Falkion (BLADES OF ARRIS #6) by Starla Night EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Starla Night
- Language: English
- Genre: Paranormal / Sci-Fi
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2.3 MB
- Price: Free
FALKION
They attack without warning.
Zeerah sits in the middle of the mess hall, her hood pulled back
just enough to allow her spoon to reach her brown, human lips.
Her shoulders hunch to disguise the fact that she’s half a head taller than the
brutal gray-skinned Arrisan soldiers crunching nutrient cubes all around her.
They are the ones she perceives are a danger.
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She is wrong.
Without warning, gigantic monsters cut through the wall.
Pandemonium ensues.
Arrisans scream and run for their lives.
She runs too. Out of the mess, down the hallway. Her legs are longer.
She’s faster.
But ahead of her, more slavering monsters burst through the walls.
One lunges for her.
She dodges.
The monster impales the Arrisan behind her. He makes a terrible
gurgling sound as the monster drags him into its gaping maw.
She rounds the corner and ducks into a supply closet.
The screams cut off horribly.
It grows dangerously quiet.
She breathes raggedly.
Something lumbers outside her door.
A wet sound, like drool, spatters on the floor near her feet.
She holds her breath.
It’s no use.
A knife-arm cuts through the closet door and lodges deep in her chest—
I gasp awake, cold sweat pouring off my nude gray body, and leap into a
fighting stance—
My forehead cracks against the closed lid of my sleeping pod.
The sound reverberates inside my skull as the lid slides open.
I dive out, head still ringing, and land on my feet.
My silver falchion blade-bones eject from my wrists and stretch to the
farthest edges of my chamber, slice the air, and seek enemies.
The whistle of atoms separating from my honed edges is reassuring.
Familiar.
Zeerah is alive.
Oh.
Then, it was only a dream…?
I straighten and force myself to retract my blades. They glide into my
black tattooed wrist sheaths, the skin of my forearms stretching to contain
the biological metal, then shrinking until it’s back to a normal shape.
She is in the mess hall, my implant reports.
The very mess hall of my nightmare.
Fear tangs, metallic, on the back of my tongue.
I can’t catch my breath.
My private cabin has a disused air, and the chronometer says only
twenty clicks have passed since I laid down.
Twenty clicks is my new limit, I guess.
I sling the loose fabric of my skinsuit around my neck. The high-tech
suit contours itself and suctions to my body as I stride from the room, my
door sealing behind me.
These halls are busy. Officers pivot out of my way.
As I pass the bridge, my second-in-command calls out, “Captain? Is
everything all right? You just left for your resting shift…”
I switch to a jog.
Repairs are going well. I dodge engineering crews soldering in new
panels and jump over the cannon blasts still pitting the floor.
Although my implant shows Zeerah’s exact location, I don’t need it.
When I think about stopping or averting my course, the thread that
wraps around my heart and binds me unwillingly to her constricts. My
organ feels like it’s turning white, blood squeezed out, and aches like it’s
dying. Resist, and all I make is another scar, deepening the well-worn
furrows.
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