by Presley Hall
Both the larger ship and my own bypass the ring surrounding the planet, and as we get closer to the ground, I split off, well below the radar that could alert the solar council to my presence now. I relax a little, speeding over the surface of the planet as I look for a space large enough to set the ship down once I reach the pinged area.
I gaze down at the surface, wondering what Droth and the others have been doing for the past five years—what their lives have been like in a place like this. When I followed him with the others into rebellion against his uncle Drokar, I always knew there was a possibility that we might not win. But I followed Droth anyway, because it was the right thing to do. He was—and is—my prince, and the rightful heir.
But when I considered the possibility of loss, of capture and punishment, I always imagined being with my brothers through it all. Instead, I was injured in the fight, knocked unconscious by an explosion in the palace as we attacked. Because my body was hidden under rubble, I wasn’t captured with the others, and by the time I regained consciousness, it was too late to help them.
Droth and the warriors with him had already been rounded up.
Furious at the attempt to dethrone him, Drokar acted quickly. The captured rebels were banished, the rebellion quashed, and the usurping traitor was firmly installed on the throne.
Even now, five years later, my gut still twists with guilt and remorse at the memory. But there’s nothing I can do to change what happened.
What I can do is try to get them out of this place now.
I push thoughts of the past aside as I near the signal, rubbing one hand absently over my jaw. The scar tissue covering that side of my face from the burns I sustained in the explosion is familiar now, so much so that I often forget about it. And after all, it’s not as if I’ve had to worry about what someone else might think of my looks now. Since the rebellion was driven into hiding, finding a mate has been the last thing on my mind. Even the simple pleasure of spending the night with a woman hasn’t been a priority. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed the touch of a female companion.
But none of that matters right now. I have a new mission, a singular purpose—to bring my prince home, so that we can finish what we started five years ago and end Drokar’s reign once and for all.
The radar on my control deck lights up, a green circle expanding to show me that I’ve reached the area where I last picked up a signal from Droth’s communicator. We didn’t talk for long, in order to avoid the chance of being noticed by the solar council, so I’m not sure of the exact location. But this is near enough that I should be able to find them without too much difficulty.
I find a clearing sizable enough to set the ship down. The vessel I stole is larger than I would have preferred, but Droth told me to bring as big a ship as I could manage. Once I’ve cut the engine, I disembark fully armed with blasters and a pair of hunting knives, wanting to be prepared for anything that I might come across. There’s a strange mix of nervousness and anticipation in my chest as I exit the ship. It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a new planet and had to face unknown and unpredictable dangers.
The foliage around the ship is dense, and I keep a careful eye out as I push through it with a knife in one hand, scanning my surroundings not just for wildlife that might attack, but vegetation too. There are a great number of poisonous plants here, according to my research, as well as carnivorous vines that can be well-disguised. The entire planet seems designed to try to kill anyone who attempts to live here, which, I suppose, is what makes it an ideal place to dump those that the universe’s authorities most want to be rid of.
I shove through a particularly thick tangle of branches, stumbling a little—and when I look up, there’s someone directly in front of me, so close that I almost run directly into them as they come out of a stand of trees just ahead of me.
Directly into her.
The woman—it’s almost certainly a female, though one of a species I’ve never encountered before—lets out a startled yelp, her hands flying up as she stumbles backward.
Akhi. I curse inwardly.
I don’t know who else might be in the vicinity, but as she opens her mouth again, I react immediately, worried that any other noise she makes might alert enemies to my position. The last thing I need is to be set upon by some other band of prisoners before I find Droth and the others. For all I know, she’s part of some dangerous group of outlaws. She might even have been sent to scout me out, if my ship was noticed by any of the prisoners living in these woods.
I lunge forward, too fast for her to escape, and grab her arm. Yanking her backward, I pin her against my chest with my arm across hers, holding her tightly as I press the tip of my knife into her side, just below her ribs.
“Hey! What the f—”
She squirms in my grasp, but the moment she feels the blade pressing against her, she goes very still. I can feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the way she’s trembling, and it sends a sensation through me that I haven’t felt in a very long time. The awareness of how her body feels against me, soft and lush.
“Quiet,” I tell her harshly as she draws in a breath to scream again, pushing all other thoughts beyond my mission out of my head. I have one reason for being here, and if I’m lucky, this woman might be able to help. If she’s wise, she’ll tell me whatever she might know about the whereabouts of my brethren.
I push the knife more firmly against her side, dropping my head a little to speak low in her ear.
“Tell me where the Voxerans are.”
3
Felicity
My heart is pounding in my chest so hard that it hurts, my mind reeling. In the space of a few seconds, I’ve stumbled across a strange man coming out of the trees, been grabbed and spun into his arms before I could do more than let out a startled yelp, and now there’s a knife of considerable size pressed into my ribs. I almost don’t hear his question over the thundering of my pulse in my ears.
Fuck. I’m so fucking screwed. I don’t even have a weapon.
Just my luck, I step away from the camp for a few damn minutes and wind up almost tripping over someone who wants to kill me.
This fucking planet.
“Where are the Voxerans?” the man behind me asks again, his voice a threatening rumble.
His arm tightens across my body, and I’m suddenly very aware of his broad chest against my back, hard and solid, and the flex of his forearm as he holds me in place. It’s the last thing I should be thinking about right now… but it sends a flush over me that’s directly at odds with the fear snaking its way down my spine. His voice sounds gruff and deep, and the vaguely familiar sound, combined with the pearlescent blue tint of the arm pressed against me and his insistent question, brings me to the sudden realization of who he must be.
I put two and two together and come up with Ren, the man Droth spoke with over the communicator.
“You’re the one who’s come to rescue the Voxerans.” I try to keep my voice steady despite the predicament I’ve found myself in. “You’re Ren.”
I expect him to let me go once I say those words, maybe even apologize for his behavior, but that’s not what happens.
Instead, I feel him tense even more, the blade pricking at my skin beneath my wrap-around top a little as his arm slides up to press against my throat—not hard enough to keep me from speaking, but enough that I’m very aware of how strong the man holding me is. He could snap my neck with one quick movement, and I know I need to be careful.
If only he would settle down for just a second and let me get my thoughts together.
“Who the slanch are you?” he growls, his voice commanding. “What do you know about the Voxerans and their plans?” He pokes me again with the knife. “Speak!”
All right, this is getting ridiculous.
I twist in his grasp—not too hard, since he has a hefty knife pressed against a very vulnerable spot. It’s probably a dumb move, but I can’t help it. Of all the Voxerans I’ve m
et so far, this Ren person is by far the most hard-nosed and suspicious, and it’s fucking irritating. There’s enough danger on this planet as it is without me getting almost gutted by the very man who’s supposed to be here to rescue us.
“Let me fucking go and I’ll tell you, you aggravating blue dickhead!”
I struggle in his hold again, trying to twist out from under his massive forearm, but before I can say anything else, I hear a crashing of trees and brush behind us. I manage to get my head around just enough to see Droth and some of the others coming toward us. Charlotte, Elizabeth, Axen, Kaide, Gemma and some others—a pretty large group of them.
I let out a sigh of relief. Just in time. At least now this asshole will let go of me.
“Don’t harm her!” Droth calls out, holding up one hand as he comes into the small clearing where Ren has me trapped. “She’s one of these Terran women, like the others with us. She’s not an enemy.”
Ren lets out a grunt. “She’s with you? They’re with you?”
I feel the knife pull back just a little, but not much. Not enough for me to feel better about the situation. And that broad forearm is still holding me tightly against him, enough for me to feel every line of his muscular body pressed against mine.
“Yes.” Droth comes up short, stopping in front of us. “A few of the other warriors and I have found mates among them, and they’ve been living with us. We’ve accepted them as part of our group and have given them our protection.” He glances at me apologetically before shifting his focus back to Ren. “I should have explained more on the transmission, but with so little time to speak, I was too focused on the details of getting you here undetected. I didn’t expect you to run into one of them like this.”
Behind me, I feel Ren nod. His forearm immediately relaxes across my chest, releasing me so that I can stumble forward and get my first good breath in a few minutes. I suck in air quickly as I turn around and see him clearly for the first time, taking in the full view of the man who almost just stabbed me.
At first glance, he looks similar to the other Voxerans. Extremely tall, hugely muscular and blue-skinned, with those cat-like eyes that the others have. But when I peer closer, I can see that it’s not just his deep, gruff voice that seems different to me.
He looks more striking than any other Voxeran I’ve seen, his features sharp and intense, and something about him makes me shiver despite the warmth and humidity of the day. It’s not from fear, either, despite the fact that he just had his arm around my throat and a knife at my ribs. It’s something else, almost like that strange shiver of anticipation I felt a few days ago when I listened to Droth speak to him over the communicator.
Of course, he’s gorgeous too, just like all of them—although he seems a bit older. His features are strong and unlined, but he has silver streaking his thick dark hair, and as he turns his head, I notice that one side of his face is heavily scarred, as if he’s been in an accident of some kind. It doesn’t take away from how handsome he is, though. It just makes him seem more intense and almost dangerous. All the Voxeran warriors are dangerous in their own way, but this is different.
“I apologize for threatening you,” he says stiffly, sheathing the knife. “I didn’t realize you were with my people. I would not have harmed you once I knew you were not a threat.”
The apology seems sincere, even considering the cold formality of his tone, but despite his words and Droth’s reassurances, I can still see distrust burning in his eyes as he looks at me. It’s plain in those jade green irises of his, and I don’t like it one bit.
“Come with me,” Droth tells Ren, jerking his head in the direction of the camp. “We’ve been working on a plan to escape Nuthora once you arrived. We’ll go over the details with you once you’ve had a chance to eat and rest a bit. I know it was a long journey to get here, and we’re grateful for it.”
Ren nods sharply, obeying Droth with an immediacy that reminds me of a well-trained soldier—which, of course, he probably is. A warrior, like all the other Voxerans. I wonder what his part was in the events that resulted in Droth and his men being banished here. There must be a story there. He’s clearly deeply loyal to Droth. It’s a noble quality, but I still don’t trust him entirely, just as he clearly doesn’t trust me.
Well, at least the feeling is mutual.
The others trail after Ren and Droth to head back to camp, and I follow, although I hang back a little as I try to shake off the lingering feeling left in me from my encounter with him. I knew he was coming, of course, but this wasn’t what I expected at all. Stumbling across him in the woods like that, ending up in his arms with a knife in my ribs—that wasn’t at all how I imagined our rescue starting, and it’s difficult to shrug it off.
You don’t have to like him, I tell myself firmly as I push through the trees, hurrying after the others. And once we get off this planet, you’ll never have to see him again.
Ren is hard-edged and gruff in an off-putting way, obviously irritatingly single-minded, and quick to jump to conclusions. In short, absolutely nothing that I find endearing about a person.
But I also can’t seem to shake off the memory of his hard chest against my back, his body rigid against mine, or the deep rumble of his voice as he spoke. Even thinking about it sends another shiver down my spine.
Don’t think about it, I tell myself.
Soon, we’ll be off Nuthora, and there will be plenty of other things to focus on, like the possible return of Droth and his men to Vox, and what the other women and I will do once we get there. It’s one thing to live among the alien warriors here, but on their planet, we’ll be outsiders to an even greater degree. And of course, there’s the fact that Droth was part of a rebellion against his uncle. Whether we go back to Vox or somewhere else entirely, there’s a lot more to worry about than Ren’s dominating presence and how it makes me feel.
Still, despite my best efforts, the memory of his arms around me lingers all the way back to camp.
I have a feeling it’s not going to fade away anytime soon.
4
Ren
As I follow Prince Droth, my thoughts are spinning. I’m not sure what I anticipated my arrival on the prison planet would be like, exactly, but it’s already been more than strange.
Droth is speaking, filling me in on what they’ve been doing over the past months—telling me about finding the materials for the communicator and assembling it, about their hopes that it might be the key to an escape, and about their decision to leave the small village they built to avoid being attacked by other prisoners over that same communicator.
I listen as well as I can while taking in the surroundings of the camp… and who is inhabiting it. There are several more of the Terran women milling about, besides the one that I accosted in the woods and the ones who arrived in the clearing with Droth and the other warriors. Not so many as to outnumber the Voxerans, but still…
I notice one in particular, a dark-haired woman with lush curves who steps into the arms of one of the Voxeran warriors, a man I remember knowing as Kaide. He bends his head to kiss her, the white swirls on his skin glowing softly in the sunlight, a sure sign that his emotions are high.
Kaide is bonded to the Terran woman, there’s no doubt about it. But how can that be?
How is it that my fellow warriors have found mates here on this prison planet? Among a species different from ours? It’s not something I’ve ever heard of before, and my immediate reaction is suspicion—that there’s something off about it. Wrong, even.
But a small part of me resists that idea, remembering how the golden-haired woman felt in my arms, how soft she was against the hard strength of my body, even as she fought me. Having her in my arms felt good, despite the reason that she was there at all.
Just as quickly as the thought comes, though, I shake it away. Whatever is going on with the other males, I’m not here for that. Mated or unmated, it doesn’t matter to me, except in terms of what Droth has planned for these women
, if they’re coming with us. From the way he spoke over the communicator, telling me to bring a large ship, it seems that must be what he has planned—not least because he’s mated with one of them himself.
I refocus on what matters, which is the plan that Droth intends to share with me, and following that plan to get my prince and my fellow warriors back home. Back to Vox, where we can finish what we started.
“Tell me about our home planet,” Droth says after he shows me a place where I can settle in for the night once we’re finished. “What news do you have of the rebellion? Of Drokar?”
“It’s not good,” I tell him honestly. “The rebellion has lost a great deal of the momentum that once sustained it. Drokar has done everything within his power to break the spirits of those who rebelled and keep them from rising up again. It will take a great deal to convince them that we have a shot at ever dethroning Drokar.”
I can see anger in Droth’s face at that—a fury that I recognize, because I feel it too. It’s been simmering for a long time, since the failed attack that led to my scarred features and Droth’s banishment with the other warriors.
It’s time to end this.
The thought is sharp and immediate, resonating through me as I meet my prince’s gaze head-on for the first time in five years and feel the thrill of impending battle rush through my veins.
“And my brother?” Droth speaks quietly, but I can still hear the anger burning in his voice. “What of him?”
I hesitate for a fraction of a heartbeat. Droth’s brother Kardax is the reason our first attempt to take down Drokar failed. Kardax betrayed us, revealing our plans so that Drokar could prepare for our attack. I’ve never understood why he did it, and the way he turned on his own brother makes me hate him almost more than I hate Drokar.
