The Dark Prince's Prize

Chapter 16-3

“Tilkmos!”

Adalard cursed when he hit his head on the cabinet. Lifting a wary hand, he rubbed the tender spot and sent another wave of healing energy over it. This was the third time he had hit his head because of his distracted thoughts.

“Adalard! I found something,” Samara called out with excitement.

He gripped the cabinet and carefully stood up, stretching his back to relieve the muscle tension. His gaze swept over Samara. She was lying on her back with her knees up and her feet planted on the floor, with half of her body under a row of coolant piping for the starboard engine.

He moved until he was lying in a similar position next to her. It was a tight fit, but he was able to slide in far enough to see a two-foot glass cylinder attached to the back of the conduit.

Each end of the glass cylinder had metal caps with round holes. From his position, he caught the glow of a green light on a control panel. The control panel must open and close the vents, allowing the matter inside to escape.

He narrowed his eyes when he saw the swirling cloud of matter inside the glass cylinder. The matter was compacted and roiling. Small wisps of the fog seeped through the open vents only to retreat.

As if it is afraid, he mused.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Samara said, turning her head and looking at him.

He studied the cylinder. “We need to shut the vents and contain the matter.”

“I think I’m small enough to squeeze back there,” she replied.

He frowned with displeasure. The idea of Samara being that close to the source of the malevolent fog and not being able to reach her did not sit well with him. Before he could express his unease, she was wiggling under the pipe.

“Be careful,” he warned.

She tilted her head and flashed him a grin. “I’ve got this. When the lift was down at the shop, dad would send me under the low riders. This isn’t much different from being under a sports car—only a hell of a lot cleaner,” she said.

“I don’t believe I would have liked your father any better than I do your brothers,” he confessed.

“Yeah, neither did I. I’m almost… there,” she grunted.

He silently watched as she pulled herself into a sitting position between the wall and the conduit. She sat still and examined the cylinder while he studied her. After a minute, she looked down at him. A knot formed in his chest when he noticed her expression soften, and she reached down and brushed her fingers across his forehead.

“You’ve got the tick going again. Did anyone ever tell you that you worry too much?” she teased.

He grinned and shook his head. “No. They tend to say the opposite.”

She wiggled her nose at him. “Ah, must be the Lee-Stephens curse then. You might want to move. I don’t think it would be a good idea to be stuck under the pipe if this thing blows up,” she suggested.

“Son of a Tiliqua’s heads,” he cursed.

She raised an eyebrow at him and motioned for him to scoot back. He grudgingly slid out from under the pipe and rose to his feet. Power surged inside of him as the overwhelming need to protect his mate flooded his body. He flexed his fingers. Energy snapped and popped in the air as the tiny electrical charges danced from his fingertips.

“There are three buttons on the control panel. The top one is green, so I’m going to assume that is the open,” she called out to him.

“Is there any writing on the panel?” he asked.

She squatted, and he stepped sideways so he could keep her in his sight. She ran her fingers lightly over the cylinder. His stomach knotted when she paused and frowned.

“What is it?” he demanded as the seconds grew and she didn’t respond.

“I think whatever is inside the cylinder is alive,” she finally said.

“Why? What is it doing?” he impatiently asked.

“It’s swirling around and I swear…” Her voice faded.

He muttered another curse under his breath. “What? What is it doing?” he demanded.

She looked at him with a frown. “Nothing really. It’s just wiggling around.”

He took a deep breath before he slowly released it. “Can you close the cylinder?” he quietly asked.

She nodded and returned her focus to the device. He tensed when he saw her take a deep breath and bite her bottom lip before she pressed one of the buttons. From this angle, he couldn’t see if it was successful or not.

She looked over at him and smiled. “It worked,” she said. “I’ll see how it’s attached and hand it to you.”

Several minutes later, he gingerly took the cylinder from her as she held it between the conduits. He stepped back and waited as she dropped to the floor and wiggled out from behind the thick pipes.

Once she was standing next to him again, they both studied the dark, swirling mass inside the container. He touched the cool exterior, and the mass struck out at him, ricocheting against the glass. Intrigued, he pulled his hand away.

“Do you know what this is?” Samara asked.

He shook his head. “No, but I plan to find out.”

She nodded and hovered her finger above the container. The gray matter shrank from her touch. Adalard frowned and studied the entity in the glass.

“Well, at least someone thinks I’m scarier than you are,” she mused.