Note from the Author
Due to dark themes, and mature content, the recommended reading age for this installment of the Alinthia series is 18+.
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
BOOKS BY SIOBHAN DAVIS
Copyright
CHAPTER 1
Tori/Alinthia
Black spots swim in front of my eyes as they slowly open. The blurry room gradually comes into focus, confirming I’m not in a familiar environment. Clinical white walls surround me on all sides. A long, rectangular metal device is suspended over my head, a bunch of multicolored buttons visible on the underbelly. The muted beeping of a machine drones behind me, elevating my heart rate as panic waylays me.
A strange woman leans over me. With her pale skin, austere expression, and blunt hairstyle, she exudes cold indifference which does nothing to appease my growing anxiety. I instinctually flinch, wincing as darts of pain rip up and down my arms.
Where the hell am I?
The last thing I recall is being in Kylie’s house when a bunch of government operatives turned up to take me. The rest is a blank, so I’ve no clue where I am or what these people want with me.
“Tori?” Blinding light hurts my eyes, and I squeeze them shut again. “I need you to open your eyes for me, Tori,” the flat feminine voice says. There is nothing to be gained from delaying the inevitable, so I force my eyes open. “Good girl,” she praises, and I want to scream and yell and call her every name under the sun, but my vocal cords refuse to cooperate.
The woman examines my eyes, and then she probes my face and neck with firm fingers. A gentle whirring sound bounces off the walls as the cot I’m lying on slowly raises, straightening behind my back. When I’m more upright, I notice the red bands circling my wrists, chained to the side of the cot. Tentatively, I move my left arm, biting on the inside of my cheek when my wrist makes contact with the band and excruciating pain tears through my limbs.
“The bands are made from low-grade Tianore,” a deep male voice says, answering my unspoken question, and I jerk my head up. It’s the same man from Kylie’s house. The one who said he headed up the military operation of a special, secret branch of the government focused on extraterrestrial life. I never did catch his name. “We don’t want to hurt you, Alinthia, but you will be restrained until we trust you won’t hurt yourself or anyone here.”
“Tianore kills my kind,” I croak, figuring there’s no point hiding who or what I am. He just called me Alinthia, so he’s reliably informed, and, from what he said back at the house, they’ve always known about me, and who knows how long I’ve been unconscious and what tests they’ve run on me during that time.
“We are well aware of the effects of Tianore on Verronians and other alien species,” the man says, approaching the bed. “The bands will cause you no long-term damage; however, we would like to be in a position to remove them sooner rather than later, but that all depends on your cooperation.”
“Where am I and what do you want with me?”
His piercing green eyes drill into mine. “You are in a special government facility; a place where no one will find you. The only way you are getting out of here is by agreeing to our terms.”
“And what might those be?”
He runs a hand over his shorn reddish-blond hair. “Special Director Tanner will explain everything in due course. For now, Dr. Lanter will complete her tests, and then a guard will escort you to your chambers where you can freshen up and rest. I will summon you when the director is ready to meet with you.”
Frustration roils inside me. If only I could touch him and use my power of persuasion to get him to escort me out of here, but, with these bands in place, I can’t tap into any of my gifts. Although the last time I tried to use my powers with my wrists cuffed led to unimaginable pain, I decide to test it again.
Focusing my mind, I try to move the heavy box on the side table. Ripples of pain crash through my skull, and I cry out, flinching on the bed and triggering the bands. More pain consumes me, tremors shooting up my arms and through my limbs, and I start thrashing about. Cool hands press my body onto the bed, holding me in place until the shuddering has stopped and the pain has eased. Tendrils of sweat bead on my brow, and I’m breathing profusely. Tears leak out of the corners of my eyes of their own volition.
“Sergeant Green warned you about trying to use your gifts,” Dr. Lanter supplies, still holding me down on the bed. Her hand presses into my ribcage, making breathing difficult.
“It is pointless to fight this, Alinthia,” he says. Considering he’s the only other person in here, and the only male, I’m assuming he’s Sergeant Green. “Once we have explained and shown you our facilities, it will all make sense, and you’ll come to realize that being here is not that much of a hardship.”
I snort, glaring at him. “That’s easy for you to say. You haven’t been kidnapped and taken against your will! You aren’t in cuffs and in pain. You can’t do this to me! I’m a citizen of the United States of America. My mom will be freaking out!” As the guys are, no doubt.
Thinking of them only adds to my heartache. If it’s as Sergeant Green has said, then they’ll never find me. The connection which links me to Beck, Dane, Coop, and Maddox simmers agitatedly under the surface of my skin, itching for the other parts of my soul. Every part of my being is traumatized at this forced separation, but losing my cool won’t help my situation either. I need to stay calm and keep a clear head if I’m to figure out a way to escape this prison.
Because I’m not staying here.
Mark my words, I’m breaking out of here, even if I die trying.
A surly guard wearing full combat attire and carrying a heavy-duty rifle steps into the room a half hour later, after Dr. Lanter has concluded poking and prodding me. “Officer Smith will escort you to your room now. I advise you to go quietly and not to attempt anything. His weapon is a laser gun made from Tianore. One hit and you’ll be paralyzed, and in the worst pain imaginable. Don’t give him cause to use it.” Tucking her short reddish-brown hair behind her ears, she stares at me impassively while unchaining me from the bed. She helps me down onto my feet, and I sway a little, but she steadies me. “I will see you again, Tori. Our tests are far from complete.”
“I can’t wait,” I deadpan, narrowing my eyes at her. Clumps of matted blonde hair cling to my forehead, sweeping into my eyes, and I automatically move to brush them aside, crumpling into a heap on the ground as immense pain shuttles through me.
“Holy crap,” I pant, my breaths oozing out in agonized spurts. “How the hell am I expected to move around with these things on my wrists?” I dema
nd, looking up at her from my position on the floor.
Pursing her lips, she stares silently at me. “Help her up,” she instructs the guard, and he stalks toward me.
I cower back from his menacing form before remembering who I am. I can’t fall to pieces or show any fear. I don’t want them to see how very vulnerable I feel. Reminding myself of the inner strength I have hidden inside me, I let the guard help me up, and then I shuck out of his hold, straightening my spine and lifting my chin up. “I’m capable of walking myself, and I won’t cause any trouble.”
Not for now.
“I’m glad to hear it.” Dr. Lanter folds her arms across her ample chest, slanting a curious look at me. “Don’t make me regret this.” She steps forward with a small tablet in hand and starts pressing buttons. Immediately, I feel the pressure around my wrists loosen. “I’ve reprogrammed the bands. You can move freely without pain; however, we can reactivate the bands at a second’s notice. There are eyes and ears all over this place. Try anything, and they’ll be switched back on.”
I nod my head in acknowledgment. I can’t quite bring myself to thank her. She’s an odd fish. Seemingly devoid of feeling, yet perhaps she’s not so unemotive underneath that impassive outer layer.
I follow the guard out of the room into a narrow corridor. The walls are painted a dark green in contrast to the super-bright overhead lighting. My feet squelch on the floor as we walk past successive closed doors, and the hallway seems to go on forever. Finally, we reach a solid, thick silver door at the end. The guard places his hand on a digital scanner on the side, and the door slides open, revealing a large square open-plan room. One side is like a typical cafeteria or dining hall with row upon row of benches and tables and a long counter at the top with buffet-style food. The other side houses a recreation area of sorts. A few couches are dotted around wall-mounted TVs. There’s a pool and foosball table in one corner, and some kind of gaming section with game consoles and chairs in the other.
But it’s the inhabitants that have captured my attention, causing my feet to grow roots. I stand stock-still, mouth open in shocked amazement. All around me are young males and females of differing species. Some look human, like me, but their mannerisms betray their kind. Others have obvious distinguishing features. Like the girl with the odd orange eyes that flicker and glow as she stares at me. Or the boy with the strange markings on his face. Or the three girls with egg-shaped heads and brightly colored mohawks. A scary dude with scales in place of skin grins at me, showcasing a set of razor sharp teeth.
A deathly hush has descended over the room, and everyone has stopped what they were doing. Every set of eyes is now fixated on me. A row of guards mans the perimeter of the room, all heavily armed and shooting wary glances in my direction.
A girl and a guy step forward, walking confidently toward me. You can almost hear the collective drawing of breath. Tiny hairs lift on the back of my neck, and my tongue darts out, wetting my dry lips. The girl is tall and thin with angular curves and short ash-blonde hair styled in a pixie cut. She stops in front of me, cocking her head to the side as she looks me over with weird silvery-green eyes. Her mouth is pulled into a wide smile, and her eyes sparkle excitedly as she drinks me in. I’m not sure what to make of her, but she appears pleased to see me. Her movements are elegant, almost measured, and she exudes confidence and charisma. “Ellya,” the guy murmurs. “Stop staring. You’re making her uncomfortable.”
I drag my gaze to his, and my eyes pop wide. He towers over both Ellya and me, and with his broad shoulders and muscular physique, he’s quite intimidating. His jet-black hair is cropped close to his head, and his face is on full display. He has exquisite bone structure, and his face is a masterpiece of masculine beauty, like a modern work of art, both fascinating and unnatural at the same time. His skin is a luminous bronze color, highlighting his blue-green eyes in stark contrast. He looks human with the exception of his pointed ears, which remind me of Spock from Star Trek, and the shimmering glyphs I notice dancing over his skin. They are almost invisible, but I see them, swirling and dancing up his bare arms and neck. His full lips are curved in a soft smile as we stare at one another.
It’s ironic that he called her out on making me uncomfortable when it’s his presence, and the intensity of his attention, that is actually stretching me out of my comfort zone.
What he does next only adds to my anxiety.
In a sudden move, he drops to one knee, bowing his head. The entire room of aliens follow suit, so the only ones left standing in the room are me, the guards, and the women working the food counter.
“Welcome, Chosen One. We have been anxiously awaiting your arrival.”
CHAPTER 2
His voice is equally deeply masculine and softly lyrical at the same time, and the adoring look on his face makes me significantly ill at ease. I gulp over the wedge of emotion clogging my throat as I scan the crowd bowing before me. All of them have dropped to one knee, and it’s a rare sight but one I’m not accustomed to or comfortable with. I’m still so much in the dark, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that some alien races revere customs and traditions and most everyone respects and honors the prophecy. The one that says I’m the last surviving descendant of the Nantor Royal Family and the only one that can save the galaxy from General Arantu and restore peace.
“Arise, my friends,” I request, smiling as heads slowly lift. “Be at ease.” The words glide naturally off my tongue, and I’m quietly amazed at how I always seem to know what to say and how to act in such situations. Almost like there’s another person under my skin who takes control when needed.
Everyone gets to their feet, but the uneasy atmosphere lingers.
“We are here to serve you, Princess,” the male says, nodding at me. “You have nothing to fear here. You are among your own kind.”
I try to hide my cringe at the reference to servitude. “You’re from Verron?”
He shakes his head. “I’m from Nantor, your Esteemed Highness.”
Oh, Lordy. Not the Esteemed Highness nonsense again. The words only serve to remind me of my protector’s handler, Zorc. Someone I’m not sure I trust.
“And you?” I ask the girl, turning my head in her direction.
“I’m from Rindyar.”
The name is familiar. Ships from that planet were involved in the battle in space that occurred outside the APGP when we visited Zorc’s home.
“Let’s move on,” Officer Smith prompts, stepping in between me and the alien boy and girl. “You can get acquainted later, Tavroc,” he says to the male with a definite smirk.
Tavroc does not look pleased at the insinuation, but he steps aside without question.
“I will talk to you both later,” I say, grateful for the opportunity to potentially make friends and find out exactly what this place is and what’s going on here.
Ellya smiles and bows. “We look forward to it, Chosen One.”
My insides twist unpleasantly, and I wonder how difficult it will be to get people to drop all the convoluted titles and just talk to me like a normal person.
The crowd parts as we walk through the room, and my discomfort grows as they all bow and murmur reverent greetings when I pass.
I only properly breathe once we exit the room into another passageway. This one is wider, and the walls are painted in pristine white. We pass a succession of closed doors until we come to a stop. The guard has failed to disguise his smirk since we left the main room, and I itch to wipe it off his face. My fingers tingle as power flows through my veins again, ready to call on when needed. I bet I could inflict some pain before the bands are activated, but I ignore the temptation. I need to play this intelligently. To show they can trust me. To garner their confidence as soon as possible. To observe and gather intel about the compound and how the security systems work. To try to identify an escape route.
It’s what Dane would do—strategize and plan. And Beck would watch the cameras and technology to see how it wou
ld aid or abet escape. Coop would use his charm to disarm those in authority, and when it came to crunch time, Maddox would use his brute strength to barrel his way out of here.
I need to channel my protectors and use everything they have taught me. While I still harbor hope they will find me, I can’t put all my eggs in that basket. I know they won’t stop looking for me, but I get the feeling this place is not easy to find, so I’ve got to rely on myself to get out of this mess.
Thoughts of the boys threaten to bring me to my knees, so, for now, I tuck them away in the farthest corner of my mind, determined I’m going to fix this situation myself and get back to them as soon as I can.
My chambers are a small room with a single cot, a bedside table, tiny closet, a desk with a TV on top, and an en suite bathroom with a shower rather than a tub. The only window in the room is a small rectangular one high up on the back wall. Steel bars encase it from the outside, and it opens via a button on the wall.
“We have eyes on you at all times,” the guard says, pointing to a camera embedded in the wall, “so don’t try anything funny.” He cracks his knuckles in a menacing maneuver. “Like Dr. Lanter said, we can activate those bands at the flick of a switch, and I’d only love the opportunity to inflict pain, so try me, Princess,” he jeers.
I school my lips into a neutral line and stare at him with a face devoid of emotion.
He chuckles. “I’m going to love watching you get taken down.”
I flip him the bird, and he laughs even louder. “Remember, I’m watching” are his parting words before he exits the room. A clicking sound suggests the door is locked, but I test it to be sure. The handle doesn’t budge, confirming I’m locked in.
Super-duper.
I examine the small supply of clothes in the closet, unnerved at the fact they are all my size. Feeling icky, I decide to take a shower. I don’t see any cameras in the bathroom, but even if there are, I don’t care in this moment. I’m sweaty and dirty, and I need to get out of these filthy clothes.
The Warrior Princess: A Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance (Alinthia Book 3) Page 1