Rogue: Survivor’s Heart book 1: Planet Athion

by Cassidy, Debbie

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Other books by Debbie Cassidy

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2019, Debbie Cassidy

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  1

  The world was ringing from the blow to my head. I should have moved faster, ducked, or dodged. Too late now. Shake it off, Rogue, back on your feet. But the ground felt too good against my battered body. It was the blood in my mouth that enraged me. If the bastard had broken my teeth, I’d rip off his balls. A quick sweep with my tongue revealed no chips or wobbles.

  The air moved at my back, and I rolled out of the way a split second before my opponent hit the sand.

  The crowd roared, their fickle faith in me restored, and it was time to get back on my feet, time to use my merry fists to make a statement, and just in time too because the Trad the opposing team had set on me was on his feet and charging toward me. My lips stretched in what was probably a bloody grin, and my heart pumped faster, readying me to take the blow, readying me to reply in kind.

  But a pale blue back appeared in front of me, blocking my shot, and the crunch of fist to face reverberated around the arena. Damn Marlon and his chivalry; the Athion couldn’t bear to see me get hurt, but pain was what the arena was all about, and he didn’t understand that without it, I was nothing. This was where I came alive, where the faces of my opponents became the faces of my captors, of everyone who’d led to me being here.

  “Rogue, over here!”

  Killion? I spun to see my human teammate surrounded by the three remaining members of the opposing team. They’d taken out Barker, the fourth member of our team, and his glassy-eyed body lay at the edge of the arena. Poor bastard. He’d lasted a week.

  There was no way I’d lose Killion too.

  I broke into a sprint across the arena, kicking up sand as I went. Marlon was at my back. The Athion was fast and overtook me to reach Killion a second before I did, and then there was nothing but the focus of a tussle and the crack of bone. It was three on three, and I had the advantage because I wasn’t Trad or Athion. Heck, I wasn’t even human anymore. I was something new, and that something didn’t tire. That something was faster and stronger. That something was a master when it came to pain. And it was time to deliver.

  The sound of the buzzer was a distant annoyance as I drove my fist into a face over and over again. Mush, red, blood, red.

  “Rogue!”

  A hand was on my shoulder, fingers biting and pulling me out of the blood haze and into reality so that I could finally hear the roar of a satisfied crowd. The fruits of my labor glared back at me with dead eyes. The Trad was silent and empty and dead. I’d done this. I’d killed him. I sat back on my haunches and tilted my head up to the roof, allowing the sounds to wash over me, to push back the remorse and tears, and to push down the knot in my chest.

  There could be no morals, no mercy. There could be no guilt. Not if I wanted to survive.

  “Come on.” Marlon pulled me to my feet.

  I stood on my own steam for a moment, and then my knees gave way. He grabbed me around the waist, cursing under his breath, and then swung me up into his arms.

  “Had to take them all on, didn’t you? Think you’re a machine? Foolish human. Crazy human.”

  I smiled up into his handsome face. “But ya love me.”

  And then the lights went out.

  * * *

  Silence kept me awake at night. The silence when the machines stopped running and when the world slipped into various stages of slumber. That was the time when my mind came alive.

  Back home, I would have made a hot cup of cocoa and sat at my bay window watching the stars, but home was a treasured memory, and there were no windows in my prison—no windows and no light. But that was all right, my night vision was spectacular, and there was enough illumination filtering in through the bars in my cell door for me to make out the inside of what my captors referred to as my quarters. Quarters that consisted of a lone bunk, a sink, a toilet, and a desk. A desk with no chair, which made it completely redundant. They’d tried to disguise it, but there was no mistaking this for anything else but a cell. Even the frayed rug and plastered walls couldn’t hide that. And being locked inside kind of gave it away.

  I guess they wanted us to feel comfortable. Protect what little was left of our frayed psyches so we could continue to serve our purpose. I guess they wanted to make us feel like this was home.

  But home was so far from there that the thought of it made my heart ache and my throat close. Memories of home made my skin cry out to taste sunlight, to soak it up and breathe it in, and my fingers … My fingers begged to brush against the soft yet sharp blades of grass that had covered my lawn.

  Home was so out of reach that when I thought about it, the scream lodged in my chest threatened to claw its way up my throat and explode from my lips. But there could be no show of weakness. Not in this place. A show of weakness would get me killed. Instead, I lay on my bunk and stared at the plastered ceiling. It looked so normal, and for a moment, I allowed myself to pretend it was my bedroom ceiling. The one from home. Any moment, the sun would lance through my blinds and across my comforter and bathe me in amber. Milo, my cat, would jump up and nuzzle my neck, and then the alarm would go off and—

  The world began to shake, and intermittent thudding and drilling sounds filled the chamber, shattering the illusion. It was dawn on Vesper V, and the workers on the mining asteroid were already hard at work. Once again, sleep had eluded me, and a new day had begun.

  Doors clanged, and boots clipped on stone. It was feeding time at the zoo. I rolled off the bunk and sauntered to the door, hand ready to grab the plate that would be shoved through the hatch below the bars at any—Yeah, there it was, gruel. Mmmmm, nice. But it was nutritious, and it kept me alive. It kept me strong. Strong enough to hold my own every time they threw me and my team into the pit to face another house.

  A prickle ran over my skin. Would we be tested again today? How long had it been? A week? Long enough for our wounds to heal completely. Mine had healed within hours. It was the others who needed time. It was getting worse, this curse in my veins, this uncanny strength and agility, and this unholy yearning for violence. I was changing every day. What would I become when the drug they’d poisoned me with was done with me?

  The metal bowl in hand, I made to turn away from the hatch, but a face appeared at the barred portion of my door. Thin, cruel, and scarred, it haunted many of my most colorful nightmares.

  Marick sneered. “And how are we this fine morning, Rogue?”

  I had no time for the slimy house manager. “Fuck you, Marick.”

  “Already been there, my prickly. Or do you need a reminder of what a man’s c
ock feels like inside you?”

  He was no man. He was a monster, one of the Trad that had been attacking my world for years. The same Trads that had reaped Earth of women in their prime. I’d been one of those women once, but now … I shoved the thoughts away along with the memories of what had been done to me all those months ago. They wouldn’t serve me right now.

  “Remember how it felt, Rogue?” he pressed. “I remember. I remember how you bucked beneath me.”

  The bastard. My jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached. Memories of his hands on me, of his breath on my face. I’d been disorientated and weak from the transport, still adjusting to the drug, and he’d taken advantage. But I wasn’t that woman any longer. I set the bowl on the desk and slowly turned to face him, allowing my lips to curl slightly in my favored sadistic smile.

  “And do you remember how it feels to have two balls?” I kept my eyes locked with his.

  He blinked sharply, and his sneer level dropped a notch. Yes, I’d taken something from him too. He hated me for it, but he wouldn’t act on that hatred. He’d seen me in action in the arena. He knew what I was now, and damn did it feel good to see the spark of fear in his eyes.

  He composed his features quickly. “I wouldn’t get so cocky, Rogue. You may have survived the last three months, but today is another day, and guess what, you’re up against House Zantar this week.” He leaned in, a gleam of glee in his wicked eyes. “The Pack takes no prisoners. You won’t be able to berserker your way out of that fight.”

  Nausea rolled up my throat. House Zantar, the most vicious team on Vesper V. They called them the Pack because they hunted like wolves—they cornered, and they attacked, and then they played with their prey. House Ryzer, my house, had succeeded in avoiding a match with Zantar since I’d been here, but it had only been a matter of time before we drew the short straw.

  I’d seen them in action when they’d gone up against House Axar. I’d smelled the testosterone, the copper scent of blood, and the foul smell of shit. House Zantar housed no humans or Athions; they were comprised purely of criminal Trads—the scum of their kind—and these scum enjoyed both meting out pain and taking it. Conversely, House Ryzer was comprised of three Trads, two human males, an Athion male, and a human female. Me. There had been more of us, but they were dead now.

  The house master, Eldyck Ryzer, wouldn’t have entered us into the match lightly. What was his play? Weasel face would know.

  “What’s the barter?” Because it was always about goods, services, or credits.

  Marick’s mouth was a smug smile. “Rumor is Zantar’s team is getting antsy, they need a little release of the recreational kind.”

  Ice trickled through my veins. “Ryzer wouldn’t barter me. I’m his best fighter.”

  Marick snorted. “Why do you think he said yes? He expects you to win. The fool.” There was real derision in his eyes. “The drug may have turned you into a freak, but you’re still human.” He tapped his forehead. “Up here, you’re still weak.”

  Like fuck would I let him mess with my head. “What does Ryzer get if I win?”

  “The pack alpha.”

  “Vex?”

  “That’s right. The one and only.”

  He leaned in. “I hope you lose.”

  My eyes narrowed to slits. “You’re a disloyal bastard, you know that?”

  “And you’re nothing.” His smile brimming with satisfaction, he strode away.

  I turned my back on the door, hands braced on the desk. The Pack, the fucking Pack. The leading contenders and my worst nightmare. Being the only female fighter sucked ass.

  There’d been four human females to begin with. Four of us mutated by the fertility drug the Trads administered to the human females they kidnapped from Earth. We were meant to be incubators for their offspring, but we’d ended up being rendered infertile. Our bodies had been changed—made stronger, more resilient, useless to them when it came to procreation but perfect for recreation.

  I’d arrived on Vesper V along with four others, and one of us had been given to each of the four houses. Zantar’s female had been dead within a week. Since then, they’d bartered for and won the other two. If they were bartering for me, it meant the other two were also dead.

  Bile burned the back of my throat. The Pack was eight strong with the alpha, Vex, at the head, but matches were usually four on four. Losing was not an option.

  2

  Bowl empty, face washed, and morning business complete, I waited by the doors. Any second now …. With a whirr and a click, my prison unlocked, and the door trundled open. I stepped out into the corridor beyond, sealed now that the fighters had been let out of their pens. Up and down the corridor my house members stretched and stepped out of their cages.

  Marlon, the lithe, powerful Athion in the cell to my left, joined me with a lift of his chin, his amber eyes warm in his blue-tinged face. He was dressed in the customary black pants and black tee that were the color of our house.

  “Looking rested,” he said coolly.

  Ouch, the warm eyes meant nothing if his tone was chilly. He was obviously still pissed at me for the berserker antics in the arena a week ago.

  “Team, Rogue. T.E.A.M. Team. Do you know what that means, or do I need to fucking spell it out for you?”

  “I believe you just did.”

  He’d backed off with a growl, leaving me to contemplate my rash actions on the sand. What he didn’t know was that it wasn’t a choice. It wasn’t in my control. The rage, the whirlwind of deliverance, was a primal reflex.

  We hadn’t really spoken much the last few days. But then he had been healing, so …

  “You still mad?” I arched a brow.

  He exhaled sharply and then responded by slinging an arm across my shoulders and pulling me into his side. Yeah, Marlon was a sweetie, totally protective of me, and totally into Killion, the human male who was stepping out of the cell farther down from us. Killion caught Marlon’s eye, and the two guys shared a smile. The human was blond, and the crinkles at the corners of his baby blues told me there’d been a time that he’d laughed easily. Not so much now.

  How long had the affair between the two men been going on? Who knew? I didn’t pry, and they didn’t offer the information, it just was. Besides, it was best to keep any interrelations on the down-low. Marick, the house manager, was a bastard who’d use any such information as a weakness against us.

  I did know that Killion was from England like me. Whereas he was from the north, I’d lived way south on the outskirts of what was left of London after the asteroids had hit Earth years ago, bringing the Trads with them—an alien race whose female population had been decimated by a virus. They’d hidden among us, parading as beautiful, charismatic men. They’d seduced and kidnapped human women, and I’d been one of those women. Except my impregnation had resulted in a miscarriage, and the fertility drug they’d administered had altered me on a genetic level. I just hoped Earth had found a way to stop them, slow them down or something.

  I wish there was a way back home.

  There was hope for me. There had to be. I hadn’t survived this long to be taken out now. When I’d first arrived, the Trad males had been in a frenzy to get at me. But Marlon, Killion, and the other human, Anton, had stood against them. They’d protected me while I’d healed from Marick’s assault, and thank goodness I’d been given the time, because when the Trads did get a hold of me, I’d been strong enough to fight them off—break a couple of bones and make them bleed. I’d gotten lucky when I’d been put into House Ryzer. It made me wonder how I’d have fared if I’d have been put into House Xaver or Axar. There was no doubt what my fate would have been if I’d been put into House Zantar.

  Marlon gave me a squeeze. “Stop thinking, it looks painful.”

  They didn’t know about the fight. I needed to tell them, but this was our down-time. The training room and the steam baths waited. This was our free time, and I didn’t want to spoil it for them.

  “Rogue, what i
s it?” Killion asked, his brow crinkling. “Did Marick do something?”

  Marlon’s grip on me was suddenly a little too tight. “I’ll kill him.”

  Even though we all knew he would never get that chance, we liked to pretend it was a real possibility. Sometimes we even plotted his demise. Fun times.

  I gave him a puh-lease look. “That fleabag couldn’t do something to me if he tried. He knows it, and I know it, and his lost testicle knows it.”

  Marlon chuckled.

  “Then what is it?” Killion pressed, bringing us back to the original question.

  Urgh, he wasn’t going to let this go. Him with his empathy and nose for secrets. Fuck it, they needed to know. Might as well be sooner rather than later. We’d have to up our training to accommodate the upcoming fight, after all.

  “He told me we’re going to be pitted against Zantar later this week.”

  “Shitting hell,” Killion cursed.

  We were at the arch that led into the training room, and the grunts and exertion of the other men filtered out to us.

  Killion dropped his arm from around me. “Let me speak to the others.”

  Even though we were pretty sure the Trads in our house wouldn’t try anything with me again, Killion preferred me to keep my distance. Pheromones, he insisted, were a powerful thing.

  I nodded, and we stepped into the training room. Anton was poised by the weights bench, one eye on the equipment, the other on the trio of Trads working out to the far right of the room. They were big, scaled, and horned, and right now they’d decided to hide their tails, but when they really got going with the workout, those suckers would whip out. We tended to give them their space.