by Imogene Nix
“Human filth!” One of the clones had already gotten to his feet and kicked her stomach. Her stomach exploded in pain, her lungs aching as any air that had been left, escaped.
Hard hands yanked her up by the shoulders, suspending her in air. The clone in front of her punched her, sending her body back against the man that still held her.
“Since our balls are too sore to fuck you, I guess we’ll just have to beat you until we recover.”
Another punch landed on her cheek, her face shattering in hot agony. She fought to stay conscious. But just as she thought the aching couldn’t get any worse, blackness covered her vision and all the pain was gone.
* * * *
Rogue joined his men at the ice-fire and was nearly sick to his stomach when he saw the other woman from the crash hanging on a cross. She was naked, bruises marring her body. He didn’t know whether she was unconscious or dead. All around him, the men drank from the human’s stash of alcohol and leered at the woman’s body.
“Did you come to have some of this woman, Rogue?”
“I don’t know. How many of you have had her already?” Rogue tried to disguise the disapproval in his voice.
“None. We were about to, but then she fainted. Thought we’d make use of that body by putting it on display ’til she wakes up.”
“The bruises?” he questioned angrily.
“She fought us.” Morgun narrowed his eyes. “So we fought back.”
Rogue approached the cross and untied the woman, her head lulling against him. Her chest rose and fell. Alive. “If you value this woman, you’ll do well to take better care of her.”
“What do you care?”
Glancing around at his men, he realized all eyes were on him. “I’ve learned from my woman that, when conscious, they can offer incredible pleasure. They’re quite docile, sexual creatures.”
Well…his wasn’t so docile, but they didn’t need to know that. They also didn’t need to know that he’d already become addicted to the woman’s ease at banter. He happened to like the way she threatened him, her voice soft and husky.
He scanned the crowd of his comrades, willing them to see his point of view so the woman wouldn’t be subjected to further violence. “You just have to treat them with civility, and they’ll open their legs…and mouths to you. Nothing is more pleasurable than watching the woman bob up and down on your dick, willingly, like she craves to taste your flesh and drive the tension from your balls.”
The men around him cheered, slapping him on the back.
“When this woman wakes, I challenge you to treat her carefully. Offer her food and water, and perhaps she’ll reward you with a treat from her soft lips.” Rogue laid the female down and covered her with a blanket, not because it was cold, but so when she awoke, she’d be less frightened. Before the men around him could contest, they cheered for another arrival.
Rogue’s body heated with fury when he saw two clones approach, one of them carrying his woman over his shoulder. Her pants had been shorn into shorts, the jagged fabric revealing the cleft of her round ass from where it rested on his comrade’s shoulder.
“Look what we found!” The clone dropped her to the ground, the unconscious form rolling.
Finally, her head tilted back, her hair splayed across the ground. Bruises marred her face, her left eye swollen. Her shirt was tied up beneath her breasts, revealing bruises on her stomach and chest. The perfection of her body had been brutalized. What else have they done to her?
Rogue launched at his comrades where they stood above her. He landed a punch to one body before he tackled the other clone to the ground. Straddling the massive form, he rained blows down on the man’s face, ensuring his bruises would be far worse than the woman’s. The other clone reached for Rogue’s back, but he grabbed the arm and yanked the body over him so it landed hard on the ground. Rogue leapt onto the man that had come from behind and started kicking the shit out of him.
“How dare you lay a hand on my woman.” He landed more punches before the other men finally pulled him off.
“Rogue, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
“What is wrong with me?” His chest heaved with adrenaline, his fists still clenched at his sides, dying to punish something. “What the fuck is wrong with you? We have this gift of soft, smooth flesh. Curves and full lips. And you all treat them like hardened soldiers to be beaten. Clearly, these women are meant to be savored. And yet you trash them until they resemble nothing but broken toys.”
Around him the men were silent. Either plotting Rogue’s death, or silently agreeing, he didn’t know. He didn’t care. Unless they tried to stop him from taking his woman home. Then they’d have a big fucking problem.
Chapter 4
Elara tried to open her eyes, but one of them refused. Pain exploded all over her body as she slowly regained consciousness. And then she wished she hadn’t. Her cheek rested on blood-dampened ground, her tilted view revealing that she was surrounded by a mob of angry clones. They towered above her, all of them well-muscled, their bodies crossed with scars and dried blood. The earlier battle where they’d taken out her crew still haunted her.
“I’m taking her,” a dark, familiar voice rumbled, strong arms sweeping her up from the ground.
She closed her unswollen eye. That’s right, play dead, Elara thought pitifully. So much for being a captain in the US military. Then she remembered that these men still had Angela.
Elara sucked her pain in, breathing it in like adrenaline. Then she struck out. Her elbow plowed into her captor’s face. Rogue swore, but didn’t loosen his iron-clad grip on her. She flailed in his grasp, lashing out with every limb. She landed many blows, but still he didn’t release her.
Instead, he whispered in her ear, “Let me take you from here. Your life depends on it.”
The concern and fear in his voice was not something she’d heard uttered from her captor before. Perhaps there were men out there more frightening than him. Still, she couldn’t leave Angela to be tormented by the desperate group of rebels.
Elara thrust her head back, a crack echoing as she connected with Rogue’s thick skull. Finally, he dropped her. Immediately, he reached out for her, but it was too late. She dodged his grasp, but when she moved to escape the oncoming clones, her ankle, already twisted, buckled under her. Before she hit the ground, a meaty fist wrapped around her neck, squeezing like an anaconda as it hefted her against his chest. Beneath her, his dick hardened. Fear twisted in her stomach like a knife, vomit bubbling up her throat.
Across from her, Rogue glared at Morgun, the clone that held her. “I have given fair warning what would happen if you stole my woman. She is my spoils of this war.”
“This is no war, Rogue.” His fingers tightened around her throat, forcing a choking sound from her lips. “This is a massacre. There are no survivors.” Morgun’s free hand squeezed her breast, the bruises already there exploding in a fresh wave of agony. “She’s lucky to be our plaything.”
“You’re right about one thing…” Rogue’s shoulders hunched over, bowed in masculine strength as he stared at the ground where her blood had spattered. “This is a massacre.”
Elara didn’t have time to process what happened before she was dropped to the ground. Soldiers around her rushed toward Rogue as Morgun fell to the dirt beside her, a sharp rock embedded in his eye. Chaos erupted around her, bodies falling on Rogue. Yet one by one she witnessed them thrown away from him.
It was a beautiful picture of destruction. And her perfect chance to find Angela and escape.
Pulling her body from beneath the either dead or pain-crippled Morgun, she spotted a blanket-covered figure on the ground. No. Please no. She crawled toward the figure, hoping desperately that it wasn’t Angela. Just before she reached the body, pain erupted in her spine. A boot crushed down on her back, eliciting a scream from the fresh round of torment on her already-battered body.
Immediately, the pain subsided. She glanced over her shoulder just in ti
me to see the clone fall, a dagger embedded in his neck. Turning toward the fray, her eyes met Rogue’s just before he disappeared under the mob of angry soldiers once more.
With a trembling hand and tears of pain rolling down her cheeks, Elara lifted the blanket covering the body on the ground. She gasped at the sight of Angela’s pallid flesh. It was white as snow save for the blackish purple bruises covering her. Blood tracked down from her nose and lips. Her blonde, pixy hair was also matted in crimson. Pulling the blanket back, Elara screamed at what she saw, dropping the fabric. But the image of Angela’s nude and battered body was already burned in her brain. Now she hoped that Angela was dead, no longer a victim of such brutality.
A fresh wave of determination washed over Elara. No way in hell was the same thing going to happen to her.
* * * *
Rogue sliced through thick, muscled flesh in a dangerous dance of mortality. Around him, his comrades fell. Normally, one against fifty were not his favorite odds, but unlike the other clones, he was sober and fueled by adrenaline. For every bruise on Elara’s body, he sent a soldier to the ground bleeding. In his violence-fueled craze, he vaguely began to wonder what had driven him to such a point. Did he merely crave violence? Or was his need to have this woman to himself truly strong enough to murder men who’d once been just like him?
Another scream cracked through the night so he threw the men off of him, glancing at Elara long enough to see she’d discovered the woman’s battered body lying on the ground. Soldiers descended on him once more, and he decided enough was enough. Rogue reached for the various artillery hanging low on his hips. Blows rained down on him as he did so, but finally, he found what he was searching for. A small, balled up bandana held a powder of his own personal concoction. After they’d overtaken the human’s compound, he’d passed the days experimenting in their labs. Now it would pay off. Only, he’d never used it in such a large quantity before.
Rogue threw the balled up fabric at the ice-fire and it erupted into a flash of blazing purple flames. The men atop him were thrown to the ground. But Rogue knew the trick wasn’t done. Hurdling past the gigantic flames, he leapt for Elara, dragging her away from the fray when the next eruption hit. She struggled, but her twisted ankle made it easy for him to scoop her up and run. A sonic boom suddenly thundered through the night, the force sending them both to the ground once more.
“Angela!” Elara’s tormented scream made his ears bleed.
Briefly, Rogue wondered if it’d be better if Angela was killed in the blast. Certainly, she was near to death as it was. As Rogue carried Elara away from the fire, knowing that another blast was soon to come, he caught a glimpse of her torment. The reflection of the blaze danced in her glassy green gaze. Her arms reached out toward where Angela lay in the distance.
Elara was alive. But was his toy already broken?
“If I retrieve this other female, will you follow me?”
She stared at him, her gaze steady with shock.
“Will you follow me?” This time he roared at her, attempting to break the spell.
When she nodded, he set her down gently and raced back toward the roaring fire, which he knew would explode any minute in a third and final, destructive wave. His legs sprinted, his flesh heating as he reached the fire where his comrades lie strewn across the ground. The body of the woman still lay on the ground, flames dancing atop the blanket. He threw it off the female and saw the cloth had sheltered her from the worst. Cradling her in his arms, he sprinted back to where he’d left Elara. He counted the seconds as he raced away from the fire, wondering if he’d be far enough.
The third and final explosion caused an earthquake beneath his feet just as a wave of heat and invisible force sent him to the ground. They were just far enough to escape the fiery blast. Gathering the female in his arms once more, he strode up to Elara. Just as he’d asked, she’d waited. As he approached her, he noticed a softer glint to her petrified gaze.
Concern. For him?
He shook the idea off. Surely not.
He motioned with his head toward the dark abyss where his cave lay hidden. “Now. You’ll follow me.”
Chapter 5
Darkness had settled over the planet, but it didn’t lessen the scalding heat of the terrain beneath Elara’s feet. Still, she padded across the landscape after Rogue. The way he navigated through the night left Elara to believe that he could have found the cave blindfolded. Finally, they reached the entrance of his hideout. She glanced over her shoulder in an attempt to mark their location, but the moon barely shed light on the planet. It was no use.
“Don’t linger.” Rogue’s voice rumbled from deeper within the cave.
“It’s pitch black,” Elara mumbled, suddenly ashamed at her feeble excuse.
The splash of water sounded just before a soft glow illuminated the cave. A clear, dirt-filled urn fizzled from contact with the liquid. Rogue’s form slowly came into view. He laid Angela gently on the floor, then turned to face Elara. “It’s the same chemical reaction I discovered to make the explosion. Only, with water, it’s less potent. But it offers light for a time.”
Elara finally stepped into the cave. With each stride, Rogue’s form became larger and more intimidating. The glow from the chemical-filled urn illuminated the rivulets of sweat tacked to the lines of his hard cut muscles. His hard abdomen and broad chest rose and fell as he gazed at her intently. The arms that hung by his sides were topped by boulder-sized biceps, a reminder of how easily he’d carried Angela all the way from camp. To safety.
Halting in her tracks, Elara addressed him. “Thank you for what you did for her. Do you think...” Her words trailed off. She was too petrified to finish the thought of what might have happened to her coworker.
“No. They didn’t rape her.”
Elara exhaled, relief filling her lungs back up with fresh air. “You risked your life for her.”
He nodded slowly in response and extended his hand out to her. “I may not be human, but I’m not a monster.”
When she took his hand, willingly for the first time, electricity ignited. Heat spread over her skin in a wave, beginning in her cheeks then descending lower. This clone induced a treacherous response in her body. She didn’t know what he wanted from her, but the intensity in his crystalline blue gaze could mean only one thing. He had every intention of finishing what they’d started.
“Come.”
Sucking in an uneasy breath, she walked across the cave floor, her steps echoing in the quiet void. The good news was, her ankle wasn’t broken. But as each footstep brought her closer to him, her heartbeat quickened ten-fold. By the time she reached him, her fingers trembled. Whether from his intimidating presence, or from the terror of the night finally sinking in, she didn’t know. Resigning herself to whatever fate offered, Elara sank to her knees before him. Her shaking fingers went to the waistband of his shorts.
As she fumbled, strong arms swept her up. Her breath caught as Rogue lifted her against his chest and carried her deeper into the cave. Nestled against him, she had no choice but to inhale the scent of him. His skin still smelled of smoke and the metallic twang of fire.
Carefully, she was laid down on the floor atop a soft pallet. Rogue hovered over her, assessing her. He reached out, but she flinched away. His face a mask, he disappeared into the darkness and returned. Through her good eye, she spied a bowl of water and a rag.
Rogue knelt by her and dipped the fabric in the liquid. He spoke through gritted teeth. “You must be truly petrified to think to pleasure me in your condition. Your body is battered, broken, and you cannot open your left eye, and you kneel before me?” He shook his head, placing the dampened rag against one of her cuts.
The contact stung, but not nearly as much as the surprise of being cleaned by her captor. They didn’t speak as he continued to wipe the blood from her cheeks. His gaze followed the cloth as it moved over her forehead, her lips, and she forgot about the pain. Instead, she was captivated by the slow ca
re he put into cleansing her wounds.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He dipped the cloth into the warm water once more. “Don’t thank me. I still intend to have my way with you.” He paused, causing her breath to catch in her throat. She waited for what would follow those ominous words. “I know you think me a beast, but I can barely look at you in this condition, let alone ravage you.” He slid the damp fabric down her neck, water dripping between the valley of her breasts. “Once you’re clean, your body is mine.”
Mine. Rogue’s last words burned in Elara’s brain as he carefully cleaned the blood and filth from her body. The gentle way in which his hand slid over her skin was enough to distract her from the pain of her wounds.
“Ouch.” She sucked in a breath. Well, from most of her wounds.
“This one is deep. They used a knife on you?”
“No. The ground was jagged. The rock here cuts just like daggers.” She avoided his gaze. “They kicked me around on the ground for a while before everything finally went dark.”
“They deserved a worse punishment than what they got.” The deep tone of his voice dripped with danger.
“They’re dead.”
“Yes. That’s more than they deserved. A slow agony would be more befitting to their crimes.”
“Aren’t their crimes the same as your own?” Her own bravery surprised her. Well…when you’re beaten like a ragdoll already…
Quiet lingered as his fingers began unbuttoning her blouse. Once the swells of her breasts were revealed, she shut her good eye and waited for what was to come. The manhandling, the crude remarks. Instead, the warm cloth slid over her skin, wiping clean her bruised flesh. Rogue dropped the rag back into the water basin and slid an arm beneath her back to lift her up. His free hand pulled her blouse off. The blood and dirt-soaked fabric hit the ground, a whisper of her past and a chilling premonition of her future.
