Weapons Master: Galactic Gladiators: House of Rone #6

by Hackett, Anna

  “Because they’re not.” The imperator’s eyes glowed neon blue. “Asha’s a child, so yes, she needs protection. But Ever can protect herself.” He smiled. “My mate is very smart. All the women of Earth have been through so much, but they are smart, resourceful, and resilient. So is Bellamy.”

  “I just…” Drak, he couldn’t put it into words. “I just have this impending sense of doom, Magnus. That she’s in terrible danger.”

  Magnus went stiff.

  Maxon knew why. Maxon’s species possessed a highly developed intuition. Their biological senses were able to pick up things that couldn’t be detected by others. His cyborg implants had dampened it somewhat, but Maxon still had a high sense of intuition. He used it and trusted it daily in his work. He’d feel how to get a design right, rather than just depend on facts.

  “Her skills are of value to the Edull,” Magnus said.

  “But she helped their enemies. They’ll make her pay for that.”

  “Do you have anything specific from this feeling?” Magnus asked.

  Maxon shook his head.

  The imperator nodded. “I’ll step up our plans to get back to Bari Batu.”

  There was a knock at the door.

  A female house worker entered and bowed her head. “Imperator Galen to see you.”

  A muscled, rugged man strode in, his black cloak flaring behind him.

  He wore fighting leathers that slicked up powerful legs, and a black shirt tight enough to show that, despite no longer fighting in Kor Magna’s famed gladiatorial arena, Galen kept in fighting form. Tattoos peeked out under the sleeves of his shirt, and a black eyepatch covered one eye.

  “Magnus.” Galen inclined his head. “Maxon.”

  “Always a pleasure, Galen,” Magnus said.

  Galen ran the House of Galen with a firm hand. They had the best gladiators in the arena, and behind the scenes, they rescued enslaved fighters not suited to doing battle in the arena.

  He and his gladiators had rescued the first woman from Earth, and brought down the Thraxian slavers. All the women they’d rescued were now happily mated.

  That included the woman Galen had claimed as his own—fierce Sam Santos.

  “I have news,” Galen said.

  Maxon straightened. “About Bellamy?”

  The imperator nodded. “An informant got word to us via Corsair.”

  Corsair was the leader of the Corsair Desert Caravan. The caravan master was mated to Ever’s sister, Neve.

  “And?” Maxon demanded, impatient to hear.

  “It’s likely a day old now,” Galen said, carefully.

  “Tell us,” Maxon growled.

  “A woman matching Bellamy’s description was spotted at the Meridian Outpost.”

  Maxon didn’t know the outpost, but he noted that Magnus straightened.

  Gut churning, Maxon kept his gaze on Galen. “Go on.”

  “She was taken there by the Edull. She was—” Galen’s lips quirked “—fighting them.”

  Of course, she was, the little fool.

  Galen’s face turned serious. “She was sold to Zulnath.”

  “Drakking hell,” Magnus muttered.

  “Who is Zulnath?” Maxon asked slowly.

  “A desert crime lord,” Galen answered. “He runs raids, prostitution, drugs.”

  Maxon grunted, not liking this turn of events at all.

  “He is also known to buy slaves…to feed live to his pack of caquls.”

  Maxon stood so fast his chair toppled over. Caquls were mean, vicious little carnivores. This information was a day old. Bellamy could already be dead.

  He swiveled. “Magnus.”

  His imperator nodded. “I’ll have Jax gather the team.”

  “I’m coming.” Maxon strode across his workshop and opened some cabinets on the far wall. He started pulling out his weapons. He wasn’t part of Magnus’ elite cyborgs, but he could fight.

  “I’ll contact Rillian,” Galen said. “Have him prepare a ship for you.”

  Maxon tried to focus through the gathering storm in his head. Rillian, an ally and owner of the Dark Nebula Casino, was insanely wealthy. The man had been experimenting with ships to navigate Carthago’s deserts. A certain mineral in the sand wreaked havoc on engines, so until now, most tech didn’t function in the desert.

  Maxon slammed his weapons into holsters on his hip, then he clipped explosives onto his belt.

  He wasn’t trained like the elite cyborgs, but he kept up his fitness and skills. He met Magnus’ blue gaze.

  The imperator nodded. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  God, men could be so clichéd. Even alien men half a galaxy away from Earth.

  Bellamy was shoved across the dusty courtyard with two other captives—a woman and a man. The woman was ahead of Bellamy, sobbing hard. The slim man beside her trembled.

  Bellamy and the woman were both clad in a tiny twist of red fabric that clasped around their necks with gold wire. She felt like Princess Leia in her slave bikini. She keenly hoped she would get the chance to strangle an asshole with a chain.

  The man was shirtless, with simple trousers on. He was trying hard not to show his fear.

  Bellamy’s outfit had a slit at the front, showing off the vine-like tribal tattoos winding up her stomach.

  “Move.” One of the guards shoved her again.

  Biting her lip, she forced herself to swallow a creative curse. Ahead, the woman tripped, and as the guard moved toward her, Bellamy stepped between them and glared. She reached down and helped the woman up.

  The Edull had dumped her at this hot, desert outpost—kicking and screaming—a day ago. She’d been kept in a cell with the other slaves, and now they were being presented to the head honcho, Zulnath.

  Her belly turned over. He sounded bad. He had to have several screws loose to not fear the House of Rone.

  She squeezed her eyes closed. She had to stay strong and help herself. She was used to that.

  They were led into a stone building. It was cooler inside, and it had a large, domed roof in the entry.

  The guards led them down a long hall, and she saw other slaves cleaning or carrying goods. They all briefly glanced their way—pity on their faces—before they looked away.

  Her little group was led into a huge room covered in rich, red-and-gold wall hangings.

  There were several people sitting around, drinking and talking at long tables. Harsh laughter echoed off the walls. Zulnath’s gang looked like standard-issue brutish thugs. She noted the Edull who’d brought her here were also sitting at a table in the back, enjoying themselves.

  The rest of the people were hard, scarred men and women all clad in light-colored desert clothes. Among them were some women dressed similar to Bellamy, meaning, in not very much. They draped themselves around the room like a kind of living décor.

  Zulnath was at the head of the room, seated on a low bench.

  A woman clad in a dress of glittering chains massaged his shoulders, her outfit making a clinking sound as she moved.

  Zulnath had a muscular body and bright-blue skin, with patches of iridescent green on it. His broad chest was bare, and he wore leather trousers. His long, black hair was pulled back in a ponytail secured by gold rings, he had bright green eyes, and a flat nose that gave him a squished appearance.

  He reached out and took a drink off the table in front of him. He took a long swallow, his gaze taking in her trio.

  “Scrawny bunch. Barely a decent snack for my pets.”

  The male captive beside Bellamy whimpered.

  Bellamy rolled her eyes.

  Zulnath’s neon-green gaze zeroed in on her. “You’re the one who’s been causing the Edull problems.”

  She snorted. “They cause their own problems.”

  The desert crime boss rose. “You’re a feisty little thing.”

  He circled her. The woman beside her cowered, but despite Bellamy’s pounding heart, she made herself stand still and not show her
fear.

  “I could find other uses for you,” he drawled.

  “Yeah, and I could scratch your eyes out.”

  Zulnath laughed. When he stepped back in front of her, his gaze was a little bright, and not quite right.

  “Vossol warned me that the House of Rone is searching for you, and not to keep you around.”

  “So, you’re afraid of the Edull and the House of Rone?”

  The man stiffened. “I’m not afraid of anyone. This is my domain.” His voice lowered. “I’m especially not afraid of men who are more metal than flesh.”

  She thought of her tawny-haired beast. She hadn’t seen any obvious implants, but she was certain he was a cyborg.

  And very much all man.

  Stay focused, Bellamy.

  “None of this matters,” Zulnath declared, lifting a hand. “Because soon you’ll be dead.”

  There was a grinding of gears, and suddenly the floor started opening. Bellamy stumbled back.

  The floor retracted to reveal a pit below, with a sand-covered floor. The thugs at the tables shouted and stomped their feet.

  Her mouth went dry.

  At first, she didn’t see anything. Then the creatures crept out of the shadows, and her heart thumped painfully.

  The scaled creatures weren’t big. They were lizard-like and quick, with spikes on their short, stumpy tails. How bad could they be?

  There was a sudden movement, and the male captive beside her was shoved by the guard.

  The man screamed as he fell.

  “No!” Bellamy yelled.

  The man hit the sand below, and the caquls pounced.

  As the man screamed and bones crunched, Bellamy looked away. They were like a pack of piranha, ripping and tearing at the man.

  She didn’t look, but she made herself listen to the screams until they died away.

  The caquls made low growling sounds.

  She lifted her head and glared at Zulnath. He was grinning. Laughter echoed through the room from his people. A man had died, and these people thought it was funny. The woman beside her was crying now.

  “Any quips now, troublemaker?” Zulnath asked.

  “Yep. Fuck you.”

  The man waved the guards closer.

  Bellamy dragged in a breath as the guards advanced. She had nothing to lose. The guard coming at her was holding a long, metal staff.

  He advanced. He had dreadlocks falling around his scarred face. As he gave her an ugly smile, his scarred cheek twisted.

  Come on, asshole. Bellamy had grown up fighting in the street and schoolyard. A neighbor boy had taught her to fight—smart and scrappy.

  The guard got close, and Bellamy moved.

  She ducked low and punched out hard, hitting his groin. The man made a horrible, choked sound.

  His grip on his staff loosened and she snatched it, and swung.

  She smacked him in the gut, knocking him off balance. He took two staggering steps backward…and tumbled into the pit.

  He screamed, and the caquls attacked.

  “Stop her!” Zulnath roared.

  All around the room, men and women leaped up, grabbing their weapons.

  Bellamy backed up and grabbed the arm of the other captive, tugging the woman back.

  A man charged them, a bulky, metallic weapon in his hand. Flames spewed from it.

  Flamethrower. Shit.

  Bellamy pulled the woman with her and they dived over a table.

  The man came closer, and Bellamy scrambled under the heavy table. She whacked the staff into his legs.

  She heard the snap of a bone breaking. He yelled, and fell to the floor. His weapon flew out of his hand and skittered across the stone tiles.

  “Get her, you idiots!” Zulnath’s enraged voice.

  Bellamy darted out and grabbed the flamethrower. She smiled.

  Then she rose. Zulnath’s green gaze met hers, and his eyes widened.

  She pressed the trigger and sprayed flames all around.

  Chapter Three

  They were still a long way out from the Meridian Outpost, when he saw the plumes of smoke.

  Maxon leaned forward. What the drak? The thick, black smoke rose in huge columns into the pale-blue sky.

  “What does that mean?” he asked.

  Magnus’ face was focused like a predator, staring through the forward viewscreen of the sleek ship. “Nothing good.”

  The House of Rone’s elite cyborgs—except Zaden, who’d stayed behind in charge of the House of Rone—and Quinn filled the seats in the ship. They all waited, tension filling the air. Quinn crossed her long legs, her blonde braid dangling over her shoulder. Her face said that she really wanted to fight.

  Soon, the outpost swept into view.

  It was encircled by tall, metal walls—common in the desert to protect inhabitants from beasts and raiders. Inside the walls, Maxon saw that several buildings were on fire, and people were running and fighting out on the sand.

  In the mêlée, he spotted a small blonde waving a flamethrower around.

  Drak. Earth women.

  Maxon watched as several men, including an Edull, began to converge on her.

  “We have to help her,” Quinn said.

  “Magnus,” Maxon growled.

  “I see.” Magnus leaned forward over the pilot’s chair. “Dachard, get us in low.”

  “Sure thing, imperator,” Rillian’s pilot replied.

  The ship swooped low over the outpost.

  “Everyone ready?” Magnus scanned the cyborgs and Quinn, who were all standing, each one of them filled with edgy energy.

  “Let’s do this.” Quinn smirked. “I’m ready to crack some heads.”

  Drak, yeah. Maxon nodded. “Let’s go.” He wanted this done.

  Magnus opened the side door of the shuttle and wind rushed in. Then, without pausing, the imperator leaped out. He sailed into the air and dropped fast.

  Jax, Quinn in his arms, jumped next, his red cloak flapping behind his body.

  Mace, Acton, Toren, and Seren followed.

  Maxon pulled in a breath and leaped, the wind rushing into his face. The ground raced up to meet him.

  The House of Rone cyborgs landed in crouches all around the outpost. Maxon bent his knees to absorb the impact, coming up and assessing the fighters.

  Beside him, Mace’s skin turned into a silver shield, and he charged an Edull. Magnus swung his cybernetic arm, which glittered with blue electricity.

  The other cyborgs and Quinn leaped into the fight.

  Maxon lifted his weapon, aiming at the man attacking Bellamy. He fired, the bolt of laser finding its target. He swiveled and fired again.

  With screams, two fighters went down.

  Bellamy and several other slaves, only wearing tiny, ridiculous scraps of fabric, were all fighting. Bellamy had a fierce look on her face, spewing flames around.

  Then the flamethrower died. She shook it, her lips moving. Maxon could imagine her creative curses.

  A large alien closed in on her. She threw the flamethrower at the man.

  Maxon charged in and kept firing.

  “Bellamy!” he roared.

  Their gazes locked, and it was as though a jolt of electricity hit him. He grabbed the second gun out of his holster and threw it. It sailed through the air.

  She snatched the weapon, lifted it, and smiled.

  They both started firing, and he worked his way toward her.

  Suddenly, a tall alien tackled her from the side. They crashed to the sand.

  Drak.

  Maxon sprinted closer. He grabbed one of his knives from his belt and threw it at another incoming alien. Bellamy and the alien wrestled on the sand.

  With a roar, Maxon grabbed the alien and yanked him off her.

  As the being tumbled through the dirt, Maxon raised his weapon and fired. The alien slumped on the sand.

  Turning, he held a hand out to Bellamy. She put her small hand in his and he pulled her up. The tiny piece of fabric she was
wearing shifted, and he saw smooth skin and elegant tattoos on her belly.

  Despite the circumstances, Maxon was shocked to feel blood pool in his groin and his cock harden.

  Drak. Ignoring his body’s response, he asked, “Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “You came.”

  Before he could respond, pain speared through his shoulder.

  Bellamy shouted and Maxon looked down. A metal tip protruded through his shoulder, sending blood streaming down his chest.

  He reached behind him, and felt the spear protruding out of his back. Turning, he lifted his weapon and fired on the man who’d thrown the spear. The attacker clutched his neck and faceplanted in the sand.

  Then pain crashed in on Maxon and he went down on one knee, breathing heavily. His systems kicked in, trying to stem the bleeding and pain.

  “God.” Bellamy crouched, concern on her face.

  “Pull it out,” he said between gritted teeth.

  She nodded, a determined glint in her eyes. She circled out of his view and a second later, she yanked the spear out of his skin. No hesitation, no uncertainty.

  Drakking hell. He groaned and fought to stay conscious. Pain ripped through every cell in his body. His cyborg systems worked hard to block the agony.

  She came back into view and he saw her stiffen. “Watch out!”

  A blue-skinned man rushed at them. He matched the description of Zulnath.

  The sandsucker grabbed Bellamy, and she struggled against the man’s hold.

  Fighting the black blotches dancing in his vision, Maxon scanned for Magnus and the others.

  They were all busy fighting.

  Dredging up some strength, Maxon pushed up. But suddenly, two men grabbed his arms on either side, the jolt sending more pain through his battered body.

  They dragged him through the sand, while Zulnath towed a struggling Bellamy, around one of the burning buildings.

  “You’ve caused me a lot of problems, Earth woman,” Zulnath snarled.

  Bellamy snarled back. “Boohoo.”

  The crime lord’s face twisted. “I’ve had enough of you.” Zulnath pulled a large blade out of a sheath on his belt. The dagger was shiny like a mirror, and sunlight reflected off it.