The Dark Prince's Prize

Chapter 9-3

Adalard’s energy began draining the moment he stepped inside the transport. The intensity caused him to stagger. He placed his hand against the hull to steady himself and shook his head. The effect was worse than before.

He slid his hand along the wall, trembling and disoriented until his sense of survival kicked in, and he realized it was imperative that he exit the transport.

By the time he reached the bottom of the platform, he could barely stand. He stumbled over to a nearby boulder and leaned against it. Sweat coated his brow despite the freezing temperature. He shivered as a steady wind cut through the narrow ravine.

This was worse than he realized. The weapon that had been activated could prove deadly to the Curizan race. He pulled the communicator from his belt. His finger hovered over the button before he returned it to his belt and moodily stared at the transport.

His first thought was to connect to Ha’ven, but there was nothing his brother could do. In fact, there was nothing anyone could do—not without developing the disabling weakness that he was experiencing. Because of the mission’s location, there was only one non-Curizan personnel member on duty—a Moniker named Crom who had decided he would be Emma and Ha’ven’s personal guard. All other members of the crew were Curizans hand-picked to ensure the security of this defenseless planet.

He growled in frustration. He couldn’t bring Crom down to the planet. There was no way he would chance the Moniker being seen by a human. There was also no way of knowing if the entity aboard the transport might be dangerous to the Moniker. The species held a latent power similar to that of the Curizan.

If that wasn’t bad enough, he couldn’t even retrieve the hoverboard. Adalard looked at the sky as thick snowflakes began to fall. This was the second time today that he felt powerless to control the situation.

He must talk to Arrow. His twin could give him some idea of what he could do. Arrow loved mysteries like this. Unfortunately, in order to send a signal that far, he would have to patch into the deployed communication relays or go through the Rayon I’s communication system—both would take time to install which the weather would not allow. He gritted his teeth in frustration and closed the transport’s platform.

“I hope Arrow has some ideas,” he murmured, turning in resignation and retracing his steps back to the homestead.

The sound of debris falling from above the ravine caused him to halt and look up. He stiffened when he saw someone standing at the cliff edge. Through the falling snow, he recognized Samara.

“Adalard?” she called out.

She hadn’t seen him yet. Using the increased snowfall to his advantage, he focused on a section close to her and phase-jumped. The familiar tingle of energy surrounded him.

The power to teleport was still relatively new to him. When Ha’ven used this ability before in his and Arrow’s presence, it had captured their attention. Arrow, using a more scientific approach, had pinpointed the method of controlling the energy in the molecular structure of his body down to the smallest atoms.

Neither of his brothers understood completely how the process worked. He was just thankful for the newfound talent because it had saved his neck more than once in the past few months—including now.

“Samara, what are you doing here?” he demanded.

She sharply turned on her heel, startled. Her lips parted on a gasp, and her eyes widened with surprise when her foot slipped on an ice-covered rock. She reached out to him as she started to fall backwards.

His heart was racing as he wrapped his fingers around her outstretched wrist. He roughly pulled her into his embrace, holding her against his body. She tightly gripped his heavy jacket.

“Th-thank you,” she muttered in a shaky breath.

He was lost the moment she tilted her head back and stared up at him. He saw the same remains of fear in her eyes that he felt himself. Leaning down, he captured her lips in a heated kiss.