by Alison Aimes
He’d always preferred to be the one to cause her pain.
“Just the three of us on the transport hold,” she demanded. “Now.”
“So anxious to leave with me?” Hollisworth’s taunt ghosted across her skin. With that damn robe wrapped around him, protecting him from both laser strikes and more direct ax hits, the man was obviously cocky, certain he was unreachable.
She held her temper. “Yes, that’s exactly it. I want your little dick inside me again where I can barely feel it.” Okay, maybe she didn’t hold her temper as well as she should have.
Her husband’s face went sheet white. “You’ll pay for that.” He raised his birch. “I’ll flay the skin from your bones, fuck you raw, and then do it all again. I’ll—”
“Promises, promises.” She cut him off. “But first you have to get on the transport hold.” She made a show of raising her neck so the sharp edge of the blade against her jugular was clear. “And make sure I stay alive.”
Seething, her husband turned and marched toward the doors, confident enough in his men’s loyalty and his show of force to present his back to Draeke and his men.
Draeke let out a soft sigh, certain victory was in sight.
Fanned out behind him, his men relaxed as well.
It was the moment she’d been waiting for.
She almost felt sorry for Draeke and his followers. Almost. Until she remembered what they’d done to Pratt. What they’d tried time and again to do to Valdus and his men.
With a roar, she slammed her boot into Draeke’s instep. Throwing her head up and back.
Taken by surprise, the big man didn’t evade. Too certain in his own abilities. Too sure everything was going his way.
Her head hit his chin with a crack. His hold slipped.
Everything swam, but it didn’t matter. She was heading to the ground anyway.
Her palms hit hard rock. Her right hip and thigh followed. Draeke’s ax clattered to the ground just out of reach. Ignoring the pain, she scrambled in the other direction. As far from Draeke and his crew as possible.
A shield no more.
“Kill them.” Informed by her shout, Hollisworth had already swiveled round, his robe wrapped tight around him, his gaze taking in the new scenario at once.
“No.” Draeke scrambled toward her, arms outstretched, but it was too late.
His big body was too easy a target.
The first soldier’s laser strike hit him square in the chest. He stumbled back, but didn’t go down. Instead, he lurched forward again. Another strike. This time to his arm.
His men were already in action, too, their axes sailing forward. The knowledge that this was their only chance glittering in their panicked stares.
The first line of Council soldiers lost one man, an ax buried deep in his chest. His gun crashed to the ground. Another followed close behind.
If that was all there was to the fight, Draeke and his men might have had a chance.
But they didn’t. Not with drones humming to life overhead.
Bending lower to the ground, she scurried backward—out of the cross fire—and waited.
Already the air buzzed with the drone’s familiar clacking and whirring as the blinking metal weapons locked on the inmates’ trackers. Self-destruction mode had begun.
She still had her tracker in her veins as well. But she knew Hollisworth wouldn’t allow hers to be activated. Not when he preferred a more personal revenge.
The others, however, wouldn’t be so lucky.
Draeke’s big body flickered first, turning a sickly orange. Already weakened by the strikes, he dropped to his knees much faster than Valdus had done. A roar of pure rage shook the room.
Yellow Eyes lit up next, the tracker inside him beginning to self-destruct. The rest of his men followed.
Unable to watch, she slammed her eyes shut. It only made the humming louder.
Then, for a heart wrenching moment, silence.
Utter. Absolute. Final.
Followed by a plunk. An oddly muffled sound, for something so decisive and evil.
One after another, the trackers inside Draeke and each of his men exploded, their skin twisting and boiling as a tsunami of fire burned them from the inside out.
It was a horrific way to die.
Thank Janus she’d gotten that thing out of Valdus and his men.
Slowly, subtly, she inched her hand into her pocket and closed it tight around her weapon.
She might be about to die, but she was taking her husband down with her.
Whatever it took to keep Valdus safe.
She was already free. She wanted him to be as well.
Head bowed, she waited.
Counted the sure, entitled steps headed in her direction.
Counted on Hollisworth’s ego and his certainty in his own victory now that Draeke was out of the picture.
Counted on the appeal of her sprawled in the dirt, head bowed, just like she’d been so many times before.
The sure footfalls drew closer.
She didn’t have to look up to know it was her husband. She knew the rhythm of his advance, the hiss of the cane as it cut through the air. She remembered the terror and anticipation of every heartbeat under his thumb.
“You should have known you could never escape me, bride.” He stepped closer. “You’ve been engineered to comply. You will submit. You will suffer. You will pay for every insult and every rotation I searched for you. And, in the end, you will beg me for death while your body grows wet for my cock—and I will watch with pleasure while the heat burns you alive.”
Her head snapped up. “I will never beg you again. Nothing can control me anymore. Especially a nothing like you.”
Stripling raised high, he leaned forward—just as she knew he would.
Weapon ready, she struck out. Determined to slip beneath the robe to the vulnerable flesh beneath.
Only to convulse backward, the weapon slipping from her grasp as her back arched and searing heat blasted through her. Excruciating pain and pleasure. Ripping through every organ. A knife to her clit. Agony worse than she’d ever experienced.
Panting, she curled into a ball. Tried to fight past the haze of raw pain and need.
“Do you like my other new toy?” Hollisworth squatted down beside her, the hem of his perfect robe brushing against her cheek. His hand stretched forward. Even that small touch sending waves of agonizing need rippling across her skin. “It’s even more effective than my favorite punishment stick.”
A small steel cylinder with blinking lights was nestled in his palm.
“You’re not the only one who’s been plotting and scheming, Aryanna.” Malicious pleasure coated every word as he trailed the punishment stick down her spine and over her hip, a menacing, possessive caress. “I’ve been busy, too. Making new items from the very mine your soon-to-be-dead lover and his criminal friends have been sending my way. It’s a controller. My scientists made it to placate me and save their miserable lives after you escaped. It’s a remote of sorts. One that communicates with the nanotechnology imbedded in your brain.”
She fought a paralyzing wave of agony and lust.
“So, what do you think?” His finger flicked a dial. “Do you like it?”
Her muscles snapped straight as white-hot pain shredded every nerve ending. Her body unable to do anything but shudder and rock, her limbs useless. Even when he raised his other hand, the whip striking her back. Her hip. Her ass.
Making her scream.
Until, finally, it was over.
Panting, she lay limp on the ground.
“So beautiful.” Squatting, he placed a single finger under her chin and lifted her face toward him. His thumb trailed across her cheek, his eyes soft, shining with twisted adoration and love. “The finest thing in my collection.”
She tried to snarl. It came out like a whimper.
She struggled to focus her gaze. To locate Valdus’s weapon. To remember all he’d taught her.
But
her husband’s triumphant gaze blotted everything. “I missed you, bride. Missed those sounds you make. Missed the way you fight and claw—and eventually submit.”
Her stomach twisted and she gagged.
“I…will…” She swallowed hard. Forced the words out. “never…submit.”
A small flick of his finger. Her body jolted. Writhed with excruciating pain. Flopping this way and that, blackness dotting her vision before it ended as quickly as it had begun and she dropped once more at his feet, her chest shuddering in and out, her breath a painful rasp.
“We’re going to have such fun together.” His voice sharpened. “I promise you, you will break, breeder. You will break and you will beg and you will bow before me. And then, you will die.”
The pain and heat made it hard to think. To move.
But, damn it, the weapon was only an arm’s length away.
She willed her body to action. Stretched her fingertips forward.
Only to watch as Hollisworth kicked it away, the clatter it made as it skipped across the hard ground sounding a lot like the ominous cackle of impending defeat.
“Would you like to apologize for your disobedience now?” His hand hovered over the dial of his controller.
She conjured up Valdus. Thought of their stars.
They might not have had as long as she would have liked, but she was thankful for every moment they’d had. Being taken had turned out to be the best thing that could have happened to her.
She knew, without question, that he would find her again some rotation. In this life or the next. In this universe or the next. Because she was free. She was finally at peace. And, though he hadn’t said it outright, she knew. She was loved.
She sucked down a deep breath. Pushed herself up by the palms of her hands and, shaking her hair back from her face, lifted her head to meet her husband’s sick gaze head-on.
In his stare, she saw pure confidence and the certainty that he’d won.
“The only thing I want to apologize for is that I won’t be here to see you get the horrific ending you so richly deserve. But it’s coming, Hollisworth, and I will smile with pleasure when you’re dead and gone.”
Face white, her husband reared back, his thumb fumbling for the dial, retribution stark on his monstrous face.
This was going to hurt.
“Get the hell away from her!” A familiar deep voice emerged from the shadows.
Swirling round, Hollisworth’s hand slipped from the dial, his attention diverted.
Collapsing back to the ground, her forehead pressed to the hard rock, Ava fought for breath, relief and terror flooding her veins with ice.
Valdus. Her heart fluttered.
He’d come.
But now he was in danger, too.
43
Valdus plowed forward, his ax swinging wildly from side to side, trying to draw on the cool logic that had sustained him for so long. No luck.
The monster he despised loomed over his woman, whip in hand.
“You want to hit someone, you sick bastard. Come and get me.” Burying his ax in another Council soldier, his gaze never wavered from Ava.
He didn’t need to look behind. He knew his crew was right behind, swarming like locusts, ready to protect his back, like always.
“Kill him!” shouted the Councilman, his voice smug. “Kill them all!”
It was almost a pleasure to watch the stupid look of disbelief that crossed Hollisworth’s face as the droids revved up—and no one on his team flickered orange.
“Surprise!” he crooned.
She’d really done it.
“What the hell is going on?” The bastard’s panic was music to his ears. “Why aren’t those inmates lighting up? Writhing in agony?” He was screaming up at whoever was controlling the droids. “Start their tracker’s self-destruct sequence immediately!”
For so long, Valdus had imagined killing the Councilman nice and slow. Making him suffer for every rotation he and his crew had been stuck down here, for every brutal rape and murder he’d witnessed, for every hellish time he’d had to say goodbye to one of his own. Now, all he wanted was to kill the bastard nice and fast, wiping him from the universe so Ava could be safe.
Then, he wanted to get down on his knees and stop wasting time. To tell her he was strong enough to stand by her side whatever she decided to do. That he was so damn thankful for each moment he’d had down here with her—and if this was the last of them, he’d never be anything but grateful. That he’d hold her while she injected the serum into her blood and fight with her to see it cleared from her system. And if it didn’t work, he’d lay down next to her and follow her to wherever the stars led them next. Together.
He’d vowed to find her where she went. To do whatever it took.
And he would.
Because she belonged to him. Just as surely as he belonged to her.
“Trigger the trackers, you idiots, or you’ll suffer a worse fate.” Hollisworth’s shouts at his men were becoming sharper and more desperate.
Jumping over a fallen body, he buried his ax deep in the chest of one more Councilman lackey. His sole focus on closing the distance between him and Ava.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, a blur of movement. Griffin’s shout. Swiveling, he saw his teammate stumble, his grip on his weapon loosening as his stomach seeped red. His wound had reopened.
Acting fast, Valdus hurled his ax, taking down the bastard about to strike Griffin. His friend regained his footing. Shot him a grateful nod.
Turning back, he froze
Shit. So many grappling forms. He’d lost sight of Ava.
Chest tight, he struggled to find her, shoving his way through the crowd, taking out as many as he could.
“Barrett!” To his right, Darvish’s voice reached him, heavy with worry.
Valdus cursed. The sick man had been ordered to hide out with the other non-inoculated crew during the battle. Of course, he hadn’t listened.
Following Darvish’s line of sight, he saw the young man warding off two soldiers. When healthy, he’d been one of their best fighters. But now his swings were slow and clumsy. Worse, he was flickering orange. The working tracker inside him turned on by the droids overhead.
With a roar, he sprinted toward Barrett.
Only to hear the young man shout, “Darvish, no!”
He swiveled in time to see the red-haired man go down, blood streaming from his side.
“Valdus, on your right.” Ryker’s warning sent him dodging left. The searing heat of a laser strike missed his chest by inches, lashing his shoulder, instead. Painful, but nothing incapacitating.
He turned to thank his second—and found him down on his knee, his arm wrapped around his belly, his breathing rasping in and out. He’d been hit.
“How bad?”
Ryker waved him off. “I’m fine.”
The scent of burning flesh flooded Valdus’s nostrils. His friend wasn’t fine. And he wasn’t standing back up, either.
He stabbed at another soldier. Took him down.
The battle was everywhere now, the two sides totally intermingled, skirmishes breaking out in every direction.
“It was supposed to be me.” Barrett had somehow made his way to Darvish, and the young man’s cries echoed through the room as he cradled the big man in his arms. “It was only supposed to be me.”
“We go together.” His friend’s hand cupped the younger man’s jaw, his big red beard glowing bright in the flickering orange light. The love in his eyes glittering even brighter. “There is no life for me above or below without you in it.”
Valdus threw back his head and howled. Despair a blinding pain in his gut.
“Take out the droid,” he shouted.
But Barrett was too weak. Darvish was too injured. And he was too far away—with an injured Ryker to defend.
“Look out.” Griffin’s warning reached him just in time.
Ducking, Valdus barely missed a gun to the face. With a roar, h
e thrust his weapon forward. Another man down. Then, leaning down, he yanked his second to his feet and repeated his earlier question. “How bad?”
And through it all, the chaos of flashing weapons, flailing limbs and dying men, he searched for Ava.
How the fuck was he supposed to save his men and her, too?
“Go to her.” Ryker swayed on his feet, but managed to stay upright.
“You’re wrecked. Barrett and Darvish are in trouble and—”
“We’ve got this.” Griffin swept in front of Ryker, his eyes glittering with adrenaline, his pupils small pinpricks. The man loved a battle. Maybe too much.
“He’s right. We’ll take care of the men.” Ryker’s face was tight with pain, but there was a purpose in his gaze that hadn’t been there in a long time. “Go to her. You’ve still got a chance at the kind of life we always wanted. Let us do this for you. It’s a long time coming.”
He held his second’s stare, the bond he’d thought lost reappearing as if it had never been missing.
For once, the choice was easy. “I’d say good luck, but I know you don’t need it.”
The flash of satisfaction in his second’s eyes erased the last of his doubt.
Turning back in the direction he’d last seen Ava, Valdus plunged forward once more. Swinging wildly, his heart a hammer against his ribs.
He’d taken out three more before he saw her. Still on the ground. But definitely alive. Her chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths.
The flood of relief had him locking his knees to stay upright.
“I don’t understand what’s happening. Trigger the droids, damn it.” Hollisworth’s commands had grown in pitch and fervor, his usually slick and perfect hair now standing on end, his once-white robe now covered in red dust as it flapped wildly with each of his enraged gestures.
“Won’t do you any good.” Close enough now to be heard without shouting, Valdus did his best to focus the unstable bastard’s attention squarely on him. “They’ve been disabled.”
“No!” Hollisworth’s rage was palpable. “Can’t be. That’s Council property. You’re Council property.”