The Determined Hero (The Lost Planet Series Book 7)

by K Webster

  Thirty?

  I was out for thirty?

  My cock twitches, eager for another round, but I can barely keep my eyes open. I vaguely realize she’s turning off lights, cloaking us in darkness. Her body is still naked when she crawls back into bed with me. I pull her to me, nuzzling my nose in her curls.

  “Mine,” I murmur.

  “Yours. Now sleep before I knock you out like they did in the caveman days.”

  “Caveman days? They clubbed their males?”

  “No, but they should have when they acted like big idiots,” she says, a playful tone in her voice. “If we lived in the caveman days, I would’ve totally clubbed you over the head and dragged you back to my cave.”

  “My mate is fierce and brave,” I say with a grin.

  “Your mate cares deeply for you.”

  Her blunt nails scrape soothing circles over my chest. It’s the most relaxing sensation. I want to stay awake, memorizing the way each nerve ending comes alive at her touch.

  Unfortunately, her alien ways are quite powerful.

  I’m asleep by my next breath.

  This time, I don’t wake up.

  9

  Quinn

  Eight Solars Left

  He sleeps.

  Finally.

  I guess it wasn’t so hard after all. Well, some things weren’t. I blush even though there’s no one to see me doing it. No one awake anyway.

  I study Oz, my mate, like I used to before I let everyone know I was awake. Back when it was the two of us and no one else. No imminent threats or weapons to build. In this moment, the universe shrinks to the two of us. And I realize as long as it’s the two of us against the world, then we can conquer anything.

  Even the end of it.

  While he rests, I memorize every part of him. It’s no wonder he spends nights looking at me. I’m tempted to do the same. Starting with his too-long slicked back hair. During the day he pulls it back into the sexiest little ponytail. Sometimes I want to let it down and run my hands through it to see if it’s as soft as it looks. It’s softer. The dark tracery of veins forms a map beneath his skin, the slightest blue-black shadow.

  Grease streaks mar his otherwise perfect brow and dot his high, slashing cheekbones. He always seems to be covered in grease from working, no matter how many showers he takes. Kind of like how I always have a tablet stylus behind my ear or twisted up in my hair or a spider resting on my shoulder.

  Food and rest erased some of the gaunt lines from the hollows in his cheeks. I’d love to keep him in bed for another few days, really give him time to restore and recuperate, but I know we don’t have that kind of time left. Eight solars, a little over a week.

  A little over a week until I could lose everything I’ve gained.

  We won’t let that happen.

  We can’t.

  Ignoring my thoughts, I refocus back on Oz. My hands trace down the wall of his muscular chest and he shifts beneath my touch, turning to me, even in sleep. I love how he needs me, wants me, as much as I want him. Maybe more. It’s a novel concept, one I can get used to. From there, my hand moves to his abdomen, ridged with firm muscle underneath his unblemished skin.

  “Not that I’m complaining,” comes his sleep-roughened voice, “but if you’re trying to pet me into sleep, it’s having the opposite effect.”

  I glance down, my throat going dry. His cock is hard, mere inches away from my hand. That hadn’t been the goal, but I’m not going to complain. Not when I know what it feels like to have him deep inside me.

  “How are you feeling?” I ask, trying to focus and doing a terrible job of it. My hand grasps his cock of its own accord.

  “Right now, I’m feeling rekking great.”

  “How did you sleep?” These questions are important. He was practically delusional last night, but I can’t make myself stop touching him. He feels too good.

  “Well enough. I’m not thinking about sleep right now, Whisper.”

  I swallow hard as he flips me into the bed and pins me. This isn’t the desperately sweet coupling from the night before, this is savage and raw. Without words, I wrap my arms around him, accepting the vital thrust of his cock in one swift movement. He holds me there, impaled by him, as he reaches for something on the window ledge above his bed. I hadn’t noticed before, but there are several contraptions there. It dawns on me these are probably the sex toys I’ve heard so much about. My belly quivers with anticipation. What little fear I feel is mingled with excitement. I don’t know what he’s going to do, but I’m looking forward to it.

  He twists the device with a deft flick of his wrists, and it separates into two pieces. Hinged at the center, they open when he applies pressure and I realize with a spear of heat directly to my core that they’re like clamps. My mind races with all the places he could use those on me.

  “Pretty, sweet Quinn. Will you let me play with you?”

  This is the Oz who lurks beneath the surface of that mischievous face. The one who needs to be let loose to release all that coiled tension. And he’s mine.

  I can only nod.

  His responding grin is devastating.

  I’ll do anything to have the opportunity to make him smile like that again.

  Whatever he wants.

  He traces the clamp in his right hand down my parted lips, along my throat, and around my nipples. I squirm beneath him, needing the friction, but he’s content to focus on my body, looking at me like he looks at the weapon he’s trying to build, like he’s both fascinated by me and determined to bend me to his will.

  With a wicked gleam in his eye, he licks at my nipples, lubricating them until they’re glossy from his mouth and beaded to painful attention. The first clamp has me bucking. The second has me moaning. I’m certain I can be heard throughout the whole facility, but the sounds coming from my chest are animalistic, untamable. I move to cover my mouth with my free hand, but Oz has them both above my head and secured against the bed frame with another contraption so fast I don’t have a moment to stop him.

  His gaze meets mine and he jerks his head in question. I nod for him to continue. At this point I’d probably kill him if he stopped.

  He produces a third and fourth clamp. I begin to sweat, my chest heaving with every gasp for air. The movement causes the clamps on my nipples to wiggle back and forth, eliciting hot sparks of sensation I can do nothing to satiate.

  Oz pulls out and says, “You’ll let me know if you get uncomfortable.” At my nod, he continues moving down until he’s between my spread legs. “I’ll have to make another set of those restraints. I’ve never thought about it before, but I’d like to see your legs restrained next time, all spread out for me.”

  “Okay,” I breathe. What else is there to say? I want that too.

  The image is burned into my brain as Oz fixes his mouth to my clit. He sucks and laves until I’m writhing underneath him. He brings me to the edge of orgasm, then fixes the third clamp to one of my pussy lips. I cry out in a combination of shock and pain. The sensation is intense, not necessarily unpleasurable, but shocking. His mouth returns to the space between my legs until I’m crying out again, then he does the same to the other side with the remaining clamp.

  By this time, I’m panting wildly. My nipples are on fire with the need for release. The clamps are positioned in such a way that when he mounts me again, they don’t get in the way. In fact, they almost draw all attention to the area, making where he fucks me one big throbbing pool of need.

  Then he pulls out a vibrator.

  I think a part of me dies.

  “If this”—I pant—“is what”—big breath—“you have in here”—I gasp—“then what the hell is in your”—another breath—“sex dungeon?!”

  He places the vibrator against my clit and grins. “If we make it to the next solar, maybe I’ll show you.”

  “Uvie, locate Emery,” I say later that day.

  “Locating Emery,” the computerized voice repeats. I could get used to hav
ing a digital assistant. She really comes in handy. “Emery is in the Command Center.”

  “Thank you.”

  I sent Oz away after another cat nap with strict orders to work until midnight at the latest. I bring him meals at lunch and dinner, but I don’t stick around because even though I want him to take it easy, I also understand how much is riding on his work. He doesn’t need any distractions as long as he’s taking care of himself.

  Besides, I promised to use his contraptions on him tonight if he comes back for sleep when his work for the day was through, which seemed to motivate him plenty.

  Following my mental map, I navigate to the Command Center where I find Emery, Calix, Breccan, and Aria facing a big screen with other morts and humans I don’t recognize. They must be the ones at the prison. Curious, I ease inside so as not to disturb them.

  “How is my mother?” a beautiful woman with red hair the exact same shade as Molly asks. “Has she had the baby yet?”

  “Not yet,” Emery answers.

  “I am surprised you can’t hear her bellowing clear across Mortuus,” says Calix.

  Aria smiles ruefully. “She’s not very pleased about bed rest.”

  The woman smiles. She doesn’t seem young enough to be Molly’s daughter. If I had to guess, I’d put them at the same age. Then again, that wouldn’t be the strangest thing I’ve learned since waking up here. “I can imagine. She’s doing okay, though, aside from that?”

  “As well as she can be carrying Draven’s giant mortling. If that baby doesn’t come out twice the size of a normal mortling, I’d be surprised,” Breccan says. After a chuckle, he adds, “Don’t worry, Willow, we’re taking good care of her. We’ll call as soon as the mortling comes so you can meet your new brother or sister.”

  “I can’t wait to meet them for real.”

  “Soon,” says Lyric.

  Breccan’s gaze turns to the mort at Lyric’s side. Her mate Hadrian. He is Breccan’s unofficial “son,” having been orphaned by the original outbreak of The Rades. “How is Avrell’s progress? We’ll all need to be together when Oz finishes his weapon. I don’t want our family being apart when the Kevins attack.”

  “Slow, but they’re working as hard as they can,” Hadrian answers, wrapping an arm around Lyric. “They may bicker, but we think they’re close to a cure. Trust me, Commander, we all want to come home as soon as possible.”

  “Have there been more losses of life?” Calix asks.

  “Not since the last one,” Willow replies. “The spread of the disease seems to have stabilized. Those who were sick haven’t gotten any worse, which is a good sign.”

  “How is your progress with the Kevin-Killer?” Hadrian asks Breccan. “Has Oz finished his weapon?”

  At this, everyone turns to me. Anxiety begins to claw at my throat, but I force myself to step forward and smile hesitantly. “Um, hi. I’m Oz’s…mate. He’s close to finishing the prototype for testing. He hopes to be finished within the next day…I mean solar or two.”

  “Quinn, right?” Willow asks. At my nod, she says, “We’ve heard a lot about you. I can’t wait to see your library.”

  I like her already. “Thank you. Will you be coming to the facility soon?”

  “As soon as Zoe and Av stop fighting long enough to ensure we don’t infect everyone,” Hadrian answers. “It won’t be a moment too soon. If they don’t shut it, I’m feeding them both to a couple of armworms.”

  “Same time tomorrow for an update, Hadrian.”

  “See you then,” he answers.

  As the morts and their mates begin to file out, I join Emery. “How many people are at the prison?”

  “We’re not certain after The Rades. Maybe a couple dozen.”

  “Can this place fit that many people?” I wonder aloud.

  “It may have to.” Calix wraps an arm around Emery. “There are more rooms to the facility on other levels. We closed them off after the worst of The Rades because they weren’t necessary with so few people. If and when the people from the prison arrive, we’ll make room. We’ll do whatever we have to to make sure everyone survives.”

  “Would it be weird of me to say I miss those guys? It seems far too quiet without Hadrian, Theron, and Avrell here.”

  As though to contradict her statement, we all hear a loud BOOM from somewhere inside the facility.

  10

  Ozias

  Eight Solars Left

  “You took out half the wall,” Breccan gripes, peering through the hole.

  Jareth climbs through the hole from the other side. “No one’s hurt, but Sayer is not pleased you took out a row of his shelves.”

  Draven scowls from the doorway, disapproval written all over his ugly face.

  “Slight error in my calculations,” I say, waving them off. “Won’t happen again.”

  Breccan sighs. “Oz, it can’t happen again. I won’t allow you to blow the rekking place up before the Kevins even get a chance to.”

  Ignoring him, I squat and inspect the thermablaster. Aside from the giant hole in the wall, it did what it was supposed to. Well, almost. I’d tried to harness the small test, but the calculations were off in the strength the harness would hold. My thermablaster is quite powerful, which means I’ll need to test in the open, away from morts and humans and Sayer’s rekking shelves.

  “Who’s going to help me haul this out to the ship deck?” I stand and cock my nog.

  Breccan groans. “You just said your calculations were off. It’s not ready for testing.”

  “No,” I argue. “The problem is, I’ve been testing it on a small scale in an attempt to keep it contained to manageable means because we’re indoors.” I swing an arm out, grinning at the three of them. “But without working in a container full of people I care about, I’m free to test the device’s full range and capabilities.”

  “There’s a geostorm upon us,” Draven grunts. “It is not wise.”

  Molly wails from somewhere nearby and the sound of Draven’s sub-bones popping echoing off the walls are the only evidence he was just standing here talking to us.

  That, and the clawed holes that now mar the doorframe.

  “Is she okay?” I ask, glancing at Jareth.

  “She’s been crying out all day. It’s normal this late in pregnancy.”

  Breccan doesn’t seem worried, so I don’t bother myself with it. Besides, I have more pressing matters.

  “Draven’s gone, so it looks like you two mortarekkers are nominated for the task.”

  Breccan groans but doesn’t argue. “Well, let’s get to it. And before Aria catches wind. She’s not going to like the idea of us going out there on the cusp of this storm.”

  “We haven’t hunted in a while,” Jareth says with a shrug. “We could kill two big birds with one stone.”

  “Molly says it’s just ‘kill two birds with one stone’,” Breccan states.

  “But they’re big birds,” Jareth and I both say at once.

  “I know, but—”

  “Do we really know that they’re that big, though?” Jareth muses aloud, interrupting Breccan. “Hadrian exaggerates. A lot.”

  “Remember that time he said his cock was yay big?” I make a great, obscene show, mimicking Hadrian.

  Breccan snorts. “That little mortling only wishes.”

  “No one’s cock is as big as mine,” Jareth says with a smug grin. “Sorry, Breccan.”

  “And no one’s is as mutilated as yours. What does Grace call him again?” Breccan asks me.

  “Fucking freak,” I say with a laugh. “It is pretty odd to want to drive metal through the tip of your cock.”

  Breccan cringes. “Let’s go. I’m over this subject. At this point, I’d rather get eaten alive by sabrevipes than have to envision Jareth’s metal cock.”

  “Sayer and Grace are quite fond of my metal cock,” Jareth argues.

  “It really took two mates to wrangle your unruly tail, hmm?” Breccan says, side-eyeing him.

  “What
can I say? I’m a big mort with big needs. A lot to handle.”

  “Okay, you big rogcow,” I grunt. “Grab that end of the thermablaster and help me carry it to the Decontamination Bay.”

  “Who pissed in your Cheerios?” Quinn asks cheerfully, her blue eyes twinkling behind her glasses.

  I thump at the glass of my room. “It’s bad out there. I need for the magnastrikes to cease.”

  “Why?” she asks slowly as she enters the room. “Why do you need to go out there?”

  I abandon my post where I’ve been glaring out the window for the past hour or so and walk over to her. “I’ve been trying to contain the thermablaster’s power so I can test it. But I think I can test it out there unencumbered and have better results.”

  She gulps. “Out there? With the bad storms and creepy sabrethingies?”

  Legolas peeks its head out through her curtain of dark hair that hangs over one shoulder. I reach over and open my palm for it to climb on. It scurries into my palm, snugging its furry head against me. Pulling it to my chest, I shrug at her.

  “I can unleash its full power,” I explain as I stroke our pet’s head. “Better to blow up barren land out there than to keep taking out walls inside.”

  “I don’t like this idea,” she says, her brows furling together. “It sounds dangerous.”

  “You and Aria both. Aria’s been yelling at Breccan ever since she found out.”

  “This is the only way to test it?”

  “The only way, Whisper.”

  She lets go of a heavy sigh. “Okay. I trust you’ll come back to me in one piece then?”

  I set Legolas on the table near us and then pull her into my arms. “I promise.”

  Her lips quirk up on one side. There’s a sweetness about Quinn that even the other human females don’t have. Almost childlike. It makes me want to hold her to me and protect her with every fiber of my being.

  Aria has an angry streak. Emery holds secrets. Molly is fiery. Grace is just mean. I understand why those females might have landed themselves in prison. But Quinn? There must have been a mistake.