It was made of flaza. The substance could be honed to the sharpest edge.
No! Maxon shoved at the men holding him. They both tumbled into the dirt. Then using the last of his strength, he jumped into the air, reaching over his shoulder for the vibrasword strapped to his back.
He yanked it out. It lit up, vibrating under his palms. He slashed it down.
Zulnath screamed. The blade carved through the man’s body, and as he went down, Maxon twisted. He stabbed the crime lord through the chest.
Landing back on his feet, Maxon staggered, the pain now excruciating. Bellamy jumped up, and then her arms clamped around him, holding him upright.
Her hand wrapped around his on the hilt of the sword and together, they pushed it deeper.
Green blood bubbled from Zulnath’s mouth. He made a choked noise and collapsed on the sand.
Maxon and Bellamy pulled the sword free and then they both fell backward onto the ground.
“God.” She scrambled up and touched his bleeding shoulder.
Her face was streaked with blood and soot. Her short hair showcased the long, almost delicate line of her neck. So elegant, for such a tough spitfire of a woman.
“There’s so much damn blood.” Worry and panic coated her voice.
Maxon stilled. When was the last time anyone had truly worried about him? “My internal systems have slowed the bleeding.”
Green eyes, like the fields of grass on the homeworld he barely remembered, met his. “Okay, that’s good. You’ll be all right?”
He gave her a quick nod.
Her hand moved, stroking his skin, sending shockwaves of sensation through him.
Maxon gritted his teeth. He didn’t like being touched, and he definitely didn’t like this out-of-control, shocking emotion that went with it.
He drew back and her hand dropped. She blinked, her fingers curling.
“Maxon.” Magnus’ shout.
“Over here,” Maxon replied gruffly.
The House of Rone cyborgs appeared.
“Bellamy.” Quinn engulfed the woman in a hug, blocking her from Maxon’s view.
Good. He needed the distance. He wanted these out-of-control urges gone.
She was safe, and now he could get back to his drakking work.
* * *
Bellamy absorbed Quinn’s hug, tears pricking her eyes.
Damn. She did not cry. Ever. She hadn’t shed one tear through all this ordeal. She hadn’t cried since she was six and her mom had left her.
Tears changed nothing.
She sniffed. “Damn glad to see you guys.”
“We’re damn glad that you’re okay.” Quinn scanned around. “I see you raised some hell.”
“They deserved it.” Suddenly, Bellamy felt drained and tired. Her adrenaline was crashing, and everything was slamming down on her.
She turned to look at her tawny-haired savior. A handsome cyborg with a red cloak was tending to him. She heard him grunt and start to complain.
“Don’t worry, Maxon is as tough as old leather.” Quinn grinned. “And about as cheery.”
“Bellamy, I’m glad to see you aren’t injured,” someone said.
She looked up at one of the cyborgs, the blond-haired Toren. She’d met him at Bari Batu with Simone.
“Hi, Toren.” She found a smile for him.
“Bellamy Walsh.”
The deep voice made her turn and she swallowed. This man had “boss” stamped all over him.
“I’m Magnus Rone.”
So, this was “the” cyborg. “Thanks for the rescue.”
The man’s expression didn’t change, but she sensed he was amused. “I believe you did just fine rescuing yourself. The other women from the Helios are eager to see you.”
“Simone’s okay?” she asked.
Magnus nodded. “And her daughter. Along with Sage and Jayna.”
Bellamy’s chest hitched and she looked at Quinn. “That’s it?”
Quinn squeezed her arm. “And Mina. That appears to be all from the Helios who were sold to the Edull. There are several others from Fortuna Station. Most of them are at the House of Galen.”
But there had been so many more aboard the Helios. Jesus. Bellamy had to face the fact that they were dead or sold on some other distant planet.
A big, scowling cyborg stepped up beside Magnus. “You want us to round up any of Zulnath’s people who survived?”
The imperator nodded. “Set them free in the desert, Mace. And I want to talk to the other residents and find someone capable of taking over here.”
The handsome cyborg moved close to Quinn, running a hand down her arm. “Magnus, Corsair’s mentioned an enclave close to here. It’s run by a woman called Cassana and her mate, Lena. Rumor is that Cassana is a former escaped slave and she welcomes anyone who’s been enslaved, anyone with no home to go to.”
“You think she’d be happy to take over this outpost?” Magnus asked.
“I think so. Corsair said she’s been taking in anyone who’s escaped from Bari Batu.”
“Contact her.”
The handsome cyborg smiled. “Consider it done.”
Quinn smiled. “Bellamy, this is Jax. My cyborg.”
The man smiled, seemingly more in touch with his emotions than the others. He looked extremely happy to be claimed by Quinn.
“A pleasure, Bellamy.”
Quinn went on to introduce the grumpy-looking Mace and brown-haired Acton, and the tough, female cyborg, Seren.
As the others got busy rounding up Zulnath’s people, Bellamy went over and crouched by Maxon.
He was scowling, his eyes burning hot. Wow, they actually looked like melted gold. A temporary bandage had been pressed to the spear wounds on his back and shoulder. His turbulent gaze met hers—hot, electric, and cranky as hell.
When he tried to move, she pressed a hand to his uninjured shoulder. “You should stay still, or you’ll bleed more.”
He made a sound like an annoyed bear. “I’m a cyborg. I don’t need coddling.”
“Man, you’re even grumpier than I remember.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “And you’re even more irritating than I remember.”
Bellamy laughed. It felt like something cracked open inside her, and it felt good. God, she hadn’t laughed in so long.
When she calmed, his moody gaze moved across her face. Like she was a puzzle that confounded him, but he really wanted to solve.
“No one’s made me laugh for a really long time, cyborg,” she said quietly. “So, thanks.”
Something worked behind his eyes.
She reached out to touch his bandage, but he lifted a hand. “If you want to help, go and find my weapons.”
She rose. “Lord, you’re bossy.”
He raised a brow. “So?”
Shaking her head, she stalked over to where they’d fought the crime boss and his goons.
Magnus, Quinn, and the other cyborgs were gathering a crowd of Zulnath’s followers. Several were beaten up and in bad shape.
Bellamy couldn’t find it in herself to feel much sympathy for them.
She spotted the shiny-looking gun Maxon had used and lifted it. She remembered him firing it with expert ease. She ran her hand down the metal. Nice. It had a sleek design, but was also sturdy.
Next, she lifted the wicked sword he’d used to kill Zulnath and found the sexy little blaster he’d thrown at her to use.
There was a whoosh of sound overhead, and she looked up to see a shuttle landing in the courtyard. It was like no ship she’d ever seen on Earth.
“That’s our ride,” Quinn said.
As Bellamy headed toward the shuttle, she watched Mace and Jax send Zulnath’s people into the desert. She knew just how deadly Carthago’s deserts could be. They didn’t stand much of a chance.
Magnus was talking to a tall woman, clearly a worker. It appeared she was the newly appointed leader of this dusty outpost.
Bellamy didn’t care who was left in charg
e. She just wanted to get out of there.
“Here.” She handed the weapons to Maxon.
He took them with a grunt.
Jeez, the man was a total bear. “You’re welcome.”
Toren appeared and helped Maxon to his feet. They headed toward the shuttle.
Bellamy walked with Quinn and boarded. “Nice.”
The shuttle’s interior matched the sleek exterior. It had a plush, expensive feel, with wide seats, and high-tech cockpit.
Quinn nodded. “An ally, Rillian, owns it. The man has a gazillion credits, owns the glitziest casino in Kor Magna, and fills out a suit mighty fine. He’s mated with Dayna. She’s a former cop who was taken off a transport docking with the Fortuna. I’ll fill you in on all the humans who’ve been rescued on the trip back to Kor Magna.”
“Thanks again, Quinn.”
The woman touched Bellamy’s shoulder. “You’re safe now. We’re all making a life here, and you will too.”
Bellamy forced a smile, but inside, she felt jittery and uncertain.
Vossol and his Edull thugs were still out there, killing people in their fucking desert arena.
Bellamy might be safe, but she didn’t feel free.
Chapter Four
Her eyes snapped open, and Bellamy released a shaky breath.
The room wasn’t dark; she’d left the light on earlier. She’d been given a gorgeous bedroom at the House of Rone.
But despite the large, comfy bed behind her, she was sleeping on a rug on the floor. She sat up. She’d tried the bed, and loved the soft feel and the silky covers. But after months of sleeping on the ground, she hadn’t been able to fall asleep on the soft bed.
She knew that it was the middle of the night. That harsh time when it seemed like the whole world had fallen away and that she was all alone.
Bellamy had been welcomed at the House of Rone like a long-lost sister. The women, led by Ever, had welcomed her warmly. She’d been to Medical, and been checked over by the old, calm healer Avarn. She now had an implant to protect her from all kinds of diseases and pregnancy. Then, she’d been able to bathe, and rid herself of layers of dirt and grime. And now she had this room, filled with lovely clothes, and a belly full of good food.
She’d ended the day in Ever’s sitting room, holding a damn heavy cyborg cat that had jumped into her lap, and eating amazing treats that Calla, a rescued alien woman, had baked for her.
Every woman had shared their incredible story. Each one had been through so much, snatched away from everything they’d known.
She’d watched Ever and Magnus’ little girl, Asha, crawl around. She’d listened to the women’s laughter, seen their happiness and joy. They’d moved on from their hurt and pain, and they’d embraced life.
Bellamy scrubbed her face with her hands. It had all been too much. She’d eventually told them that she was tired, and she’d been ushered to this beautiful room.
She looked out of the windows, and caught a glimpse of the Kor Magna Arena and the skyscrapers of the District beyond it. The arena’s old cream stone was such a contrast to the glass-and-metal buildings behind it.
She was definitely not on Earth anymore. A hollow feeling cut through her. There was no way back to her own planet. That was okay. She’d easily come to terms with that, because there was nothing for her to go back for. Her gram was dead, and the rest of her family had left her a long time ago.
She was free, but some part of her inside continued to twist and scream. It was angry and poisonous, and it wanted to tear the Edull apart and set them on fire.
“You just need time, Bellamy,” she murmured.
God, she’d just been rescued. She needed time to adjust to everything.
But looking out the window, the pressure inside her grew until she thought she’d shatter. She rose and opened the door. Her throat was tight, like a scream was trapped inside.
She wandered the stone halls, conscious that she was barefoot, and only wearing a sleep shirt. Everyone was asleep, except the guards she spotted at the end of a long corridor. They stood by the large double doors at the front of the House of Rone.
She turned, and when she saw some stairs, she went up.
God, how could she feel so freaking alone, when she was surrounded by people here who cared? People who’d risked themselves to rescue her?
A glow of light came from the end of a corridor. She also heard the distant, rhythmic clanging of metal on metal.
She walked that way, her heart hammering. She couldn’t break. She had to stay strong. Pausing in the doorway, she glanced in and found herself looking at a workshop.
Then everything in her body stilled.
A shirtless Maxon was beating a large hammer against some metal clamped on a work bench.
Bellamy’s mouth went dry, and all thoughts went flying out of her head.
He wore black trousers, low on his lean hips. His bare skin was a golden-brown, and his chest and abs were things of beauty. Hard, masculine beauty.
His shaggy hair shifted as he struck with the hammer again. There were so many colors amongst the strands—brown, oak, gold, tan.
Then he stilled and his head whipped around.
Golden eyes locked on her for a second, before they drifted down her sleep shirt to her bare feet.
He scowled and set the tool down. “You should be sleeping.”
He sounded about as welcoming as a spitting cobra.
That actually made her feel better. He didn’t treat her with gushing warmth, trying to make her feel better.
“I tried to, but I…”
As her words dried up, he kept looking at her. “My workshop is off-limits to everyone.”
She kept looking at him. He made an annoyed noise, and turned back to his work.
Bellamy took that as assent to enter. She wandered in, taking in the half-built prototypes resting on the benches, and twisted bits of metal and wire.
“How come you aren’t sleeping?” she asked.
“I like working at night. No annoying people around to interrupt me.” He shot her a pointed look.
She almost laughed. Damn, something about this big beast of a man made her feel normal, more herself.
“Are you always this moody?”
“Yes.”
She leaned against the bench. The mechanic in her itched to touch the tools and some of his designs.
“So why couldn’t you sleep?” he asked.
She sighed. “I’ve been in survival mode for so long. I guess it’s like a soldier returning from battle. I’m too wired, too switched on to settle back into normal life. Everyone’s been so nice, but…”
“You can’t relax. Can’t change modes that quickly. Can’t trust it.”
He spoke those words like he had some experience. Shadows danced in the gold of his eyes, and she wondered what he’d suffered.
She lifted a tool off the bench.
“Don’t touch,” he barked.
Deliberately, she ran her finger down the metal and watched his eyes narrow. Then she set it down.
The pressure in her chest was back, and twisting like an evil poison. She wanted to run, and she wanted to curl into a ball like a child trying to escape the monsters under the bed.
Suddenly, a tanned, muscled arm moved in front of her, holding a different, smaller tool, shaped like a cylinder.
“Here.” He shoved it into her hand. “If you’re going to be in my way, you may as well be useful.”
He turned away and she stared at the smooth expanse of his back, all those shifting muscles. Then she smiled.
* * *
Maxon tried to ignore her.
He loved his workshop, his own space, and he hated people in it.
He tried to concentrate on the new design for the sword that he was working on. He’d blended new metals together, but the design just wasn’t working. The edge wasn’t what he’d envisaged, and there was a problem with the hilt.
He watched Bellamy out of the corner of his eye as
she studied the tool he’d given her, then pulled some scrap metal out of a box. The laser cutter flared to life, and she grinned.
That smile was like a kick to his gut.
She had a strong face—a bold nose, bold jaw. She wasn’t beautiful, but when she smiled, it softened her features. She cut the scrap metal into strips, her arm moving with flourishes as she learned the tool.
“If you want to help, not just get in my way, cut up that scrap over there.” He jerked his head to a pile of metal on a nearby bench.
“Yes, sir,” she clipped. “Were you born this bossy and moody?”
“No. But when my family tossed me aside as a young man and abandoned me on Carthago, I learned not to waste time being nice.”
She stilled, and her green gaze flicked up to his face.
Drak. Why the drak had he said that?
He spun and got back to work. But tension ran through all his muscles. Memories of that time, screaming for his family, for his fiancée. Watching them stare at him with horror and disgust.
The anger exploded. He threw his hammer. It hit the far wall and bounced, knocking over some scrap. Everything clattered to the floor.
“Feel better?” Bellamy walked over and retrieved the hammer.
“No.” He heaved in a breath.
“I get it,” she said quietly. “I feel the same. I feel this ugly thing boiling and twisting inside me. I can’t enjoy this place, the other women. Damn, they are all so freaking happy.” She ran a hand over her short hair, then held out the hammer.
Maxon grunted. He took back the tool, and their fingers brushed. He felt an electric zing.
Scowling, he pulled back. He did not want to feel any connection to her, to anyone.
He wanted to be left alone.
“Get that scrap sorted.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not your slave, cyborg. You could handle learning a few manners.”
“Not going to happen.”
He turned back to the new weapon design. He needed to set the edge differently, and then solve the hilt. Soon he was absorbed in his work. He almost forgot Bellamy was there.
Weapons Master: Galactic Gladiators: House of Rone #6 Page 3
