Taken

by Alison Aimes

  Shit, he’d let his second bait him into being as much of an asshole as he was.

  Shoving his friend back a step, he opened his mouth to soften his words—

  “Valdus? Ryker? You in there? Everything okay?” The voice of their top scout, Griffin, echoed from outside the cave. “We’ve managed to ditch the last of the packs in pursuit, but they’ll find us eventually. Are we settling in to fight or heading back to quarters? What’s the plan?”

  Another reality check.

  There were men right outside this cave and others currently scratching away in the mines counting on him to do what was best for them.

  His gaze locked with Ryker’s.

  They both dropped their fists. Whatever was brewing between them would have to wait. The safety of the team came first.

  Above all else.

  Even the confusing female at his back.

  Maybe it would have been better if he’d just shoved his cock inside her. If he never knew those sweet, willing sounds she made. The tight grip of her pussy as it rippled against his cock. The look of surprise and hope in her gaze.

  But what was done was done. He couldn’t change it.

  Nor could he change what was to come.

  “Rest will have to wait.” He unsheathed his ax, hardening his heart. “We head to the mess hall.”

  Because his captive was right.

  Neither of them had a choice in what happened next. Hollisworth had taken that from them long ago.

  14

  “Kill ’em. Hit ’em.”

  The roar of noise rattled down the corridor, stealing Ava’s breath.

  She’d been looking for a means of escape since her captor had dragged her from the cave, her thighs still slick from his cum, and a ring of faceless, honed bodies had closed in around them, hostility and menace thick in the air. The battered metal plates that hid their faces, adorned with only slits for the eyes and mouth, making it impossible for her to discern if there were any among them who might be sympathetic to her plight.

  Now, it was too late.

  Adrenaline spiking, her gaze sliced to the side. Her captor’s shoulders hadn’t tensed. His hold around his weapon was still loose.

  Whatever this yelling was, it was expected.

  Dread prickled up her spine.

  She tried to drag her heels. The jerk of her wrists kept her stumbling forward. “Wh-what’s up there?”

  “Keep her in the center. Hidden. At all times.” Her captor’s barked command rang out, drowning out her question.

  Before she could repeat it, the others closed in, a wall of hard human flesh and male musk that jostled her and her captor as they flowed as one around the next bend, the others’ wide shoulders and thick torsos swallowing her up until all she could see was skin and hair.

  Heart slamming against her ribs, she twisted and bobbed until she found a crack in the human wall.

  Her eyes went round.

  They’d entered another version of hell.

  In every section of the wide cavernous room, drones buzzed overhead while red-caked bodies clustered together in small crowds, screaming and shrieking and shoving. A few intact stalagmites and stalactites littered the ground and ceiling, but most were stumps, their jagged edges giving the place an even more ravaged look than the other parts of the mining labyrinth. The stench of fear, greed, and hunger loomed especially thick in the air.

  It was the biggest grouping of inmates and droids she’d seen. More even than outside the transport hold.

  Panic tightened her throat. Valdus and his men were strong and well organized, but even they couldn’t hold off this kind of mob.

  She was suddenly grateful for the human wall that blocked her from view, as well as for the coverings her captor had draped across her hair and face.

  A howl shook the room. The smack of flesh on flesh sounded.

  She tried to think beyond the fear. To figure out why they were here and what it meant for her.

  She remembered Valdus referring to a mess hall, but saw no tables. No benches. No food. Nothing but endless crumbling rock and screaming inmates.

  Another outcry. Bodies parted. And, as the men shifted, her view expanded.

  In the center of one cluster, two men grappled in the dirt—biting, scratching, clawing—the sickening crack of flesh louder than before. All the while, drones whirred above, doing nothing to stop it. The lasers they’d used last time to control the fighting crowds absent. Nearby, rocks tumbled from the cavern walls, jarred loose by men climbing the rough terrain for a better view.

  This made no sense.

  But nothing that had happened since she’d been captured had.

  He’d made her like it. Want it.

  Always in the past, she spread her legs, absorbed the necessary sperm, and buried away the ugliness, forgetting the donors’ faces as soon as she scrubbed away their scent.

  But her captor had flipped some switch she didn’t even know she had and turned her into exactly what her husband had wanted when he shoved that thing inside her brain—a willing and eager participant.

  She’d writhed beneath her captor. Raked her nails down his back and lifted her hips to meet him thrust for thrust. Reveling in the very heat she’d been trying to exorcise since it had been forced on her.

  Shame burned through her faster than a raging dust storm.

  “If I don’t win—” her captor’s deep voice ripped her from her dark thoughts.

  “You’ll win,” insisted the man on his right, the odd collection of instruments he wore clanging into one another as he shifted.

  “If I don’t,” Valdus’s gaze flickered to her, his jaw hardening, “get her out of here. Follow the plan.”

  Her gaze swiveled between them, her heart beating fast.

  “Take her.” Valdus passed her leash to the one man she did recognize, Ryker.

  It hit like an open slap to the face. “No. What—”

  Ignoring her, her captor grabbed hold of his second’s harness and jerked him close, flesh cracking against flesh as the two collided.

  Her mouth snapped shut.

  “You don’t touch a hair on her head unless she asks.” Valdus’s voice was low and lethal. “Not a fucking hair.” His expression hardened further. “I’m trusting you, Ryker. To be the person you once were. To be the man Saralynee loved.”

  Ryker flinched as if he’d been struck.

  Valdus didn’t even pause. “No pain. Only pleasure.”

  Her cheeks flamed red, confusion mixing with rage. The jagged cut of betrayal slicing deep. “You’re giving me to him?”

  Blue eyes locked with hers. For an instant, she saw the man who’d touched her with such passion and need. Who’d shown her what it was to want. But his eyes iced over in the next heartbeat, as hard and cold as ever.

  Without another word, he marched past.

  “Valdus, wait.”

  She stumbled, the hard tug at her wrists yanking her backward.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” The smirk Ryker usually wore was absent. For once, he looked shaken. Still, there was no give in his eyes as he loomed above her. “You heard the Commander. You’re with me now. And I promise I can make you scream just as loud as he did. Whether it’s from pain or pleasure is up to you.”

  Her nails curled into claws, the urge to make someone bleed pulsing through her veins with violent intensity.

  Valdus had left her. Passed her off. As if she was nothing more than a possession.

  After the way he’d claimed her, she’d almost begun to believe he was softening toward her, even just a little.

  Clearly not.

  She should have known.

  Her husband, Hollisworth, had only grown crueler with every time he used her, too.

  Sex wasn’t proof of caring and, apparently, even good sex was no different. She was a fool to have imagined otherwise, even for a nanosegment.

  Against her will, her gaze followed the Resistance leader’s wide retreating back, her gaz
e slipping between the shoulders of the other men to follow his progress as he marched across the lofty corridor, parting the crowd easily with an elbow or a shoulder bump.

  Until he was standing in front of the biggest behemoth in the room. A mountain of a man, Valdus’s new acquaintance had to be at least six feet seven, his head almost scrapping the ceiling. His matted, wild hair and overgrown beard suggested he’d given up on the little vanities that made a man human long ago.

  She was too far away to hear what was said, but the brute nodded once, the tattoos covering his body rippling as he pushed off the wall.

  An excited roar sounded around them, and then the crowd shuffled back. A new ring formed, this time around Valdus and the giant.

  “What is—”

  Without warning, the mountain swung.

  15

  Ava gasped.

  Valdus ducked. Slammed a massive fist into the giant’s stomach. Took an equally brutal strike to the shoulder.

  Horror slid through her.

  The crowd closed in, blocking her captor from sight.

  “What’s he doing?” Her voice sounded high and screechy even to her own ears. She hated him, of course. But still… She rose onto her tiptoes. Tried to shove aside the wide shoulders of the man looming right in front of her. No luck.

  “Clear us a spot,” her new keeper growled. “Can’t see a damn thing from back here.”

  A few of the others surged forward, shouldering bodies out of the way. The man in front of her shifted.

  Just in time for her to see Valdus plow his fist into the giant’s stomach.

  Her heart skipped. Her captor had deliberately started this fight and she had no idea why.

  Above, a familiar whir sounded as drones moved into position overhead.

  “The drones are here. He has to stop or they’ll shoot at him.”

  Ryker threw her an odd look. “They won’t fire.”

  The giant’s massive fist swung forward. Valdus dodged, recovered swiftly, and responded with a lightning uppercut, followed by a front kick that sent the other guy stumbling back.

  She sucked down a quick breath.

  “Fighting is banned in most areas and the drones take care of it quickly and ruthlessly. But here at the mess hall…” Ryker grimaced as the other guy’s fist plowed into Valdus’s chin, sending his head lurching back with a vicious snap. “Here such fights are sanctioned. It’s our wardens’ mealtime entertainment for the rotation.”

  “Entertainment? That’s disgusting.”

  Ryker’s expression hardened once more. “You and your kind make the rules. We only try to live by them.”

  She didn’t bother correcting him about her place in the whole system. “Why would Valdus give them the satisfaction?”

  Unfathomable eyes met hers. “He has his reasons.”

  Her skin prickled, her own survival instincts kicking in.

  “There are bets. Chits made and lost.” She sensed the scarred man was still holding back. “Did you think Valdus was any different? We’re all their pets in some way. Forced to heel to Hollisworth’s pleasure.” His handsome face turned cruel, a thin scar at his cheek whitening as his skin stretched taut. “I suspect you know exactly what that’s like, breeder.”

  “What I know is you’re an asshole,” she snarled right back, “and it’s a wonder this Saralynee person ever loved you.”

  His face paled. Then rage bloomed red across his face.

  She flinched. Braced for the pain.

  Flesh cracked against flesh, but it wasn’t hers.

  The fight.

  Her gaze flew to Valdus. Ryker’s shifted as well.

  The giant plowed forward, tackling her captor. They crashed to the ground, two colossal gladiators, rolling for dominance. The ground shook. Blood splattered.

  Her scream mixed with all the rest.

  Worse, something clicked inside her, the intense surge of fear and adrenaline restarting her heat cycle—far before it was due to begin again. Her clit swelled.

  The giant leapt, landing hard on top of Valdus.

  “You have to help him.”

  Ryker’s eyes locked on the nails digging into his bicep.

  Pink danced across her cheeks. She dropped her arms. Valdus had passed her off. She should want him dead.

  “You’re actually worried for him?”

  She dodged the revealing question with one of her own. “Shouldn’t you be?”

  “He’s not the one you should be worried for.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He paused, opened his mouth to speak, and then snapped it shut, his expression growing sly. “It means nothing at all.”

  She was glad all over again that she’d called him an asshole.

  Another crack of flesh and, suddenly, her captor was the one on top. His lips pulled back in a savage snarl, his eyes wild. Every mouthwatering muscle bulging as his fists flew. Cuts and bruises and streaks of clay across every part of him.

  He was savage. Barbaric. Vicious.

  Her heart slammed against her throat, her body heating, the now-familiar dark tug building in her belly even as it shamed her.

  The bastard had traded her to someone else. Passed her off and not looked back.

  But memories of those same rough hands on her, making her moan, making her writhe, played through her mind, impossible to erase. And the heat, the terrible, burning throb that scorched every vein, was skyrocketing upward faster than it ever had before.

  More grunts, the crack of bone, and then a blur of skin and hair as the men shifted position once more—and this time the giant swung the jagged end of a rock toward her captor’s eye.

  “Look out.” She hadn’t even realized she’d screamed the warning—or rushed forward—until Ryker’s hand wrapped round her forearm.

  “Not happening, remember?” He jerked her to him. “You need to stay put.”

  His scent, his feel, were all wrong. She tried to shake him off. “Don’t touch me.”

  He gripped her tighter.

  Her captor blocked a punch with a vicious hook that snapped the other man’s head back.

  The rock slipped from his opponent’s grasp.

  Valdus reclaimed the top.

  Arctic blue eyes locked on her—and Ryker’s hold.

  His roar shook the place.

  Ryker’s palms flew upward, away from her. “Just keeping her from running into danger. Nothing more.”

  Another roar. Then, her captor’s fist flew, faster than before, his slick, muscled skin a blur as he struck his opponent over and over again.

  Crimson splattered the ground. Barely noticeable against the red clay.

  The chant death, death, death rose to a fever pitch among the teeming, shrieking crowd and her fear ratcheted up another notch.

  Ryker threw his fist in the air and joined the chant, his usually dead eyes glittering with bloodlust and savagery. The others joined in.

  They were all animals. And her captor was the king of beasts.

  The giant’s arms dropped to the floor, his body still.

  Valdus threw back his head and howled.

  Above, the drones whirred and clicked, recording every sickening moment of brutality.

  Wrung out, she panted for breath. Her chest heaving as if she, too, had been in a fight. Her body unsettled.

  Especially when her captor’s predatory gaze swiveled to her, his lips flattening back in a snarl, blood dripping from a new cut over his eye, his jaw already starting to swell.

  Leaping off his downed opponent, he stalked with panther-like grace toward her, his throat rumbling with another growl as his lips curled back and his stare locked on the faint bruise now ringing her arm, care of Ryker.

  “It was an accident.” The man stepped back, shouting over the frenzied screaming.

  Out of nowhere, another teammate slid between the two men, his red beard bristling beneath the facemask. “Ryker’s not the one you’re mad at and you know it.”

  Another
teammate spoke up as well. “Just get it done, Commander. Delaying won’t make it any easier.”

  The hairs at the nape of her neck tingled anew.

  Valdus’s hot gaze fused with hers.

  The insides of her thighs grew slick.

  Then, there was no more time to ponder his men’s words as resignation flared in her captor’s gaze and, shoving his men aside, his hands, bruised and bloody, wrapped around her arms.

  Without another word, he dragged her forward, the toes of her boots leaving a deep rut in the clay.

  A reluctant prize claimed and won.

  They stopped at the body of the downed man. The slow rise and fall of his chest the only proof he lived.

  The rest of the team moved to flank them, but not like before.

  This time, they stood off to the sides, no one blocking her from view.

  Her captor ripped her covering from her head.

  A multitude of hungry eyes latched on to her.

  Above, the drones whirled and clicked. Buzzing. Whirring. Beaming every moment of what went on back home for their jailers’ sick “entertainment.”

  The missing pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. Her captor’s intent suddenly crystal clear. “No!”

  16

  “Yes.” Her captor trapped her to his chest, the slam of his heartbeat doing nothing to calm her own.

  Twisting in his grasp, she fought harder. Desperate to bolt. But it was too late.

  His hold secure, he threw back his head and roared toward the ceiling. “You want more entertainment? You want more blood and violence? Well, look at what I’ve got.”

  The big black screens on these drones—a subtle difference from the ones that had chased her before—swiveled until she and her captor were reflected in their glossy blackness. Cameras. Beaming back every image to New Earth.

  Ice slid through her veins.

  “That’s right,” he growled up at them. “Take a nice, good look. Not just a magnificent female, but the magnificent female.”

  Her knees wobbled, the urge to crumple hitting in wave after wave as her worst nightmare became a reality.