HUNTER’S REVENGE
By
Bonnie Rose Leigh
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Hunter’s Revenge
Copyright ã 2007 Bonnie Rose Leigh
ISBN: 1-55410-995-7
Cover art and design by Martine Jardin
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Published by eXtasy Books
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Dedication:
My thanks go to fellow authors Jennifer Loy, Antonia Pearce and Tianna Xander for their valuable input as I wrote this manuscript. I’d also like to thank my beta reader for her help in getting this book ready. And of course, I can’t forget the man in my life, Chris, who even through illness and strife, has stayed by my side, encouraging me in all that I do.
Prologue
Brantiff Shi’Lan, King of Chantrea, sat at his throne holding his mate’s hand as he watched the festivities going on around him. His youngest son, Taliff danced with his new Earther-Lionese mate, Eve. What a strong, proud woman this Eve was. So courageous. She would be a strong mate to his son, and would not only be good for Taliff personally, but would be good for Chantrea.
He turned to his mate, Luma. Smiled at her as he raised their entwined hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles. It had taken their kidnapping for him to see just what a strong woman he’d mated with. For so long, he’d taken her for granted, ignored her strengths, using her only as a vessel for his seed. Only during captivity did he finally get to know and love his mate. That was a damn crime, in his opinion.
Now if only Hunter could find someone who would make him as happy as Eve has made Taliff and his own mate, Luma, made him. Where was Hunter anyway?
He searched the crowd until he finally spotted him, leaning against the wall, watching his brother and Eve dance. Brantiff put his hand to his chin and watched his eldest thoughtfully. What thoughts could possibly put such a desolate expression on his face?
* * * *
In the farthest corner of the room, away from the surging crowd, Hunter sighed wistfully as he watched his brother and Eve dance. His mate was out there somewhere. It was only a matter of time before he brought her home. Easing away from the wall, Hunter left the others behind and made his way to his suite. He had packing to do.
Chapter One
Above the ice planet, Visara…
Hunter Shi’Lan, former High King and now, once again, Crown Prince and heir to the throne of Chantrea, stared down at the barren planet below him. Tension ran through his body, causing the beast within to stir and stretch. If he didn’t get a grip on his emotions soon, he would end up shifting into his Lionese form right here in the middle of the command deck of the Manruvian Warship, Victory.
He could feel her--feel his mate. He didn’t know her. Didn’t know her name or what she looked like, but somewhere below, on a planet of ice and snow, his lady mate awaited him.
He shuddered, imagining all the horrors she could even now be suffering. He had no doubt that the rebels had raped her, probably repeatedly over the course of her imprisonment. Such was the fate of every one of the unfortunate females kidnapped by the infamous Black Rose and her demented followers—those who were unlucky enough to survive their capture, anyway. At least six of the women from his brother’s ship were below, according to the microscopic tracking devices Taliff had inserted into their bloodstreams when they'd left Earth.
Once he freed the women held captive within the subterranean caverns, he would finally meet the one woman whose injured spirit had called to him across the vast emptiness of space. Even now, he could feel intense pain crawling through her body, sense her waning spirit, feel her tears of grief and rage in his mind—as he had for the last three lunar cycles.
Three moon rotations of her suffering had about driven him mad, enraging the lion within who roared his anger, his thirst for vengeance. How had she survived such torment for so long? Even now, he knew of the insidious whispers in her mind, telling her it was best to end her life. She felt she would be better off dead—and in the hands of the Black Rose, it was true. But soon, he would have her, hold her in his arms, and somehow he would make everything all right again. He had to.
“Excuse me, Prince Shi’Lan?”
Startled out of his dark thoughts, he growled then turned toward the Manruvian warrior standing behind him. “Yes, Sander?”
“Prince Logann is requesting your presence in his private quarters.”
Hunter nodded then turned his gaze back toward the viewport. “Tell him I’ll be there momentarily.”
“Yes, your Highness.”
Braced against the viewport with one arm, Hunter lifted his free hand to run his fingers down the transomani—the translucent and indestructible material the Manruvians developed to mimic windows. Close. He was so close to being able to touch her this way.
His gut twisted. He needed to remind himself that she’d be traumatized and no matter how much he would want to hold her, explore her body, he’d have to proceed slowly. She would fear him. She would fear any male. He’d die before he purposely inflicted harm upon her.
Straightening away from the portal, Hunter tucked his hands in the pockets of his uniform pants. “Soon, my mate. Soon, I’ll bring you home where you belong.” With one last glance at the icy planet below, he turned and walked away.
* * * *
Amy Morgan lifted her bruised and battered head when she heard the groaning creak of the opening door. Not another man. Not again. She couldn't take another one so soon after the last. Already she felt as though she would never heal from the numerous injuries she'd suffered during these animals’ attempts at impregnating her. How did they ever expect a woman to survive, to carry a child to term? If she were to become pregnant here, her child would never draw its first breath. She was certain of it. And, if it were a female, would she have the heart, the strength, to smother her in her sleep to spare her this fate?
“Please, Goddess, just let me die,” she sobbed into the dirty mattress as she felt the bed dip beneath yet another man’s weight. She tried to shift away from the new arrival, helpless to stop the agonized groan when even the slightest movement sent shards of burning pain through her abdomen.
A tender hand pushed the hair from her face and she cried for she knew she must be dreaming. No man residing in this hole they all called the ‘land of promise’ had such capacity for gentleness.
"Please, please don't touch me," she sobbed onto the stained mattress. "If you ever loved your mother, your sister, take pity and kill me when you're through with me."
The large hand splayed over her back, gently rubbed soft circles on her bruised flesh. It wasn't the first time one of them tried to trick her with the illusion of gentleness. She wouldn't fall for it this time. Not again—never again would they trick her into believing they cared for her welfare. It took a while, but now she knew these animals didn’t know the meaning
of true gentleness. She wondered if any man truly did. The men here didn’t have an ounce of compassion between them. They liked to hear her beg them to help her escape, to return her to her home world, Earth. Hell would even be better than here.
She'd been tortured, abused, raped several times a day since they kidnapped her from the ship that stole her from her home. She longed to hear her mother’s voice again. Wished she could be home, held in her father’s arms. He may have been strict, but he’d loved her, protected her from animals just like these.
Her body ached, sometimes bled from each encounter. One day ran into the next and she just wanted to rest. To die would be preferable to having countless men rape her day in and day out.
The hand stopped its soothing motion and she knew it would begin again. She clamped her mouth shut, determined not to scream. They always liked it when she screamed.
“Ssshh... Moya, do not cry so. Your ordeal is over. It’s time to take you home.”
She shuddered. She couldn’t bear to listen to the soothing rasp of his voice, wouldn’t dare to believe he had come to help her escape. Thoughts like those led to madness.
She felt the air stir beside her, felt the bed rise once the male behind her stood. The air whooshed out of her lungs when she realized she might actually get a reprieve. Why wasn’t he groping her, ripping the sheet from her body, shoving her legs open and rutting on her? Or was this just a way to catch her off guard?
Minutes passed and the silence lengthened. The tension in her shoulders, her spine, began to ease. He must have left. Why would he leave before he got what he wanted? Wasn’t impregnation in the attempt to breed more females the entire reason they’d kept her locked behind iron doors?
Only when she was sure he’d left did she completely relax and ease away from the rough cavern wall. Despite the tortuous pain moving caused her, she rolled to her back and forced open her swollen and bruised eyes.
“There you are, moya. What is your name, little one?”
Oh, God. Why didn’t she realize he’d never left? Were her senses now failing her just as her body had? “Why?”
Through heavily swollen eyes, she watched the large man make his way toward her. She gasped, in fear, in confusion. His face… His face looked so familiar. Yet, it didn’t quite fit in her memories. He looked wrong, somehow.
Why couldn’t she remember him? Had the continued beatings affected her memory? Did she even know him or had she finally cracked? Perhaps she had a concussion. With as many times as they’d beat her, she wouldn’t be surprised to find she had brain damage.
There was no time to figure it out as he moved closer and closer. Her heart stuttered in her chest. She tasted the fear in her throat. Even now, knowing he couldn’t possibly do anything different than the others, she feared his touch. Why couldn’t she just lose herself and grow used to it as she’d been told so many of the others had? She’d been told some of them actually welcomed the men to their beds. She shuddered at the thought. Before she could prepare to defend herself, he leaned over her, reached out with his large hands—hands that were scarred, calloused, rough looking. They were hands that could crush her with a single blow. How had she ever thought he would be gentle?
She inwardly cringed, swallowed past the lump that suddenly lodged in her throat. She couldn’t take her eyes off those large hands, knowing they could tear her to pieces with barely any effort, especially considering the shape she was in.
She whimpered when he touched her, ran his fingers through her greasy, limp hair. Tears poured from her eyes when she knew it would come as it always had. How many weeks, months had she spent here, dreading the arrival of the next male? How much time had passed while she’d been held here in her stone prison, as nothing but a vessel for her kidnapper’s seed? How long had she spent in stasis as her kidnappers transported her to this frozen wasteland? She felt so much older. When she’d woken inside the stasis chamber, her body didn’t quite feel like it used to and then the first of many men came to her, used her, and nothing had mattered since.
She couldn’t even starve herself. If she didn't eat the slop they provided, they injected her with something that replaced the nourishment she refused herself and the beatings would start all over again. She wasn't supposed to fight or rebel. They expected her to be submissive, to just spread her legs and take it. In the beginning, she couldn’t do that. Just as she could never seem to find the courage to end her own life.
She shuddered as his hands smoothed over her flesh. His lingering touch passed over her arms, her legs before he pulled away. When she thought she’d get a slight reprieve, he once again touched her, this time sliding his hands beneath her bottom.
She groaned. Grief and pain warred within her. She was a coward. No. She was worse than a coward. She deserved everything she got because she'd fought at first, then finally, after countless males violated her, she resigned herself to the fact that no one would come. No one knew where she was, no one cared enough to come for her, and she was lost.
For the last several weeks, she'd lain on her semen-stained cot and waited, dreaded the inevitable visit of the next man. One after another, they visited her—sometimes as many as six or seven in a day. Those days she tried to leave her body, lose herself in her mind. There she was free, they couldn’t touch her and she would lose count of the men who visited her. She no longer fought them, no longer even acknowledged them, just let them use her body for their cause.
One after the other, they came to her. They came inside her with brutal disregard for her well-being. She didn't have the heart—or the courage—to bring her life to an end. What kind of worthless piece of shit did that make her?
He lifted her against his chest then stood, cradling her against his torso. “No, please. Please. Don’t take me to them. No, please. You can fuck me, do what you want with my body, but don’t take me to those butchers, the ones who call themselves healers.”
With what little energy that remained in her body, she jackknifed against him, desperate to get out of his arms. She’d do anything to avoid another internal exam while the doctors stuck their dirty instruments in all her private areas and her kidnappers looked on with maniacal glee.
“Hush, moya. It will all be over before you know it.”
Before she realized just what he’d planned, everything went dark. She could feel herself slip into darkness and thanked all that was holy that they’d finally decided to end her worthless life.
* * * *
As his mate succumbed to unconsciousness, Hunter dropped the tiny syringe on the dirt floor, crushing it beneath his feet. He hadn’t wanted to give the sedative to her, especially since he didn’t know what other drugs they’d pumped into her during her captivity, but she’d given him no choice. He wouldn’t take a chance with her life. If she inadvertently raised the alarm while he tried escaping this vile prison and the enemy captured them, her life would become even harder, if that were possible.
When he’d first entered her cell, his inner lion roared in denial. It took all his control to prevent himself from shifting, ripping her bedding to shreds beneath his claws. The smell of other males in the room, the scent of their semen mixed with his mate’s essence had nearly driven him over the edge to madness.
Seeing her there, lying battered and bruised, her spirit nearly broken, was all that kept his beast leashed. Her needs, her welfare came first. Tears of frustration and rage burned his eyes when she begged him to kill her. That his mate felt so alone, could feel such hopelessness, nearly brought him to his knees.
Pushing down his anger and despair, he vowed before all that was holy—on the feet of the Goddess Alana herself—he would avenge his mate. He’d hunt down every man whose scent still hung in the air. Every vile creature that soiled her would die. Slowly. Painfully. When he finally found their ringleader, The Black Rose, she would wish she’d stayed dead to him, his sister or not.
Pulling his mate closer to his chest, Hunter’s arms trembled as he forced his rage t
o pass over him. No matter what he had to do, he’d see that she healed. She’d never want for anything again, be it emotionally or physically. First, he had to get her out of these seemingly endless subterranean caverns.
It had taken hours to locate her and the others—hours of slipping unseen through the tunnels while they searched for as many prisoners as they could. He needed to get her and the others aboard The Victory for immediate medical treatment. That, however, might not be so easy.
This far below the ice planet’s surface, they couldn’t use the ship’s transporting technology to simply transfer themselves aboard the warship. They’d need to travel through the tunnels until they reached the surface, each carrying an injured or traumatized woman. The task ahead was daunting, but not impossible with the right amount of determination. He and the men who’d accompanied him were very determined, indeed.
Careful not to jostle his mate, Hunter made his way to the thick iron-ore door and slowly eased it open. As he expected, his ally and closest friend, Mikel Logann, High Prince of Manruvia, stood guard, watching his back even now, when danger literally surrounded them.
Nodding at Mikel, Hunter silently moved behind his friend and into the narrow, low-slung, rock-carved tunnel.
“You had to sedate her then.” It wasn’t a question so Hunter didn’t bother to answer. He could only be thankful his brother’s mate, Eve, had commissioned their planet’s healers to make a large enough supply of the powerful sedative. With it, those in pain and suffering with their injuries would be more comfortable for the trip home to Chantrea.
While sedated, their bodies would have a chance to heal and they would be blessedly free from the pain they had lived with over these last months. Their minds, however, were another matter. It could take years for their psyches to recover and even then, the women would forever carry mental and emotional scars.
Worlds Apart 2: Hunter's Revenge Page 1
