Ako sent me to find you. There's a rendezvous point—an Alliance ship coming to extract you. To take you somewhere safe."
She studied me with an intensity that made heat crawl up the back of my neck. Her jaw tightened, and I found myself watching the way her pulse fluttered in her throat. "And I'm just supposed to believe that?" The skepticism in her tone was sharp enough to draw blood. "Supposed to trust you?"
"No," I said, forcing myself to meet those devastating eyes. "You're not. You don't know me. You have no reason to trust me." I glanced back at where her spear still jutted from Bronto's massive corpse. "But the Prime and AdmiralBlackwood are desperate to get you to safety. And Duke Ako is my father."
"Duke Ako." Something flickered across her face—recognition, perhaps, or the ghost of a memory that made her expression soften for just a heartbeat before the walls slammed back up.
I moved slowly toward Bronto's body, hyperaware of how she tensed immediately, her fingers white-knuckled on that blade. Every instinct I had roared at me to move carefully, to not make her more afraid than she already was.
"Easy," I said, my voice coming out rougher than I intended. "I'm just getting your weapon."
The squelching sound as I pulled the makeshift spear free made my stomach turn, but I couldn't help the flicker of admiration. She'd smashed the end to create multiple points instead of one—brutal, efficient, deadly. In the right hands, this thing was a work of art. And from what I'd just witnessed, her hands were very much the right ones.
I turned and held it out to her, the weight of it nothing compared to the weight of her stare.
She looked at me like I'd just offered her a viper.
"Take it," I said. "I have no doubt you can kick my ass if I try anything out of line." The corner of my mouth twitched despite myself. "You just took down Bronto—and he was three times your size."
For a heartbeat, she didn't move, and I wondered if she could hear my pulse thundering in my ears. Then, slowly, she crossed the distance between us, never breaking eye contact, and I felt every step like a physical thing.
She snatched the spear from my hand and immediately retreated, putting space between us again.
The weapon seemed to ground her. Her shoulders squared, her breathing evened out, and I watched thetransformation from cornered prey to apex predator with something dangerously close to awe.
"If you're lying," she said quietly, and the promise in her voice made my blood run hot, "if this is some kind of trick—"
"It's not," I said, and I'd never meant anything more in my life. "I swear it."
She didn't look convinced. But she didn't run, either.
And somehow, that felt like a victory.
Chapter 5
Chloe
I crossed my arms, studying the horned stranger with narrowed eyes. Every instinct I'd honed over years of training screamed at me to keep my distance, to trust no one. Especially not some devastatingly handsome alien on a prison planet who claimed to know my father.
The Prime. The name stirred something in my memory—President Bradford's office, her briefing on this mission. The Prime and Duke Ako. She'd spoken of them with respect, called them allies. Beings my father trusted implicitly.
But trust was a luxury I could no longer afford. Not after Declan. Not after everything.
"How did you know my father's name?" The question came out sharp, edged with suspicion.
He held my gaze with an expression that made my breath catch. His eyes were extraordinary—an impossible blend of blue and green that shimmered like sunlight dancing on Caribbean waters. I forced myself to look away before I got lost in them.
"His name was given to me by my father," he said, his deep voice sending an unwelcome shiver down my spine. "The same person who asked me to find and protect you."
The explanation was plausible. Barely. But enough that the iron band of suspicion around my chest loosened a fraction. Not enough to let my guard down—never again—but enough to keep me from bolting.
My hand remained near the knife at my belt. Old habits died hard.
"So what's the plan?" I demanded, watching him with the wariness of a cornered animal. "You find me, and then what?"
