Beyond the Rain

by Jess Granger

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

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  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Copyright © 2009 by Kristin Welker.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  BERKLEY® SENSATION and the “B” design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  PRINTING HISTORY

  Berkley Sensation trade paperback edition / August 2009

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Granger, Jess.

  Beyond the rain / Jess Granger.—Berkley Sensation trade pbk. ed.

  eISBN : 978-1-101-14557-9

  I. Title.

  PS3607.R36285B49 2009

  813’.6—dc22 2009015904

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  To my husband, my hero, my very best friend.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  This book wouldn’t exist without the love and support of my family. Thank you for all your encouragement and patience. You’ve been there for me, no matter what. I’m glad I could make you proud.

  I’d also like to thank my agent, Laura Bradford, and my editor, Leis Pederson, for their belief in this story and their patience as I learn a whole new side of publishing. I’m grateful to all the staff at Berkley, from the cover artists to the copy editors and everyone in between. Thank you for your hard work and dedication.

  And special thanks to Rose, my reader from the very start; Angie, my critique partner and friend; Julia and Melanie, who got me hooked on romance to begin with; Kate, for setting me up with Angie; Susan, for a pilot’s insight; Kristie, for keeping me sane; and finally Heather, for being an advocate for Science Fiction Romance everywhere.

  1

  “DAMN IT, HATCH! THIS IS WAR. IF YOU CAN’T HANDLE IT, GET YOUR ASS BACK to the transport.” Cyani slammed her back against the tunnel wall as the shattering explosion of a K-bomb shook the ground. Fine pebbles and dust crumbled over her head, illuminating the laser sights streaming from her team’s eyepieces. She scanned the other men in the tunnel to see if any of them were beginning to panic. They couldn’t lose focus.

  “I’m fine, Captain,” Hatch shouted back. He cringed as another blast rumbled in the distance. “Don’t like tight spaces is all.”

  Earthlen, they could be so damn unpredictable.

  “Keep control, I’m counting on you,” she urged.

  Hatch squared his wide shoulders. “I got your back, Amazon.”

  “I’m Azralen. Get your species straight.” She brushed the fallen dust off her shadowsuit and assessed the tunnel to see if their path had caved in.

  “Wouldn’t get it, Cap’. It’s an Earth thing.” He winked then focused on the holo-map projected in front of his left eye. “We have coordinates on the prisoners. Vicca found them.”

  “Good girl,” Cyani whispered to herself as she touched her com unit to turn on her own holo-map. The tiny floating screen lit with brightly colored dots, indicating the location of each prisoner her fox had marked with her com collar. She just hoped the little ball of fur was safe.

  The seven Union soldiers they were assigned to rescue huddled in a small cluster in a single cell near the supply store-houses, but Vicca had discovered an eighth humanoid. The unknown prisoner had been locked in the more secure section on the other side of the compound.

  “Shakt, Vicca, not now,” Cyani cursed as she pressed the recall button that should have sent her fox racing back to her. The blue dot on the holo-map jumped forward then remained still. It seemed her scout wasn’t going to return.

  “You stubborn little myhrat. You were supposed to stay with our prisoners, not find one of your own.” Cyani flicked the sensor at her temple and the holo-map disappeared. Whoever the lone prisoner was, he had earned the sympathy of her wayward scout. She would have to go get her. She couldn’t let the security codes in Vicca’s collar fall into enemy hands.

  “You two!” She pointed to her men. “Take the microbe packs and free our men. I’ll go after Vicca and this lone one. Hatch and Tola, secure the passage back to the transport. Remain on UC-4 until further notice. That communication channel should still be secure. We meet no later than thirty-five fourteen, understood? I refuse to leave anyone behind on this spirit-forsaken chunk of rock.” She stretched her fingers and pulled her sono from her side. Adjusting the eyepiece and ear set of her com, she turned back to her men.

  “Comin’ with you, Cap,” Hatch insisted.

  “No,” she commanded. “You have your orders.” The last thing she needed was to lose one of her men trying to retrieve her own damn fox. She had to do this alone. She worked best alone.

  “I don’t like this, Captain,” Tola protested.

  “You don’t have to,” she responded. “You’re in charge, Lieutenant. Get everyone to the transport before treating any injuries, do you understand? Time is the enemy now.”

  He looked up at her, his swarthy expression as enigmatic as ever, but there was something in his eyes, something she couldn’t acknowledge.

  “Protect my men,” she added, softening her tone. She had done her best to keep them safe in the five years they’d fought together. They were brave, smart soldiers, and she’d never forgive herself if she lost another man because of one of her orders. Losing three during the Felli campaign was bad enough.

  Tola nodded as his hawklike expression hardened with resi
gnation.

  Cyani continued to the rest of her team, “Don’t get caught. I don’t want to fly into Krona to haul your butts out of an auction pit. Be careful.” She took a microbe pack and hooked it to her belt. The men shuddered, but Hatch’s black eyes turned to steel.

  “You be careful, Cap. Azralen sell for a nice chunk of trillide on the slave market. You’re twenty times more valuable than any of us.” Hatch placed his large dark hand on her shoulder, even though she had made it clear several times she shouldn’t be touched, ever. That strict rule of her culture had been beaten into her, and she still bore the scars.

  She looked down at Hatch’s hand, unable to chastise him. If they didn’t make it out, such a brief touch was a forbidden comfort, but a comfort all the same. They were more than her men, more than brothers. Hatch patted her shoulder then motioned to Tola. “We’ll be waiting for you.”

  “If I’m late, I’m dead. Now go,” she ordered. “We’ll meet in victory soon.”

  Cyani left the communication channel open as she flicked on her holo-map. The tiny map buzzed to life. The small blue dot that represented her stell fox remained unwavering beside a glowing orange dot marking the unknown humanoid.

  “Whoever you are, you’d better be in some serious trouble, or Vicca’s not getting her belly scratched for the next ten years,” Cyani grumbled as she pulled herself up through a drain grate into the dark, iron-barred halls of the slave enclosure.

  The assaulting smells of quar mold and urine made her eyes water. Holding the crook of her arm over her face, she scanned the area while trying to keep her breathing shallow. The terrible smell, the burning in her eyes, the darkness—she couldn’t let herself be distracted by her memories. She didn’t have much time before the Garulen discovered their defenses were down and powered the laser locks back up.

  She rubbed the palms of her hands slowly on her thighs, then focused on the task at hand. The last thing she needed was to be killed or captured with her release from the war within her reach.

  She pried open a dead laser lock with her flick knife and crept into the dim interior of the slave cells. The large stone blocks closed in around her, making her shudder. She stilled, waiting, watching. Water dripped on stone. The soft plink-plink echoed in the empty hall. With silent caution she crept farther down the passage.

  K-bombs echoed outside like thunder but seemed distant from the interior of the small stone fortress. She set her com to high alert and scanned her surroundings. Cyani snuck along the walls to the cell door and turned the heavy latch. Pulling the door open with all her strength, she peered inside.

  Warning, humanoid life-form encountered.

  She flicked her holo-map off, so her eyes could adjust to the dim light.

  Cyani stared in awestruck horror at the naked man chained to the wall. She felt her heart race as her stomach clenched in outrage and disgust.

  Slave bands dug into his arms, waiting to inject him with whatever torturous poisons the Garulen needed to keep him submissive. As if that weren’t enough to control him, chains bound his hands and feet so tightly that the cuffs dug into his blood-caked skin. Severe-blinders hooked into his temples, and his toned back and chest bore deep, ugly contusions from a recent beating. Though lean, he seemed in prime physical condition, not starved like most slaves. His knuckles swelled with open cuts and bruises, as if he had done some damage in retaliation during that beating. In spite of everything, an aura of power and menace clung to him.

  What was he capable of? She crept closer to the wall, inching toward him. Her hand hovered over her weapon. She couldn’t forget he was dangerous, a crouched wild beast wary and ready to strike.

  Her heart raced, and Cyani felt a tingle rushing through her arms as her mind fought back the memory of lying beaten on the floor, listening to the mob chant in the halls.

  She forced the dark echoes from her mind and focused on him. Who was she dealing with? What did they use him for? Was he a pit fighter? Or worse?

  He clenched his jaw but remained silent. He watched her, even though she was certain he could see nothing through the smooth black plates covering his eyes.

  Vicca trotted to the prisoner, her com collar blinking through her fur. The movement drew Cyani’s attention, and she focused on her scout. The fox rubbed her head and shoulders against the prisoner’s leg while her tail swished in indignation. Cyani had been irritated with her scout, but now she understood. She couldn’t have left him there either. Every ounce of honor and holy righteousness that had been ingrained in her being refused to leave him to such terrible torture. She knew this darkness.

  “Com, identify humanoid life-form.” Cyani prepared the microbes to remove the slave bands while waiting for the report to sound in her ear.

  Humanoid life-form has been identified. Species: Byralen. Gender: Male.

  “I noticed,” she muttered. She wasn’t familiar with the Byralen people. “Ability to translate?”

  Language: Unknown. Ability to translate: 0 percent.

  “Great, this should be entertaining.”

  Culture: Unknown.

  “That wasn’t a request.” Exasperated, she inched closer to the prisoner. “Any unusual defenses?”

  Physical characteristics: Byralen can be identified by dark stripes over their shoulders and arms and streaked hair in varying common shades. Their irises contain a phosphorescent chemical compound and can change color at will, possibly used as communication. Byralen emit potent sexual pheromones when aroused, and their sexual fluids contain highly addictive properties. Byralen are strong and fast. Their eyes have the ability to hypnotize. Though not known to be aggressive, Byralen can be deadly when trapped or cornered. Remaining in the presence of an aroused Byralen of the opposite sex can cause altered states of consciousness. Recommendation: Avoid contact if possible.

  “This is getting better by the minute. What are they used for?” she asked the com, though she had a fairly good idea what the answer was going to be.

  Byralen are rare and actively sought as personal sexual slaves on Krona. They are used by the Garulen to produce illegal sexual stimulants and narcotics for the shadow trade. Their worth at auction: Nearly priceless.

  “Fantastic. What did you get me into, Vicca?” Her stell fox pricked her large ears forward and blinked her ice blue eyes then curled her body around the bound foot of the Byralen. Cyani didn’t want to think about what this man had suffered. The thought made her sick. Was he even sane? She turned her attention back to her fox.

  “It’s the stripes, isn’t it? You are a sucker for creatures with stripes.”

  Vicca purred and swished her ringed tail.

  “Com, establish perimeter. High alert.” Cyani waited for the affirmative beep then crept toward the Byralen.

  “I’m here to help you,” she called to the man in the common language of the Union. As she moved, he continued to track her in spite of the blinders. “Hold still while I remove the slave bands.”

  She inched forward and touched his foot. He sprang from the wall, snarling, his large hands grasping for her.

  With agility and instincts born from generations of her warrior matriarchs, Cyani leapt over his shoulder, then rolled to the right, out of the reach of his chains.

  He thrashed in his chains like a Xalen tiger, growling low in his throat. The slave bands on his arms beeped and whirred. The red lights of the bands flickered in the dim light, signaling an injection. The Byralen let out a low moan and staggered on his feet.

  “No,” Cyani gasped. “What are they doing to you?” Cyani ran forward and caught the man before he collapsed to the ground. He winced as she lowered him to the floor. “I have to get you out of here. Com, switch to language of Garu.”

  Hoping her hunch would work, she removed the ear set of her com and attached it to his ear. He twitched and growled, but his body remained limp. She pressed the release buttons on the severe-blinders. The black metal unhooked from his eye sockets and fell from his face.

  His
irises were a dark and swirling mix of black, violet, and glowing red. She tried not to look him in the eyes, unsure if he’d use them to try to hypnotize her. Her skin grew warm and tingled with a strange electric sensation anywhere he touched her.

  She fought the immediate urge to push him away. His touch shook her resolve. She could almost feel the sting of a teaching whip across her calves. She was being impractical. He was injured. She didn’t have long to save him. He needed to trust her quickly.

  “I’m trying to get you out of here,” she insisted in a less patient tone than she would have liked. She didn’t have time to waste.

  Easing back, she tried to break her contact with him, but he grabbed her thigh. She waited for a response, desperately hoping he could understand her.

  They remained motionless for a moment that stretched into an eternity.

  BLINKING HIS BURNING EYES, SOREN’S VISION SLOWLY RETURNED TO FOCUS. His head pounded with the sickening tranquilizer polluting his blood.

  A woman leaned over him, a soldier. He could see sharply in the dim light, but it would take a while to regain his sense of color. He needed to see the color of her eyes.

  She tossed a dark braid of hair over her shoulder and studied the slave bands. Her face was hard but beautiful in a fierce way, and she wore some sort of machine that circled her eye. His head swam as he tried to think. A stabbing pain burst in his heart. He didn’t want to die like this. What color were her eyes?

  She spoke to him, her voice low and commanding, almost as unyielding and determined as her expression. A metallic voice rang in his ear through the contraption she had attached to him. The harsh Garulen language made him shudder, but he understood the words.

  “Can you understand me? Do you know I’m not your enemy?” She leaned closer, her voice a controlled whisper. His vision finally cleared enough to see dark green shining in the strands of hair around her face. Ckili moss, the color of ckili moss. He knew that color. He remembered it. The rest of his vision sharpened. Like dawn after a storm, her eyes were clear bright blue.