Stolen (Tribes #2) - Milana Jacks Page 0,27
the gaps and blood on the dark gums. The creature is the size of a horse, with a coarse, dark brown, almost black coat and large ears that stick out and make him appear even bigger. The sounds he emits are those of…of a tiger. A purring tiger, although tigers can’t purr.
No matter how pretty I think tigers are, I would never pet one. And I would never want to face one either, though I think it’s the better of the two options. This creature comes from nightmares.
He captures my fur between his teeth and tugs again.
I’m sinking deeper and deeper, and I can’t get up. My body won’t move. I’m so afraid, I might pee myself. Maybe I already have and don’t even know it.
The creature rolls his eyes. I recognize that roll, the one that makes his head move in a circle. It’s Nar. But I can’t be sure.
“Nar?” I whisper.
The creature nods, then snaps his head up. His ears fold back, and he growls from deep in his chest.
It’s a terrifying gurgling sound. I’m going to die out here.
Nar looks down at me and jerks at my fur again.
He wants me to get up, I think. I crawl out of the hole where I sat, covered in mud, and stand beside him, my knees shaking violently. Another one of these creatures faces him, and from the scraps of clothing that remain, I recognize Feli’s kilt. He’s so large that the kilt stays off the ground and doesn’t seem to impede his movement while he’s in his animal form. I’ve never seen anything like these males. Sure, we’ve heard of predator species, but they’re rare and they’ve never breached our space. We’ve never seen one on the news either. They’re the stuff of legends, an imaginary threat now made real.
Nar’s tail brushes my leg, then snaps like a whip onto his back.
He does this twice.
The second time, he also lowers his body.
More males gather behind Feli, and I think Nar wants to get out of here, but he won’t leave me. Which means I have to ride him out, and fast, before more males realize he’s taking off with me while the fighting continues on the other side of the camp.
Oh God, help me. I straddle him like one might straddle a horse, and he rises. On top of his broad back, I wobble, then lock my knees around him and wind my leash around his neck. He tries shaking it off. I don’t think he likes it, and I take perverse pleasure in that. I can’t risk falling off him, and maybe the leash will give me more leverage.
Slowly, he backpedals. Seven males appear to want to chase him the second he breaks into a sprint. And I know he’ll break into a sprint. What else can he do with a woman traveling on him? I plaster my body against his back, lock my legs around him even tighter, and hang on to the leash we now share.
He spins quickly, and I scream, nearly falling off. Taking off like a thoroughbred at the Kentucky Derby, he gallops, sometimes executing impossible leaps, making me feel like we’re flying through the air. His speed is unbelievable. My eyes can’t track the surroundings; everything passes in a blur, and soon, tears from the wind gather in my eyes, and I barely see at all. I wipe my right eye on my shoulder and try to look up and past him, but see nothing but his massive head. There’s a cut behind his ear running along the back of his neck.
I wipe my left eye on my left shoulder and look again.
The cut looks smaller now.
As I stare, it closes before my eyes.
Oh my God, a predator species with self-healing. My brother would kill for this information. They’d want one of these males in the labs. Self-healing is the most coveted technology on Earth. We can do almost anything, but we can’t eradicate all disease, and we definitely can’t heal our own wounds. Although we age more slowly than we used to, we still want to look in our twenties when we hit fifty. This male’s biology would advance Earth tech over that of Mars. It would be our upper hand in negotiations, our superiority.
Nar slows and stops. A sting hits my ass cheek. It’s not painful, but still, ouch. I think he whipped me with his tail. I look behind me and see nobody following, so he must have lost