Worlds Apart 2: Hunter's Revenge (2 page)

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 to 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.

“Let’s go. All teams have reported in and are on the move back to the pickup point,”
Mikel
whispered through his com unit, a tiny black matte microphone clipped to his collar. It was an ingenious design. If one didn’t know where to look for it, they would think it nothing more than a part of the uniform. His gaze constantly roved the dark tunnel, searching for any potential danger. They’d been lucky to get this far without raising an alarm. Tarrying only made the risk of discovery that much greater.

They’d gone no more than a meter down the length of the tunnel when all hell broke loose… literally. Alarms blared. The tunnel shuddered. The ground quaked. Rocks fell out of the tunnel walls, the ceiling. Hidden lights flashed, temporarily blinding them. With his arms filled with his precious burden, Hunter could do naught but run, staying a step behind
Mikel
as they raced toward the surface—or so they hoped.

One meter closer.

Five.

Twenty.

For what seemed like hours, they ran. Hunter carried his beloved mate, refusing to hand her over to
Mikel
even for a brief respite as they dodged falling debris, and evaded the patrolling rebels.

Finally, they could see the opening to the hidden cave entrance up ahead.
Almost there.
Five more meters.
Almost there.
Come on, almost there
. Hunter pumped his burning legs harder, held his mate tighter against his chest. One more meter to go. By the Lady Goddess Alana, they were going to make it. Thank the goddess. They were going to make it.

“
Stop,
or I’ll shoot.”

Chapter Two

“Stop or I
will
shoot you in the back. Don’t expect me to say it again.”

Hunter stopped, turned.
Mikel
shifted behind him, preparing to fight if he knew his friend as well as he thought he did. With his mate clutched to his chest, Hunter eyed the rebel warily. Beneath the layers of filth, Hunter could see that this follower of the Black Rose enjoyed what he did. It was in the maniacal light in his eyes, the leer twisting his lips, the steady aim of the laser gun aimed at them.
And, of course, his scent.

This man’s scent was all over the woman Hunter held in his arms—Hunter’s own mate. The fact that, at the moment, he could do naught but ensure she wasn’t injured in the coming confrontation made the lion inside him snarl his fury. And, there would be a confrontation. This man would rather die than let them go. Right now, with his lion roaring for vengeance, he would rather rip her assailant to shreds than leave. But he had his mate to think about. Her life was more important than his need for revenge.

Through his com unit, Hunter heard static, then
Mikel’s
voice whisper, “Drop.” He didn’t hesitate. Following his friend’s instruction, he dropped instantly to his knees then rolled with his precious burden out of the line of fire. He knew
Mikel
would do whatever he needed to get them out of there alive, even sacrifice himself. He hoped it didn’t come to that. He would not want to be the one to tell the
Manruvian
people that the heir to their throne had passed over to the other side because he’d chosen to save his life.

He covered his mate as best as he could and watched as laser fire lit up the tunnel walls. The hiss of the guns, the smell of burning flesh and the startled gasp of the fanatic rebel as he died, were all memories that would forever stay with him, though only seconds had passed since the rebel announced himself.

Hunter turned his head, expecting to see
Mikel
waiting for him at the entrance to the tunnels, a cocky grin on his face. Instead,
Mikel
was on the cavern floor, his chest covered in his own blood. His golden skin was now pasty white. Strain lines bracketed his mouth. He could hear the
Manruvian’s
lungs rattle. His lips were already turning blue and his eyes were glassy as the fight to remain conscious got the better of him.

Shit. Shit. Shit.
If he didn’t get help for
Mikel
immediately, his closest friend would die. Nevertheless, he couldn’t carry out both his mate and
Mikel
. He’d have to leave one behind.

Unless…

With no other choice, Hunter reached inside his vest, pulled a marked hypodermic needle out of the hidden pocket, and without wasting any more time wrestling with his decision, injected his mate.
By the Lady Goddess, please, please let her understand what I’ll ask of her.

Hunter waited as the counteractive agent went to work on waking his mate. The only way all three could get to the rendezvous point on time was if his mate could walk with his assistance while he carried
Mikel
over his shoulder.

* * * *

Amy opened her eyes and looked around her. Instead of the walls of the grimy cell she’d occupied since her kidnappers brought her here, she was in a cave. Light came from behind the man she recognized from her cell.

Her heart stuttered. Her stomach clenched. Her vision blurred.
No, no, no
. She scurried backward, out of his reach, unable to bear for him to touch her. Still, things didn’t seem quite right. Something wasn’t right. What was going on? Where was she? Why was she here? She shook her head, confused, frightened. Nothing made sense.

“It’s okay,
moya
.
Everything is going to be okay. I need your help or my friend is going to die.”

Ha!
Like she’d never heard that before.
She continued to move back, her eyes never straying from the stranger’s gaze until she bumped into something, something softer than the rock wall, and it was warm. She raised her hand, saw the fresh blood and screamed. She gasped, shuddered, closed her eyes and warily looked behind her.

She turned and stared down at the man she hated most. His glassy eyes stared at the roof of the cave. His life had completely gone from him. No breath moved his chest and no evil leer froze his features. How many days and nights had she wished, dreamed, of seeing him this way? Of all the men here, he’d been one of the cruelest.