Amid Stars and Darkness (The Xenith Trilogy #1)

“Trystan!” The warning instinctually slipped past her lips, and she pushed him aside. He was so surprised by her outburst that he was easy to move, and once he was out of the way, she was close enough to intercept. Her fisted hand slammed against the soldier’s cheek, the first real punch she’d thrown since those self-defense classes years ago. The pain in her knuckles directly after caused her to hiss, but the soldier recovered quickly.

His hand burrowed in her short hair and tugged. He let out a grunt when she brought her heel down on his toes, and then again when her elbow found his solar plexus. He was doubling over while she was practically tripping in her haste to get away, when the door on the other side of the room opened.

For a split second, her eyes met Pettus’s and she held her breath. He glanced around, clearly unsure what he was seeing, and then snapped into action. Relief swept through her so strong that it was all she could do to press against the wall in order to stay upright.

A gun—a fritz—identical to the one she’d seen Ruckus with earlier, formed in his hand, and he shot one in the shoulder when he came at him. The blast wasn’t loud, more like a ping and a blast of heat in the air. The green lights on the weapon flashed distractingly as Pettus turned to aim at the man who’d just been holding her.

She stared at the first soldier, or more aptly, the gaping hole in him, unable to look away. It was like someone had taken a circular cookie cutter and pressed down on the spot between his shoulder and chest. His body had dropped after the shot so that he was leaning against the wall, and she could see the metal right through him. There wasn’t any blood; the heat from the blast had cauterized the wound. But he was definitely dead.

“You’re going to kill him.” Pettus’s harsh words snapped her out of it, and she twisted around.

Trystan was holding Dreadus by the neck.

The soldier was kicking his feet in the air, his toes hovering a few inches above the ground. He had both hands wrapped around Trystan’s wrists, trying to get him to loosen his hold, but the Zane didn’t seem to notice. Instead he angled the other man’s head with a thumb, all while clenching tighter around his windpipe.

Getting a better look at the scratches, Trystan arched his brows and sent her a look over his shoulder. She gritted her teeth when she saw surprise on his face, but there was something else, too, and she thought it might be pride.

For some reason, that made her even more uncomfortable, and she quickly looked away.

“We only need the one for questioning,” he said, finally responding to Pettus’s comment just as the soldier in his hands began to lose consciousness.

Delaney braced when three more Vakar soldiers came through the same door as Pettus had.

“Alert the Ander that the Lissa was attacked,” Pettus ordered them, easing her mind that these guys weren’t enemies. “Tell him we’ve got it under control for now”—he cast her a sideways glance—“but that he should probably get to her as soon as possible.”

One of them went off to follow the command, the other two coming in closer.

“Take care of the bodies,” Pettus told them a second before Trystan dropped the now dead Dreadus to the ground.

Dusting off his hands, he inclined his head toward the still open door at his back. “There are two more in the next room.”

“Lissa Olena,” Pettus called to her, and she tore her gaze away from the Zane. “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?”

Idly, her fingers lifted to her ribs, touching the spot tenderly. It hurt, but nothing was broken, so she shook her head.

“She’s lying,” Trystan growled, and was upon her within the next instant, tugging her hand away. He shoved the thick material of Ruckus’s jacket out of the way and went to lift the flimsy nightgown.

“Hey!” She grabbed his hands, pushing them off her before he could get them more than an inch up her thigh. She looked pointedly around at the other three men in the room. “Hello?”

He blinked. “Modesty?”

Great, if Olena’s closet hadn’t been a clear indicator she was loose, his reaction certainly was. Still, there were lines she refused to cross, no matter how out of character for the Lissa it was. Getting naked in front of a bunch of random guys was definitely one of them.

Fortunately, Ruckus appeared at that moment, bursting through the door with such force, the metal clattered back against the wall. His eyes found her in a matter of seconds, and he was next to her, taking her hand and tugging her away from the Zane in a flash.

“Take a look at her side,” Trystan ordered him coldly, then turned and left without a backward glance. She heard him in the next room over, ordering a Vakar soldier to lead him out of the maze, and then nothing.

Ruckus urged her toward one of the closed doors, opening and shutting it behind the two of them. His hand paused less than an inch from the end of her nightgown.

“May I?”

He’d seen her in a bathing suit yesterday, so she didn’t know why she was so nervous. When she nodded, he began easing the material up over her hip. Maybe it was how slowly he was going, carefully, drawing it out. It was almost akin to torture, and she sort of wanted to snap at him to hurry it up. But she didn’t. She was on edge because of everything that had happened, and it wasn’t cool to take it out on him.

Ruckus let out a growl, causing her to glance down. A large bruise the size of a softball was forming directly below her left breast. It was already an ugly purplish-blue, and she winced when he skated his fingers around the edge of it.

“Apologies,” he said, pulling back. He didn’t, however, let go of her nightgown, keeping the material bunched in his hand and leaving her exposed to his view. He glanced at their clasped hands. That was when she noticed the blood on his arm, streaking its way up and around.

She gasped and tugged on him to get a better look.

“It’s not mine,” he assured her, bringing her back around so they were standing in front of each other once more. “I’m all right. I didn’t get hit. Not like you did, apparently. I’m so sorry, Delaney.”

“Why?” She pursed her lips. “It’s not your fault.”

“You were right,” he disagreed. “I shouldn’t have left you alone. If I had been here, they wouldn’t have dared try something.”

“I don’t know about that,” she said honestly. “Trystan was there, and they managed to section him off pretty easily.”

He frowned. “You don’t think he had something to do with this?”

“I’m not sure.” Oddly, she wasn’t. After everything he’d said to her, especially today, she should have been. She should have been certain he had everything to do with it, in fact, but … there’d been something in his eyes when he’d been detained and watched her leave without him. Something there when he’d been strangling that man.

Could be he was just upset that they’d botched the job—again—yet part of her didn’t believe it.

“One of them was going to attack him from behind. Trystan didn’t see him coming. Besides, he doesn’t strike me as sloppy,” she said aloud, trying to explain it for the both of them, “and this was the epitome of it.”

He thought it over then nodded. “We’ll figure it out.”

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