Mick (The A'rouk Brothers Book 1)

by Serena Simpson

  Damon didn’t have to ask who as he eased back. The Darkness would only want two things from Mick, his mate, and his soul. Jaz was as good as dead if he turned her over to them. As for Mick, the moment they had his mate they would own his soul. He would spend the rest of eternity in their clutches. Damon shivered. The Created, the original Created had been cursed to a fate worse than death.

  Damon thought of Mick’s mate. She was a clone destined to die at the hands of the humans, and now she had The Darkness coming for her. He wondered if Mick realized her death may be inevitable.

  “How did you survive?” Damon wanted to ask Dante when he brought Mick in, but the look on his brother’s face told him it wasn’t the time for questions. Besides, Damon gave a smile and a rueful shake to his head. Dante only answered questions when he felt like it.

  “I don’t know. It’s hazy. Every time I try to think about it, I feel like my head is spinning. I know Dante was there. How did he get there? I don’t know. How did he manage to enter that realm? I don’t know. Trying to figure it out is frustrating.”

  “Then focus on what matters.”

  Mick locked his gaze on Damon, wondering what mattered.

  “You escaped the hell planet and made it back to your body in one piece. Do you know how many other beings have done that?”

  Mick shook his head, a brief feeling of hope lighting up his heart.

  “Only a handful have escaped.”

  “How many have defeated The Darkness completely?”

  “None.”

  That brief feeling of hope died a nasty death. Three of his brothers came in to check on him. That meant they were all there except for Dante, the oldest.

  There were six of the A’rouk brothers in total. Neither of them looked alike which never bothered them. You wouldn’t know they were related unless their height gave them away, it was the only thing they had in common. They all stood at six-five. The Scientists that created them wanted them tall but not that tall since the Scientists themselves were all under six feet.

  Mick was the second brother. He had blue eyes and brown hair. Julian, the third brother, possessed black hair and green eyes. The fourth brother was Lucca. Mick turned to look at him; he was whispering something in Damon’s ear making him laugh. Lucca had blond hair and blue eyes. They always teased him about how well he fit into the human culture.

  Damon was the physician of the family; he was also the fifth brother. He had flame red hair with black streaks running through it. As far as his eyes, they didn’t fit that well into the human culture so he kept them hidden. His last brother, his baby brother who was no baby, was Raphael. He had silver hair, not white, not gray, but a silver that captivated anyone who looked upon him. So none of them looked alike, but if you messed with one, then you should know one of the others would be placing a knife in your rib cage if you were lucky. The unlucky ended up with five knives in their rib cage because yeah, the brothers sometimes believed in overkill.

  They congratulated him for surviving The Darkness as well as having met his mate.

  Mick was non-committal when it came to escaping The Darkness; it was hard for him to believe he did it on his own. He was thankful to whomever decided to pair him with his mate. Now if only he could see her in the flesh.

  His last brother entered the room. Dante. He was the oldest Created, period. There was no one older and maybe no one more powerful than him. Of that, the brothers weren’t sure.

  His oldest brother stood as tall as the rest of them and possessed dark hair. Mick always stopped short of calling it black, because there was a depth of color and a gloss that defied the word black. His brother’s eyes changed with his mood so to give them a color would be impossible.

  Dante possessed one thing that set him apart from his brothers. It was a scar on his cheek. Somedays it was there and you could see it, other days it was like it didn’t exist. The scar changed shape, and size at what seemed like a whim, and it was the one thing Dante never acknowledged. Mick had learned a long time ago not to ask about it.

  He walked through the room hugging his brothers, patting them on the back, giving them encouragement and strength that only the eldest could give. He leaned over the bed and pulled Mick into his arms. His body, the one he was sure wouldn’t move for days, began to heal in his brothers embrace until the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding was released.

  Dante stepped back and looked at his brothers, his expression indicating he was deep in thought.

  “Clear the room,” he finally said.

  He needed to talk to Mick. His life, his future was at stake.

  Chapter Two

  Mick sat up on the bed looking at the tattered clothes that covered his body. The whip may not have physically touched him, but his clothes suffered from it. His body remembered the torture also until Dante healed him. He stood up on slightly shaking legs allowing his body to recall what it was like to be whole.

  He felt himself growing stronger the longer he stood. There were days he forgot the healing power that flowed through Dante. His brother never tapped into it unless it was needed urgently. The fact that he healed Mick in such a dramatic fashion made him nervous.

  “You should clean yourself and change now.”

  Mick agreed, no sense in arguing with his brother. He imagined himself clean and dressed. His body felt refreshed while his outfit changed. He was wearing a pair of black pants that clung to him with little dagger like details on them. His shirt was a blue tee covered in mesh. It was the replica of an outfit he had in his closet and would allow him to blend in with the humans on the planet if he needed.

  “Walk with me.” Dante began to move as his body disappeared a little at a time leaving just enough of a trail for Mick to follow. They ended up several hundred feet over the Earth. Much lower than where they lived in the air.

  The Earth had changed after the alien-human wars. Now, only the poor lived on the surface. Men found a way to live in the sky and felt they were superior when they could afford to do this. The A’rouks had lived in the air since they first came to Earth. They kept that small fact to themselves. Their level was higher than any of the humans dared to travel without a special invitation from one of them.

  Mick looked down to see an area he knew intimately. Ash lived there. They were half-brothers although they rarely used the term. Ash’s five brothers and their families were doing a walk about the galaxy, so Mick and his brothers had been keeping an eye on the male, not that he needed it. They simply watched out for each other. Every one of the Created had the same female DNA in their bodies. He often wondered if his mother knew she would be the mother of a whole new race before they killed her. He liked to think she did and that she died knowing they would live.

  The Created were born in groups of six. Each received a different mixture of male DNA. Each brother had a different set of abilities based on the abilities of the males they called fathers. Damon speculated that they had a minimum of six fathers, all of whom died so they could donate their DNA to the cause. When Mick did the math on how many unsuspecting males had been killed by the Scientists, it made him want revenge.

  He looked down again; something about the house was bothering him.

  “Are you back with me?” Dante asked.

  Had he gone off on a tangent? He would have to be careful since he didn’t know if this was a side effect of being tortured by The Darkness or what happened to his kind as they aged.

  “I’m back.”

  “Your time spent with The Darkness was longer than you realize.”

  “How long?”

  “Months.”

  His heart seized. Jaz had a termination order on her life, if he had been away for months, then she was dead.

  Dante reached out and caught him before he could make his way to Ash’s house.

  “She’s still alive.”

  How? He couldn’t make his lips work as his body was trying to sag in relief.

  “Let’s call it a simple manipula
tion of time. The Darkness cheated so I repaid the favor.”

  “I need to go to her.”

  “I know. Today is her last day, she either lives or dies.” Dante faded away leaving him to digest his last words.

  *~*~*~*

  The knock at the door made her heart leap into her throat. Jaz knew who was at the door from the growl that came from Ash’s lips. They were sitting in the living room trying to pretend everything was normal. Brook was showing her pictures of gowns. Ash was sitting behind them taking it all in.

  Now it was all over. Jaz looked around the living room one more time memorizing the details. This was one of the smallest rooms in Ash’s house. He filled it with three large loveseats as well as several single arm chairs. She’d raised her eyebrows when he called the room small. He simply grinned and said he came from a big family and then his sisters started having children.

  The walls were blue and white stripes. They messed with her eyes sometimes, but she loved the look of them. She memorized the furniture. Ash held on to his things longer than most people. So nothing in here was new besides the paint job and the vid screens. The room screamed homey. She could always picture him in here with his daughter and nephews as the rest of his family moved in and out of the room.

  Family, something she always longed for but was forbidden for a clone. No one wanted a clone to reproduce. How would you tell who were the real humans and who were fake? It always surprised her that clones didn’t come with expiration dates.

  Ash walked back into the living room with her handlers following behind him.

  Roy and Harold, the two men who had been the bane of her existence for the last two years. Jaz was thirty-three years old. That was the optimal age of her Original. Each Original went through rigorous testing to determine the age at which they would be the healthiest and would accomplish the most. Jaz had been alive for fifty years; clones were genetically engineered to live longer than the humans whose DNA made them possible. Unfortunately, she didn’t know if her Original was alive or dead. Some parents were rich enough to have their children cloned at birth. So her Original may have been a child while Jaz was made full grown.

  Roy smiled at her, but she felt slimy just looking at him. He was short with a rounder physique. His blue eyes always seemed evil to her, and his blonde hair had an unkempt look to it.

  Harold gave her a smile that almost felt like he pitied her. He had been the tolerable one of the two of them. Tolerable didn’t mean nice; she simply wasn’t scared to be in a room alone with him unlike how she felt with Roy.

  “Jaz, it’s time for you to come in,” Roy told her.

  “Come in,” she snorted. They acted like she was getting too much sun and needed to protect her skin.

  “There was nothing we could do,” Harold interjected. He knew she hated Roy.

  “Could do or would do, Harold?” Humans didn’t go out of their way to help clones and the whole world knew it.

  “I don’t want any problems, Jaz, and I want this to be as easy as possible for you. Turn around and I will place these on your wrist, and we will leave,” Harold raised the restraints in his hand.

  These were the newest invention in handcuffs. They took away the wearer’s free will, he or she would do whatever and she did mean whatever the holder of the key ordered.

  Roy lifted his hand to show her who held the key. Oh hell no. She almost laughed. Time with Brook and Ash had changed her. She was no longer the timid female on the outside and a lion on the inside. Now she simply said what she felt.

  “I won’t be wearing those cuffs.”

  “Come willingly and you won’t have to.” Harold gave her his best we just want to help you smile, but she didn’t believe him. He wasn’t as innocent as he tried to act. If he were, he wouldn’t be ordering clones around as if they had no feelings.

  “No.” Well, that stunned everyone in the room including her. In fact, she was so stunned that she reached into the pocket of her shorts and pulled out a piece of hard candy Dante made for her and popped it into her mouth. She needed something to keep the words from coming out.

  “No?” Roy’s voice was deep, and deadly. He didn’t like her answer.

  “No,” she said in a stronger voice, this time around the candy in her mouth. She liked to think it was giving her courage. “No, I’m not putting on those cuffs. No, I’m not coming with you. Just no.” She might die or at least pass out from the rate her heart was beating. All she needed to do was hold on until they were gone then Brook would take care of her unconscious body.

  A growl came from Roy. The sound of it scared her. Then he was moving, an injector was in his hand and she knew it was over for her. Resistance is futile. Ash was up faster than she could track. He plucked the injector out of his hand while grasping him around the throat. He picked him up as Roy's face started changing colors, and then tossed him against the wall without breaking a sweat.

  “Tell me you weren’t trying to hurt a guest in my house.”

  Roy glared at him before turning his gaze to Jaz. His hand went around his throat as if that would somehow make it feel better.

  Harold raised his hands in the universal sign of not wanting any trouble.

  “We didn’t come here to fight. We have orders from the Clone Council to bring her in. They chose to harvest her. We don’t care, not really; we’re simply doing our job. If you stand in our way, then others will come. Once a harvest order is given, no one stops until the contract is fulfilled.”

  “That’s just a nice way of saying you were ordered to kill me, and you won’t stop until I’m dead. What if it were you, Harold? What if you were being tracked down and killed because you were born a black male, how would you feel?”

  “It’s not fair, Jaz, I get it, but what do you want me to do about it? Should I cry out? Try to change the system? You simply have to live, or in your case die with the lot life has provided you. Hey, at least you got to live for a while.”

  She stood up and started pacing the room, anger beating in her chest. It wasn’t enough. It was so unfair that she should be marked for death on the sole basis of what she was and not who she was.

  “No, I won’t go with you. Do your worst. Send your assassins, snipers, and trained military forces, but I will die protesting for what I believe.”

  “You dumb…” A knock at the door cut Roy off.

  Ash gave a small growl. “No one better move before I get back, or I promise you they will wheel your bodies out of here if there is anything left for them to find.” He turned and left the room.

  Harold and Roy didn’t move a muscle proving they were smarter than they looked.

  When he walked back in Mick was behind him. Jaz gasped, almost choking as her breath got caught in her throat. He was so much bigger in person than she remembered.

  “Jaz.” His eyes were glued to her. She was beautiful like a graceful goddess. He shook his head unable to tear his eyes away.

  “Mick…Mick.” The fact that Ash was calling his name finally penetrated his brain.

  “Ash.” He turned to face him.

  “Allow me to introduce you to Roy.” He indicated the man on the floor. “The other one is Harold. They are Jaz’s handlers here to take her in for harvesting.”

  The look on Mick’s face went dark at the mention of harvesting. He turned to face them, the fires of hell reflected in his eyes. He took a step towards them before turning around and facing Jaz.

  What right did he have to her? There wasn’t time for her to get to know him. Still, he wanted her to deny their claim on her. To take the time to get to know him, see who he was and then decide if there was more to life than dying for some shadowy figure.

  He wanted to hold her but kept himself rigid. “How did you answer their demand that you go with them?”

  “I told them to go to hell.”

  Mick smiled, he knew the way to hell, and he’d be more than happy to take them there.

  Chapter Three

  Roy stood and s
tarted laughing, his hand still clutching at his throat. The laughter sounded painful, but he deliberately pushed it out.

  “You don’t get it,” he rasped. “You,” he pointed at Jaz. “You think you have a choice, but you don’t. The more you resist the harder they will make your death.”

  He took a step towards her, but Mick placed himself between them.

  “They’re not scared of you or any other alien on the Earth. The Clone Council gets what it wants, and it wants her dead by any means necessary. Already clones are beginning to think they have rights. You should have never left your apartment. That might have saved your life. No, you should never have taken up with her.” Roy pointed a shaking finger at Brook accusing her of Jaz’s new independence.

  Jaz sucked on another piece of candy as she watched the show. Truly she must be addicted to the sweets. She stepped back as she watched Roy’s eyes darken. The light of a lunatic who believed he was right above all others was in his eyes.

  “Roy,” Harold said, looking around the room. “We need to go tell the Clone Council that she refuses to come in for harvesting.”

  “No. I’m going to pull a tablet out.” Roy raised his hand and slowly reached into his back pocket. He pulled out a palm size tablet and stretched it, allowing it to grow so that it could be read. He held it out towards Mick.

  No one reached for it, so Mick took it. The seal of the Clone Council was prominently displayed at the top of the page.

  It is by the order of the Clone Council that Jazlyn Summers formally known as clone 786542 be picked up for harvesting immediately.

  Anyone standing in the way of this happening will be considered a threat against the Clone Council and the citizens of Earth and may be fined up to ten thousand credits. If the obstruction of justice is severe, their lives may be terminated.

  This letter has been mandated by law signed by the entire council.

  Chief council member,