“Sylvie?” Joni hesitated, concern darkening her amber eyes to sheets of gold as she paused beside her.
“I’m okay,” Sylvie mumbled as she pressed a hand to her middle. “Fine.”
Or would be as soon as they got the hell out of here.
“Are you sure?” Joni’s tone invited confession and highlighted why Sylvie got along so well with her. Joni was the most supportive person she knew. All they’d been through and Joni pushed them to hold on, promising over and over they’d find freedom. Now here they were. Sylvie leaned her weight into the banister and lowered the hand holding the laser.
Anger. Disappointment. Relief. She felt all of it. The Marenians had ruined everything for her. She’d never get back that hope. With no money and no idea how to return home to Earth, Sylvie was at a lost and released the railing to shove her dirt crusted fist into her mouth to stifle the scream of rage bubbling inside. The butt of the laser banged her chin as she choked back the animalistic sound wanting to escape. It wasn’t fair. Wasn’t fair. Sylvie fought back the urge to slide to her knees as all she’d gone through hit her at once.
Soft arms came around her back. Gentle hands pressed her face into the silk of the gowns they’d both been forced to wear. Tears rolled down her cheeks as Joni held her. The storm lasted a minute tops. They didn’t have time for her to lose it. Not if they wanted to get out of here.
Forcing back the horror that their freedom would be snatched away again, Sylvie tried to step away. Joni’s hold tightened around her. When Sylvie glanced up, she caught the sheen of tears glistening in the woman’s eyes as well. She wrapped her arms around her friend. “We’re going to make it. We’ll be fine.”
And they would be. Sylvie had to believe that. This was the closest they’d ever been to escaping and the tears represented relief.
Joni exhaled heavily. “Right. Earth girls one and sucky Marenians five.”
Sylvie snickered. “At least we’re on the score board.”
A small smile curved Joni’s lips as she tossed her matted hair over her shoulder. “Right. Let’s blow this joint.”
They turned, gazes going to the stairway, which led down to the second floor where they’d been paraded in front of buyers time and time again. Sylvie had been bought twice and returned twice. Once by a chamele, a lizard-like alien that changed colors with his mood. The first time he’d tried to have sex with her, Sylvie had kneed him in his exposed genitals as soon as it slid from the pouch below his groin area. He’d turned bright red, pale yellow then sickly green before collapsing on the floor with a groan.
When he’d recovered, Foro the Chamele had immediately taken her to the nearest Marenian base for a refund of the credits he’d paid. For her defiance, Sylvie had received twenty lashes on the bottom of her feet before a guard shoved her into a cell without food for several days.
Her second purchase had mirrored the first. Sylvie had no plans on making it easy for him either. That time, she’d been returned in less than three days and landed in the Marenians’ version of a hospital after being lashed on her feet so bad the split skin swelled and bled.
“That guy said he had people waiting outside.” Sylvie shivered but not in fear when she thought of the dark-haired man who’d burst into their room after they’d managed to kill the guard. Some things couldn’t be ignored despite the circumstances and her flare of attraction toward him was one of those things.
Joni held up one of the knives she’d taken from the guard. “We can’t trust anyone, Sylvie.”
Remembered pain and betrayal glittered in the other woman’s golden eyes. Joni had been returned five times and had the scars to prove it. Not physical scars anyone could see but scars on the inside that Sylvie worried had damaged her friend beyond saving.
“Alright,” Sylvie agreed, stiffening her spine. “Let’s go.”
They hurried down the stairs, both holding their stolen weapons at the ready in case they faced opposition. Sylvie’s bare toes curled on the cold floor but not once did she slow her pace. On the main floor, Joni detoured down the hall and away from the door leading outside.
“Joni,” Sylvie whispered harshly.
Joni cast a fearful look over her shoulder. “My grandmother’s necklace. The chain popped this morning when they brought me down for a private showing. I know where it fell.”
Sylvie hesitated. They could be caught any moment.
“Please,” Joni said, her gold eyes begging for understanding.
“Alright. Let’s hurry.”
As soon as they entered the room, Joni bee-lined for the platform at the center. Sylvie kept her gaze turned away, not wanting the memories of her own time in this room coming back.
“Found it!” Joni’s shout had a grin breaking out on Sylvie’s face.
A crack of thunder overhead had both of them freezing. Sylvie’s gaze flew to the ceiling where the sound had originated. Another boom followed.
“Shit,” Joni cursed. “What next?”
Sylvie thought of the soldier. Jutak warrior he’d called himself and he had a team. She bet good old American dollars that he had something to do with the explosive noises.
Boom.
Sylvie jerked and even Joni let out a squeak. Dust drifted from above to sprinkle and mix with the grime coating her already. White flakes dotted her arm.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. Sylvie didn’t have a good feeling about this at all. “We really need to get out of here.”
Chapter 2
Arak opened the door to two of the rooms, revealing their empty state, though the blankets and stench led him to believe they’d once been occupied. One more room to check. This was the last on the floor and if Lindsey Ferra wasn’t here they’d have to start from scratch to track her whereabouts.
He paused at the last door, waited a three count then thrust it open all of the way while entering in a crouch. Silence. Arak straightened to his full height and froze. His eyes narrowed to pinpoints and focused. Four men stood at the center of the room in various states of tattered clothing. Vesuvis by the look of their green skin and unkempt hair in lighter shades of green. Pants stained and ragged clung to thin legs. Only one wore the remains of a dark-colored shirt. The others were bare chested. Bruises marred all of them from head to toe.
“I’m a Jutak warrior. You’re being rescued.” It was easiest to get the statement out, making it clear who he was and why he was here.
One of the Vesuvis sagged into the arms of another. His condition was the worst and blood crusted his wide nose and narrow mouth. Each of them was tied together at the ankle with rough, knotted rope.
The tallest of the group pushed his way forward. “How do we know we can trust what you say?”
His voice lacked the lyrical notes used by his race. Each word grated as if spoken by a throat rubbed raw from screaming. The tone indicated they’d been tricked before. The question was valid based on their circumstances but Arak and his teammates didn’t carry ID for obvious reasons. “I can’t help you with that but if you trust me, my team is waiting outside to get you out of here.”
He waited, hoping they’d accept his word though he didn’t have a lot of time. As if on cue, Jaron’s voice came over his communicator. “Don’t know what you and Kyele are doing, Arak but you need to get out of there. Marenians spotted returning.”
“How many?” He might have to force the four men out at laser point.
“Two. I sent Faruk to scout the area for more.”
“Right.” Arak faced the Vesuvis. “I’m sorry, I don’t have time to reassure you but the Marenians who’ve been holding you are coming back. We need to leave now. Can everyone walk? Run if needed?”
They must have sensed the urgency in his tone. The unofficial leader spoke again. “If you can get these bonds off of us, Jutak, we’ll get out of here even if we have to crawl.” He pointed to the coils around their ankles as if not bothered by the scabs crusted over from being rubbed by the abrasive material. Vesuvis prided themse
lves on their intelligence and higher standard of living. Their current condition must have been humiliating yet they stood as one, shoulders back. More respect rose in Arak.
He hurried over and popped his claws when he reached them. He pretended not to see their flinch and sliced through each rope, leaving the ends to trail on the floor. “Go,” he ordered.
They shuffled forward, the weakest half-carried by the others but they moved fast.
Arak tapped his mic. “Kyele, time to evac. Where are you?”
The response came instantly. “I’m in the clear. Making my way back to you.”
“Affirmative.” Arak hustled through the door and ran down the hall. The Vesuvis he’d freed were nowhere in sight.
Arak turned right toward a secondary staircase at the rear of the house. Hopefully Kyele would perform his magic and meet up with him before they had to fight their way out.
“Did either of you clear the basement? I’m getting activity there on my sensors,” Faruk asked.
Arak cursed and Kyele repeated the sentiment. They couldn’t leave without making sure they freed anyone held captive. “On it.”
“Right behind you,” Kyele declared.
Arak ran into Kyele on the second floor. One moment he stood alone and the next, his friend appeared at his side. By mutual agreement they double timed it down the next set of stairs until they reached the steel door to the basement. Steel in comparison to the wood doors on the upper level. Had to be something important down there. He and Kyele exchanged a dark glance full of meaning. Arak fired at the lock mechanism, then raised a booted foot and kicked. The door popped from the jamb and swung open.
The stench of blood hit him first, followed by the acrimonious scent of death. Arak growled, his inner cat roused by the odor.
“Marenian scum,” Kyele snarled, green eyes narrowed.
Arak silently agreed and moved to the left as Kyele stepped to the right. Their gazes met across the space. “On the count of three.”
Kyele nodded.
The hair on the nape of Arak’s neck curled and his Argora half was going crazy. He hefted his laser, instincts buzzing. This mission had just rocketed from simple to complex in a matter of heartbeats.
“Are you picking up on anything?” Kyele murmured, shifting his attention to the open doorway.
Arak arched a brow at the question. The others trusted the animal DNA he’d inherited from his maman but this was the first time Kyele spoke of it. “If you mean do I want to go down there, then the answer is no. Something is way off which means we can’t not go down there.”
Kyele smirked and his green eyes misted with dark shadows. “I’m ready when you are, cat boy.”
Nothing could be seen through the inky darkness with the exception of the three steps leading downward. Steps which could lead to anything, including the horror he associated with the scents emanating from below.
Arak snorted. “Ready.”
Counting off in his head, Arak burst through the doorway at the same time as Kyele only for a coil to snag around Arak’s leg on the second step. He roared as jagged pain tore through him. Thousands of knives slashed through his right thigh as he fell over the last step and to his knees before rolling onto his back. He roared again as the pain lashed at him.
A loud thump behind him had Arak tensing as Kyele came crashing down. His friend was on his feet immediately and kneeling at his side.
“How bad?” Kyele asked.
Arak clenched his jaw, fighting back the pain as the spasms ripped through him. A quick check and for sure his leg was a mess. His combat pants bore a tear from the thigh down to his ankle where the material gapped around his black boots. Blood soaked onto the floor beneath him. “Bad enough.”
He cursed for good measure as Kyele pulled a micro medi-pak from one of his many pants’ pockets. His teammate worked quickly and efficiently as he cleaned the area with a spray and swabbed Arak with an antibiotic. The pressure bandage he slapped on the bleeding wound burned worst than the pain of the injury.
Arak’s fangs drew blood as he bit his bottom lip to force back snarls of rage. Kyele studied his expression then calmly asked, “Are you down for the count or good?”
All sorts of good natured insults were on the tip of his tongue. Kyele’s scar twitched, green eyes glinting. Arak knew he waited for the litany of curses. Unbelievably, Arak chuckled. He refused to let the Marenians get the best of him. “I’m good. Help me stand.”
The corner of Kyele’s mouth curved up as he leaned forward and wrapped an arm around Arak’s waist. With a heave, Kyele brought both of them to their feet. Arak’s muscles went taut with pain. Kyele waited long enough for Arak to attain his balance and stepped away. Surprisingly, Arak still held his laser in one hand. He tightened his grip and winced as he applied weight to his leg. It hurt like he’d been sliced open to the bone and probably had been. They’d have to wait to have Dr. Maku, their unit doctor, repair the damage when they returned to their home world of Enotia. It would make for a nasty transport ride back but Arak had been through worse.
“What did I hit?” And why would the Marenians feel the need to leave the trap behind for an empty room? His gaze took in the interior of a single large space with racks screwed upright into the scored surface of stone walls. Abandoned chains lay in heaps in the darkest corner, while a table covered with medical equipment and a smashed communicator was pushed along one wall. Various stains marred the floor beneath their feet and Arak didn’t need a second opinion or the drain on the floor to confirm this place had once been used to torture reluctant slaves. The lack of dust declared its frequency of use.
Kyele bent to pick up the remnants of a wicki wheel attached to a chain link that extended from the wall. The device was used by illegal hunters on the wildest game. “Retractable. Motion activated.”
The rest of the trap lay shattered on the floor. In the midst of the pieces were several broken blades tipped with his blood. A dangerous toy to leave around. Arak eyed Kyele, who aside from a streak of dirt on his cheek next to his scar, looked fine.
Arak inhaled sharply to control the pain but flinched as he shifted his weight and the essence of blood on the air filled his nostrils. A lingering whiff of death had his claws releasing on his free hand.
“Do you see anything I’m missing?” Kyele asked, rising to his feet while waiting for Arak’s assessment.
Another visual sweep and his senses, though alert, remained calm. Arak shook his head. “Nothing. Grab the memory chip from the communicator. We’ll see if Jaron can salvage anything.”
Kyele nodded and tapped his mic. “Jaron, Faruk, the basement is clear. We’re heading up. Position on the returning Marenians?”
“They didn’t go in. Circled around the building,” Faruk spoke, heavy pants in between the words as if he stayed on the move. “They never tried to enter and left on the hover bikes they arrived on.”
There was an underlying tone in Faruk’s words. Arak tried to place it but couldn’t. He met Kyele’s eyes across the room. Confusion darkened the green orbs and for a moment Arak could swear they swirled like polished metal before returning to their normal state.
“Affirmative.” Kyele hurried toward the desktop communicator and pried the side panel off with his knife then slipped the small, data chip in his shirt pocket.
Faint rumbles suddenly shook the building from above. Arak stiffened, sending a shaft of pain shooting down his thigh.
“Explosives!” Jaron yelled in their ear comm. “Get out now!” The team leader’s voice had lost its calm rhythms and sent adrenaline spiking down Arak’s spine.
“Move,” Kyele snapped, rushing toward him and providing support with his shoulder as they reversed direction and fled back the way they’d come.
Arak’s jaw clenched with each step. No time to worry about his leg if they ended up stuck in this shit hole. Another rumble from above as soon as they reached the main floor and a section of the ceiling gave way.
“Arak, re
port! Kyele, where the fuck are you guys?”
The distant boom of bombs going off blurred the rest of Jaron’s shouts.
“Moving,” Arak snarled back. To Kyele. “Go! I’m slowing you down.”
To emphasize his point, Arak shoved his friend ahead. Clouds of dust and burning pieces of metal fell around them.
“You’re crazy,” Kyele argued, playing with that damn knife of his in one hand.
Arak might be crazy but the two of them wouldn’t make it in his current condition. “I’ll find another way out,” he lied.
Kyele returned to his side and lifted the bulk of Arak’s weight with one arm. “Can you shift?”
He referred to Arak’s secondary form. Arak reached for his cat and tested the idea. The response came without hesitation. “No, the shift will drain me.”
Another loud crack split the night around them and a long rafter above crashed down, blocking the way to the front door. Flames erupted from the ceiling and the acrid odor of smoke curled around them.
Kyele laughed. Freaking bastard.
“Looks like we have to find another way out together, Arak.”
A reluctant grin tugged at Arak’s lips. As if Kyele had even contemplated leaving him behind.
“Jutak!”
Arak froze and Kyele spun on his boot heels. Both of them fired at the same time but the approaching Marenians ducked and threw themselves to the floor as they returned fire. Arak dove to the side, continuing to blast his laser at the two slavers.
“Fetch, cat boy.” Kyele tossed his laser in Arak’s decision.
What the…?
Reflex had him reaching up to snag the weapon flying through the air toward his face. Arak pushed off backward with his feet until he hit the wall, pain screaming up and down his leg. He jammed his own laser into his thigh holster and aimed the other around the room. Arak tried to pin down the location of the Marenians as Kyele disappeared.
Arak's Love: A World Beyond Book 2 Page 2
