Page 4 of Conquered Pet
He swayed back and forth, maybe in shock or just because he wanted to see what I would do. I spun toward him, using myblade to slice across his skin. It cut deep enough, and a jolt of relief flew through me.
I could slice through his skin at least, which meant that probably this next part should work. I whirled toward him with the syringe at the ready. The needle was thick, meant to pierce through the hide of livestock. We’d found it on one of our supply runs somewhere upstate and saved it for a moment like this.
I slammed the needle directly into the wound I’d made with the knife. I pressed down the plunger with vicious force and his eyes widened as the poison surged into his veins.
He was part human. Humans could be killed by hemlock. I didn’t yet know if the alien parts of him could be.
A quiet rattling croak escaped his purplish lips and he swayed once more before he collapsed to the ground. His mouth opened once again, and he began to roar in pain.
I froze.
I’d shot him between the eyes. I’d slashed through his throat with a knife, and I’d poisoned him with enough hemlock to take down an elephant.
And he wasn’t dead. Why wasn’t he dead?
His screams began to rise in pitch and as I stared down at him, I realized something. The hemlock wasn’t killing him. It was torturing him.
I took a step back in horror. I’d done that to him.
My hand slapped over my mouth and a rattling surge of sheer revulsion poured over me. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think.
In all my life, I’d never actually killed anyone before. I’d been involved in raids. I’d protected my fellow soldiers from harm by throwing grenades and firing off rounds into a group of aliens when they’d come and attacked us, but nothing like this before. I’d never done anything this direct.
It was horrific to watch. I hated every second of it.
His arms were shaking. His entire body was trembling as if he was paralyzed. His roaring cries never stopped, and it sounded like the hemlock was causing him mind-numbing agony as it worked its way through his body.
I froze, knowing what I should be doing and being unable to do it.
I was supposed to reach behind my back and fire the flare gun up into the air. My people would come. They’d rain fire down on him and ensure that he was dead before they moved onto the rest of the alien soldiers.
That was all I had to do.
And I couldn’t.
His yelling sounded so human and that tore into my soul. In those harrowing seconds, he seemed more like me than an alien. I should want him dead. I should damn his soul to all eternity, but his pain gave me pause.
I looked around. There was no one in the windows. Had he come alone? Had my people held back? Were they really waiting for my signal?
I swallowed hard, trying to figure out what to do. I knelt next to Commander Talyn and tentatively reached out to touch him.
His skin was so warm. It was as if he burned several degrees hotter than me.
I jerked my hand away and he screamed again. Something inside of me split open at the sound and I forced myself to slide my hands underneath his arms. With a grunt, I pulled him backwards.
He was really fucking heavy.
I don’t have any idea how I managed it, but I dragged him across the square into one of the crumbling buildings. I hid him in the shadows and peered out into the streets, knowing that soon they would be crawling with people and aliens alike.
As I dragged him through the door, I realized I’d pulled him into some kind of tourist shop full of dusty trinkets and moldy stuffed animals.
I hid him behind the counter, dragging him across the crumbling tile and when I finally stopped, I groaned. Every muscle in my body was coursing with adrenaline and now that I’d made it to safety, they started to ache with increasing soreness. I was drenched in sweat and when a cool breeze swept through the room, I shivered and crouched down closer to the alien beside me.
Talyn groaned with terrible pain, and I cried out. I gripped the bottom of my shirt and tore it apart before I stuffed a piece of it into his mouth. I needed to keep him quiet.
His eyes opened in disbelief and narrowed toward me. His body shook hard several times. I tore of another strip of my shirt and wound it around his throat, trying my best at a makeshift bandage to cover the wound I’d caused. I didn’t know if I did it to save him or cover up what I’d done.
Did it really matter?
