Forbidden World: Ambrax

by Bernadette Gardner

  The pain distracted him and he let go, just long enough for her to roll to her feet and fling herself into the underbrush. Naked except for her shoes and the tatters of her torn shirt that still clung to her shoulders, she ran all out, her legs pounding to the rhythm of her thundering heart.

  In the back of her mind, she knew she could never outrun him. He'd catch her eventually and when he did, if she hadn't worn him out with the chase, he'd hurt her. Judging by the fury she'd seen in his eyes when he'd had her beneath him, he'd probably kill her.

  Unless she killed him first.

  Chapter 6

  * * *

  The scent of her floated in the humid air, as easy for him to follow as if she'd left a neon trail.

  She was his woman. His mate. He owned her and he had no intention of ever allowing her to escape.

  He ran, squinting through the blood-red haze that obscured his vision. Sweat evaporated from his feverish skin, chilling him as he flew through the barely recognizable paths made by the converts. His unrequited erection throbbed and the discomfort slowed him down, but not enough to lose her trail.

  She'd tire long before he did, and then he'd have her. Again and again.

  Eerie silence greeted him in the next clearing. She was close. He tasted her fear on the breeze and even though his brain couldn't process why, it excited him.

  He stilled, relying on a new, primitive set of senses to guide him to her. When he pinpointed her location, crouched behind a tangle of tree roots to his left, he lunged.

  * * * *

  Spots swam before Lea's eyes from holding her breath so long. Damen might have heard the rasping breath that now burned in her lungs, but could he also hear the uncontrolled pounding of her heart? How could he not hear the throb of blood in her ears when it nearly deafened her?

  Maybe it was the hiss of her Sparthan blade as she drew it from its sheath or the rustle of foliage as he held the weapon up in front of her. Whatever sound drew him to her position, his reaction to it was fast and furious. He lunged, leaping like a cat toward her hiding place, and she braced for the impact of metal against taut, muscular flesh.

  The blade grazed his thigh, rending the fabric of his flight pants and leaving a bloody gash. He howled and fell, clutching his wound. She ducked away, brandishing the tarnished weapon, believing for a split second that she'd given herself another chance to escape.

  Her hopes died when she hit the ground. She hadn't seen or heard him move, but he rose up, swiped her legs out from under her and sent her sprawling.

  Before she drew her next breath, he was on her.

  She screamed again, unconcerned that the sounds of their struggle might draw more converts to the spot. As Damen dragged her body beneath his, she slashed at him with her blade.

  With a well-timed move, he knocked the weapon from her hand, leaving her defenseless. Again that lawless part of her psyche took over, conceding his victory. Part of her wanted nothing more than to submit to him.

  And part of her knew she needed to escape or die. Even as she wrapped her thighs around his waist, she continued to struggle. The muscles in her right arm protested when she stretched them to their limit in an effort to close her fingers around the hilt of her blade. Intent on her objective, at first she didn't recognized the long, thin object that bumped against her leg. The shock stick. She could almost reach it--by distracting him with a solid kick to the back of his thigh, she was able to wrap her hand around the plastic shaft and activate it.

  "Damen, stop! Now!" She gave him one last chance, but his eyes held nothing for her, not even distant recognition anymore. The transformation had him and soon he wouldn't even recognize himself.

  She fought back a sob of defeat as she pressed the cracking tip of the shock stick against his lower leg.

  * * * *

  His body arched against the deep, searing pain. Lancing through his leg and into every muscle of his body, the electric shock froze him and burned him at the same time.

  He screamed, more from anger than any other emotion. His female had hurt him; she'd thwarted his attempts to mate with her.

  The bleeding gash on his leg stung, but not like this. This assault caused him pain everywhere at once, and worse...it made him remember.

  Lea.

  Self-loathing clenched his gut at the realization that he'd been about to kill her, not just claim her, not just assuage his animal lust within her once-willing body, but to fuck her until she came apart beneath him. He'd wanted to feel her blood on his hands, a punishment for denying him.

  He growled and tried to tear himself away from her, but she brought the shock stick up between their bodies and rammed it against his solar plexus.

  The next explosion tossed him against a tree. His body went hard as ice for a split second, then shattered like glass. His teeth came together hard on his tongue and his mouth filled with the metallic tang of his own blood.

  Then he lay still. With every nerve ending on fire, he wasn't sure he could move at all, and he welcomed the paralysis. It meant he wouldn't be able to hurt her.

  "Le-Lea."

  She loomed over him, naked, her beautiful body smeared with dirt, her hair full of crushed leaves. "Come on, you bastard, make one move on me and I'll ram this stick up your ass and light your balls on fire."

  "Please." He nodded, spit blood at her feet and let out a long, shuddering sigh. Everything he knew, everything he was, lay a heartbeat away, separated from his conscious mind by the curse of the transformation and this time, he knew how to get it all back.

  Unfortunately, she didn't understand. She shook the weapon at him and her voice broke. "I mean it. I'll--"

  "Do it." He made a truncated grab for her hand and in self defense, she jammed the still hot end of the shock stick against his shoulder. The gut-wrenching charge knocked him back against a tree hard enough to rattle his skull and clear his mind of the blood curdling rage that had gripped him.

  When the agony subsided, he looked up at her and smiled.

  * * * *

  Lea stepped back. She charged the shock stick once more and brandished it at Damen, unwilling to admit the satisfied smirk on his face scared the hell out of her.

  He looked as if he liked the pain she'd caused him.

  Bloody and bruised, his shirt and pants torn and dirt covering every exposed patch of skin, he resembled a convert. Had he changed into something almost completely inhuman, like Troy? Was it too late to save him, too?

  "One more," he said, his voice a deep, tortured croak.

  "No. I'm not going to--"

  "You have to. One more!"

  The vehemence in his tone terrified her. If she didn't obey, he'd force her to, and then, she didn't know if she'd be able to stop. Her hands shook, but she thrust the weapon toward his other shoulder and fired.

  His scream tore through her, and she dropped the shock stick. She scrambled back, putting a meter of soggy jungle moss between them.

  When his muscles relaxed, he met her gaze and this time his eyes were clear and full of regret.

  "I'm sorry I hurt you," he said and once again his voice rode over her raw nerves like warm honey.

  She sank to her knees. "How did that...why did that work? You were becoming one of them."

  "I don't know, but it did. I can think again, but fucking hell, I'm sore." He moved stiffly to haul himself up from the ground and Lea rushed forward, ducking under his arm to steady him.

  "I'm sorry..." This second apology came out as a strangled whisper. The words were foreign to Damen Cantor.

  "It wasn't you." She stared at the weapon which still dangled from her hand. She'd felt the transformation herself, the primitive desires that had begun to replace her logical thoughts. Would she be able to survive this horrendous cure? "Damen--"

  "No." Though he still leaned on her heavily, his response was swift and strong. "You're still okay. You don't need it."

  "But I will."

  "We'll be off world before that happens."

>   "What about Troy? Do you think it will work on him?"

  He shrugged, angled her back toward the trail they'd blazed through the jungle. "It's worth a try."

  * * * *

  Damen fought the urge to steal sidelong glances at Lea as they headed back toward the clearing where they'd left Troy.

  He wasn't used to shame, hadn't felt it in years...not since he'd been on Ambrax the first time. He'd done exactly what he'd vowed never to do when he'd left here. He'd relived that time and he'd become what he feared most.

  And yet, Lea walked beside him, her head high, her arm around his waist, offering her support without question. He would never have expected that from a Company spawn, in fact he'd never have expected it of any woman he'd ever met.

  When they stumbled back into the clearing that had been their overnight camp, Troy still lay at the base of the big tree. His wrists were bloody from struggling against the tight strips of cloth that bound him. It appeared he'd attempted to chew through the binding and now, exhausted, he glared at them both as they approached.

  This wouldn't be easy. If only it were Mojar tied before him. Damen would have relished the thought of sizzling the Braxan healer's insides, but this would be barbaric. Even if it worked. If it didn't, it would be murder.

  He held his hand out to Lea. "Let me do it."

  She didn't argue, but her fingers shook as she handed him the weapon.

  Troy howled, a sound of rage and fear that curdled Damen's blood. He'd never forgive himself if this torture didn't work.

  He wanted to say something, a warning or apology for what he was about to do, but that would only prolong it, and in his current state Troy wouldn't understand anyway. Slightly nauseated, Damen steadied himself. He straightened his back and locked his still weak knees to keep himself from falling over. After a deep breath, he activated the shock stick and, ignoring a small tinge of regret, he pressed the crackling tip of the weapon against Troy's ribcage. The convert's wild howl morphed into a desperate, pain-filled scream.

  Behind Damen, Lea cringed and shrank back, covering her mouth with trembling fingers.

  To Damen's amazement, Troy's yowling ceased. Drool slipped from his slack lips, but the acknowledgment was unmistakable. "P-lease...an--another." His first coherent words gave Damen some hope. Troy understood.

  After a moment's contemplation, he complied. He shoved the live tip of the shock stick against Troy's furry chest and activated it, cringing when the man/beast screamed in agony once again. Then he backed away, leaving his unlikely victim panting and writhing on the jungle floor.

  After a moment, Troy calmed himself and raised his head. "Th-thank you. One...one more."

  Damen stared. This was unreal. "Can you handle it? Your insides are going to fry."

  "I...want my life back. I need to get home to m-my wife."

  "You knew, didn't you? You knew this was a cure for the transformation."

  Troy closed his eyes. "Th-they don't want anyone to know. One more...p-please."

  Damen stepped forward again. He'd never felt remorse at using a shock stick on anyone before, least of all someone who was asking for it, but it made his insides churn to think of the pain Troy was willing to endure to regain the use of his higher brain functions. "All right. You asked for it." He touched the weapon to Troy's side and fired. The man's deep, guttural scream tore through the night like a hot blade.

  After three blood-curdling rounds with the shock stick, Troy was completely coherent. He offered his hands to his captors and Lea drew her blade and set him free.

  * * * *

  Troy rubbed his wrists and ankles for a moment, then his head shot up and his eyes connected with Lea's. "Please tell me, is Darya still...?" His desperate question brought tears to her eyes. She grasped his hands in hers and nodded.

  "She's doing okay. I put her in the medical center before I left. She's getting the finest care."

  A familiar cloud passed over his green eyes. He'd been a proud man, reluctant to accept her financial help even when Darya's savings dwindled to the last credit. The only way Lea had been able to convince her sister to accept a small fraction of what the Company used to pay her was if Lea called it a loan.

  "How long have I been here?"

  "A little over two months now. What do you remember?"

  "I remember all of it." Troy shook his head, then his gaze dropped self-consciously to Lea's feet. She wondered about his sudden interest in her shoes, then realized they were all she wore.

  Her cheeks heated when she recalled Damen tearing her shirt from her. Troy had watched it all. She studied her shoes as well.

  Damen must have sensed the reason for the lull in their conversation. To Lea's surprise, he peeled of his own shirt and handed it to her. "I'll find your pants," he said with exaggerated nonchalance.

  She slipped on the garment and boldly met Troy's gaze, hoping they could both forget the awkward recollections. "What really happened between you and Mojar? He said you kidnapped a female healer and took her out here."

  Troy's dry lips twisted in disgust. "He's a bastard--even by Braxan standards. But I guess you've figured that out. I had originally struck a bargain with Mojar to come with me to treat Darya. We'd agreed on his terms when Alor asked if she could go in his place. He was jealous. I guess he thought I wanted to challenge him, but I didn't. When he changed the terms of his deal, I made a mistake. I told him what I'd found out about the transformation, trying to blackmail him. I guess he drugged me, and I woke up out here."

  "And what happened to Alor? Did he leave her out here with you?" Damen asked. He'd found Lea's pants and handed them to her, completely casual and without a glance in her direction.

  "She's alive and in hiding," Troy answered and Lea's hopes soared. If the female healer was still somewhere in the jungle, maybe they could find her and still bring her off world with them, since there was no way Mojar would be helping them now. "I've been trying to keep the others away from her as best I can. Females are...scarce out here. They usually don't survive long..." Troy hung his head. Shame made his voice crack. "I'm afraid I haven't done a good job of protecting her. I'm not strong enough to fight most of the others and a few of them have..."

  Lea put a hand on his arm. "It's okay now. Take us to her. We can all protect her now."

  "How did you find out that electric shock can reverse the transformation?" Damen took up the conversation while Lea slipped into her pants.

  "It was an accident. I'd been here a little more than a week and I was starting to feel it already. The rage, the feeling like I had to run away was already overwhelming. In the middle of the night I wanted to go for a walk, but I couldn't remember how to work the door lock. I pried the panel off with my bare hands and stuck my fist into the circuits. The shock knocked me across the room. When I woke up, my head was clear again."

  Damen eyed him. "You knew it wasn't a coincidence."

  Troy shook his head. "I wasn't sure until a few days later when I started to have ideas about actually taking Alor from Mojar, believing I wanted to own her. I tried a shock stick on a low setting. It worked. It made me able to think clearly again. I couldn't believe the solution could be so simple."

  "Having every electrical impulse in your body interrupted at high voltage isn't really a simple solution." Damen gave a dry chuckle.

  "I suppose you're right, but after spending months lost in my own head, wandering through this godforsaken jungle, I'd have done anything, believe me. When I told Mojar what I'd discovered, he didn't react well. I realized I'd uncovered a dirty little Braxan secret."

  Lea's blood chilled at the thought that Mojar's actions might be condoned by the rest of the Braxans. He'd make sure they got no help, and there would be no way for them to escape Ambrax with both Troy and Alor.

  She swallowed her concerns though, and put on a brave face for Troy. His desperation to return to Darya was evident in the longing expressed in his face. She couldn't crush his hopes so soon, but how could she promis
e him he'd survive to see his wife again?

  With a forced smile, she offered him her hand and helped him to his feet. "Come on, show us where Alor is hiding, then we can work on getting ourselves out of this godforsaken jungle."

  * * * *

  Troy led them back in the direction of the gulley where they'd encountered his adopted tribe of converts. Damen brought up the rear of their expedition, his longest blade drawn and ready for battle. Despite her protests, he'd insisted Lea keep the shock stick. She'd have more need of it if he or Troy succumbed to the transformation again.

  "There are a series of small caves at the bottom of the gully. She hides in those, and when I can steal food from the others, I bring some for her and leave it. I guess she thinks I'm trying to lure her out, because she only comes to take what I bring at night after the other males have moved out of the area. I can't get close to her," Troy explained as they made their way deeper into the bowl-like depression in the earth.

  "Is that why the converts were hanging around in this area? Were the other males looking for Alor?" Damen asked.

  Troy shrugged this bony shoulders. "I don't know. There's fresh water here and that attracts them. I remember living by smells, water, food, females, and danger. That's all I was--nothing but instinct and a few flashes of memory now and then."

  Lea huffed. "And the Braxans call this evolution."

  Troy spat. "They call it that to keep people coming. The more people that are lured into coming here by the legends and the rumors, the more the fantasy grows that this place is a paradise and that what happens here is some kind of miracle."

  A pang of shame curled through Damen's gut. He'd done it himself. He'd never spoken much about his first visit to Ambrax, but he'd let those who asked him about it believe his crew had found enlightenment, when the truth was, he'd repressed the real memories, told himself he hadn't seen what he had, didn't know what he knew.