“No!” Shad’s cry was a sound of anguish, torn from his throat. He saw Harper’s lovely jade green eyes widen in terror, felt her fear rising inside him like a tide of dark water. Seeing her in danger and feeling her panic was overwhelming—suddenly a red curtain of fury seemed to drop over his eyes.
Rage, he thought absently. I’m going into Rage. I didn’t even think that was possible for a Shadow Twin.
Then again, bonding with a female was supposed to be all but impossible too, but he’d managed that, thanks to She Who Alters.
Gods, to think he’d gotten Harper all the way to She Who Alters—almost all the way to the end of the loop—and this was the result.
The Hive still wins, he thought, feeling sick with weariness and fury. No matter what I do, the fucking Hive wins—the past refuses to be changed.
“Shad…” Harper choked out, her fingers fluttering helplessly around her throat.
Her rainbow cloak of thorns was hissing and snapping at the hairy, chitinous arm X’izith had locked around her neck but the Sovereign of the Hive was keeping clear of it. His arm was raised just above the cloak’s attack in a way that lifted Harper’s chin at a painful angle. He was holding her in front of him, using her body like a shield while keeping his own vulnerable abdomen a few inches out of the cloak of thorn’s range.
“Let her go, you fucker,” Shad growled, his voice so deep and angry it was almost unrecognizable even to his own ears. “Let her go or I swear I’ll tear you limb from fucking limb!”
“I think not.” X’izith clicked his mandibles menacingly and tightened his grip on Harper until she let out a gasping squeak. “I have the upper hand here, Kindred, as no one can deny. This female is my right—my Breeding Queen—and none shall take her from me. I will be taking her away with me in a Hive ship and none of you will follow.”
“The Hell you will,” Shad growled harshly, raising his blaster, which boasted far better precision than the flame-torch. “You’ll be dead before you get two feet.”
“Ah, but so will the little female.” One of X'izith’s long antennae swiveled down to caress the side of Harper’s cheek. She gasped and shivered and Shad felt her revulsion and disgust for the huge insect which held her. Harper hated bugs—this must be a nightmare for her!
“Let her go!” he demanded again. “I swear to all the Gods that ever were I’ll shoot your fucking head off!”
“Have you ever heard of a fast-twitch reflex, Kindred?” X'izith’s voice was low, almost purring. “It is a reaction common to my people. It means that if you shoot me, the muscles in the arm I have locked around her neck will twitch in response, ripping off this little female’s head. If you do not wish to see her die right in front of you, you will allow me safe passage away from here.”
“No!” Harper’s voice was a strangled shriek. “No, Shad—shoot him!” she begged, her eyes bright with tears. “I’d rather die than go through what he has planned for me. Shoot him!”
Shad felt like a cruel fist was squeezing his heart to pulp in his chest. He couldn’t let Harper be taken but if he took the shot he was aiming for, she would die before his eyes. Now he knew what his brother War had felt like when he’d been forced to kill Ziza. It was more grief and guilt and horror than any warrior should have to bear, and yet, this was the choice he had to make. But between killing Harper and letting X’izith have his way with her, there was really no choice.
His finger tightened on the trigger.
“Stop, son of my kin!” A strong, familiar voice exploded inside his skull. Cutting his eyes to the right, he saw Baird standing, also with his blaster drawn. He wasn’t looking at Shad—like every other warrior in the room, his gaze was trained on X’izith and Harper. But there was a silver wire around his temples that Shad recognized—a think-me. His uncle was using it to bespeak him.
“Don’t speak aloud and whatever the fuck you do, don’t shoot,” Baird’s strong mental voice continued. “Just answer me one thing—how strong is that cloak of hers? Varin thinks he has a shot—first at the arm joint to nullify the twitch reflex and then in the back. He’s packing a plasma rifle with ten times the potency of a blaster. Can Harper’s cloak withstand it if the blast goes through that Hive fucker’s thorax and comes out against her back?”
A little of the desperate red Rage seeped out of Shad’s vision as he tried to concentrate…tried to think. Could the cloak of thorns withstand so much? He remembered the merchant in the Thieves' Market bragging that it could. He’d said the cloak would be as strong as plasti-steel armor and that it would protect Harper from any kind of attack. But was it true?
From the corner of his eye, he saw Varin moving stealthily around the perimeter of the room. He was on X’izith’s blind side, out of range of his one remaining compound eye. In his hands was what looked like a blaster with an impossibly long silver barrel.
Shad took a deep breath. The plasma rifle—that was what the Vision Kindred held. Its beam was so destructive that many planets had banned the weapon outright.
“Should he take the shot? Just nod your head if he should,” Baird’s voice said in his brain.
For a moment, Shad froze. Was the Vision Kindred really a good enough shot to sever the arm joint before X’izith could rip Harper’s head off? Baird had assured him the warrior was a deadly marksman but could anyone be that good? Was Shad about to see the woman he loved killed in front of his eyes?
He looked into her face and saw terror…and felt her determination. Harper really would rather die than go with the Sovereign of the Hive and Shad didn’t blame her a bit. It was a chance they had to take.
Without looking at Baird, he nodded his head once, very slightly.