The Determined Hero (The Lost Planet Series Book 7)

by K Webster

  While I work, Legolas investigates every nook and cranny in the room. He builds himself a web in a corner and dozes, only waking up to scuttle away and bring back lunch from the greenhouse. He must be partially vegetarian, because I recognize some of the green stuff from our meals the other day.

  Sayer, Jareth, and Grace stop by late in the afternoon with a trolley full of bookshelves they’ve either built or had stashed around the facility. “Delivery,” Grace announces cheerfully. “Wow, this looks amazing already. I can’t wait to see what else you do with it. I’ve been dying to look into their textbooks, but haven’t had the chance.” She makes a face at the two morts lugging in the furniture. “Someone has kept me busy.”

  “If by someone you mean Sareth, then yes, we agree,” says an out of breath Sayer. “Where do you want these?” he asks me.

  I point in front of the desk. “If you can set them up in rows right there, that would be great, but I can do it myself if it’s too much work.”

  He brushes me off and two of them make quick work of unloading. Grace and I chat about the books I’ve found on the tablet so far. Her inquisitive, nimble mind intrigues me. I knew she is a scientist by training, and I can’t wait to pick her brain more.

  “What will you do with all the space?” she asks.

  “One day, I’d like to print these books and have them fill the shelves like a traditional library. Tablets are wonderful for storage and awfully convenient, but nothing compares to the weight and feel of a real book in your hands.”

  “I never would have thought of that. I don’t think I’ve ever even held one. On Earth II, they never would have approved of the expense.”

  “I understand. The library where I used to work was one of three on the entire station. It had copies of some of the rarest books they brought with them before they left the original Earth.”

  “I’ve never been to one of them. I was always so busy studying. It must have been heaven to be surrounded by all that history all day long.” I don’t miss the curious glint in her eyes. She’s wondering what I did to end up on the shuttle heading toward the prison because only a criminal would have earned such a spot.

  “It was. Being a librarian there was all I ever wanted.”

  She pauses as though waiting for me to continue, but I’m not ready. Not quite yet. Besides, I’d feel…wrong not telling Oz what had happened to me first. There’s a connection there I can’t quite explain, a loyalty that would demand he be the first to know.

  “That I can understand. I felt the same way about being a scientist.” She turns and gestures to the boys, who move at her very command. They share a smoldering look that brings heat to my cheeks at merely being in their proximity. I don’t know how they make it work, but somehow I can tell that it does. They’re like three pieces of the same heart. “I can’t wait to see what you do with the place.” She pauses by the door, giving me an intense look I can’t quite read. “I think you’re going to fit right in here. I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Thank you,” I tell her.

  She nods and turns. I just hope when I do tell her the truth, she doesn’t think less of me.

  6

  Ozias

  Ten Solars Left

  I need to clear my rekking nog. I broke the lens and nearly went mad with rage. It was a small variance in my calculations that resulted in too much heat, thus breaking my main piece. Before I could destroy my lab, Jareth pushed me out, told me to take a walk, and promised he and Sayer would get more haxagranules to make another lens.

  Fatigue gnaws at my conscience and my eyes water. I crave to crawl into my bed and sleep for many solars straight, but I can’t. Not until I build this mortarekking thermablaster and blow those Kevins right out of the sky.

  Rather than heading to my room for some much needed sleep, I explore the facility until I locate her.

  Mine.

  Quinn.

  My mate.

  She’s in the Navigation Bay, having commandeered a space for her own. In just a short time, she’s transformed it into something lovely and useful. Pride surges through me knowing that, unlike the other females, my mate hasn’t put up a fight. It’s as though she loves it here. Like she knows she belongs with us.

  I lean against the frame of the door, watching her as she works. Her hair is messy and barely held together by her tablet stylus. Legolas has spun up a web and is sitting happily in the middle watching Quinn with its many eyes. She’s humming something beautiful as she scrolls through the tablet.

  “Seems I’m not the only one who gets caught up in work and forgets to eat,” I say, making her jolt.

  She turns, her dark curls bouncing, and grins at me. Rekk, her glasses make her blue eyes bigger, and she’s so cute.

  “Hey,” she chirps as she sets down the tablet. “Like my new digs?”

  I saunter over to her and take her hands in mine. “You’ve really made it look nice. I can’t wait to see what all you’ve done.” I sigh heavily. “Later.”

  She lifts our conjoined hands and inspects mine. “Oh, Oz, you’re bleeding.”

  “Just a cut.”

  “It’s gaping. You’re dripping blood all over my library.”

  I glance down at the gash. Great. “Avrell’s not here.”

  “But the other guy is. Calix. He came by earlier and we talked about skeletons. Isn’t that exciting?”

  “As in the bones inside a sabrevipe?”

  “And you. And me. And every living thing around us.” She grins. “I’m no scientist, but it was fascinating comparing human bone structure with that of morts.”

  “You made a friend? With Calix?”

  “Why is that so hard to believe?”

  “Calix is singularly focused. He doesn’t spend much time making friends.”

  “Maybe no one ever had anything worth saying to him.” She shrugs. “He’s also a very proud daddy and husband. We talked about his father’s notes. I’m going to add them to the historical reference section of the library.”

  I should be shocked that Quinn made friends with Calix, but then I remember she’s so adorable and sweet, it’s hard not to love her.

  “I came just in time,” a voice says behind me. “Looks like you’re about to leave.”

  At hearing Galen’s voice, my sub-bones start popping. I keep a tight grip on Quinn’s hands, turning to glare at him. I’m still angry with him for trying to starve my mate.

  “Brought you some nomatoes.” He holds up a basket filled with fist-sized bright blue fruits of some sort.

  “Nomatoes?” I ask, confused.

  Galen chuckles. “Emery grew these. She said they’re like tomatoes back on Earth II, but not quite. She named them nomatoes. They’re juicy and have the perfect mix of sweet and tang.”

  He steps forward to hand her the basket and I growl. His features darken.

  “Thank you,” Quinn says. “Just set them on the desk and I’ll snack on them later.”

  Galen’s eyes narrow at me, then glance down at our conjoined hands, and his sub-bones start popping.

  I don’t rekking think so!

  “Mine,” I snarl, staking my claim.

  Galen sets the basket down before whipping around, his double fangs bared. “You can’t just claim her!”

  “Boys,” Quinn squeaks out, her voice quivering with nerves. “Simmer down now.”

  “Whatever you’re trying to do,” I snap at Galen, “ends now. Quinn is my mate, not yours.”

  She doesn’t argue, simply squeezes my hands.

  His shoulders hunch. “I need to get back to work. Let me know if you like them, Quinn.” Without waiting for an answer, he storms out.

  “That was awkward,” she mumbles. “I didn’t…surely I didn’t give him the wrong idea.” She chews on her bottom lip, darting her big eyes my way. “I feel bad.”

  “The world may be threatening to end and I may not have hardly any time to spend with you, but I won’t let him take my mate.” I lean forward and press a kiss
to her lips. “You’re mine, Whisper.”

  She flashes me her silly grin that makes my heart melt. “My hero.”

  “Your hero, huh? Like in your storybooks?”

  “I don’t normally read about heroes with fangs,” she says with a laugh. “Usually the fanged creatures are the villains.”

  “Usually…”

  “But not this time.”

  “The hero is fanged, unbelievably handsome, and is going to save the world?”

  She giggles. “And mine.”

  I kiss her again, this time taking the time to taste her sweet tongue. My cock is hard in my suit, eager to officially make her mine.

  If only there were more time.

  “If I’m the hero, what does that make you? The princess?” I ask, my lips brushing over hers. “Emery tells lots of stories about princesses.”

  “I’m the heroine.”

  “What does the heroine do if the hero is busy saving the world?”

  “Heroes don’t always have to do something grand and life-changing.” Her brows furl and she darts her eyes from mine. “Sometimes it’s something small. Like saving a child from someone trying to hurt them.”

  I tense from her dark tone. And who the rekk would want to hurt a little person?

  “Or creating magical worlds by building a library!” she exclaims, once again smiling. She squeezes my hands, making me wince. “Oh, crap. We need to get your hand looked at. Stop distracting me with kisses.”

  I lean forward, bringing my mouth to her ear. I nip the lobe, loving her sharp intake of breath. “What can I say? I’m a determined hero.”

  Calix frowns the whole time as he fixes me up. I can’t stop yawning, but I distract myself by eating another one of the nomatoes Quinn brought with us. It’s juicy and rekking delicious.

  “It’ll heal,” I assure him.

  Calix studies my face. “Not your hand I am worried about.”

  I stiffen and pin him with a glare. “What’s wrong?”

  “Have you been sleeping?”

  “Kind of busy building a machine to destroy all Kevins,” I snap, swiping off juice from my chin.

  “I could give you something. To help you sleep.”

  “I don’t have time and you know it.”

  The doors open and Quinn walks in, holding two trays. I’d sent her to fetch us a proper meal while I had Calix heal me.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks, her smile falling at seeing our grim faces.

  “I think Ozias needs—” Calix starts, but I cut him off.

  “I need to take an early evening to rest. Care to tuck in early with me?” I flash her a devious smile that makes her cheeks burn crimson.

  Calix sighs. “See to it Oz not only rests, but that he also closes his eyes.”

  And miss the cute way Whisper parts her plump lips when she sleeps? That’s not happening.

  “I’ll do my best,” Quinn assures him.

  Quinn and I leave, carrying our meal with us back to my room. I situate our food on the table and we sit. It feels so very natural having her in here with me. Like there was always something missing, but I finally found it.

  “Sayer showed me the book,” she says softly.

  “What book?”

  “The book.” She shoves a piece of sabrevipe meat into her mouth thanks to Draven’s recent kill.

  I yawn and scratch my nog with a claw. “What’s the book?”

  Her cheeks flood pink. “The one you all made from your, er, experiences.”

  “Oh,” I say with a chuckle. “That book.”

  “Did you know Jareth added an entire section dedicated to your…um, creations?”

  I snort. “A whole section?”

  “There was a lot.”

  “I’m creative and like to build things. What can I say?”

  She pokes at something pink on her plate before glancing up at me. “How do you know what all the things do when you’ve never done it before?”

  “What’s it?” I taunt, loving how her neck turns splotchy red.

  “Sex.”

  “I’m imaginative. I’m a good listener when Jareth is blabbing his mouth. I read all the notes everyone makes. It paints a pretty decent picture in my head.” I wink at her before devouring the rest of the food on my tray. “You best eat and clean up so you can get to sleep. That library won’t build itself.”

  “We, Oz. You better go to sleep tonight or else.”

  I lift a brow. “Define the else.”

  “If I wake up catching you stare one more night, all bets are off. I’ll do what makes every male go to sleep.”

  “What’s that, Whisper?”

  Her blue eyes glitter with mischief. “Guess you’ll find out.”

  My gaze rakes over her flawless skin, along her pert nose, and landing on her pouty lips. “This threat sounds oddly enticing.”

  “Are you always this daring of a mort?”

  “Always.”

  Her playfulness fades as she stands. “Please sleep tonight, Oz. You need it.”

  “I’ll try.”

  Only one of us realizes that’s a lie.

  Time is slipping through my hands. I won’t let myself lose these precious moments at night where I can stare at her uninterrupted.

  “Oz,” she whispers. “Even heroes need to close their eyes and recoup.”

  The only thing this hero needs is to watch his beauty sleep.

  7

  Quinn

  Nine Solars Left

  The library is almost complete.

  I can hardly believe it.

  I’ve never worked so hard in my life and my old library was a dozen times bigger than the one at the facility and served hundreds, if not thousands, of people. I had assistants, though, and most of the hard work, the cataloguing and organizing and building had been done prior to me ever being appointed. I hadn’t borne sole responsibility for curating materials from the ground up or printing the books themselves and painstakingly binding them together. It brings a whole new meaning to the term book lover, that’s for sure.

  “Have you been in here all day?” Emery doesn’t bother knocking anymore. She brings Hophalix most days to observe. So much so, that I’ve carved out a little nook near the window to serve as a play area for the babies. Some are still too young, like Molly’s when it’s born, to use it, but others like Emery’s have been loving it. I scoured the facility for a rug and found a blue one in a closet. Using one of Oz’s knives, I scored the edges into a half moon shape. Grace, who turned out to be the most skilled with a needle, sewed large poofs and pillows, which I scattered around the rug. Jareth learned what I was doing and tinkered until he produced several toys the little mortlings could play with. I have them arranged on a shelf against the wall.

  “When am I not here?” I say and push stray curls out of my face.

  “You’re getting as bad as Oz.”

  The thought makes me frown. He’d been gone when I woke up this morning and I’m almost positive he got little sleep, if any. “I don’t think anyone could be as bad as Oz. Have you seen him today?”

  She shakes her head as she lays Hophalix down on the rug with one of Jareth’s toys to play with. “I asked Calix to check in on him, but he said Oz wouldn’t hear of taking a break.” Her expression tightens. “I’m worried about him.”

  “You and me both. It’s like he won’t stop until he has the weapon perfected. I mean, I understand, but he won’t be of any help to anyone if he works himself to the bone.”

  “And I’m sure he won’t listen to reason.”

  “Definitely not.”

  Emery gives a wry smile. “Stupid question. Morts are like alpha males on crack.”

  “Times two,” I quip, and we share a laugh. “I’ve tried talking to him, but it’s like talking to a brick wall sometimes. He’s determined to finish this. I’m afraid he feels like if he fails, he’s basically sending all the others to slaughter when Earth II attacks. I don’t know how to reason with him.”

>   She nods as she jiggles one of the toys in front of Hophalix, who coos happily. It hits me again how much responsibility Oz must be feeling. There are only a few morts against the entire force of Earth II, which is formidable. Their totalitarian rule over its citizens is horrific and absolute because their priority when they left Earth was ensuring the survival not only of the elite of the human race, but of its military. If Oz’s weapon doesn’t work, the morts will, quite simply, be exterminated.

  “He can’t keep going like this, though. He’s going to hurt himself if he doesn’t make himself sick from exhaustion. Calix said he found him asleep standing up yesterday.” She says the last on a whisper.

  I sigh. “I don’t know what to do. He won’t listen to anything I say. He works all day and night on the weapon, and when I manage to convince him to come to bed, he doesn’t sleep there because he says he doesn’t want to waste a moment with me.”

  Emery’s shoulders slump and she sighs. “Well, dammit, he doesn’t have to be so sweet about it. I guess that means the two of you…”

  My skin is so pale I just know I’m blushing a bright red. I know it’s a small community here and everyone knows pretty much everything about one another, but I’ve always been a little socially anxious and introverted—at least when it comes to anything other than books. The only person I’ve ever been myself with is Oz. The boyfriends I had on Earth II were few and far between, so unimportant they barely even factor into the equation. Definitely no heroes in the bunch. The morts would describe them as Kevins, that’s for sure.

  “There hasn’t really been time for too much. The most we’ve done is sleep together. Well, I sleep, and he doesn’t.”

  “I don’t mean to push you or anything. I was just curious…and nosey.”

  We share a giggle. I can’t remember ever giggling with another person in my life. “I don’t mind. Honestly it’s nice to have a friend.” I say the last part with a bit of a question and a huge helping of hesitation. I don’t think I’ve ever really had a friend who wasn’t a character in a book.