The Lost Planet Series: Boxed Set: Books 1-5

by K. Webster

  7

  Breccan

  The sirens are blasting as I rush to shrug on my protective gear over my minnasuit. I’ve called Draven, Jareth, and Theron to my aid as they are my most skilled fighters. When Hadrian pops up and starts putting on his suit, I roar, “Stay!”

  “No,” he argues, donning his gear quicker than the rest of us. “I’ve been training to do this. I can help kill them. I’m quicker than any of you old morts!” He grins before pulling a mask over his nog.

  I don’t have time to argue so I grunt instead. He better not get himself rekking killed because I’m not sure I’m mentally equipped to deal with a loss like that. But as much as I want to keep him caged away and protected like when he was young, he’ll never learn if I don’t let him loose from time to time. I snatch my sharpest and longest magknife, one that’s slaughtered many a sabrevipe. Draven picks up a spear that Ozias made. It’s pointed like a normal arrow but once it pierces its target, five blades shoot out so as you pull it back out, it shreds everything upon exit. It’s lethal, and Draven has proven to be the most skilled at it.

  Theron grabs his zonnoblaster, something that’s proven useful when we need to get away in a pinch. It blasts a spray of titanium slugs that melt and expand upon penetrating flesh. Incredibly painful. Ozias almost lost his foot when he accidentally shot himself once.

  Jareth, like me, prefers blades. His are smaller and he likes one in each hand. The mort is quite skilled at throwing them. I’ve seen him throw them as far as the eye can see and still hit the target right where he’d intended.

  That brings us to Hadrian.

  I don’t know what the mortarekking gods he’ll use. He rummages around in the weapon closet though and produces several items. As soon as everyone is dressed in protective gear and ready to fight, I type in the sixteen-digit code and we rush out into the elements.

  “Attacking the north side,” Sayer radios in. “I see you on the radar emerging from the west entrance. Be careful. The winds are high and there are at least six sabrevipes clawing at that door.”

  “Copy that,” I say back as I motion for my men to follow.

  We creep along the rocky side of our facility, our weapons drawn. The winds are so furious that my mask keeps moving. Alarm sends my heart skipping twice as fast. I don’t have a second to think about the fact that alien Aria is not pregnant. I’d been eager to mate with her again this solar but then everything went to rogshite.

  I point at Draven and then motion ahead. He’s quiet and stealthy. Hadrian, the loud mortarekker, can stay to the rear. The last thing I need is for him to draw their attention before we’re ready.

  Draven prowls forward, soundlessly, with his spear poised and ready. I gesture for Jareth and Theron to proceed ahead of me. They take their cue and move forward as well. Hadrian is being surprisingly quiet and vigilant, which has pride thumping through me.

  That’s my boy.

  “Two have turned and are heading west,” Sayer warns. “Keep your rekking eyes peeled.”

  Before I can warn Draven, a sabrevipe peeks his nog around the corner. The nog of the sabrevipe is about the size of five mort nogs put together. Three pale blue eyes, the middle one milky and clouded over. Nostrils that are flat against its head and as big around as my fist. Long whiskers that move of their own accord, tasting the air for the scent of its prey. But the most fearsome thing about sabrevipes are their teeth.

  As if on cue, the feral animal opens its mouth and roars. Menacing and ferocious. I can feel the vibrations all the way down to my toes.

  We all remain frozen, as it’s best to wait for them to attack. Sometimes they will show their vulnerabilities to us that way. This one, much larger than the one who cowers behind it, stands on its hind legs. It’s as tall as Draven, if he stood on my shoulders. Sharp, silvery claws catch the sunlight off to the west, opposite of the incoming geostorm, and nearly blind me. Their claws are every bit as lethal as our blades.

  “Now!” I yell.

  Draven rushes forward without hesitation, his arm rearing back. He gets close, but not too close, and releases the spear. It spirals straight ahead, stabbing right through the hairless animal’s belly, just below its heart.

  The sabrevipe screams and when it lands on all fours, the spear pushes deeper and pokes through near its spine. But until Draven grabs hold and yanks it back, the spear’s intended purpose is useless.

  The cowering sabrevipe that I can now tell is a baby takes off running back to the north side.

  “Get it!” I yell to Theron and Jareth.

  But before they can go, Hadrian takes off in a sprint.

  Mortarekker!

  Theron and Jareth run after him while I help Draven take down the big one that’s swiping its massive clawed paw at him. He pulls his magknife from his leg strap and holds it out in front of him.

  “Any others?” I bellow to Sayer through the radio.

  “Negative,” he replies. They took off because the geostorm is intensifying. Ran off to the caves by Lake Acido.”

  “Good,” I growl as I stalk around the side of the sabrevipe, making a wide arc. Draven is distracting it and angering it by kicking rocks its way. It’s bleeding out and furious but keeping its distance.

  The animal’s tail lashes back and forth and I’m careful to not step on it as I near. Not wasting any time, I charge and launch myself on its back, mindful of where the spear protrudes. My magknife plunges deep into its side between its ribs. A scream of pain from the animal makes the mountain rumble in response.

  But it takes a moment to realize that it’s not the rumbling of the mountain…but thunder instead.

  Rekk!

  Water droplets pelt the glass of my mask, making it more difficult to see. The storm picks up and the animal tries to fight back. But I am quicker. I’ve already pulled the magknife out and stabbed it again. It stands on its hind legs again as if to shake me off.

  It will be its fatal mistake.

  Draven roars and rushes forward. He grabs his spear and yanks.

  Crunching and tearing can be heard as the weapon works as intended. It shreds and yanks vital organs as he pulls it back out. The animal goes limp beneath me and collapses to the rocky earth below.

  A high-pitched screaming can be heard, and I know it’s the smaller sabrevipe nearby. Draven nods at me that he’s got this one, and I climb off the animal to sprint to check on my men. When I round the corner, I see its tail lashing from behind a rock but neither Theron or Jareth are moving forward.

  “What are you waiting for?” I demand.

  “He’s got Hadrian trapped. I think it’s frightened and doesn’t know where to go,” Jareth explains.

  My chest feels as though it’s crushing in on itself. Not Hadrian. He’s like my own mortling, that one. I’d die protecting that boy. He may be every bit as tall as me now and quite the fighter, but he’ll always be the mortling who required me to change his soiled undersuits.

  Rekk!

  What was I thinking? He’s not ready. Too impulsive and out of control. He’ll never be a leader like he wants while he behaves like this.

  He’s not dying.

  Not on my watch.

  I launch forward and climb up the rocky side to see if I can get a look down in the area where the sabrevipe has him trapped. Once I climb to the top, I see that it has him pinned. It keeps tearing at his zu-gear, shredding through the tough material as though it’s nothing. My breath is sucked from my chest. It will puncture his minnasuit underneath and there’s no telling what sort of impurities will get in his system. The last thing I need is my youngest mort catching The Rades. He’d never survive it. Draven hardly did and he’s twice his size.

  “Hadrian,” I bellow.

  “I’m okay,” he yells back. “Rekk, this sabe is heavy!”

  The sabrevipe lifts its nog and all three of its eyes blink at me. Fear flickers in the young one’s gaze but I don’t let it sway my decision. It’s either this animal or Hadrian. I’ll always choo
se my men over that of the rotten landscape and what dwells on it.

  I jump down into the crevasse, landing on the animal’s back. It screeches but I don’t give it time to react. I dig my magknife into its throat and rip from ear to ear. A hiss and a splash indicate I’ve hit all its fatal arteries and it crashes against Hadrian.

  Hadrian groans and twitches beneath it. The rekker is too heavy to pull off on my own but thankfully Theron squeezes in beside me. Together, we drag the beast off my boy and out of the crevice.

  Jareth rushes inside and helps Hadrian to his feet. Immediately, he pulls out the sealatape and begins patching the holes in his suit. In this world, there is no time for waiting. No margin for error. He needs to seal any holes before harmful bacteria or pathogens get in. I hope it isn’t too late.

  As we drag the animal out into the open, more wind and rain from the worsening geostorm pelt us. The winds are strong and it’s nearly rekking impossible to drag the heavy sabrevipe and push against the storm. Slowly, we make our way forward and eventually meet up with Draven. Hadrian and Jareth move to help him since that animal is larger. All five of us carry our haul to the west entrance. By the time we get there, Sayer is waiting with the door open, his protective gear in place. He assists us and we drag the carcasses into the decontamination bay once inside. We use the bigger bay for our kills, and there is a smaller one where we morts go.

  Once we’re all sealed inside the smaller room, Sayer punches some buttons on the wall. Purified, pressurized water bursts from six directions. All four walls, floor, and ceiling. It cleanses us of the elements and filth. Then, the second phase begins. Air, as hard and furious as a geostorm, blasts from the ceiling. We all hold on to the harnesses along the wall to keep from toppling over. Another round of water rinses us again.

  The third phase is a chemical agent Calix designed. It coats us like rain from the ceiling, slick and sludgy. According to him, it attacks any lingering pathogens. Once we sit for a few seconds to let that do its job, more water. Then, air. A loud beep indicates we’re thoroughly cleansed.

  We don’t always go through the latter heavy phase of decontamination, like in the case of unloading Theron and Sayer’s hauls, but after hunting missions or any of Galen’s trips where we’re exposed for long periods, we do. Especially if blood is involved.

  Calix, all dressed in protective gear, waits on the other side of the door when it reopens. “Hadrian, come with me.”

  Jareth must have radioed in to let him know his suit was torn and he was exposed. Since Calix is our contagious diseases specialist, he’ll make sure Hadrian isn’t at risk for anything lethal.

  “You almost got yourself killed out there,” I grumble to Hadrian.

  He beams at me from behind his mask. “Still alive, old mort. Still alive.” He makes horn symbols with his gloved hands and a smile tugs at my lips. When he was smaller and couldn’t speak just yet, he wanted me to show him books of rogcows—animals that are rare but taste rekking delicious when charred right. That was his way of communicating that he wanted to see pictures of his favorite animal. Now, he likes to flash me his rogcow symbols, as if trying to remind me he’s as spectacular as one of those much-coveted animals.

  “Go on, you piece of rogshite.” I shake my nog and pat his shoulder as he walks by. “I want a full report immediately.”

  “On it, Commander,” Calix assures me. He knows how much Hadrian means to me. “The kills have been cleared as well.”

  I give him a pleased nod that the sabrevipes are safe to eat.

  “Draven, you got this?” I ask as we file out of the small decontamination bay.

  He gives me a nod. While the rest of us start removing our gear, he remains in his to go skin and cut up the sabrevipes. Galen, who is an excellent cook, will be pleased we were able to kill two and that they are edible. Often, we manage to kill one, only to discover it’s diseased. Such a waste. But this solar, we will sleep with our bellies filled.

  Speaking of filled bellies…

  Exhaustion seeps through my bones. I want to curl up with my mate and hold her. Her scent is like a powerful agent that helps me sleep. The many benefits of having this little alien are not lost on me. She should be pleased at my kills this solar and will most likely be eager for my seed. Should being the key word here. My little alien surprises me often and doesn’t seem to be impressed like she should be at my efforts. Perhaps I shall try harder.

  I let out a yawn as I drag toward my quarters.

  Later.

  I will regale her of the tale of our brave hunt, push my cock into her, and gift her my seed later.

  First, a nap.

  As I walk past the command center, I twitch to go inside. But I’m pulled in the direction of Aria, equally so. For a moment, indecision renders me still.

  We will partake of the UV time together, then.

  A wide grin tugs at my lips.

  I can have both at once.

  My cock twitches in my minnasuit.

  What a reward for a taxing solar.

  I’m coming, little alien, and rekk, do I have a treat for you.

  8

  Aria

  The room around me is in ruins.

  Clothes, blankets, and his weird slithery suits that make his body look killer litter the floor in a wild tangle. The tubes of cream and gel I found in his bathroom pool in the sink. I didn’t recognize any of the concoctions, but I uncapped them and spilled them out anyway, hoping to find something useful.

  I should feel guilty about wrecking all of Breccan’s belongings, but all I have to do to motivate me to not give a damn is remember how it felt to be powerless beneath him or recall the faces of the other women on Avrell’s screen.

  After an hour—who knows, I have no watch—of ripping through all his storage cabinets, investigating the walls’ points of weakness and scouring the side rooms accessible through sliding panels, I’ve found nothing of use. The facility itself is impenetrable. They want to be locked up tight within these walls based on what Hadrian told me about their harsh planet.

  Agreeing to be their breeder was a mistake of epic proportions. I’ve made some shitty decisions in my life, but sleeping with an alien has to be in my top five.

  Escaping while they were gone fighting whatever monstrous beings inhabit this planet would have been the perfect plan. If I only could have figured out a way to get out of the room. I’m not sure I would have been in a huge hurry to go outside, though. A shudder ripples through me as I consider the terrifying planet Hadrian described. I definitely need to come up with a better plan because sneaking out of the building and entering an unsafe world doesn’t seem like the best idea.

  Now, I lie atop the mountain of clothes, defeated. I can’t get out of the room without an armband or the code they type into the panel. Exhausted and overwhelmed, I doze, wrapped in Breccan’s scent with the memory of his long-clawed hands still inked into my skin like a tattoo. I have a feeling it’ll be just as permanent. Memories of the way he kissed me—so dominant and consuming—assaults my mind. I’d liked it. For a split second, I loved the way his slick, unusual forked tongue slid against mine and I almost got lost in him. He’d tasted unlike anything I’d ever known but it wasn’t bad. Minty is the closest taste I can equate it to. I craved to close my eyes and imagine I was back home making out with a big, beautiful man. But the moment his razor-sharp teeth scraped across mine, a threatening reminder of who he was, I found my resolve and bit him. I’d made him bleed and I think he deserved it.

  When I wake again, it’s to Breccan on top of me. My first thought is, Damn, he sure takes this breeding thing seriously.

  My second is that I don’t want to be paralyzed again.

  He’s somehow stripped me without waking me. I’m naked atop his bed, my arms bound by one of his clawed hands above my head. My legs are pinned nearly to my chest and slung over his shoulders, his thick cock rubbing against my clit. Fear has me frozen from the inside out much like the effects of the toxica—the o
nly thing it doesn’t block out is how fucking good it feels.

  Don’t think about it, Aria.

  Be strong.

  Stop rocking your hips in tandem with him.

  But I can’t help but think about the way his cock slides against my sensitive clit. My sole focus is on the expert way he makes my body thrum to life. His rubbing feels too good.

  I want him inside me. I want him to stop teasing me and push into me. The thought that I’m craving this monster like a hit of flora is enough to have me questioning my sanity.

  Be strong.

  An embarrassing, needy moan rumbles from me. This pleases him because he smiles at me. So much for being strong.

  “There you are, my little Aria. Come back to me. Does that feel good?”

  So good.

  “No,” I lie, my voice breathy.

  A chuckle rumbles from him as he works his hips in a circular way. My body shudders in response as zings of pleasure pulsate from my core to every nerve ending in my body. It’s maddening being with him. I work so hard to mentally convince myself what a bad idea this is but I’ve never felt so alive. He feels good. Too good. It’s hard to hate him when he’s making me lose my mind as he draws out an orgasm.

  Stars glitter around me as I climax. I’m still trembling, overcome with bliss, when he pushes slowly into me. Stretching and filling me to the brink. It heightens the orgasm that’s still thrumming through me and I moan in relief at having him fully inside me.

  Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.

  My core tightens with the need to come again.

  Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.

  Oh, God.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs, his voice fierce. “You feel so rekking good. I meant to wait until after I rested, but you clearly missed me too much while I was gone. Your display of your displeasure was thoroughly received. I plan to breed with you tonight for hours to make it up to you.”

  Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.

  He groans when his orgasm rushes from him and into my body. His cock throbs out every venomous drop. No longer needing to hold my arms, thanks to the paralytic effect of his semen, he takes advantage and his claws begin to trace every available inch of my skin. The heavy-lidded look he’s giving me infuriates me and I could slap him for making me enjoy this, but I’ll have to make do with giving him a death glare.