by Regine Abel
Trent held my stare. Reading my unwavering determination, his face hardened.
“You’re not going to leave this ship, are you?” He chuckled sadly. “Mercy, my ass. You Braxians, mutts included, don’t know the meaning of that word. You’re going to kill me no matter what.”
He was right. I would kill him. How painfully depended on the state I found Grace in.
“Give me my woman, Trent.”
“Fuck you, Myers, and fuck that cunt. You’re never getting her back.”
As if in slow-motion, I saw myself lunging at him. Even as I grabbed him, his thumb activated the detonator. I slammed him against the wall. Trent screeched as his spine shattered against the hard surface. Boneless, he collapsed on the floor. The remote flew out of his grasp. I watched it bounce on the metal plating, knowing the implant had gone off. The sound of my blood rushing through my veins deafened me. Marcus cried out Grace’s name and scrambled for the remote.
My fingers felt frozen, the numbing cold spreading through my body. Dazed, I ignored William’s voice calling out to me. I stumbled towards the back room and slapped my hand on the opening mechanism. I needed to see her with my own eyes. The door slid open. The room reeked of Denax, blood and burnt metal. The BDSM paraphernalia barely registered in my brain. All I saw was Gerwin standing before a bathroom door with a laser torch in hand.
She locked herself inside.
Gerwin’s bleeding, ravaged face told me Grace fought for her life. She must have sat there, hoping, praying for me to rescue her. And I failed.
I’m so sorry, my love.
Gerwin turned at the sound of my footsteps. He took a defiant step towards me, while the others gathered behind me.
“I demand a Trial by Combat,” Gerwin wheezed, his lip lopsided.
“You get to demand nothing, Gerwin the anCaldes,” Elder Montag said. “You violated your banishment.”
“Have you not brought enough shame to Clan Caldes?” Elder Curbis said, stepping beside me.
“He’s a mutt!” Gerwin roared. “He impregnated the human!”
“I’m going to kill you, Gerwin,” I said, my voice strangely flat. “I’m going to kill you for ever touching my woman.”
“Touching her, mutt?” Gerwin chuckled. “I didn’t just touch her. I fucked her face real good.” He gestured holding a head and thrusting his hips forward. “Broke her jaw too. She won’t be singing any time soon. Might have also ripped her pussy.” Even bleeding and wheezing, he smirked, looking satisfied. “That is, after I beat that abomination you put in her belly to a pulp.”
He was taunting me, hoping I would lose it. With Trial by Combat, his fault would be forgiven if he won. Gerwin banked on his superior size and strength. However, the damage Grace inflicted on him could give me an edge.
It was odd that I hadn’t attacked him already. But losing Grace killed something inside me.
My will… I have no more will to live.
Then I saw a bloodied clump of hair – Grace’s hair – torn from her scalp. It lay on the floor, discarded. Something snapped inside me. My neck tensed, my temperature rose. A red curtain fell before my eyes as a deep, feral growl erupted from my throat.
Gerwin’s eyes widened and I heard the Elders intake a sharp breath behind me.
“He’s going into battle rage,” Fenton whispered in awe.
“Impossible,” Elder Curbis said. “He’s a half-breed.”
Usually, only the most elite fighters in warrior clans achieved this state of pure battle focus where speed, accuracy, and strength were all multiplied.
It was like having an out-of-body experience as I watched myself lunge at Gerwin. He punched me and missed. While I knew he moved normally, to me, it looked as though he moved through water. I easily ducked under his fist and slammed my elbow into his punctured jugular. His clavicle gave way. Blood exploded out of his mouth as he doubled over, gasping for breath.
More…
I wanted his blood all over my hands and for the room to drown in his screams. Grabbing him by the back of his shirt, I tossed him across the room. He crashed into the chest of drawers, landing badly. His shoulder dislocated with a popping sound. Gerwin groaned, coughing blood.
More…
He scrambled to his feet. The bone of his dislocated shoulder protruded under the skin, while his arm hung at an odd angle. I marched up to him, aching to hear the sound of his bones shattering. Standing behind him, I grabbed a handful of his hair. Gerwin slammed his elbow backward into my face. My teeth rattled in my head and blood filled my mouth. But I didn’t feel the pain. Pulling his head back, I smashed his face against the chest of drawers. The sound of flesh meeting metal fueled my rage further. His good arm tried to elbow me again, but I easily avoided the blow. I rammed his face once more against the hard surface.
This is a pureblood? This is what I feared?
Gerwin bellowed in pain and anger and tried to push off the chest. He back-kicked me. It grazed my calf, missing its target. The third time I bashed his face down, bones crunched. Gerwin slumped to his knees.
I’m going to skin you alive and bathe in your blood.
I grabbed a handful of hair in both hands, and put my foot between his shoulder blades. An animalistic roar erupted from my throat as I pulled with all my strength. Hair and skin tore off his skull.
“Anton, enough!” a booming voice shouted behind me.
No.
My bloodlust wasn’t sated. Gerwin’s scalp bled down my arms. I tossed the clumps to the floor and reached for him again. Three pairs of hands restrained me. I hollered and tried to shake them off, but they took me to the floor. Their joint strength and weight forced me into submission.
“Enough, young warrior. Enough,” one of the voices said. “You have won your battle and avenged your honor. Calm.”
My roars echoed through the room until my eyes landed on Marcus. Standing in front of the bathroom door, he used Gerwin’s laser torch to carve it open. The red haze fell from my eyes and my shouts of fury turned into keening. Marcus’ lips were moving. As my rage abated, I was able to make sense out of his words.
“We’re coming, Gracie. Hang on, you hear me girl? You hang on. We’re almost there.”
My Grace… My love.
“Let me up,” I whispered, my voice broken.
After a slight hesitation, the Elders released me. With heavy steps, I lurched towards the door. As I circled around the bondage bench, I noticed William kneeling next to Marcus. Using his own laser torch, he cut down the lower part while Marcus worked the upper one. I stood behind them, watching the torch carve a slow path to my beloved. The two men’s lines met in the middle. William slapped a magnetic handle on the cut-up face before pulling.
Marcus bellowed Grace’s name at the sight revealed before us. He fell to his knees, convulsing with body-shaking sobs. William sagged against the doorframe, his face twisted with sorrow. Numb, I walked into the bathroom and removed my shirt. Grace lay naked on the floor, blood pooling by her face. The skin at the base of her neck was shredded, savaged by the implant exploding. The odd angle of her jaw confirmed Gerwin hadn’t lied. Angry bruises rose along her ribs.
Kneeling beside Grace, I knew I couldn’t go back to the emptiness, the coldness, the hopelessness of my life before her.
Gerwin should have won. I should have died with her... with them. My wife... My son…
I slipped a hand behind her back, lifting her to wrap my shirt around her. She stirred.
“Grace?” I whispered, not daring to hope.
Her eyes fluttered and she took another gasping breath.
“Oh Grace, I’m here, my love. Keep breathing! It’s over, you’re safe now.” I looked up at William and Marcus who stared at me. “Get the doctor in here now!”
I kissed her forehead before leaning mine against hers, thanking whatever power spared her life.
CHAPTER 24
Anton
That Grace survived was the greatest blessing I could have ever
hoped for. That our son lived was a miracle. Dr. Enders couldn’t swear he would make it to term, but she sounded optimistic. The baby’s vitals were stable and strong, Gerwin’s blow having missed him. But the trauma Grace sustained might be too much for her body to also handle a pregnancy. Two weeks into her recovery, both of them thrived. We agreed to take it one day at a time.
The plastic surgeon managed to repair most of Grace’s shredded neck. I could barely see the faint lines where Grace carved out the implant. To think I almost didn’t gift her that pin because I loved her hair free-flowing. Grace didn’t recall digging out the implant, only trying to do so. We found the implant’s mangled casing a foot from her face.
Despite nanotechnology and the revolutionary medical advances, healing Grace’s jaw and ribs could take two months. Dr. Enders couldn’t get over how Grace’s jaw hadn’t broken right off. Her eardrums also sustained some damage, as had her throat during Gerwin’s assault. Knowing I had hurt her in a similar fashion would haunt me for the rest of my days. Whatever our respective motives, my actions made me a monster same as him. I would devote every hour of my life making it up to her.
Thankfully, the doctor felt fairly confident that Grace would make a near-full recovery. All damage to her scalp had been mended and her hair was growing back. For the time being though, singing was out of the question.
Grace hated how Gerwin derailed her debut show. She felt especially bad for her dancers, Sacha and Carrie. She begged me to intercede with the owner of Sade to give them a shot while she recovered. Marissa didn’t need any additional dancers but, as a favor to me, she gave them a small gig.
After she recovered enough, Grace and I talked about our family. With my history, why she doubted I would protect my son baffled me. I knew she waited for me to take her as my mate. But I needed to do this right, and make sure her life and that of our son and future children wouldn’t be at risk again. Then I’d marry her in the human tradition.
In my eagerness to get Grace medical attention, Gerwin slipped my mind. It turned out Fenton informed the Magnar of what was transpiring on his way to the docking bay. Ravik ordered him to bring Gerwin to him alive. With Elder Montag and Elder Curbis helping, they hauled him back to Braxia to face the Magnar’s justice.
At first, I felt cheated – Gerwin was mine to kill, regardless of the Magnar’s agenda. Although he apologized for the ruthlessness of his actions, Ravik didn’t reconsider his position. According to him, the grievous injuries Grace and I inflicted upon Gerwin were sufficient personal vindication. The public trial was too important for the half-breed cause for him to pass up. In the end, I didn’t really give a shit as long as Gerwin died.
The clans were torn by the Magnar’s interference on my behalf. Yes, Gerwin violated banishment but I remained a mutt. However, two respected Elders and the Magnar’s own confidante witnessing me enter battle rage caused the real uproar. Few warriors on Braxia achieved battle rage. Those who did, called Berserkers, were revered by their clans. It was a rare genetic trait passed on within the main warrior clans. On the field of battle, once a Berserker entered battle rage, he could enhance the strength, speed, and endurance of his clan mates, turning them into Furies.
The trial proved the potential worth of a half-breed. It dealt a devastating blow against Clan Caldes. As I refused to leave Grace’s side to attend the trial on Braxia, my father stood in my stead. When the guilty verdict was announced, as per custom, the sentence could either be carried out by the offended clan or by the clan of the condemned, in a gesture of peace.
Gerwin had received financial assistance, likely from someone within his former clan. Those credits allowed him to hire Samuel Trent. Fearing I would permanently sever all business deals with them, Clan Leader Caldes begged for the privilege of carrying out the sentence on his son, Gerwin. My father declined. He would carry out the sentence personally and all of Clan Caldes was to bear witness.
Three days later, Gerwin the anCaldes, firstborn son of Clan Leader Raylor Caldes, was flayed alive by my father. He was then tied to a pole at the entrance of the clan’s compound to die a slow death. He would hang there for thirty days as a warning to respect the banishment laws. At the end of the proceedings, the Magnar publicly declared me Friend of the Empire.
While unable to visit Grace himself, Magnar Ravik sent his personal physician to Dr. Enders. He promised to come as soon as he could.
Over the past couple of weeks, we spent an outrageous amount of time in bed, talking and watching sappy romantic movies. I was developing some kind of immunity to their overly sweet gushiness as I no longer ached with the need to airlock myself whenever watching them.
We cuddled a lot during that time with the occasional kiss. Greater intimacy wasn’t an option. Knowing the extent of my sexual drive and appetite, Grace worried. She didn’t bring it up, but I felt her tense every time we went for a short stroll and women passed by. Eventually, she offered to suck me off.
That angered me.
Yes, like all Braxians I was constantly horny, but that didn’t make me a sex-starved rutting beast. As much as I loved her lips around my cock, her jaw was in no condition for that kind of action. Moreover, I believed she was in denial of the extent of the psychological trauma Gerwin inflicted upon her during his assault. Once her body fully healed, I expected it would take more time before we became intimate again. Even though I ached for her, I would wait however long she needed. I loved her. No other woman even felt attractive to me anymore.
The doctor said we could have sex again, as long as we were careful. It was my choice not to. First, I didn’t trust myself to remain gentle in the throes of passion. Second, I knew Grace wouldn’t tell me if it hurt her. Third, I wanted her to know that it wasn’t sex that made me want a lifetime with her. And when the pressure got too much, well, I had two very capable hands.
As sappy movie five-hundred-and-so-damn-many-I-lost-count ended, I couldn’t withhold a deep sigh. Grace rubbed a soothing hand along my back.
“Worried about your father?” she asked.
I nodded, frowning.
Tonight, my father and our clan Elder Baras were coming to see me here, at the penthouse. It had been four years since my father last visited the Hive. It coincided with the repayment of the loan. I wasn’t sure what to expect. They had an announcement to make, and I believed it had to do with Grace’s pregnancy. I had an announcement of my own to make. No matter how well I prepared for it, fear gnawed at me.
“Is he…?”
“No, Grace, he won’t ask me to kill my son,” I said, knowing that thought kept her up at night. “He wouldn’t demand from me what others couldn’t force him to do. But I don’t know what the council wants and that scares me. My father and Elder Baras wouldn’t make the long trip here to speak to me unless it was something very important.”
Grace nodded, then leaned forward to kiss my lips. It was gentle, soft, and comforting.
“Do you think he’ll want to see me?”
“Yes. I’m pretty sure he will.”
She shivered and I rubbed my hand reassuringly along her back.
“Will he ask… anything of me?” she asked, her tone hesitant.
I knew where this headed. “He may ask to examine you. If he does, I would like you to allow him.” As expected, Grace stiffened at those words. “Do not worry, love. It will not be sexual. You only have to stand in front of him while he looks at you. If he touches you at all, it might be your stomach. However, I suspect he will only inhale your scent, to confirm you are indeed with child and that it belongs to his bloodline.”
She exhaled a shuddering breath, but said, “Okay.”
* * *
When Clan Leader Krygor Aldriss, walked into the penthouse, the room seemed to shrink to half its size. I instinctively lowered my head and dropped my shoulders, feeling like an eight-year-old boy again. My father was an impressive specimen of strength, power and lethal poise. He was only slightly smaller than the Magnar. His facial features,
so like mine, were more pronounced. The thickness of his prominent brow gave his fearsome face a more intimidating edge. His pitch-black eyes rested on me as I bowed my head in respect.
“Clan Leader Aldriss, Elder Baras, welcome to my home.”
“Anton,” my father said, with a slight nod.
Elder Baras nodded and I waved them into the living area. My father strolled in with his usual measured gait and sat down on the three-seat couch. I couldn’t help the sense of pride every time I laid eyes upon my sire. He embodied everything I always aspired to be: strong, determined, and invincible. At fifty-one, he looked more like my older brother than my father. Baras took a seat next to him. The elder councilman was a few years older than my father, and one of the more moderate in the clan. He never approved of my father letting me live and made no secret of it. However, unlike many others, he never mistreated me. His clan leader spoke and he followed.
I placed three glasses on the coffee table in front of them and filled them with the finest Braxian brandy. We saluted each other and drank. My father refilled our glasses and I sat across from them.
Formalities out of the way, in a show of respect for his seniority, I waited for my father to initiate the conversation. Originally, I requested to talk to him, but he informed me that the clan had an announcement to make. As they would be coming to the Hive to discuss it, I could say my piece then. I wondered if he suspected what it was.
“Recent events have caused quite the stir on Braxia,” my father said, his expression unreadable.
“I merely responded to an attack against me and mine.”
“I wasn’t chastising you,” he deadpanned.
My face heated. Damn if he couldn’t systematically make me feel like a petulant boy.
“You took the proper actions and Gerwin got the retribution he deserved.”
I nodded. “Thank you, Clan Leader, for standing in my stead and carrying out the sentence on my behalf.”