Legends of the Damned: A Collection of Edgy Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels

by Lindsey R. Loucks

  When Ballard turned off the alarms and she realized they were still alive, she started breathing again.

  “The Ice Cap base fired at the raiders.” He took a deep breath and then tilted a grim half-grin at her. “At least it wasn’t us.”

  “Did they hit the raiders?” She moved closer, peering over his shoulder.

  Ballard scanned the monitors. “Looks like they took out the raider vessel, or at least damaged it bad enough we won’t have to worry about them.”

  He flipped through a couple of screens until he got to one displaying a diagram with blinking lights and arrows. “That’s us.” He pointed to a yellow dot. “Those two are Trench, that’s Ice Cap in the Narwhal, and that’s the Ice Cap base that we escaped from. The red means they’re armed and ready to fire on a target. The arrows show where they’ve got their weapons aimed.”

  The Narwhal was aiming straight at them. The Ice Cap base had two arrows, one pointing at each of the Trench vessels. And the Trench vessels were aiming at the base and the Narwhal.

  She puffed her cheeks and blew out a breath. “Well, this is a fine little standoff we have.”

  Ballard had gone back to typing on a different monitor. “I’m trying to reach VM Casta at the base. If he’s there without any other Trench allies, though, there’s probably not much he can do.”

  The console started beeping, an urgent high-pitched sound. Ballard slapped at a button and the alarm silenced.

  “What was that?”

  “Ice Cap base. If they were at ‘aim’ before, now they’re at ‘ready to fire.’” He paused and looked at her for a moment that seemed to draw out.

  His face was so grave. His eyes so deeply solemn. Though Talia hadn’t known him long, in that look she read his thoughts: he didn’t believe they’d get out of this alive.

  “I’m so sorry, Talia. You’re intelligent and beautiful and determined to do good in the world. You shouldn’t be here, you should be up there doing your work and just living your life. I’m sorry that you got mixed up in this, that you’ve become an innocent victim . . .” He blinked hard, shook his head, and then turned back to the monitors, furiously typing and flipping through screens.

  Her lips parted and her breath escaped, and with it any possible words. What was there to say? She stared at the flickering readouts, at the things Ballard typed, but didn’t really see any of it.

  Talia shook her head as if snapping herself from a trance. This was insane. She was not going to die at the bottom of the ocean, caught in some deep sea power struggle that had nothing to do with her. “Ballard, is there a way to talk to everyone at once?”

  “Yes, there are a couple of common communication channels.”

  “I want to get on them.” She waited for him to turn to her. “I’m going to tell them that if they all turn off their torpedoes—disarm—and promise to return me and the other women home, I will cure your plague.”

  His mouth dropped open for a second, then he turned back to the console. He typed rapidly for a moment, then reached up and flipped a switch. He moved out of the seat and pointed to a little speaker built into the front edge of the console. He nodded at her. “The channel is open. You can speak into the mic.”

  She swallowed hard and sat down, then placed both hands on edge of the console, one on each side of the mic. Sending out a prayer to the universe that she’d find the right words, she took a deep breath.

  “This is Talia Conner, one of the women from Above. I understand a terrible illness has taken the lives of many women here Below—your sisters, wives, daughters, mothers, and friends—and left others barren. I’m an expert in lethal communicable diseases, and eradicating diseases like your plague is my life’s work. I believe I can end your plague. And I want to.” She paused and swallowed again, her throat dry and her heart hammering. “Viruses are highly adaptable. Eventually the virus causing your plague will mutate to affect men, too.” She paused again to let that sink in, hoping those listening were imagining the scenario she was describing. “If you don’t take action against this plague, it will wipe you out. You don’t have the knowledge or resources to stop it. But I do. If you all will disarm and agree to safely and immediately return all of the women who’ve been taken from Above, I promise I will use all of the resources at my disposal to end your plague. This is your only hope. If you don’t accept my help, I truly believe your people will die out.”

  She turned to Ballard, looking up at him silently, and then squeezed her eyelids closed and covered her face with her hands. It would never work. They had no real reason to believe her. They’d already set themselves on this course of destruction. But she had to give it a shot; she had to offer them an opportunity to save themselves, and if they were too stupid to—

  “Talia.” Ballard’s hand was on her shoulder. “Look.”

  She opened her eyes to see that he was pointing at the diagram of the base and all of the vessels. The dot representing the Narwhal was now green. She watched as the Ice Cap base changed from red to green. A second later, the two Trench vessels turned green too.

  Ballard dropped to one knee beside her and reached around her to swipe at a monitor. “They’re talking to each other.”

  “Sea Dragon, hold your position,” came a voice from the console.

  “That was Trench,” Ballard said to her. He hit a button and spoke into the mic. “This is Sea Dragon, holding and awaiting further instructions.”

  Talia took a shaking breath, her eyes glued to the green dots. A spark of hope began to warm the center of her chest.

  Ballard slipped his hand under her arm and around her back and pulled her to him. She leaned into his embrace, letting him hold her. “I think you just saved all of us,” he said.

  Epilogue

  Ballard brought his wrist to his ear, listening to the faint, measured tick . . . tick . . . tick of the watch he wore. When he and the Trench men had gathered all of the kidnapped women to return them Above, Talia had removed the watch from her own wrist and strapped it to his. The watch was his now, he knew, but he still thought of it as a loan. Something to tie them together until they met again.

  He’d learned later that the rogue Ice Cap group had planned to use the kidnapped women’s eggs, as well as impregnated Below women, as bargaining chips to demand vehicles, resources, and equipment for a new colony. The Ice Cap colony—being much smaller than the Marianas Trench colony—wanted to expand and increase their power. If things went badly, the Ice Cap political and military leaders would simply claim that the rogue group was acting alone and beg forgiveness.

  Trench had tracked Ballard’s location through an implant in his ear, placed unbeknownst to him before his mission when he’d undergone a procedure to alter his tattoos to match those common among Ice Cap men. His Trench superiors had used his location to discover where the rogue group was operating and to eventually send in Vice Minister Casta, who posed as a disgruntled second-in-command seeking to be the Minister of the new colony in exchange for Trench Colony intelligence, and offering to stand as a formidable negotiator when the time came for Ice Cap to make their demands.

  Ballard understood the need for secrecy and realized he’d needed to go into his mission believing he had no connection to Trench, but the isolation of his year as a spy had taken its toll.

  There was something that helped him chip away at the necessary walls he’d built around himself, though. Not something—someone.

  He steered his one-man deep-sea vehicle to the usual spot, powered it down to standby, and dropped anchor. He checked the strap that crossed his chest—the strap secured a pack that contained several tubes of blood samples in a specially-designed carrier—and then angled his body so he could climb from the cockpit to the water lock.

  The water lock compartment was barely big enough for him to sit in with his legs folded up against his chest and his broad shoulders bumping against the sides, but he only had to be in there for a minute or two. He exhaled a long breath and then sucked in, filling
his lungs to capacity. When he could hold no more air, he lifted a safety shield and pressed a glowing red button.

  The water rushing in to fill the compartment buffeted his body a bit, but the flood of cool liquid over his skin was like returning home. As soon as the compartment was full, the hatch sprang open and he pushed out into the dark ocean.

  Only twenty-five feet under the surface, he could easily make the swim on one lungful of air. He could take his time and swim for a while, but he didn’t want to. He aimed for the surface and kicked hard, flying through the water like an arrow.

  At the surface, he paused, letting his ears equalize and orienting himself. The quarter moon overhead dappled the surface of the water with cool splashes of opal light. Plenty to see by for the swim to shore.

  Letting his legs do most of the work, he kicked toward the lights that outlined the beach. He scanned the darkness, trying to pick out a familiar form. When he was about fifteen yards out, he spotted someone standing alone at the water’s edge. Even from this distance, he’d know that profile anywhere.

  Talia stood with her feet in the water, the breeze rustling the hem of her sundress around her knees. She shivered and goose bumps spread in a wave down her arms, torso, and thighs. But she wasn’t shivering from cold—tonight was a balmy, warm summer night on the Gulf Coast. The ripples cascading through her were pure anticipation.

  Ballard would be here any minute with more blood samples that had been collected from people Below. Since her return home, she’d been working with single-minded focus on characterizing their plague, sending treatments for the people who were sick, and developing a vaccine that would prevent further spread of the disease.

  Well, it wasn’t completely accurate to say that her focus was single-minded. There was one other thing on her mind. Once a week, Ballard came Above to bring her blood samples and notes from the medical workers Below and to take the trial treatments she was developing back to his people. The samples and information were, of course, vital to the work that she was extremely passionate about.

  But she’d discovered another passion, one that had deepened since she’d been kidnapped from a beach only a few miles from this one. The nights Ballard stayed with her once a week were like a dream, the type of dream that left her happy, spent, and glowing with an enormous smile of satisfaction on her face . . . Even just a wisp of memory of their last night together sent a spiral of arousal swirling deep through her body.

  They’d found each other under such extreme and dangerous circumstances, and yes, at first their attraction had been mostly physical. But now, it was that and so much more. Together, they were working in secret to save hundreds of people, and their common goal bonded them in a way Talia never could have imagined.

  When she spotted a head and shoulders rise from the water, she bit her lower lip, smiling broadly in the dark and resisting the urge to run out to meet him. Instead, she stood perfectly still, relishing the prospect of being with Ballard and simply grateful that he’d returned yet again.

  But when he was knee-deep, she couldn’t stand it any longer. With a quiet laugh, she skipped out into the water and threw her arms around his neck.

  Ballard caught her around her waist and lowered his mouth to hers. The delicious salt of his lips and the flick of his tongue over hers made her legs go weak.

  “I’ve gotten your dress all wet,” he said, amusement dancing around the edges of his voice. Moonlight glinted in his eyes.

  Talia knew she was grinning like an idiot but couldn’t be bothered to hold back. “Like I care about that.” She lowered her lids halfway. “In fact, if you’d like to lay me down right up there and finish the job, I wouldn’t object.”

  He sucked gently at her throat and made a guttural sound of enthusiasm at her suggestion. His hand gathered up the fabric of her dress at her thigh until his fingers touched her skin, trailing upward to her hip and then over the front of her hip bone.

  She let out a sighing moan and tightened her arms around his neck. If they did drop to the sand right here, it wouldn’t be the first time. But tonight she wanted to take him to the privacy of her home, to her bed, where she could see every line of his body and every ripple of muscle. Where she could spend as much time as possible with her body in contact with his before he had to leave again.

  He moved one arm across her shoulder blades and swept the other one behind her knees. She laughed as he lifted her up against his bare chest, carrying her out of the water and across the dark beach by the light of the moon.

  * * *

  The End

  Read more by Jayne Faith here

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  About the Author

  Hi there! I'm Jayne Faith, USA TODAY bestselling author of the urban fantasy Ella Grey Series and the dystopian romance Sapient Salvation Series. When I'm not tapping away at my keyboard while swilling coffee and tea, I'm playing with my dog; eating, flipping through recipes online, fantasizing about food, dreaming up my next meal (yeah, I'm obsessed with food); doing yoga or Pilates; or watching TV.

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  Taken

  A Many Lives story

  Laxmi Hariharan

  Taken © copyright 2016 Laxmi Hariharan

  * * *

  Example Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Taken

  When a promise to save the city means risking your heart

  ARIA

  If I can get out of here alive, I'll never let myself fall victim to them again.

  JAI

  I am sworn to protect this city, but I'll do anything to save her

  Everything in solider-poet Jai Iyeroy's life has led up to his moment. Everyone is counting on him. And he plans to deliver. But when Aria West comes back into his life, he vows to protect her—even if it means breaking his vow to the city. Can Jai find a way to keep his promise while saving the only woman he's ever loved?

  Background

  In what was once India, Bombay is the capital of the newly formed Indostan. It is also one of the most prosperous cities in the world.

  Meanwhile, successive economic downturns have stripped most Western cities, including London, of its wealth. A plutocratic government in Britain has pushed many to seek a new life in the East. Refugees from London now pour into Bombay, into the camp nicknamed the Jungle. And no one is safe from the growing menace of the shifters.

  Chapter One

  Bombay, October 2039

  If I get out of here alive, I’m never to going to let myself feel so helpless again. I shuffle through the mud, head bowed against the hot sea wind. Something half-buried in the mud glitters, and when I stop, a shove sends me sprawling on the ground. Flinging out an arm to shield myself against the inevitable next blow I spring back up, my hand now clutching a baby’s shoe.

  A blood-stained shoe.

  A shiver runs down my spine. No one is safe here. No one.

  The tiny shoe falls from my nerveless fingers.

  "Go on," the soldier prods me with his gun. "Won’t do to keep the General waiting."

  Reaching th
e open Jeep, he thrusts me inside, onto the floor.

  I curse aloud and straighten. Just in time to see him snap a salute at another vehicle. A Humvee passes us, heading for the Jungle – the refugee camp that’s been my home for the past few months.

  No doubt the driver is some high-ranking official among the Guardians, part of the Council that runs Bombay City. He’s on his way to hurt someone. Even kill. Or perhaps wreck the temporary huts we call home. Anything to rid us of hope, to make us leave.

  But where do we go? Back to our country, where we’d as likely be hunted down and killed? Back to the homes which were burnt down by the soldiers who had taken over New London?

  Trapped. You are trapped here.

  Anger twists my gut. I can’t let myself be taken. Not like this.

  Not. Without. A. fight.

  Without giving myself time to think, I leap at the guy still standing to attention outside the Jeep, taking him down. Pulling the gun from his side I am back on my feet and pointing the weapon at him before he has time to breathe. His eyes widen as I take aim.

  I’m about to squeeze the trigger when something slams into me from behind.

  Red-violet sparks explode behind my eyes and I crash to the ground. Pain slashes up my arms as my wrists are pulled behind me and shackled. My legs tied together before I’m thrown back into the Jeep. My head slams against the hard floor, sending another wave of red and white light crashing through my head. Trying to recover, I shift. And strain at my bonds, trying to slide onto my back when a coin rolls out of my pocket.