The Lost Planet Series: Boxed Set: Books 1-5

by K. Webster

  “You were always his,” I agree. “I never truly wanted to take you from him.”

  Her smile is sweet. It evokes friendly memories of us laughing and sharing stories. Friends. Best friends. “Not that he would have let you,” she says with a chuckle.

  “Your claws may be useless things,” I taunt, “but you’d fight if anyone ever tried to take you from your mate. Even your best friend.” That fiery flame runs in the family because her eyes flicker with intensity for her mate.

  “I would,” she agrees. Then she lets out a heavy sigh. “This ‘talk’ was a long time coming, huh?”

  “Seems unimportant now, all things considered.”

  “You’re important, Hadrian,” she says in a firm tone. “The sky could be falling and your feelings would still matter to me.”

  Warmth blooms inside me. Not heat. This warmth is the same one that blooms when Breccan playfully swats at me or gives me one of his fatherly talks. As Molly always says, “They say you can’t choose your family, but they’ve never been to Mortuus.” Aria is my family. I see that now. And her family is my…

  “I kissed Lyric,” I blurt out.

  Her eyes widen and she gapes at me. For a moment, I wonder if she’ll come through the screen and try to claw my eyeballs out. Not that I wouldn’t mind one of her hugs that I’d no doubt steal if she were here.

  “Lyric. My Lyric?”

  She’s mine now. I bite my forked tongue. Too soon.

  Aria misses nothing, though, because she laughs. Wait? Laughs? “My little baby boy is growing up.”

  “Sokko has grown?”

  “No, dork, you.”

  “I’m not little,” I argue.

  “Figure of speech.”

  I lift a brow, waiting for her to continue.

  “Oh my God, you look just like Breccan when you do that. Quit or I’m going to whap you next time I see you.”

  Not if I see you, but the next time I do.

  “Admit I’m big,” I challenge.

  “I’m not admitting that,” she says, shaking her nog. “Listen…”

  I perk up because whenever Aria tells me to listen, she always has something profound to say. “I’m listening.”

  “If only Breccan behaved that well,” she says with a chuckle and I hear a resounding growl nearby.

  Wait.

  He’s been listening in on all this?

  I should feel embarrassed, but I feel relieved. He knows I had feelings for his mate and isn’t trying to send me to The Eternals.

  “Lyric is a wonderful girl. She’s made of the tough stuff. Nothing—not even The Rades—will bring my sister down. Her whole life, she’s been fighting to get here. To me. There’s more fight in her than everyone on this planet combined. If anyone can battle through this, she can.” Aria smiles broadly at me. “When she’s better, you take care of her. She deserves someone kind and brave and selfless and handsome and—”

  “That’s enough, alien,” Breccan barks, making her laugh.

  He comes onto the screen, Sokko pressed to his chest. His hips swivel as he soothes his mortling. My chest pangs with want. But for the first time ever, rather than wanting to be him, I want something similar to him. Something of my own.

  “I won’t let you down,” I promise them both. “I’m made of the tough stuff too.”

  13

  Lyric

  My skin burns like I’m being drowned in lava, but something keeps my arms restrained and the inability to scratch the itch is almost as awful as the itch itself.

  It started as a vague sensation that pulled me from the depths of unconsciousness. Something I could somewhat ignore and slip back into the fever dreams. I don’t remember what I dreamed of, but I don’t think they were pleasant. At least they were a relief from the heat and the ache and the constant crawling beneath my skin.

  “Calm, fiery one,” I hear above the screaming in my head. The voice is familiar, but I’m so consumed by the fever, I can’t place it with a name. All I know is that it comforts me, calms the fever. If only long enough for me to slip back into a dream.

  “Aria, come on, it’s time for your audition!”

  We both glance over at the doorway. Our mother is on the other side, not visible, but she doesn’t need to be for her presence to be felt. I don’t quite understand why, but she’s always sad. I try to cheer her up with dances and plays, but they never seem to work. I don’t think I’m as good at performing as Aria.

  “Why can’t I go with you?” I whisper to Aria. If Mother hears me asking, she won’t be pleased. She may even yell and slap.

  Aria reaches for me and wraps me in a hug. I snuggle into her embrace, thankful I have a big sister like her. Not many kids have siblings on Earth II.

  “You know why. Besides, you’ll have more fun here watching the telly and eating snacks without Mother breathing down your neck.” She rolls her eyes. “I have to go to auditions with Kevin.”

  We both make a face. Neither of us is a fan of the agent Mother hired for Aria’s auditions. He reminds me of slimy monsters I see sometimes on the telly.

  “Promise you’ll be back soon?”

  I don’t want to cry, but I don’t like being alone. Our dad works all the time and Mother is always taking Aria to auditions. She doesn’t like me to come because she says I distract Aria when she’s working, but I just want to play with my sister.

  “Of course I will, Lyric.”

  My name isn’t really Lyric, but Aria has called me that ever since I can remember. Mother doesn’t like it and maybe that’s why Aria does it.

  “Her name is Limerick,” Mother says on cue, rushing into the room and stuffing things in the big bag she carries around when Aria has an audition.

  Aria and I both roll our eyes. Mother makes an impatient gesture.

  “We’ll be back soon,” Aria promises.

  Not soon enough.

  They leave and I’m alone in our small apartment. I spend more time alone than anything else.

  I hope Aria will come back soon.

  “Don’t cry, sweet one. I’m here for you.”

  The voice pulls me back from the memory, but it’s as though my body is too heavy to move, too weak. All I can manage to do is moan, which hurts my sore throat.

  A hand wipes at my face, cold against my feverish skin. “I wish I knew what troubles you. I’d take it away, make you forget. I’d kiss it all away until I was the only thing you could think of. Give me a chance to show you. I’ll make sure you don’t regret it.”

  Hadrian. The name, the face, the voice—they come to me in a blink of a thought.

  I didn’t know what is happening to me. I don’t know where or when I am.

  The only thing I know is that Hadrian is near.

  He will keep me safe.

  I try to say his name, to tell him thank you for staying by my side, but all I can manage is a moan. My throat burns, which reminds me of how thirsty I am. And then I remember the fierce, unrelenting itching and the cycle starts all over again. I don’t know how long it lasts, but it feels like a lifetime passes with me weaving in and out of consciousness.

  There is only one constant in the sea of pain and despair: Hadrian.

  Hadrian never leaves my side. I have enough presence of mind to know that. His voice is always there. He tells me about the Facility, stories of what he can remember of his parents, the morts. When I feel as though I’m going to burn up from fever, he’s by my side with a cool cloth and a soft word.

  He is the voice in the darkness. My anchor to the world.

  I come to in a place I don’t recognize. Perhaps I’m dreaming.

  I’m not sure if it’s real or The Rades playing tricks on me.

  As time passes, the rising sun coming in from a small window I notice in the wall illuminates my surroundings. I’m in a cell. My heart begins a slow thud in my chest because I recognize the cell. I want to throw myself against the bars I now see on the far wall, but I can’t bring myself to move.

&nb
sp; How did I get here? Did Hadrian put me here? Have The Rades gotten so bad I had to be removed from the infirmary?

  Footsteps have me scrambling from the small cot I’d been sleeping on. I throw myself against the bars, the metal cool under my hands. My eyes are wild, my breathing erratic.

  The shape of a person appears at the far end of the hall. Maybe they know something. I open my mouth to ask about Hadrian, but the words I want to say don’t come out. Instead, I hear my voice say, “Hey! Please help me. I’m looking for my sister, Aria. She was supposed to be sent here. Please.”

  The person grows closer and I recognize his face. It’s Bruce. A guard. Confusion wars inside of me. This can’t be right. We locked the guards up a long time ago.

  “Keep your mouth shut or I’ll lock you up in solitary. You better learn now, girly. You’re better seen and not heard. You understand me?” He jabs what looks like a metal pipe through the bars, driving it into my stomach and stealing my breath. I crumple to the floor and I hear him unlocking the door and arguing with someone under his breath. There’s the sound of rustling movement and then he walks away, listening.

  Then I realize what’s happening. This is a dream—a nightmare. A memory.

  The first day I’d woken up at the prison, before we’d taken it from the guards.

  Someone shifts, moving closer toward me and I shrink away, still trying to catch my breath and afraid of being on the receiving end of another blow.

  “It’s okay,” comes a soft, tentative female voice. “I won’t hurt you. My name is Willow. I’m a prisoner, too.”

  I manage to blink away the tears of pain and the face of a beautiful young woman with red hair fills my vision.

  “I heard you were looking for your sister.”

  “Yes, I am. Are we in Exilium?”

  “That’s right. I’m your roommate, apparently. But we can be friends. I’m looking for someone, too.” She glances up at a sound down the hallway. “Look, the guards can be super shitty, but if we have each other’s backs, I think we’ll be all right. Whaddaya say?”

  I wake, the fear from the fever-dream coming with me. When I try to sit up, there’s a strap across my chest, which only increases my panic. I flail, trying to break myself free, but there’s no use. I’m so weak I tire out after a few minutes.

  The dream had been so real, for a moment I feel like I’m back in the cell, locked away, trapped, in a strange place with sadistic guards at every corner. Alone.

  Except when I look up, I realize I’m not alone.

  I’m in an isolation unit and Hadrian is asleep by the side of my bed.

  Hadrian.

  The memory of his voice, his touch, comes back to me. Had he been with me the whole time?

  His spikey, black hair sticks out messily all over the place and dark circles are evident under his closed eyes. He’s still wearing the same clothes he had been the last time I remember being awake. How long has it been?

  Carefully so as not to disturb him, I look around for a screen and find one on the right side of my bed. It beeps and dings, monitoring God-only-knows what, and find it’s been nearly a week since I got sick. A week. Horror fills my chest. What happened in a week? Who else is sick? Has anyone died?

  The beeping on the monitor grows more rapid and Hadrian begins to stir. When he opens his eyes and finds me awake, he shoots straight up.

  “Lyric?”

  I should be worried about everyone else. It’s my self-appointed duty to protect them. Instead, all I can think about is Hadrian.

  “Water,” I croak out.

  He hesitates, then retrieves a glass. Silently, he watches me drink. I’m too thirsty to be self-conscious. When I drain the first, he brings me a second. By the third, my throat feels semi-normal, or at least as normal as it can be under the circumstances.

  “How is everyone?” I ask, though I’m afraid to know the answer. “What’s happening?”

  Hadrian sits beside me, his eyes exhausted but intense. “Several of your guards have succumbed to the disease. One of the women as well.”

  I close my eyes, wondering who it could have been, then force myself to look at him, gesturing with a nod of my head for him to continue.

  “Many, many of the women are sick. Some severely. They’re isolated in mobile units until they are no longer contagious. This strain, according to Zoe’s conversations with Avrell, seems to rage for about seven solars. A week,” he corrects at my confused look. “You’ve been through the worst of it now and should recover quickly. It doesn’t last long once the fever is gone, though you may be weak for a few days.”

  My eyes go to my restraints. “Can I be released from these things?” I ask. “You aren’t sick, are you?”

  He nods, then goes to work untying the belts at my calves, thighs, waist, and chest. “We had to restrain you, or you would have clawed at the sores. They’re healing now and they shouldn’t scar thanks to herbs Zoe and Theron collected. Avrell says if we haven’t shown symptoms by now, we won’t get it, even though we always worried it was something that could happen. All these revolutions, I thought we suited up to keep The Rades out when going outdoors, but it turns out, he wasn’t worried about The Rades. He was concerned about the R-Levels that still pose deadly risks and mutations. But as far as The Rades go, we morts should be okay. He and Calix think since we were exposed to the disease before, we’ve developed some sort of antibody against it. Though he’s not certain exactly how until we do further testing. He thinks this information will be useful in developing an inoculation to prevent it in the future.”

  I stand and immediately crumple. Hadrian catches me in his arms and a jolt that has nothing to do with illness courses through my body.

  “I thought I was going to lose you,” he says softly. The arms around me are gentle, as though he fears holding me too tight may cause me to break.

  “You won’t get rid of me so easily.” But he doesn’t smile. If anything, the sorrow in his eyes deepens. “Hey, don’t be sad. I feel much better now. You said it yourself. I’m going to be okay.”

  I’ve never seen anyone look at me the way he does.

  Like I’m the answer he’s been looking for all his life.

  “I never want to go through that again,” he says. I can’t help but lift a hand to touch his hair, remembering how he’d talked me through the madness. My Hadrian. Strong. Sweet. Fierce.

  “You won’t. I promise. It’s going to be okay.”

  He folds into me, his arms coming around my waist, his head resting against my shoulder. I press my face into his hair, wordlessly offering comfort.

  This universe is so vast and it’s so easy to feel alone.

  Hadrian’s grip tightens around me as though reminding me that with him around, I’ll never be alone again.

  14

  Hadrian

  They’re fighting.

  Again.

  I’ve known Avrell since I was a mortling and I’ve never seen him so…unhinged. Zoe brings that element out of the strongest person. This, I know firsthand.

  I clutch her shoulder, giving it a supportive squeeze as I join the meeting uninvited. Avrell is ranting over how irresponsible she is.

  “Enough,” I say when he says she’ll probably die, and she can thank herself for that.

  Zoe may put on a tough persona, but her shoulders tense at his words, her only tell that she’s been affected.

  Avrell growls and his sub-bones start popping—a sound I’ve never heard from him. He can be angry all he wants, but what’s done is done.

  “Now that you have that out of your system, let’s focus,” I tell him in an authoritative tone Breccan would be proud of.

  From the corner of the room, Lyric flashes me a smile. It’s been two days since she woke, and I’ve been nursing her back to health. Her strength returns with each passing moment.

  “I’m immune,” Zoe says. “After isolating the affected genes that had attacked Bruce, I injected them into myself. This was on day three. T
here have been no changes in my health or blood samples. Well, aside from the fact The Rades, though forced into my system, has been eliminated. Now, rather than bitching me out for what’s already done, tell me how we can use this, Doc. I know there’s a brain in that hothead of yours.”

  He snorts unkindly.

  “If this is beyond your scope,” I state, “perhaps one of the others can step in and take over. Sayer? He’s great at figuring stuff out and—”

  “Absolutely rekking not,” Avrell growls. “He doesn’t know the first thing about medicine. Calix and I have been studying the data you’ve sent, but we can’t make sense of it just yet.”

  “So, keep working on it,” I bark out. “Zoe, run the tests on the people here. You know what you’re doing.” I give her another squeeze on her shoulder, and she sits up straighter.

  “This is a terrible idea,” Avrell roars. “What if someone hasn’t yet been infected and you willingly subject them to the disease? You’re forcing them into The Eternals on some hope it’ll work! Morts may be safe, but the humans and children are not!”

  “Beats letting them die without trying,” Zoe snaps back. “If you don’t want to help, fine, but we don’t sit around at this place waiting for the right conditions to exist before we take action. Maybe if you monsters would have tried something a long time ago—”

  “Enough,” I rumble, this time my words for her. I won’t have her blaming Avrell for the past. He’s always had the morts’ best interest at heart.

  She lets out a heavy sigh. “Sorry, bro.”

  “Go take a breather, sis,” I say in a playful tone. “Lyric and I can continue the meeting.”

  Zoe rises and gives me a playful punch to the gut. She’s not a hugger like Willow, but it’s her own way of connecting. I take it for what it is.

  Once she’s gone, I sit down in the chair and notice Avrell has relaxed.

  “It needs to be controlled,” Avrell says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Talk sense into her. One person at a time. Don’t let her inject her blood into everyone.” He shudders. “I’ll have Calix set up a program we can run variables on. Just…please talk sense into her until…”