Callan
“Why the hell is it coming after me?” he snarled, senses coming to full alert as he scanned the forest, his dragon powers coming to the fore as he prepared to defend Katy with every weapon in his arsenal.
Energy flowed through his body, his powers near at hand and ready to be called upon at any time. His eyes penetrated multiple layers of the forest, searching for sources of heat and movement that humans couldn’t conceive of. He tested the air, picking up the scent of the forest quickly and letting his nose get used to it, so that he would detect any change with ease.
“When it escaped its cell, there was only one thing left behind,” Colonel Mara said with cold precision, furious at having been ignored for so long.
“Which was?” he pressed, exasperated. If time was of the essence, why was she dragging this out?
“A piece of your shirt.”
Callan straightened, fear prickling his spine, leaving goosebumps on his flesh. His shirt. He remembered now how the front of it had been ripped away. Chills rippled across his skin as he thought of the Outsider, restrained however had been arranged at the facility, clutching his shirt in its weird limbs the entire time. Focusing only on him.
Of course it would want to come after him when it got free.
“You need to get out of there, Callan. I’ve notified the others, the Steel Scythes are on their way, but they won’t get there for some time yet.”
Callan had no idea what the Steel Scythes were, but it didn’t matter. His primary job, his only job, was to get Katy to safety. No matter what it took.
“Gotta go. Stay near the phone, I’ll call you.” He slapped the phone to end the call and looked at Katy. “Please don’t hate me, but we need to go. And fast. It’s not going to be very dignified.”
“Callan, what’s going on?” she asked, looking around nervously.
“Trouble. Can you hang on tight?”
She nodded and he lifted her from the chair, pulling her legs to her chest. Then he wrapped both arms around her hamstrings and lower back, his huge reach allowing him to keep her held tight.
“Ready?”
“Does it matter if I say no?”
“Not if you want to live. Now, stay quiet, we need to be stealthy.”
“WHAT?” She hissed the question into his ear, the sound hammering at him with his senses opened up fully. “What do you mean, live? Am I going to die? You said I wasn’t in any danger.”
“That was before.”
“Before what?”
“The alien escaped. Now it’s coming after me.”
“Why would it be after you?”
“I, uh, may have beat it up,” he confessed quietly, creeping through the forest, avoiding every stick as he went. He’d honed his ranger skills centuries ago, when they could make or break the hunt for food.
“The day you came home looking like crap,” she said, understanding.
“Yeah. We heal fast. I was a wreck before you arrived.”
“I wondered why your bruises looked like they were already healing.”
“Yes.” He crept under a low-hanging branch. “Listen, there’s something you should know. Something I’ve wanted to tell you for a while.”
“Let me guess,” she said dryly from her curled-up ball position in his arms. “Now is the perfect time?”
He snorted. “No, now is probably the worst time. Unfortunately, unless we can escape this thing, it might be the last time for me.”
Katy went still in his arms. “What are you talking about, Callan? Can you not beat this thing?”
“I…don’t know,” he admitted. “It’s complicated. Maybe. Maybe not.”
His mate was silent in his arms, and he smelled her fear, hating himself for putting her in such a position. It was his fault that she was here and no one else. If he’d put more forethought into it, he never would have had them so far from society, a car…anything. He also could have answered his phone right away, instead of ignoring Colonel Mara because he hated her for holding back his treasure.
His own selfishness had endangered them both. Or worse. It may have killed Katy if he couldn’t get her out of this. And then he would have seen two women he loved killed. There was nothing he could have done to help Beatrice. The plague had been ruthless, and many others he’d known had been killed as well.
No humans mated to dragons had died, however, and for a long time Callan had held that against himself. If he’d just mated Beatrice, she would have lived. Now he knew it wasn’t his destiny, but that didn’t stop him from knowing that if he were to watch another he loved die, he would not survive the day. His heart couldn’t take it.
“What is it you wanted to say?” Her voice was calm and reassuring, and she rubbed one of his cheeks with soft back and forth motions as he paused, using all his senses to scan for the Outsider before continuing his stealthy passage through the forest.
“Katy. I…” his head snapped around at a noise.
Gathering his powers and getting ready to fight for his mate, he breathed a sigh of relief as a rabbit jumped out of a nearby bush, scurrying past him no more than five feet away.
“Well that was anticlimactic,” she remarked.
He laughed as silently as he could, shoulders shaking.
“By the gods, that is why I love you,” he said, the words coming out easily this time. “You don’t have to say anything at all. But I wanted you to know that, just…just in case. You know, the worst. If it happens. I don’t want you to doubt.”
He came to another clearing, settling down next to a hollowed-out log. Everything about the small clearing screamed Danger, and he wanted to figure out his next move. Katy hadn’t said anything.
There was no warning, no visible sign, nothing to prove him right. Callan just knew that the Outsider was approaching the other side of the clearing.
“I need to go now,” he said, setting her down and into the log. “Stay here, and whatever you do, don’t come out unless you see me.”
“Where are you going?” she asked, eyes tightening nervously.
He squeezed her hand and then kissed her, a soft, tender thing, her taste lingering on his lips when he pulled away. The perfect memory.
“To show this sonofabitch that this is my planet,” he snarled silently.
Black oil-like liquid flowed out from behind his head and down his shoulders as he stood to face the Outsider. It covered his face, leaving holes for his eyes, mouth and nose only, even though they were barely visible. His eyes had gone completely black, as had his mouth.
It covered his entire skin, forming itself into small scaled sections that overlapped each other like shingles on a roof, moving freely with his body, a living armor of acid.
With a savage growl he thrust his hands out sideways. Blades shot forth from both hands, the acid hardening. The blunt chopping instruments had an extruded bit on the end, giving them a very out-of-proportion L-shape to them.
“LET’S GO!” he bellowed, stepping forth into the circle devoid of trees. As he did, horns of acid curled up out of his head, and two spikes rose on either shoulder, each as obsidian as the empty night sky. Smaller spikes arose across his knuckles, forearms and knees as well.
The Outsider stepped into the clearing, looking renewed and invigorated. It must have eaten before it found him, and he found himself ever angrier over those who had lost their lives for no reason.
“It’s time to meet the reaper, bitch,” he snarled, striding forward across the clearing. One hand lifted his sword and pointed it at the matte-black-clad monster. Behind him the earth smoldered and sizzled, his footprints melting permanent holes in the undergrowth as the acid did its job.
“Nobody threatens my mate and gets away with it.”
He charged.