That didn’t heal my heartbreak at the possibility the others were dead, however.
“I’m never going to give you what you want.”
He stepped closer, and I reared back. The scent of him wafted over me, and my nipples tightened beneath my shirt, a low thud of desire condensing at my core. I despised how he had this control over my body. I completely understood why the Trads had managed to take so many human women. Even the ones who were married or in committed relationships still fell for their charms and acted differently to how they’d ever considered before. The chemicals the Trads bodies gave off was like a drug, and it muddled the way women were able to think. Or perhaps it just took us down to our basest level—spoke to that primordial female that was still locked inside our DNA, the one that had existed long before social norms had forced us to act in a certain way. The way we were expected now to form relationships and think about our futures, and go through the traditions of marriage, all because of sex. But, once upon a time, things wouldn’t have been that way. We’d have come on heat, just like a mammal, and have taken a mate who would have spoken to our basest of instincts—not through conversation or a display of money or belongings, but simply because our bodies’ chemicals would have spoken to one another.
How would it feel for his cock to push inside me and for it to change the way it had back at the government facility? Would I feel the sensation of those eggs pulsating their way up to my womb? Did the way the tip of his cock splayed open upon their release do something to the woman’s orgasm? Make it more powerful, perhaps, to ensure the eggs reached their destination and implanted properly?
For one sick, twisted moment, there was a part of me that wanted to find out.
I let out a growl of frustration, twisting my body away from him and turning my face. How could I stop these thoughts from entering my head?
Behind me, Dean gave a chuckle, as though he’d known exactly what images had filtered into my psyche.
I strengthened my resolve. I wouldn’t give in to Dean, no matter what. I could be driven crazy with desire and end up rolling around, desperate for release, and I still wouldn’t give in to him.
“I have to leave you for the moment,” he said, “though I would much rather be spending time with you. Unfortunately, the Athion rocket ships did cause some damage to our outer shell, and it needs repairing before we can move again. But I will be back for you, Camille, and don’t worry, I’m willing to be patient. It doesn’t matter how much time it takes, but you will be mine eventually.”
And he turned and walked to the door of the strange, hexagonal room I’d woken up in, placing his hand against a panel. The panel lit blue beneath his palm, and the door slid open with a whoosh. He stepped through it, and the door immediately closed again, sliding back into place to join the rest of the panels, each of which met with the other seamlessly. If I hadn’t known that particular panel opened as a door, I’d have never even known it was there.
With Dean gone, I staggered to my feet and stumbled over to the same place he’d exited from. I slammed my hand against the panel beside the hidden door. “Come on, come on, come on.”
The light didn’t appear. Everything remained as it had. I hadn’t really expected the door to open. Dean would never just allow me free rein to wander around the ship, would he?
With a sob, my hand pressed to my mouth, I turned with my back to the panel and slid down it until my ass hit the floor. Tears filled my eyes, and one escaped and ran a track over my cheek.
No, I couldn’t give into self-pity. I was stronger than that. I forced myself to get my head together and think clearly.
I wasn’t tied up in here. That was going to be the Trads’ first mistake.
They didn’t see me as any kind of a threat—I was just a walking, talking, incubating machine to them.
But I’d show them. I’d bring down this ship and all the Trads inside it, even if it meant taking myself down with it.
Chapter Eleven
Casey
“CASEY! THEY’VE RECOVERED the ship.”
I turned away from the computer screen, which I’d been staring at hopelessly for the past couple of hours, sick to my soul, to find Mike standing in the doorway, his blue eyes wide. He hadn’t shaved for the past few days, and the dark shadow across his jaw was getting to be more scruff than stubble. I figured none of us were going to care much about our appearances now. It had been hard enough during this whole ‘end of the world’ bullshit, but now that Camille was gone, everything felt utterly pointless.
I sighed and shook my head. “So what? We knew it went down.”
“The fire-resistant shell of the ship meant it didn’t burn up when it came back through the atmosphere, leaving it reasonably intact.”
Excitement rose the tone of Mike’s voice, but I didn’t understand the reason behind it. What was the point in getting excited about anything anymore? “It doesn’t matter. No one could have survived that impact.”
His tone dropped down a notch, and he raked his hand through his messy dark hair. “No, you’re right, they didn’t. The captain and crew all perished.”
I lifted my eyebrows. “We knew that already. Get to the point, Mike.” I couldn’t help the low growl in my voice. I just wanted to be left alone, to wallow in my misery and contemplate a world that not only no longer had Camille in it, but that had also made us the Trads’ little bitches. There was no way we could defeat them—they’d proven that to us, which I guessed was their point all along. Now we just had to bend over and take it.
“My point is,” Mike continued, that hint of excitement in his voice again, “that Camille’s body wasn’t on board.”
That got my attention.
“What?” I straightened in my seat, shoulders down, suddenly alert. “But we know she was on board. We heard her voice over the communications system.”
“Yes, all the records are showing she was on board, too. Poor Irus is beside himself, since he was the one who gave her the green light to board. I wanted to punch the guy in the face for allowing it, but I don’t think I could hurt him any more than he’s punishing himself.”
I shook my head. “It wasn’t Irus’s fault. It was ours. We should have realized we had no right trying to control what Camille did. She should have been with us this whole time, right by our sides. We were the ones who pushed her away, not Irus. This is all down to us.”
Mike pressed his lips together and glanced down. “Yeah, you’re right. I fucking hate myself for it. If I hadn’t opened my big mouth, she’d have been with us and never would have gone down in that other ship surrounded by strangers.”
“What happened to her body? Did it get thrown free of the wreckage when it crashed?”
“Not that the inspectors can find. And all the doors were sealed when it hit.”
I frowned, confusion—together with a different spark of something else...hope—lighting inside me. “She couldn’t have been on board, then?”
“But she was! I heard her voice myself.”
I took off my glasses and threw them onto my desk, then covered my face with both my hands and groaned. “This doesn’t make any fucking sense. She can’t have been on the ship, and then not be on the ship.”
“Unless the Trads had a way to pick her off before the ship went down. It’s not as though they don’t have a history of abducting women.”
“You think that’s possible?”
“I have no idea. I don’t know enough about Trad technology. But physically, she was far closer to the Trad ship than she would have been on Earth, so who the hell knows.”
I sucked in a breath. “She might still be alive then?”
He nodded, his gaze fixed on my face. “Yeah, I think it might be a possibility.”
“Holy shit. But how the hell do we get her back?”
Mike rubbed his hand over his mouth. “That’s the number one question.”
“Have you told Aleandro and Irus yet?”
“No, not yet. Aleandr
o’s made himself scarce, and I wanted each of us to know before I told Irus.”
That was fair enough. Irus clearly cared about Camille, perhaps even as much as we all cared about her, but he wasn’t fully a part of our group. I’d gotten the impression that Camille would have liked him to be, but Mike worried about how that would affect things between us all. In truth, Mike was jealous of Irus. He was frightened Irus would take Camille away to Athion, and we’d lose her. He didn’t see me and Aleandro as the same threat, knowing we were all in this together, but Irus was different.
“Irus might be able to help. The Athions have different ideas. They have different technology.”
Mike snorted. “Yeah, that hasn’t worked out too well for us so far.”
“Maybe not, but we can’t just give up. And you know how Irus feels about Camille. He’ll move planets to reach her.”
“That’s what I’m worried about.”
“Don’t act like a jerk about this,” I warned him. “Getting Camille back is more important than your possessiveness.”
He sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. I’d rather Irus got Camille all to himself, and she was safe, than thinking she might have been taken by the Trads and we’d never see her again.”
I risked a smile. Mike could act like a jealous dick at times, but he loved Camille, and that he’d rather she was with Irus and safe, than not with any of us at all, showed that he was more good than bad.
Rising from my seat, I picked my glasses up and slid them back on my face. “Let’s go and find Aleandro, and then we’ll go and speak to Irus. I have no idea what the Athions might be able to do. Especially after the total fail of the last mission, but it’s definitely worth trying something.”
We’d been forced to retreat after the Trads had pulled that trick with the magnetic field. No one was able to get close enough to return fire and damage any more of their ship without risking going down as well. Even the Custos had been forced to withdraw. We’d done some damage to the Trad ship before that had happened, but it hadn’t been enough.
We found Aleandro standing on the platform looking out over the launch pad. The transporter ship was in exactly the same place as it had always been, ready to take the first consignment of women to Athion, but now two of the four smaller fighter rocket ships were missing. A second ship had been taken down by the Trads as well.
Would the transporter ship ever get off the ground now? Could we risk trying to move women to Athion? Or would the Trads just take down the ships, and maybe snatch the women as well, in the same way they’d somehow taken Camille from her position on board?
“Aleandro?” I spoke his name, and his shoulders stiffened. “We have news. You’re gonna want to hear it.”
He lifted his hand to swipe at his face before he turned toward us. He’d never have admitted it, but I could tell from the dampness on his cheeks and the bloodshot threads running through the whites of his brown eyes, that he’d been crying. I didn’t blame him. I’d shed a tear of my own upon hearing about Camille.
“What’s going on?” he asked, his voice gruff.
Mike stepped forward and explained exactly what he’d said to me. Unlike me, Aleandro listened without interrupting. Lines formed between his eyebrows as Mike told him about Camille’s body not being present on board the ship.
“How is that even possible?” Aleandro said eventually.
“There’s the chance the Trads somehow beamed her out of there.”
“What the hell are we going to do?” Aleandro said, his face darkening with anger. “If any of those Trad fuckers lay a finger on Camille, I’m going to kill every last fucking one of them.”
Mike’s jaw clenched. “I agree. I want to rip them limb from limb.
I put out my hand. “We need to calm the fuck down. I know this is beyond a shitty situation, but we need to be rational and use our heads. I think we need to talk to Irus and see if he’s got any suggestions.”
Mike turned to me. “Is there any point? After all, the aliens didn’t exactly help this time around. We’ve ended up in an even worse situation than we were before they arrived.”
I bit my lower lip, considering his words. “I’m not sure, but we have to try something, and the Custos are our biggest advantage. At least they understand Trad technology better than we do and have technology of their own we could use.”
Aleandro growled, “Their technology didn’t do us any good during the battle.”
“Maybe not, but it’s still better than doing this on our own,” I said, “and we have to tell the Athions what we think might have happened to Camille. We don’t have any choice. People have a right to know what the Trads are capable of.”
“Okay,” Mike said, nodding. “Let’s go and find the Athions.”
Chapter Twelve
With a scream of rage and frustration, I slammed both my fists against one of the panels in the wall of the Trad spacecraft.
Hours had passed since the Trad I knew as Dean Lambert had left me here, and I was no closer to figuring out how to get out of this goddamned room. I’d checked every single panel, ran my fingers across every crack in the floor, craned my neck to study the ceiling for any possible means of escape.
I was starting to understand why Dean hadn’t bothered to tie me up. It wasn’t only that I couldn’t get off the ship—I couldn’t even get out of the room.
I consoled myself by standing at the massive window that took up the entire far end of the room and staring out at the vast expanse of space, and Earth’s green-and-blue arc far below. Despite my current situation, my heart lightened at the sight. Space had always been my sanctuary, the one thing that had given me hope. Where others might have found the idea that we were merely tiny dots in an unthinkably never-ending universe, I’d found the idea comforting. We got so caught up in the tiny day-to-day details of our lives when actually those things were mere blips in the cosmos. It allowed me to put things into perspective. It didn’t make anyone’s problems any less important, but it did allow me to let go of some of the small stuff.
This, however, wasn’t small stuff, and though I was comforted by the sight of Earth below, and the knowledge that the guys would be down there somewhere—assuming they’d survived the battle—I couldn’t just relax.
I turned away from the view and went back to the door Dean had exited by. Lifting my already bruised fists, the rest of my body still aching all over from whatever had happened on the Athion fighter ship, I pummeled the panel.
“Dean! Or whatever the fuck your real name is! Open this door.”
Remembering what he’d said about how fertile human women were precious, I suddenly realized I had some leverage. “If you don’t let me out, I’ll figure out a way to hurt myself. I swear it! I’d rather be dead than taken captive like this.”
Someone must have been listening, as footsteps thudded toward me from outside. The door suddenly slid open, and I took several steps back, not wanting to end up face to face with Dean.
Only it wasn’t Dean who’d answered my threat, but two other Trads, and unlike Dean, they hadn’t bothered with their human disguises.
My stomach lurched, and I staggered away, tripping over my own feet in my shock and falling on my ass. They kept coming, moving toward me, and I used my hands to drag myself backward, kicking with my heels against the floor as I went.
So much time had passed since I’d gotten to see Dean in his true form that I’d almost forgotten how they looked. No, not forgotten, but the memory had been dimmed and lessened in my mind.
The Trads were huge—far larger than when they were in human guise. Their shoulders were bulked with muscle, their thighs thick, their abdominals clearly lined beneath their same second-skin, silver-gray clothing. But it wasn’t the size of them that fixated my attention. Large areas of their visible skin were covered in orange and red scales. From behind each of the Trads lashed a thick, muscular tail, which was also covered in scales. Twin horns pointed from both of their heads, and as they fixed
their gazes on me, their eyes flashed red.
The crazy thing was that even in their true form, there was no denying that they were still beautiful. One of the Trads had blockier features, with a strong nose and square jaw, while the other appeared more graceful, his features classic with a full lower lip and a sharper nose. At first glance, I’d thought them to look exactly the same, but as I studied them more closely, I realized it was only because they were Trads that I’d thought them to be so similar. Their actual features and even the size and shape of their bodies were actually pretty different, with the more graceful of the two appearing a little shorter and not quite as broad as the other one. He also didn’t have anywhere near as many scales as the bigger guy, areas of light-brown skin peeping through.
I stored all these observations to memory. I didn’t know what use they might be, but it was important I kept thinking as a scientist and not just a terrified woman who’d been abducted.
Working as one, both the Trads leaned over me, their forms terrifying, and grabbed me by the arms. Something fearsomely strong wrapped around my waist and helped to haul me to my feet. Now I was standing between them, pinned in place by the thing circling my middle, I glanced down to find it was the tail of the bigger Trad.
“We cannot allow you to hurt yourself. Our captain would be most displeased,” the bigger one said.
“Where does he want us to take her, Urych?” asked the slimmer one.
I realized Urych must be the larger Trad’s name. I wondered what the other was called and if Dean was even the same name his fellow Trads used to address him.
“With him. He wishes to keep a closer eye on her.”
The Trad pursed his lips. “I think he’s making a mistake.
The other one, Urych, scoffed. “Do you want to tell him that to his face?”
The Exodus: Planet Athion Series (Darkest Skies Book 4) Page 7
