Trapped: A SciFi Convict Romance (The Condemned Book 1)

by Alison Aimes

  He said nothing, his frown lengthening.

  They stood frozen so long her legs grew stiff. Then, suddenly, he startled her with a low, fierce whisper. “See that large boulder straight ahead? About the height of two men?” At her nod, he pressed his spear into her hand. Next, he gave her his pack. “Go there, crouch down with your back against the rock so you can see what’s coming—and don’t move.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I heard something.”

  Her hands clutched his bicep. “So let’s investigate together.” She definitely didn’t want to be left behind.

  He shook his head. Peeled her hand from him. “Go, now.” His words were an unquestionable order. “Do not move until I come for you.”

  Had Convict been a soldier? His tone screamed military. So did the way he disappeared in the blink of an eye. And why was she thinking about this now as she hurried to do his bidding, her back pressing against the hard rock as she crouched on shaky legs, the spear gripped tight in both hands, the pack between her feet? Probably because she was terrified and a million random thoughts were running through her mind.

  Pull it together, Bella.

  Sucking down a deep breath and then another, she forced herself to calm down. To remember all she had already overcome. A minute later, her breathing was far steadier. Enough for her to hear absolute silence. No sound of footsteps. Or a scuffle. Not even a shout.

  She waited several more minutes. Flexed her legs. Scanned the limited perimeter. Still no Convict.

  After what felt like hours, she popped up, stretching her legs as she used her higher perspective to see a little bit more of the area. Still no luck sighting him.

  She took a tentative step away from the rock. Then another. Yes, he’d told her to stay, but he could be in trouble. Cowering and leaving others to solve the problem had never been her way. Plus, she was the one with the spear. That had to count for something.

  Moving in the direction he’d been facing when he disappeared, she hopped over rocks and crevices, the heavy weight of the spear making her slower than she would have liked.

  Suddenly, a thump sounded. Like something had leapt from the cliff behind—a cliff she’d failed to scan thoroughly.

  “Fuck, yeah.” It was a rough, soulless voice she didn’t recognize. “Live pussy.”

  Her spear hand came up, but it was already too late.

  A meaty forearm closed around her throat, yanking her backwards until her legs dangled off the ground. Her spear slipped from her grasp.

  The scent of rotted fish burned her nostrils.

  “And 225 thought there were only male soldiers on board.” Indifferent to the clawing against his arm, her oversized captor pressed his nose into her hair, black spots clouding her vision as her lungs grew more and more desperate for air. “Must be my lucky fucking night.”

  She was slammed onto her stomach atop a flat boulder, her lungs dragging in a frantic breath as pain reverberated through her ribs and hipbones.

  A hand gripped the nape of her neck and held her down. “I’m supposed to bring back what I find.” He chuckled. “But this will be our little secret, right?”

  In shock, it took her a moment to register that her legs were dangling over the rock.

  Her attacker was already yanking her pants over her ass when she kicked back, her boot heels connecting with his thigh. Unfortunately, all her blow did was piss him off.

  The hand against her neck dug in, choking off her air, no matter how she fought. “Feel free to struggle. They all do.” Hairy thighs flattened her legs harder against the rough rock scraping away skin. “You’ll end up raped and dead all the same.”

  A curious sense of detachment rolled over her. A comforting hum sounding in her ear as her air gave out. The pain lifting away. She’d come so far. But even she wasn’t going to survive this.

  Suddenly, the horrible weight of her attacker disappeared. Followed by the loud thwack of flesh against flesh. In a daze, she sucked in a desperate breath and swiveled round.

  Convict.

  Chest heaving, face harder than she’d ever seen, he grappled with a bald giant two heads taller with narrow grey eyes and a flat, blunt nose. Her stomach jumped to her throat.

  They crashed into one of the boulders and then another. Fists flying. Grunts and curses exploding from both men. Her scream of warning strangling in her throat as Convict ducked a vicious swing before popping up to deliver a lightning-fast blow to the giant’s jaw. Then she blinked, and her attacker fell backwards against a sharp rock, Convict’s fists plowing into the man’s face and gut in rapid fire. His strength, his quickness, astonishing.

  But Convict’s opponent was no weakling either. With a roar, he launched himself forward, his arms swingy wildly.

  She pushed off the rock, her movements clumsy as she jerked up her pants. She needed to find her spear. She needed to help.

  But even as her plan formed, slow and sluggish in her mind, Convict sidestepped the man easily, using his momentum to ensure the attacker stumbled past. Then, as quick as a tigos, Convict’s powerful arms locked round the man’s neck.

  Her gaze fused with Convict’s.

  They were as black and unreadable as ever.

  His arms twisted. There was a faint crack. Her attacker’s body twitched.

  Her mouth opened on a silent scream.

  Convict dropped his arms.

  Her attacker crumpled to the ground, his narrow grey eyes open and empty.

  Convict had killed for her.

  Chapter Ten

  Bella stared at the dead man.

  “You okay?” Convict stepped over the body, his chest heaving. “Did he hurt you?”

  At the reminder, she clutched her sore throat, her gaze shifting between him and the dead guy.

  Convict stepped in front, blocking her view, corralling her backwards down the path away from the dead man. “Don’t waste a minute on 015. He tortured and killed eleven women before being sent to Dragath25. Someone should have killed him long ago.”

  Another shudder swept through her.

  “Bella?” He raised his hands. She blinked stupidly. He’d used her name. Her real name. She wasn’t even sure he knew it.

  “Yes?” Did he mean to hold her? God she hoped so; she could really use his strength right now. But in the next moment, his hands dropped back to his sides, curling into fists.

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  The gentleness in his voice had her blinking back tears. Or maybe it was the disappointment that she was still standing on her own.

  “I’m okay.” Her words were a whispered croak. Worse, the strange lassitude that had seized hold of her moments ago was drifting away to leave behind a pounding headache, twisting stomach, and shaking legs. Still, it could have been far worse. “You got there in time. You saved me.”

  She wrapped her arms around herself, her trembling growing stronger with every second. “How about you? Are you okay?”

  He looked down at his hands as if thinking about it for the first time. Blood and scratches covered his knuckles. “I’m fine.” His gaze found hers. There was challenge in his stare. “He deserved what he got.”

  “And I couldn’t be more grateful you were there to dispense justice.” If he thought she was going to be berate him for killing a monster intent on torturing and killing her, he was wrong.

  He nodded absently. Plowed a hand through his hair. Even from an arm’s length away, she could feel his keyed up energy, the darkness still roiling through him.

  “Where did he come from?” It seemed the logical thing to ask, and yet the words felt strange coming out of her mouth. Like she should be screaming instead. Or falling apart.

  “He was a tracker for 225. He and a few others must have been following your soldiers’ tracks from the crash site.”

  A fresh surge of panic whipped through her. “A few others?”

  “They won’t be bothering you.”

  It took her a second to understan
d. Convict had killed them, too.

  He could have easily walked away, but he hadn’t. Instead, he’d gone on the hunt and taken them out before they could hurt anyone else.

  Another wave of gratitude—and something more primitive—flowed through her. He’d warned her there was no humanity and no selflessness on Dragath25, but he’d lied. “Thank you.”

  His expression turned wary. “Don’t think this is the end. 225 will send more men to investigate. Especially when these don’t return. He doesn’t like any challenge to his authority.”

  “We’ve got to warn the others.”

  “Not tonight.”

  “But—”

  “Not tonight. It will take at least a couple of days for 225 and his pack to sense something is wrong. That gives us plenty of time to cover our tracks and come up with a plan to convince them any survivors are now dead.”

  She almost wept; she was so relieved. The thought of retracing their steps and handling another ugly confrontation with Pogue and Dr. Winthrop was more than she could handle right then. And Convict’s plan was a good one. “Do…do we need to bury the bodies?”

  He shook his head. “Dragath25 will take care of that. By morning, there’ll be no evidence left to find.”

  Another shudder ran through her. Convict was right. This planet really was a hellhole. She couldn’t believe he’d survived so long.

  Finally, they reached the spot where he’d told her to wait. His pack was still there.

  “Stop a minute,” he said. “I want to check your injuries.”

  “I’m fine.”

  A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Do it anyway.”

  On a low sigh, she stood still, tilting her head up so he could see her neck. She wasn’t even sure why she was resisting. Acknowledging the bruises wouldn’t make it any more real. She already knew she’d almost been raped. It was a solemn reminder of just how badly things could have gone for her with Convict if he were a different man.

  Callused fingers pressed gently against her neck, an almost caress. “Fucking bastard.” Unlike his touch, Convict’s words were a sharp, dangerous growl. “Does it hurt a lot?”

  “Not so much anymore.” Actually, with him touching her, it felt pretty damn good.

  He bent down and reached into his pack. The loss of his warmth sent a chill spiraling through her.

  “Let me see those palms.” He’d tucked a dark grey bottle under his arm.

  She held out her hands without hesitation.

  Now that he’d begun, she was ashamed to say she was enjoying it. She couldn’t think of the last time someone had taken care of her like this. As the eldest, it had always been up to her to do the care taking.

  Convict leaned over to examine her hands, his breath a warm caress against her neck. “There are some bad scratches.” His touch was light, but firm as he rubbed a clear substance into her palms. It tingled, but didn’t sting, and had the faint odor of flowers.

  “What is that?” Her words were a bit slurred. Between the draining of her adrenaline and the rhythmic steady touch of his warm hands, she was being lulled into a very relaxed state.

  He shrugged. “Doesn’t have a name. I discovered it by accident. If you cut the leaves of a long spiky plant that grows in the Oasis, this stuff oozes out. It’s great for healing cuts and preventing infections.”

  “You really are amazing.”

  His hand stilled. “I think you might be in shock.”

  She stared in stunned silence. “Did you just make a joke?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” His lips tilted up in an almost half-smile. “It’s been a while.”

  She smiled back, an answering giddy grin in celebration of survival. Of the fact that she and Convict were still alive. That they were here with one another in spite of everything Dragath25 kept throwing at them.

  The surge of relief lasted all of five seconds.

  Her grin crumpled. A sob escaped. The roiling emotions inside swinging back the other direction. She couldn’t stand it another minute. She needed to feel his strength. Wipe away the horror of her attack. “Will you hold me? Please.”

  Without hesitation, his arms closed around her, the bottle under his arm dropping to the ground.

  “It’s okay, Bella.” He hauled her close, his chin resting on the top of her head, her body cradled against his solid chest as she’d been craving all along. “You’re safe.”

  Full on crying now, she wrapped her arms around him, too, curling into his strength, inhaling deeply. Letting the smell of him—of security and power and warm male—seep into her bones and soothe. “These past few days have been a lot to take in.” She felt the need to try and explain.

  “I know.” The steady, soothing caress of his palm continued up and down her back. “I’ve seen grown men cry like a baby upon arrival. You’re tougher than any of them.”

  She hid a shaky smile. Who knew her convict could be so sweet?

  “I’m sorry I didn’t stay where you said.” She whispered the words to his chest. “I know how badly you must want to yell at me about that and I appreciate you holding off.”

  His hand stilled. “We’ll have to talk about it some time.”

  “Just not right now.”

  “Agreed.” His hands resumed their slow glide. And with every gentle pass of his hand, a little bit more of herself returned. She’d had a scare, yes. But she was fine. She was better than fine, in fact. She was alive. Safe. In the arms of a man who’d stood up for her as no one had in a long time. She’d forgotten what it was like to have someone in her corner.

  Her uncertainty over staying with him slipped away. For the time being, this was exactly where she wanted to be. She’d deal with the consequences another day.

  “Thank you for what you did today.” Done with clinging, she brushed her lips against his chest, right across his heart.

  He sucked in a breath.

  She hid a watery smile. Such power to know she could have an effect on such a strong, stoic man.

  “You saved me.” She kissed his chest again. “You saved my colleagues.” Another kiss.

  “I didn’t do it for them.” His voice had dropped to that low rumble she’d come to associate with unbelievable pleasure.

  “It was still incredibly brave.” She traced her tongue over one flat nipple reveling in the way it tightened in her mouth. “I know you said not to call you a hero, but I can’t help it. That’s what you are to me.”

  He drew back as far as his hold would allow, his eyes haunted. “I’m no hero.”

  She had no interest in arguing. Her hands slid down the hard planes of his stomach to cup his thickening cock. “Whoever you are, whatever you are, I’m glad you’re here with me.”

  He let out a low groan, but he didn’t lean in to her touch. “I’m…I’m still messed up inside.” His gaze shifted from hers. “On edge. We should wait. I… I don’t think I can be gentle.”

  That damn stinging returned to her eyes. “I don’t want gentle.” Though the fact that he was willing to hold off for her touched her all over again. “I want you. I want what you’ve given me these last few days.” Confident once more, she pressed butterfly kisses along his collarbone and throat while her hand stroked his hardening length. “I want you to take me like you did that first time. And then the next. And the next. I want to scream and writhe and beg.”

  She paused, awareness dawning. “It wasn’t until I crashed on this planet and met you that I learned what pleasure was.” What it was like to be touched as if I mattered. “Between scratching and clawing to feed my family, I’d forgotten such things were even allowed.” She ran her tongue along the firm line of his jaw. “You reminded me of that, Convict. I don’t want to forget. Especially now.” She didn’t want to be afraid to feel. Especially not for such an incredible man.

  His nostrils flared. “Call me Caine.”

  “Caine?” The word tasted strange on her tongue. “Is that your name?”

  “It was.”

  Se
veral heartbeats passed in silence while she found her voice.

  “It suits,” she got out at last, feeling she’d won the greatest of prizes. “Touch me, Caine.”

  At the sound of his name, he froze. Then, with a ravenous growl, his mouth was skimming over her throat, making her moan, while his hands roamed everywhere. Marking her. Claiming her. Pleasuring her.

  He’d said he couldn’t be gentle, but his touch was whisper soft. Making her feel clean once again. Safe. Cherished. Closer to another human being than she’d ever felt in her life. Proving once again there was beauty to be found at the unlikeliest of times, in the unlikeliest of places, with the unlikeliest of men.

  *****

  Caine’s heart gave a little thump. It felt weird to hear her call him by his real name. But he couldn’t deny he liked it. A lot more than he’d thought he would.

  He wasn’t even sure why he’d told her. Except he suddenly couldn’t stand her calling him Convict. Not when it put him in the same category as the animal who’d hurt her.

  A fast death had been too good for the bastard. But he hadn’t wanted to upset his fighter girl any more than she already was.

  Last time he’d killed, it had been methodical and deliberate and driven by the grim determination that it needed to be done, that an obligation was owed. Not this time. There’d been no careful logic, no sense of a debt due. No, this time the urge to kill had been far more primal. More instinctive. A predator protecting what was his.

  Somehow, in the space of a few days, his fighter girl had moved from being a convenience to something far more.

  Which wasn’t smart. Wanting someone was one thing. But needing someone was altogether different.

  He’d learned long ago to avoid the latter.

  “Come inside me.” Her voice was low and hoarse, her hand guiding his to her wet center. Refusing his retreat. Making it impossible for him to keep his distance. “I don’t want to wait anymore. It won’t be enough until I feel you deep inside.”

  On a groan, he let her set the pace. Let her fumble with his covering and pull out his cock. Let her rub herself against his tip while she moaned, her throat tipping back.