Page 13 of Shielded in the Shadows

The second smaller side entrance locked down as well, effectively containing the remaining patrons and the mercs who’d located Keela before we’d managed to track her to this location by hacking into the station’s biometric scanners.

Containment wasn’t the only goal, though, apparently. A mixture of gases poured into the sealed bar from the ceiling. Those trapped inside the bar began to drop.

To quote Boorginamai, fuck.

Fortunately, thanks to the genetic engineers on my homeworld of Fortusia, my Pallasian shadowbat DNA didn’t just give me obvious advantages like wings, horns, and a tail.

I dropped my medical pack, let go of my humanoid shape, and turned to shadow. My empty clothing and boots crumpled to the deck next to the med kit.

As always, my stomach lurched and my awareness faded in and out as my form changed. All my senses had to adjust to perceiving and interacting with my environment as a shadow—a shadow that wouldn’t be affected by knockout gas.

A rapid exchange of weapons fire and a muffled curse were the first sounds I heard clearly after my shift. I flew high into the shadows above the bar to hide my presence and observe the scene.

A human in a dark cloak was leaning against the far wall, a plasma gun in one hand as she glowered at a pair of heavily armed Atolani mercs. They were the only beings left conscious in the bar. Everyone else had succumbed to the gas.

The female, who wore a filtration membrane over her mouth and nose, yanked something from her thigh: a commonly used dart, designed to deliver both a tracking device and a paralytic drug. Judging by the way the female’s mouth twisted, she’d recognized it too. She staggered against the wall as the Atolani finally passed out from the gas.

I flew along the ceiling, keeping to the shadows as I approached the female.

Despite her hooded cloak and her disguise—dark hair and eyes and the colorful tattoos that ran along her hairline and fanned out across her right cheek—this was unmistakably our target, Keela. I’d spent hours staring at her face for reasons I couldn’t understand, memorizing every feature while doing my damnedest to also commit the layout of Ghira Station to memory because her life and mine depended on it.

I expected her to collapse almost immediately from the effect of the drug in the dart. Instead, as I got closer, my enhanced hearing caught the sound of a device on her body emitting a series of buzzes.

She shook her head, blinked a few times as if clearing away disorientation, and headed straight for the now-unconscious Atolanis, her steps brisk and unwavering despite the drug in her system and what appeared to be a plasma burn to her side.

As she strode directly below me, apparently unaware of my presence, a scent reached me through the overwhelming stink of the gas mix combined with body odors and the smells of plasma burns and scorched metal. The scent reminded me of warm sun on grasses native to my homeworld combined with a sweetness that made my fangs tingle. The effect was so instantaneous and powerful that I shuddered uncontrollably. For the first time in all my years, I damn near changed forms involuntarily.

My mate.

In the eternal moment that followed this realization, I felt myself change down to my marrow, as though every cell in my body had re-shaped and re-tuned itself to center on this magnificent female to the point that nothing else in the universe seemed to matter.

Keela waded through the bar’s unconscious patrons to the Atolani mercenaries, whom she dispatched quickly with a plasma-edged dagger. And then she went to the side of a cybernetically enhanced Halutan and removed his head with a three-meter-long plasma lash that emerged from a bracer on her right arm.

Gods above, my mate was quick and lethal. I had never seen anything more beautiful or arousing.

Abruptly, Keela spun around, brandishing her plasma gun and lash. She scanned the bar for threats, her sharp gaze moving past the shadowy alcove where I floated. She’d sensed my presence somehow, or her fighter’s instincts were telling her to watch her back. My appreciation for her as a warrior, already considerable, increased further.

To fight at her side would be an honor without measure. To earn her trust and love, an even greater one.

I wanted to change forms, declare my devotion, and fight at her side all the way to her ship. And then I wanted to leave this station and its dangers, including the crew of the Fancy, far behind to begin our lives together.

But the cold reality was that the moment I returned to my physical form, I’d be vulnerable to the gases in the bar as well as her weapons. In the wake of the mercs’ attack, Keela’s every instinct would be focused on self-preservation and escape. My mate was clearly a skilled fighter and warrior. The sudden appearance of a Fortusian male, especially a naked one, would not offer the opportunity to explain who I was and why I would give my life to keep her safe.

We needed an exit strategy and a clear path to her ship—hopefully one that would give me a chance to establish myself as her ally and protector. When she left this station, I intended to go with her.

Unseen, I flew to the rear door that granted access to the maze of corridors running behind the bars, restaurants, and shops of the station’s promenade. I placed my shadowy hand on the control panel by the door and used my ability to manipulate electrical fields granted by my Dekaran eel DNA to disrupt the mechanism.

With a hiss and a shower of sparks, the control activated. As the door slid open, I flew into the corridor beyond, ready to confront any dangers that lurked, but the corridor was empty.

The sounds of the promenade door unlocking and the gases venting from the bar were followed by quick, light footsteps heading my way. Keela burst through the open door and flattened herself against the wall only a few feet away from where I floated unseen. Her sharp gaze swept the empty hallway, the furrow between her brows deepening. I could almost taste her suspicion and distrust. I willed her to feel my confidence in her and my vow to keep her safe, but as we hadn’t yet touched, much less bonded, I doubted she sensed any reassurance from me.

I forced the door to the bar to close and melted the controls, sealing us in the corridor. Keela’s visible tension increased, but her attention went to her wristcomm and its display of the station’s layout.

Peering over her shoulder from above, I noted her ship appeared to be docked on Deck 14, in a quiet area with lower docking fees due to its distance from the promenade and other station amenities. The only docking rings lower than that were cargo-only docks. The Fleeting Fancy had docked on Deck 10.

Keela’s wrist display offered several potential routes from our location to her ship. Like us, she’d clearly studied the station’s schematics and planned ahead.

Apparently having selected her route, Keela set off down the corridor at a brisk, purposeful walk, giving no hint of either the dart injury in her leg or the plasma wound to her side I’d noticed earlier. In fact, the tears in her jumpsuit and cloak appeared to have mended themselves, leaving no visible trace of damage. Anyone seeing her now would have no idea she’d been burned or hit by a dart.