The Dark Prince's Prize

Chapter 13-3

“Ow, that hurts,” Samara muttered.

Her voice was muffled against Adalard’s shoulder. He held her close, trying not to jostle her. He was surprised when he didn’t feel the energy drain as he strode through the storage bay of his transport.

“It will soon be better,” he promised.

“What would make me feel better is for my brothers to grow a brain,” she groaned.

He chuckled. Despite the fact that her brothers were the lowest form of life, he could still sense her compassion for them. She was a better person than he was. He felt no regret at his half-brother’s death and wouldn’t think twice about killing her brother, Jerry, the next time the opportunity presented itself.

“I’m afraid that is not likely to happen any time soon,” he dryly replied.

He carried her through an open door and gently laid her on the bed. She hissed and lifted her head off the pillow, wincing as she tried to sit up. He placed his hand on her shoulder and scowled at her. She glared back and pushed his hand away.

“Do you have any idea what a b***h it is to get blood out of fabric?” she growled.

He looked at her with an expression of disbelief. “You have a gash in your head, a possible concussion, and you are worried about my bed linens?” he exclaimed.

She closed one eye and winced. “Yes. I’m worried. Where are we?” she asked.

“My transport. I need to get the medical kit. Please remain here until I return,” he answered.

“’Kay,” she responded, peering around the room with only one eye open.

He hesitated, worried about leaving her. The medical kit was in a cabinet on the bridge. He backed out of the room, casting a wary look at Samara once more before he turned away and started down the corridor.

The moment Adalard left the room, a wave of fatigue hit him. A dark gray film greedily surrounded him, making him feel as if he were trudging through thick sludge. He braced one hand against the wall to keep his balance as he forced his feet to keep moving.

The journey to the bridge seemed to take forever though he knew it was only minutes. The vein at his temple throbbed as he gritted his teeth to keep from groaning. The gray matter felt like it was literally trying to pull him apart.

“Dragon’s balls,” he muttered as he opened the cabinet.

He pulled out the emergency medical kit, almost falling into the chair from the weight of it. In his peripheral vision, he saw gray strands devouring his aura. What puzzled him was that he didn’t feel or sense this draining fatigue when he was with Samara.

Clutching the medical kit to his chest, he focused on returning the short distance to the only sleeping quarters on the transport. By the time he made it to the doorway, he was breathing heavily and shaking from fatigue. He looked at Samara leaning back against the hull with her eyes closed and the sleeve of her dark red blouse pressed against the cut on the side of her head.

He stepped into the room—and was surrounded by a surge of energy. The dramatic difference from mind-numbing weakness to feeling like he could take on a hundred Sarafin and Valdier warriors at once almost knocked him off his feet. The impact was so intense that he needed a few seconds to deal with the excess power flowing through him.

He turned and looked back at the doorway. The gray energy shrank away from the entrance as if terrified. He lifted his arm and studied the patterns of colors swirling around him. Bright white, red, violet, and various shades of blue formed an almost honeycomb barrier. He followed the pattern back to its source.

Samara, he silently breathed.

What? she responded, opening her eyes. “Wow! You’re coated in like a colorful bubble wrap. What’d you do—run through a rainbow or find Lucky Charms?”

“It is you,” he said, stepping forward and placing the medical kit on the bed beside her.

“Me?” she exclaimed in disbelief. She started to shake her head and winced. “Ow. I hope that box has some serious pain killers in it.”

He knelt on the floor in front of her and opened the case. “You will be healed in a few minutes. I need to make sure there was no serious brain damage.”

Samara released an inelegant snort. “Wilson would argue that you were too late,” she mumbled, closing her eyes again.

“Who is Wilson?” Adalard asked.

He pulled the scanner out and held it next to her head. At the same time, he reached out and connected with her, blocking the pain she was feeling. She sighed with relief. A sense of remorse filled him when he felt the sharp, throbbing pain he had taken from her. He should have blocked her pain sooner.

“Wilson? He’s the second oldest out of the motley crew of Lee-Stephens, and was, until I left this morning, the smartest one of the bunch of us,” she shared.

Using a combination of technology and his own energy, he healed the wound and cleaned the blood from her hair.

“The spot will be tender for a day or two.”

She opened her eyes and stared into his. An uneven smile curved her lips. He breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed that her eyes were clear and her pupils looked normal.

“Thank you,” she said.

In one of the few awkward moments of his life, he wasn’t sure what to say or do. Clearing his throat, he replaced the scanner into the medical kit and closed it. He rose to his feet and held his hand out. She grasped it, scooted off the bed, and stood next to him, looking around with wide, curious eyes.

“You know I plan to kill your brother for this, don’t you?” he said.

He almost winced at his unexpected confession. She laughed and shook her head. He looked down at her hand when she patted him on the chest.

“Trust me, you’ll have to stand in line, not to mention he just isn’t worth it. Karma will bite him in the a*s soon enough without your help. So, is this your broken-down bike?” Samara teased.

Adalard frowned before he understood what she meant. With a sheepish grin, he nodded. He had forgotten about her misconception.

“Can I look around?” she curiously asked.

“What? I… Yes, but…,” he said, his voice fading as he looked at the doorway.

She tilted her head and looked in the same direction before looking up at him. He could see the dark gray aura swirling outside of the doorway. He instinctively wrapped a protective arm around Samara, pulling her closer to him.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

He sighed. “Yes. A very dangerous device was placed on the transport that is causing issues. I haven’t located it yet,” he grimly admitted.

She looked back at the doorway and frowned. “Does it have something to do with the gray swirling smoke?” she inquired.

He started with surprise and looked at her. “You see it?” he demanded.

She gave him a funny look and nodded. “Yeah. For a moment I was worried your ship was on fire until I noticed there wasn’t a smell. Then I thought it was the lighting, some kind of breathing chemical, or just a weird alien thing.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m even saying that.”

He shook his head. “The issue appeared on my journey to your planet,” he explained.

“Is it another alien?” she warily asked. “I mean, you know—could it be like a virus or some kind of creature that wants to take over your body?”

“No, the bio-filters would destroy any such thing,” he said.

She frowned. “Well, have you followed the gray swirling things?” she asked.

He hesitated. “N-o. Until now, I didn’t notice the gray aura attacking me. All I felt was the intense energy drain, as if it was sucking the life out of me. I’ve been searching the ship, but I grow dangerously weak—except when I was carrying you,” he admitted.

She bit her lip and looked out into the corridor. “Well, maybe my superpower is keeping the bad aura away from you. If that’s the case, maybe I could help you find it,” she suggested.

He caressed her cheek. “I would appreciate your help,” he said.

She looked up at him and smiled. “It’s the least I can do for helping me out tonight—but, there is one condition,” she warned.

“And what is your condition?” he inquired.

She patted him on the chest and grinned. “You can’t kill Jerry, no matter how tempting it is,” she cheekily replied before stepping out into the corridor.

He scowled at her before a calculating gleam appeared in his eyes, and a slight smile curled his lips. She had said he couldn’t kill her brother. She didn’t say he couldn’t make Jerry wish he were dead.

Wishing is okay.

He blinked in surprise at her amused response to his thoughts. She looked at him over her shoulder with a mischievous expression. Desire hit him hard. Wicked thoughts danced through his mind. Her soft gasp told him she caught what he was thinking.

“You are a very dangerous alien, Adalard Ha’darra. You should be focusing on finding your device, not mentally undressing me,” she quipped with a shake of her head.

“Undressing you is much more pleasurable,” he stated.

She rolled her eyes at him and turned away. “Men! I swear evolution made a mistake giving them two heads and expecting them to use the one with the brain,” she retorted.

He burst out laughing. Samara was different from any other woman he had ever met. Of course, the main difference was the way their auras connected, giving him a sense of completion, but it was more than that. Most of the women he met were too busy eyeing him as their next toy or anticipating the prestige that being with him would bring them. Samara wasn’t impressed with his status—or his physique.

The last thought doused his amusement somewhat as an unexpected and definitely unusual feeling of uncertainty washed through him. What if she didn’t find him attractive? He touched his cheek with the scar on it. Maybe he should erase the mark he received years ago.

Now you’re just being ridiculous. I think you’re cute.

Her response reminded him that his thoughts were open to her. An uncharacteristic blush rose in his cheeks. Once again, she made him feel like an untried lad on his first outing with a beautiful woman.

He was pulled from his uncomfortable self-reflection by a sense of weakness. While he was lost in thought, Samara had ventured toward the bridge of the ship. Less than ten feet separated them, but the malevolent gray fog attacked him with a vengeance. He bowed his head, swaying at the force of the assault, and braced a hand against the inner wall of the corridor.

Samara turned and looked at him, her eyes widening with horror. He lifted his head and shook it.

“Come toward me slowly. I… need to see what happens so I… can share the information… with my brother,” he haltingly instructed through clenched teeth.

She bit her lip, nodded, and began to walk slowly toward him. The gray fog parted as if someone drew a line down the middle of it. He counted the steps before her aura surrounded him in a protective cocoon.

Pulling her into his embrace, he breathed deeply, enjoying that she held him tightly against her body. She caressed his back with soothing strokes as the weakness faded. He leaned back against the wall and watched the gray fog swirling in a semi-circle around them.

How can I protect her when I cannot even protect myself? he silently wondered, making sure he kept a barrier between them so she could not hear his worried thoughts.