She wanted him dead…dead…dead. She even prayed about it, knowing it was wrong to ask god to destroy a man. But she felt vindicated because the being before her wasn’t close to a human. He was more like an animal, worse than a ferocious, crazed, rabid dog that deserved to be put out of its misery.
She struggled, feeling his knee part her thighs. She slapped out, catching him on the cheek. She drew blood as she raked her fingernails into his flesh. He howled and curled a fist. She tried to turn to dodge the attack. Something exploded inside her jaw when he cuffed her.
Everything danced around her in a haze. She batted her eyes to keep from blacking out. Taking gulps of air, she fought to stay conscious, and refused to let the bastard win.
Allura lay as still as possible, playing possum, waiting for the precise moment to catch him off guard. Seeing the top of his blond hair when he lowered his head and concentrating on ripping the belt of his robe free, she reared up like a bucking bronco and kicked him between the thighs. Her knee careened into his stiff appendage, connecting. She twisted and ground hard until he doubled over and scrambled back from her.
Sluggish and fighting off the dazed effect of whatever they had given her, she rolled away and came up on all fours. She crawled over the bed and tried to escape. She screamed when she felt his hand clamp over her ankle. A sharp pain shot through her leg when he jerked so hard she feared her hipbone would pop out of the socket.
Kicking and plummeting her foot in his chest, she refused to go down without a fight. If he caught her this time, her next chance of getting free would surely be futile. Frantic, she socked him repeatedly in the chin with her fist. When that didn’t work, she tried to tear out his eyes. Using her fingertips, she jabbed at the targets and poked him good. He grunted, staggered, and cupped his eye.
“Infidel, you dare defy me!”
His retaliation was swift and came like a thrust of hot wind when he balled his fist and slammed it into her cheek before she could duck. Allura went down like a sack of rocks tossed into a river.
Allura had a last thought as Agaci hovered over her, shaking with fury—she was going to die.
Then in the back of the delirium, she heard a boom that shook the glass panes in the room and convinced her the world had ended. At that exact moment, she fainted into nothingness.
Chapter Twenty-three
When Noor entered the chamber, he found Allura sprawled on the bed naked, so lifeless. Standing at the balcony entrance, he couldn’t see the rise and fall of her chest. It escalated his heartbeat, which thumped so loudly, he feared the guards outside the main door could hear it.
When he came closer and checked her pulse, a rush of air escaped as he felt the rhythmic beats beneath his fingertips. Then rage made him rigid, seeing the blue and black bruises on her face.
It took everything Noor had not to charge the door and put a blast between the eyes of every person he encountered. Then he would seek out Emperor Agaci and show him how a Rynoir dealt out punishment to unscrupulous pieces of shit—a quick death was too good. He would start at the bottom of the bastard, work his way up, and torture the parasite until he begged for death.
But today was the slug’s lucky day—getting Allura out of the palace and to safety took precedence over his desire to rip the emperor a new asshole.
Noor forced Allura into a seated position and jostled her a few times to rouse her awake. She murmured. Her head slumped over against his shoulder. “Sweetie, come on…come on.” He gave her a few more shakes until her eyes fluttered and then popped open.
“Noor.” Her tone was raspy. “He drugged me and did unspeakable things. He is lower than a cockroach.”
“I know, sweetie, but don’t worry about that now. We have to go.” He wrapped the sheet around her body and lifted her in his arms.
He figured he had about ten minutes or less before the guards and the emperor realized the explosion Angel had created was a diversion. He waited until the exterior guards came running to the back of the compound before he raced to the side of the dwelling that faced the wooded area and gardens. He climbed a metal trellis, a tree, and then jumped and latched onto the balcony overhang. He tittered-tottered and his legs dangled precariously in the air before he managed to gain a grip on the balcony ledge. He swung himself up over the railing just before heavily armed men ran beneath him, and raced to the back of the dwelling to see what all the commotion was about.
“He’s a horrible, horrible man,” Allura mumbled.
“I know. Shhh…we will talk about it later.”
“Noor.”
“Yes.” He paused, hearing noises outside the door.
Allura began to cry. “I think he raped me. I could be carrying the monster’s child.”
A tremor of cold rippled through Noor’s body. How could he forget? Glancing at the entry, he did a quick assessment to determine how much time he had, and then made a hasty decision that left his stomach in knots.
He put Allura down on the settee and did a quick examination. There was no evidence of penetration, blood, and as far as he could tell, her hymen was still intact.
The final bell sounded, vibrated, as if his head was stuck inside the walls of the ringer.
Emperor Agaci would come.
“I’m sorry, sweetie, I have to do this.”
Allura floated in a fog. Her eyes glazed over as she stared at him. She whispered, “What are you doing?”
He bunched the cover up around her waist. She grabbed at his hands and swatted at him. He pinned her hands in one of his hands and used the other to unfasten his pants. “I know you don’t understand now, but if I don’t do this, the emperor has a chance at ruining your life, Allura.” He spread her thighs with his knee and parted her for easier access before he paused. The lump in his throat lodged like a stone in his windpipe, and for an instant, he couldn’t breathe. “I will be as gentle as possible, but I have to take your virginity and implant my seed.” He remembered the jar of cream in his pants pocket and removed it.
“Nooo. My god, Noor—no,” she cried softly.
Noor ran his fingers down his face, inhaled sharply, and then slowly released the air from his lungs.
Precious minutes ticked by.
He couldn’t go through with it, not without her permission. Allura would hate him, but not as much as he would despise himself.
Noor covered her body, hefted her in his arms, and made his way to escape when the doors to the quarters flew open. A low animalistic growl sounded from the emperor, who bound into the room surrounded by guards.
“Damn it,” he cursed low. He sent the signal for Vale to activate the transporter, and then withdrew his stunners, one in each hand.
He fired and kept firing…hitting two, three, four of the men who raced into the room past the emperor toward him and Allura. The guards returned blasts. Some shots barely missed his head. One shot came dangerously close, and the heat of the laser burned his forehead. He ignored the trickle of blood and wiped it away to clear his vision before he countered.
It was a direct hit. The man closest to the emperor clutched his chest, and then toppled over.
“Vale, I need some help here,” he shouted over the barrage of laser blasts.
He picked off two more guards while inching backward toward the open balcony doors. He was careful to keep Allura behind him out of harm’s way. He had no idea what he would do when he reached outside. He would figure it out later.
Right now, he needed to concentrate on the charging men racing toward him with the emperor in the lead.
Balancing his weapon on his arm, he narrowed his sight on the emperor and let go in a succession of firepower. The men around the emperor fell like dominoes. The emperor kept coming.
Noor was sure he hit his mark…several times, but the man kept charging as if the beams of heat miraculously bounced off his flesh. He bound over obstacles, leaped through the air, and took a direct shot to the chest that he snarled and shook off. He seemed invincible.
The familiar sensation of tingles started all over his body and told Noor he was about to be transported. He grabbed Allura and pulled her closer. He continued to shoot at the emperor until he saw his outstretched arm disappear into thin air.
He glanced down to ensure Allura was with him and saw her body fade to nothing before he focused on Emperor Agaci again. Noor frowned. Something wasn’t right. He blinked, trying to clear his sight, sure what he witnessed had to be an illusion created by the effects of being parsed into a million tiny particles.
Noor stared in disbelief at the blurry image in front of his eyes. One second he could clearly see the features of Emperor Agaci, the next he wasn’t sure what he witnessed, and for an instant, he felt like he was back in Texas facing off with the cretins.
No, he had distorted eyesight, which in turn altered the emperor’s features, he thought, even though he had a hard time convincing himself. It was a more plausible explanation than the facts.
* * * *
“Noor,” Allura said. She dug her fingers into his arms and clutched him tightly.
He looked at her for the first time since they had transported, standing on the on-boarding platform of Vale’s vessel, and what he saw made his heart skip a beat.
Not again.
A thin line of blood ran down her arm.
“My arm hurts. I think I’m wounded.”
“Damn, sweetie, I’m so sorry. I will get you comfortable and have somebody take care of your injury. Does it hurt too much?”
“No.”
He prayed for small miracles. A laser blast had grazed her skin, leaving a small burn on the upper arm. The skin was raw and bleeding, but he could tell there wasn’t any real damage, nothing antiseptic and a laser treatment to close the wound couldn’t fix.
“Noor.”
“Yes.”
“This is twice I have been shot while you were present. In fact, until you entered my life, I never even bumped my head, not even after I fell off my horse. My uncle would call you bad karma.”
Noor gritted his teeth, unwilling to refute the truth.
“Noor.”
“Shhh, sweetie, don’t talk. Okay?”
“Channing is going to be furious, but if he tries to beat you up again, I won’t let him. That doesn’t mean I’m not angry at you myself.”
Her comment would have been humorous if Allura had a clue about Channing. Things happened so fast when they arrived, he never got the opportunity to explain matters. His first concern was for her, and then Channing. It would not be fair to lay something so heavy on her now. As far as he was concerned, telling Allura about what occurred with Channing could wait.
“Thank you,” he said noncommittally.
There was nothing else to say, and he hoped he didn’t have to explain about Channing, but he couldn’t be sure until he talked with his aunt Pulura, which he would do with haste once he attended to Allura.
Then he could contact his aunt and find out if he was “bad karma” and a liar. He had promised to keep her brother alive.
Chapter Twenty-four
So, this was what heaven was like.
Channing assumed god must have forgiven his transgressions and brought him home. He made the assumption by examining his surroundings through the dome-shaped ceiling where stars blanketed the sky and tiny lights twinkled overhead.
His body suspended in the air, floating freely on what must have been clouds. It felt so fluffy against his fingertips when he touched the material wrapped around his body, and his hand sunk into cottony softness.
Afraid to move for fear he might fall to the floor, he searched the room, taking in the sterile whiteness, sparse furnishings all constructed from clear vinyl, and stainless-steel materials. In the corner, a single glass chair and table took up the small area. Across from it, embedded in the wall, he could see a large block shape that seemed hollow and black until he saw tiny green, yellow, and blue dotted lights start to blink on and off. He watched with curiosity, and then turned away when the view faded to dark.
Everything was bright, depicted celestial joy, and seemed surreal.
Suddenly, the far wall opened up and a woman walked into the room.
God has excellent taste in angels, Channing thought. Then he wondered if the thought was blasphemy. He ogled the woman who was stunningly beautiful, with alabaster flawless skin and high cheekbones. Her vibrant green eyes looked in his direction. Even with the dark hair, she had to be an angel. She was dressed in all white. No wings though, he noticed when she walked toward him.
The angel smiled, and it dimmed the brightness of the room that he was blinded by her beauty. “You are finally awake.” He wondered if an angel’s voice should be so husky and sexually stimulating.
“Are you an angel? If so…I probably shouldn’t be thinking my thoughts, or I will go straight to hell.”
The woman laughed softly, a sound that fluttered through him. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
Channing raised his hand and waved it about, indicating the room. “All this, I must be in heaven, though I had my doubts about where my sins would land me. I assume, as they say, god is a forgiving god.”
“You must have a lot of—what did you call it—sins?”
“More than I care to confess now, sunshine. I’m here and intend to stay.”
“My name is Pulura Rynoir, and you are in the Magnus Medical Facility, convalescing from your replacement surgery. When you came in, you were in trauma status. Your heart and lungs had to be removed and implants transferred, but the physicians are the best, and you are recovering quite nicely.”
Channing blinked hard. His eyebrows dropped into slants. “I have two doctorates from the university, one in business and the other in science, but I’m pretty sure what you just described isn’t possible. Yes, I must be dreaming.” He looked at her. “Did you say you are a Rynoir?”
Pulura nodded, and then said, “Noor is my nephew, and he is responsible for saving your life.”
Channing scratched his head and the stubble on his chin. “How long have I been here? This place, wherever it is? Can you explain again, what’s going on? I think I must have banged my head or something…you, this, cannot be real. It’s a wonderful dream, darling, but I would like to wake up even though you might sadly turn into Doc Cochran’s stern face.” When she looked at him puzzled, he added, “That’s the doctor from the town I’m from…he keeps a dour expression on his face and is more temperamental then a cornered badger, but he is the best we have. He’s patched me up and saved my hide more times than I care to remember.” He scanned the room again. “Doc’s place is in a back room of his house. It has an iron bed and lumpy mattresses with a patchwork quilt his wife Effie made, a wooden table, and a basin.” The colorful lights started to flash, and Channing studied it for a moment before he shifted his attention to Pulura. “Can you kiss me so I can see if I’m dreaming?”
Pulura grinned. “I assure you, you are not.”
Channing pretended she had shattered his feelings with the simple rejection. “Does that mean no kiss?”
“Noor said you were very intelligent.”
“What else did Noor say about me?” He wanted to change the topic for the moment while he tried to digest the outlandish things she told him.
“He warned me you were a, ah…he called you a sweet talker. I assume that is some term he acquired in Texas.”
Channing wrinkled his nose. “Did Noor tell you to stay away from me?”
“In fact, yes, he did. He called you dangerous, not physically but emotionally, although he didn’t have time to elaborate. I’m not quite sure what he meant.”
He waved his hand with indifference. “Don’t believe anything Noor said. He lies,” Channing said, curling his lips slightly in amusement.
“My nephew has been called a lot of things, but liar is not one name anyone has called him.”
“Then just don’t listen to Noor.” Channing grinn
ed.
“I’m glad to see you are doing better after what you went through,” Pulura called over her shoulder as she walked over to the panel in the wall and moved her hand back and forth over the display to activate it.
Channing watched as the wall opened and a cabinet slid out. There was a piece of square glass that stood upright, a crisscross of lines in different colors running through it, and a flat typewriter attached. He had never seen anything like it before and decided it was a thingamajig, an unscientific name he and Allura used as youths when they didn’t know how else to describe something.
“The last thing I remember is being shot and laying on the ground in unbelievable pain. My chest felt like it exploded, and there was so much blood. Nobody could have survived that type of wound. How did I get here and how long have I been in this facility?”
“Noor brought you in four days ago.”
Channing made a low whistle. He sat up, tried to swing his legs over the side of the bed, and remembered nothing except space was beneath him. He curled his long legs beneath him and sat Indian style. He watched her. “Come again? Did you say four days?” he said unbelievingly.
Pulura checked his vitals and, satisfied with the results, she activated the suspension on the bed and lowered it to the floor. She said, “Your organs were severely damaged, so we put you in a coma while we waited for organ regeneration, which takes twenty-four hours. We considered putting in artificial transplants, but were uncertain about your chemical makeup. We were concerned how your body would react to the foreign objects, and we didn’t want to risk refutation. The condition can be managed, but it would require a longer recovery period, if it occurred.”
“Sunshine, English please.”
“We took samples of the damaged tissues, grew you fresh organs, and then replaced everything and put you back together. Internally, you may have a few organs rearranged, but we have found Earthlings anatomy isn’t designed for maximum performance. You are just like brand new, better. The physicians who operated on you are some of the finest in the galaxy. Noor wouldn’t accept anything less and insisted the universe’s renowned specialist, Dr. Connally, perform the operation. Mind you, Dr. Connally just doesn’t come out for anyone. Noor was quite persuasive. You must mean a lot to him.”
Pure Desire [Pure 3] (Siren Publishing Allure) Page 18