Marked For Rage

Susan Hayes

Contents

About The Book

1. Rage

2. Mercy

3. Rage

4. Mercy

5. Rage

6. Mercy

7. Rage

8. Mercy

9. Mayhem

10. Rage

11. Mayhem

Epilogue—Mercy

Marked For Mayhem

More Sci-Fi Romance from Susan Hayes

About the Author

SUSAN HAYES

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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. 

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. It is fiction so facts and events may not be accurate except to the current world the book takes place in.

Copyright © 2022 Susan Hayes

Marked For Rage (the Prequel to the Crashed and Claimed series)

First E-book Publication: March 2022

Editor: Amanda Brown

Cover Art: Croco Designs

Published by: Black Scroll Publications Ltd

About The Book

It was supposed to be a delivery run… How did it turn into a prison break?

All Mercy had to do was deliver her cargo and go. Now she’s got a bunch of irate aliens on her tail and a hot-as-Helios escaped prisoner in her cargo bay who insists she is his. She’s too old for this crap, and she keeps telling herself she’s too old for him, too. But his arguments and his… assets are very convincing.

If they’re going to survive this intergalactic crisis, she’s going to need a plan… and her hot, horned, and handsome alien passenger is going to need some clothes.

**Buckle up. This sci-fi romance contains an alien with fur, fangs, horns, and a very possessive attitude when it comes to the woman he’s claimed for his own.

1

Rage

The guards tossed Rage through the door with no care for how he landed, which meant his head slammed into the floor so hard he saw stars. By the time his vision cleared, the door to his cell had slammed shut, leaving him in total darkness. Not that he needed to see to know his surroundings intimately. He’d been here many times.

The isolation wing. Again.

He didn’t try to get up. The effect of the stun weapons they’d hit him with hadn’t worn off yet. If he attempted to move before they were gone, he’d only make the recovery time longer, and it was painful enough as it was.

The cell was barely long enough for him to lie flat on the floor and high enough that he could reach the ceiling by stretching out his hands while standing. One long wall had a narrow platform built into it that could be used as either a bench or a bed. He only fit on it if he slept on his side and didn’t move much, so he normally slept on the floor. He’d been here often enough to know the routine, and so did the vermin that lived in this part of the complex. They’d learned long since that if they didn’t disturb him, he’d refrain from tearing their heads off and leaving their corpses as a warning to the others.

A small sink and sanitation area sat on the back wall but nothing else of note. Certainly nothing that could be used as a weapon. The verexi had learned that lesson years ago. Rage and the rest of his clan were dangerous all on their own. If given access to anything that could be used as a weapon, the results were… messy.

He grinned a little, knowing that no one could see him right now. His captors would turn on the light once he was on his feet. Until then, he enjoyed the respite from constant surveillance. He’d only allow himself this short time to acknowledge pain while he was hidden, shielded by darkness with no chance they could see his expression. He would never give the scrawnies that satisfaction. Never. It was the only win he could claim in a lifetime of losses.

As he basked in the anonymous darkness, he reflected on his current situation. The escape attempt had failed, but he’d managed to spend some time exploring and adding to his knowledge of the area beyond their cells. They’d brought him down, eventually. They always did, but that’s when things had changed. This time, the beating they gave him had been almost perfunctory. Almost. He was still going to feel like a tenderized piece of meat when the stun wore off and he could feel his limbs again. They usually focused their blows on areas where he was temporarily numb, leaving him in anticipation of the pain even before it began. It was one of their favorite petty torments, but they’d barely bothered this time. If he didn’t know better, he might suspect they’d grown tired of punishing him, but years of abuse had torn away any hope he had of finding sympathy or mercy from his captors. Something else was going on, and change was never good. Not in this place. Still, he’d be more concerned if they hadn’t beaten him at all. Kindness always came at a high price.

When the pain started, he rolled onto his stomach and pressed his face against the cold metal floor. His muscles twisted and writhed beneath his skin as neurons fired and nerve endings sang an aria of agony. He managed to shove a fist into his mouth to muffle any sound that might escape from between his gritted teeth. This cycle of pain—and then rebellion followed by more pain—was all he knew. And it would continue until the day he escaped from this hellish place or died trying.

He didn’t want to die, though. Death would be an escape for him, but only for him. If he was killed, his brothers would still be imprisoned. Worse, one of them would have to take his place as the lead troublemaker. He suspected Mayhem would take over the job of pushing boundaries and making himself the target of any punishments as he continued to search for a way out.

He didn’t want that role to fall to anyone else. Mayhem was strong and a good friend—one of the few he’d been allowed to see from time to time.

Once the fire in his muscles stopped, Rage rose to his feet, keeping his eyes half-closed to protect them from what came next. The lights came on, flooding the space with stark white light so bright it hurt his eyes. The scrawnies did it on purpose, the petty bastards.

He rose to his feet with a snarl of anger, flicking up two fingers on each hand in an obscene gesture he’d seen some of the low-level staff make when their superiors’ backs were turned. Then he stretched out his aching muscles, making every motion fluid and easy despite the lingering pain of his beating. He would never show weakness when they were watching.

Never.

Once he’d finished his stretching routine, he moved over to the sink, letting the tepid water trickle into his cupped hands. He splashed it on his face to wash away any traces of blood. No glass was in the cell, but someone had bolted a plate of well-polished metal to the wall above the sink. He could see his reflection well enough to note the swelling of his cheek and the cut above one eyebrow that ran parallel to one of his brow markings. It would heal quickly. They always did.

Then he saw it. The real damage. Fuck. One of his horns was cracked. The part that curled around his ear and framed his jaw sported a new, ragged line longer than his thumb. He gathered more water into his hand and poured it over the damaged area. It was an instinctive action, one they all seemed to share. Each time one of them broke a horn or had one mutilated by their verexi captors, they all sought to soak the area in water. It worked too. Given enough moisture and time, the horn would heal itself. If there was another way to fix the damage, none of them knew what it was. Most of what they knew came from their captors, either through their instructional sessions or by watching the inane entertainment programs broadcast to their cells as a reward for good behavior. The rest was provided, in secret, by the single friend he had found in this hellish place—an android named Bysshe.

Bysshe was the unofficial liaison between the fa’rel and their captors. The android did what he could to help them, somehow managing to keep that help a secret from the verexi while also finding ways to circumvent his programming. Rage didn’t understand how that worked, really. Programs, machines, and technology were beyond him. It was enough to know that Bysshe existed. The how didn’t matter.

Bysshe was an ally. He relayed messages between prisoners, helped in small ways, and tried to hide any transgressions to prevent or delay punishment from the verexi. He’d helped guide them when they were younger and still allowed to be together. Now that they were separated, Bysshe was the only connection they had to each other.

Rage’s musings were interrupted by the soft tread of footsteps outside his cell door. The wall was solid, but he didn’t need to see to know who was there. No one else moved like Bysshe. He was built to mimic a different species than the verexi. Shorter, stockier, and far less delicate, he’d taken blows that would have crippled or killed even the hardiest of the scrawnies.

“You are awake,” Bysshe said in his flat, neutral voice.

“I am.”

They fell into the familiar pattern. Bysshe recited his latest infractions in the stiff, formal language the verexi loved while Rage grunted at all the right times. While that went on, they had a very different conversation in the soft, subvocal undertones their jailors couldn’t detect.

“How long will I be here this time?” Rage asked.

Bysshe answered after a long pause. “The rest of your life.”

Rage felt a stab of foreboding, like an icy blade burrowing deep into his skin. “And how long will that be?”

Another silence followed, this one longer. Rage prowled the boundaries of his tiny cell as he waited for an answer.

“You are scheduled for termination.”

The words hit him like another stun ray, numbing his limbs the same way they had during his failed escape attempt this morning. Rage went still, his hands flexing and claws extending without conscious thought.

Why now? He had been doing this for years—testing every part of this prison and looking for a way out. It was the only recreation he had. It was the focus of his life. Why were they punishing him now?

“When?”

Bysshe’s voice went as dry as dust as he subvocalized, “I was not given that information.”

In his normal voice, clipped and flat, he said, “Subject One. I have been instructed to inform you of your coming termination. You are advised to reflect on your life so far in order to prepare you for the next one. May the All-Seeing Ones have mercy on your soul.”

With his next breath Bysshe added another message, this one spoken so softly Rage almost missed it. “I am sorry.”

Rage froze, only a lifetime of practice keeping his expression neutral as he heard his fate. He wanted to throw back his head and howl in defiance. The dark fury that had led to his naming boiled up inside him, tinting his world red and urging him to tear this place down around the verexi’s pointy ears. If he did that, though, he’d give away too much. They would be watching right now, observing everything he did, every breath, every motion. If he gave them what they wanted, they would know. If the verexi ever learned just how dangerous their experiments were, they’d kill him and all his brothers. He wouldn’t let that happen.

He sheathed his claws and pushed out a breath through a throat that felt too tight. Then he drew himself up to his full height and nodded once before raising his eyes to the nearest camera. When he spoke, his words were twisted by a low snarl of pure fury. “I will be ready.”

Bysshe scuffed his boot across the floor outside. To those listening, it would not mean anything, but to Rage, it was a warning. It meant be careful. Be ready.

Ready for what? He didn’t know.

In his normal voice, he asked, “And the others? Do the scrawnies intend to punish them as well? They have done nothing wrong.”

“You are the only one to be terminated.” Bysshe’s voice dropped into the subvocal tones no one else could hear. “For now.”

Rage’s anger rose up again, bitter and seething. They were all running out of time. The fa’rel had been created for a singular purpose—to become the verexi’s army. Too frail to fight on their own, the scrawnies had been subjugated by most of the other races at one time or another. They were too weak to survive, yet somehow they had. It was more proof that the universe was a place of cruelty and fucking chaos.

He and his brothers were lab-born test subjects, and the tests had all resulted in failure. Despite the torturous training, experimental surgeries, and other hellish alterations to their physical and mental health, all the fa’rel still had free will. They would not obey orders blindly nor risk their lives because they were instructed to. They would never be the mindless killing machines their creators had envisioned… and that meant they were a liability. The day the risks outweighed the rewards, the scrawnies would terminate the project… and the fa’rel.

“I appreciate the information. I will be ready.” Rage spoke the words aloud, but he knew Bysshe would understand the double meaning. He wasn’t ready to die. He was ready to do whatever it took to escape this place… and somehow find a way to rescue the others.

2

Mercy

Mercy hated this run. It wasn’t the fact that it took her deep into the ass end of nowhere, though that was certainly inconvenient. It wasn’t even the fact that she was in the verexi’s space, a fact she tried not to dwell on too much. The alien race tended to treat humanity like something squelchy and unpleasant they found on the bottom of their shoe.

No, she hated this trip because the destination was her personal idea of hell.

The delivery run didn’t even take her to an actual planet, for fuck’s sake. The closest she came to whatever passed for civilization was a small, gray moon orbiting an empty planet on the edge of the system. The moon was as cold and barren as a crone’s womb with nothing but the laboratory and landing pads nestled beneath an atmospheric dome.

If the place had a name, she’d never been given it. Just a mark on her star map, the journey represented a long, lonely venture into empty space with nothing to entertain her but a library of electronic books and vids and, of course, her collection of vibrators. She’d rather be doing one of a thousand other jobs, but this one paid the best, and she was in no position to walk away from steady income. The verexi were uptight assholes with egos as delicate as their constitutions, but their currency was one of the hardest in the galaxy. Every run brought her closer to her dream of leaving this life behind forever.

Mercy brought her ship down at the designated landing pad, following the directions sent to her nav-computer. She never spoke to anyone directly. All communication was written or relayed through the robots sent to unload the cargo. The closest she came to speaking to a living being were her chats with Bysshe, a human-made android whose presence was as strange and inexplicable as everything else about the place.

What did they do here? Whatever it was, it was clearly meant to be kept a secret. People with nothing to hide didn’t set up shop so far from anything that it was actually

easier to bring in goods from outside the system than have them shipped from their homeworld. It was so desolate that damn near everything they needed had to be brought in from outside. Minimal water, no flora or fauna, and an atmosphere so thin they had to erect an atmospheric dome just to keep breathing. The whole place was gray—from the stones and the dirt to the sky above.

It gave her the creeps, which was yet another reason she hated this run. It was like delivering groceries to a graveyard… or something worse.

At the top of her “I don’t want to know” list was the reason why this place required a steady supply of butchered animals. Not vat grown proteins but frozen slabs of actual meat filled her freezers every run. What the hell were they doing out here? That question wandered around her mind late at night, and the answers she came up with were fuel for her nightmares.

As usual, no one came out to greet her. She hadn’t laid eyes on a single living being in the year she had been making this run. All she did was offload the freight and move on. Hells, it was pretty much all she did, period. This had been her life for as long as she’d been breathing, and before that her parents had done these long, lonely runs between the stars. They had eked out a living on the fringes of the civilized systems, surviving on scraps and pure human stubbornness. Forty years later, she was doing the same thing. Living the oh-so-glamorous life of a cargo pilot.

Mercy did her best to ignore her snarky inner dialogue, apart from making a note to up the caffeine content in her next cup of coffee. She opened the loading bay doors and tramped down the ramp to the concrete landing pad. The chill seeped into her bones in seconds, and a light mist swirled around her feet, making her hunch deeper into her jacket.

Weather. Ugh. This was why she didn’t like planets. It was always too hot or too cold or too wet or drier than the ass crack of the star. Flying around in a tin can might not be the safest way to make a living, but at least she had complete control of her environment.

The usual fleet of robots scuttled out of the mist, heading her way. Bysshe would make his appearance soon to review the shipping manifest and oversee operations while the other bots offloaded the supplies. It never took long. It might take just over two standard weeks to get here, but she wouldn’t be on the planet for more than twenty minutes or so. Then she’d travel two weeks back to something resembling civilization before she’d be on her next run. That’s why this run paid so well. It had to, or no one would agree to do it. Nothing else was out this way thus no chance to add other clients to the list. It was also why no one else wanted this long, solitary run and usually left as quickly as they could. Mercy had seen the advantages right away and had never complained. Well, not too much, and never where she could be heard.

As usual, most of the bots went straight for the cargo hatch, scanning barcodes and then whisking the containers away. She had no idea where they went, and she did her best to ignore the part of her that was curious about what went on here. If she wanted to keep her job, she’d best not ask questions.

Bysshe showed up a few seconds later, striding through the surge of bots that scuttled and buzzed around his legs. He was more or less human looking, with a masculine build and generic features. He was also pale blue and hairless with eyes so dark she couldn’t tell if they were black or deep blue. She’d seen androids before, but never up close and never outside the pitiful handful of human settlements still in existence.

“Captain Johnson. It is always a pleasure to see you,” Bysshe greeted her. She had no idea what language he spoke, though she assumed it was verexi. Her translator was programmed with all known languages and dialects, so all she heard was clear, straightforward Terran.

“Hello, Bysshe. Nice to see you, too.” She tapped her wrist unit and sent the manifest to the android. “They shorted you two crates of gestak, but I managed to snag a few extra boxes of targesh to make up for it.”

The android nodded. “Thank you.”

A note popped up on her wrist unit from Bysshe. This was how they communicated when he didn’t want the other bots to overhear their conversation. “And my personal order?”

“Inside crate forty-seven. Bottom left,” she typed back.

The android flashed her a shadow of a smile—the only acknowledgment she’d get, which was fine. She wasn’t looking for thanks. She was only after the fund transfer that would appear before she left this miserable rock. She had no idea what the android needed medical supplies for or how a possession like him had access to currency at all, but these little side deals paid too well to ask any questions.

They passed the time with small talk, which wasn’t her favorite pastime, but after two weeks alone, the android made surprisingly good company. The cargo bays and freezers were almost empty when Bysshe sent another message to her wrist unit.

“This base is being decommissioned soon. I have seen the paperwork. When that happens, your contract will be terminated. I have not been instructed to tell you this yet, but I thought you should be aware of the coming change.”

Well, shit. That threw a black hole into the middle of her fucking flight plan.

“Thank you for the early warning. Appreciate it. How long do I have?” she typed back.

Bysshe checked the cargo bay for potential eavesdroppers, but the space was empty. The last of the bots had scuttled off with a box clamped to the top of its carapace, so they were alone.

This time, he spoke, though very softly. “Another run. Maybe two.”

She didn’t bother to hide her dismay. The android would know she was agitated just by her heart rate and body language. There was no way to hide the truth from a machine like him. Hell, Bysshe wasn’t actually a him at all. Her mind just assigned that pronoun because it suited his appearance.

“Not sure what I’m going to miss most—the money or your smiling face each time I visit,” she joked.

Bysshe cocked his head in momentary confusion as his neural matrix attempted to decipher her joke. “Ah. Humor. I see,” he said and then gave her his best attempt at a smile. “If you are interested, I have another deal to offer you. This one should mitigate the financial pain you will experience when this contract ends.”

“What is it?” she asked warily.

“You have an empty hold. I have cargo I’d like transported.”

“I don’t move drugs, weapons, or slaves,” she warned him.

“The package is none of those things. However, it is a time-sensitive offer. It would have to be loaded today. Immediately, in fact. And if discovered, your contract could be terminated early. There is some… risk.”

Risk was a way of life out here. If the reward was high enough, she’d be a fool to say no. “How much?”

The android named a sum so high she thought she’d misheard him. “Say that again?”

He repeated the offer and then continued, “Payment will be made by the usual means. I assume you will want it up front?”

“That would be preferable.” She held out her hand to him, pleased to note her fingers weren’t shaking. “We have a deal.”

“Then this will likely be the last time you and I will meet.” He took her hand, shook it, and then gave her a stiff little bow. “It has been a pleasure, Captain Johnson.”

That was it? That couldn’t be it. “Wait. What about the cargo? How is it getting on board? Where do you want me to deliver it?”

“It will arrive shortly. Once it’s aboard, I recommend a rapid departure. The rest of the instructions will be with the package. I trust you to do what is needed to ensure a safe journey.”

“Of course. Safety is my middle name.”

The android’s eyes widened, and she hurriedly added, “Not really. That was another joke.”

Bad enough her parents had named her Mercy, a thing she’d seen very little of in her life. Mercy Safety would have been an open invitation to the universe to heap abuse down on her head until it buried her.

“I’ll start prepping the ship for launch. How will I know when your package arrives?”

Bysshe’s eyes crinkled slightly at the corners and his next words were spoken in a tone so dry she had a sudden urge to pour herself a drink. “Don’t worry, Captain. You’ll know.”

Oh no, that wasn’t ominous. Not at all. What in the nine hells had she gotten herself into this time? Whatever it was, she already regretted it. A smart woman would fire up the engines and get out of here as fast as possible. But a smart woman wouldn’t have agreed to a deal without knowing more about it. This ship and her integrity were about all she had worth anything, and she wasn’t going to lose either one.

She’d stay, take on this mysterious cargo, and deal with the consequences later. What was the worst that could happen?

3

Rage

When the door to his cell unlocked Rage froze, ignoring his first instinct—to run. It could be a trap. It had to be unless this was the sign Bysshe had told him to be ready for. Was it?

On the heels of those questions came another one. What did it matter? Death was already coming for him. Dying in a trap meant he had a chance to take some of his tormentors with him. That would have to be enough.

The corridor outside his door was empty. No sounds. No scents. Not even the usual hum of the power lines that snaked through the walls. Someone had cut power to this area. No power meant no automated security measures or cameras. No one could see him right now.

He ran.

Enough light was leaking in beneath the doors and cracks to let him find his way through the maze of corridors. He’d mapped most of them in his years here, committing them to memory one step at a time. He couldn’t reach his brothers from here. They were behind too many walls and doors that would not open without key cards he had never managed to keep for more than a few minutes.

Guilt tore through him as understanding dawned. He couldn’t free them. He’d have to leave his brothers here. It felt like cowardice… but it was the only chance he had. He was no good to them dead.

Rage ran on, his nerves singing as he raced ever closer to the main doors. Unlike the verexi, he could survive in the thin atmosphere beyond the dome. He’d managed to get that far twice before. Once, he’d even stayed free for an entire night. None of the others had ever gotten that far. Not that he had heard.

He hit the doors at full speed, flinging them open with enough force to tear the hinges away.

The barrage of stunner fire he’d braced himself for didn’t come. No one shouted. No alarms erupted in an ear-piercing clamor. He tore across the open space between the buildings, looking for the shortest path to the edge of the dome. Then he saw something else.

A ship.

At least, that’s what it looked like. He’d only seen images of one until now. It was a hulking pile of metal reeking of chemicals that stung his nose, and the noise it made was enough to make him clap his hands over his ears. Any other day, he’d have run as far from it as he could but not today. Not when he could see the mark Bysshe had left on the ramp that extended down to the ground.

It was the symbol for “safety” along with an arrow that pointed inside the ship. The scrawnies’ vision was limited to only a few colors, and the symbol was painted in a hue they couldn’t see. Probably placed there by one of the worker bots based on the tracks he could see in the paint.

This was better than running off into the barren wasteland beyond the domes to hide. A ship meant a chance to escape forever.

I’m sorry, my brothers. I will find a way to free you someday. The unspoken promise rankled, like a sliver under his skin. This wasn’t how he’d envisioned this moment, but it would have to do.

His best chance to save the others was to get on that ship and enlist whatever help he found inside. Who was on board? Why were they out here? And why in the name of the All-Seeing Ones would Bysshe trust them?

The only way to learn the answers was to get to that vessel and escape.

Fifty strides to the ramp. Thirty. Twenty. The roar of the engines intensified until he could feel the ground tremble beneath his bare feet. He was going to make it!

The first shot scored the tarmac to his left, an eye-searing bolt of angry orange light that tore into the solid surface like a claw ripping through flesh. He snarled in defiance, changing directions every two strides to avoid getting hit. Those weren’t stunner bolts. Those were something else… and he wanted no part of them.

He reached the ramp and hurtled up it, his head down and eyes fixed on the far wall of the cargo area. The ramp lifted while he was still on it, the sudden change making him stagger. That action saved his life.

A bolt grazed the top of his shoulder, plowing through the skin and a bit of the muscle. He howled in pain but kept moving, tumbling down the ramp and into the cargo bay. He fell, the shock of impact sending another bolt of raw agony through his body. The floor shook beneath him and then a giant hand settled on his back and pressed down until he thought his ribs would shatter. Somewhere in the distance, he heard a voice unlike any other he’d heard before. It was light and lilting, the familiar verexi language elevated into something almost appealing. All it said was, “Welcome aboard the Timeless Blue. Hang on. I’m sending a med-droid. We’ll get you to the med-bay once we’re in the clear of these assholes.”

Rage grinned. Whoever was flying this thing didn’t think much of the verexi. That had to be a good sign. Closing his eyes, he offered up a silent thank you to Bysshe. He didn’t know how the android had done it, but Rage owed him his life. Someday, he’d find a way to repay the favor.

4

Mercy

Someday, she’d learn not to agree to things without reading the fucking fine print. Her “package” was a prisoner, and judging by the firepower aimed at him and her ship, the verexi weren’t happy he’d escaped.

Mercy turned off the ship-wide comm system and threw her hands in the air. “Fuck!”

If she ever saw that blue-balled android again, she’d have a few things to say to him. If she didn’t skip the talking part and shoot him on sight.

“What the hells am I going to do with an escaped prisoner?” she muttered to herself as she prepped the ship’s star drive. Protocol stated she couldn’t activate them until she reached a minimum safe distance from all gravity wells. However, protocol could take a swan dive into the nearest black hole this time. The moment the Blue was ready to transit to hyperspace, she was red-lining the engines all the way back to her home port in the Gilvery Cluster.

A continuous stream of messages from the installation below flooded her comms. Her console pinged each time a new one arrived, and the noise was not helping her stress level.

“Fuck off already!” she snapped at the console. “The time for pleasantries went out the airlock the second you assholes opened fire on my ship.”

The least they could have done was send a message warning her. It wouldn’t change anything, but they didn’t know that. For all they knew, she was an innocent bystander in all this fuckery. Hells, she didn’t even know what her package was until he’d charged for her ship in all his bare-assed glory. She’d seen a lot of strange things over the years, but a naked jailbreak was one for the books.

His lack of clothing had stopped her from breaking her word and taking off before the prisoner reached her. Any man desperate or brave enough to sprint buck naked through a hail of enemy fire was worthy of her admiration… and it had nothing to do with the eyeful of hard muscle and broad shoulders that appeared on her viewscreen while she watched his approach. Nothing at all. Nope.

Of course, she couldn’t be sure that her new passenger was male. Her “package” definitely had a nice package, but alien biology was a tricky thing to judge, especially when dealing with a new species… and whatever her package was, he was definitely not human.

As far as she was concerned, that was a point in his favor.

His favorability rating climbed again when she took her eyes off the monitors long enough to check the balance of her account. Jackpot! Bysshe had held up his side of the deal. In fact, she now had a hells of a lot more in her account than she’d expected. Bysshe had transferred her enough money to ensure she’d never go hungry again. That told her just how much her passenger’s life meant to the odd android. He was giving her every reason to protect and deliver the package safely.

“I’ll take care of it,” she said aloud, the words solidifying her decision. She’d do this for Bysshe, not because of the money but because someone in this fucked up universe needed help and had trusted her enough to ask for it. That wasn’t an honor she could walk away from, which meant she had to deal with big, blond, and well-built just as soon as she was sure no one was following them or trying to blow them out of the sky.

Being followed wasn’t likely, though. Mercy had never seen another ship in this sector, never mind on the moon itself. Only two landing pads were located anywhere near what she assumed was the warehouse, with no hangars or bays for any kind of aircraft. Whatever the installation’s purpose, no one was supposed to leave. Which meant whoever was sitting in her cargo bay right now wasn’t supposed to leave, either. Not a comforting thought, but she only had the bandwidth for one crisis at a time. Right now, she was more worried about being shot at.

The lunar installation may not have ships, but it did have guns. According to her scans, they had an entire battery of ship-killers set up on the perimeter of the domes, enough to keep even the most desperate of raiders at bay. It made sense they’d be armed. They were on their own out here with no military support. It was exactly the kind of tempting target pirates looking to steal anything they could get their hands, claws, or pseudopods on loved best.

As if reading her thoughts, the ship’s systems erupted with warnings as multiple missiles launched from the surface. She checked her ship’s progress and was surprised to notice they were almost out of range already. The weaponry must take time to power up, which meant if she could out fly this first barrage, they’d be free and clear.

She flipped on the ship-wide channel and relayed a terse warning to her passenger. “You’d better hang on to something back there. This ride is about to get bumpy.”

She double checked her safety harness, turned off the gravity in the cockpit, and took manual control. It was time to do some fancy flying.

Her hands flew over the controls as she put the Blue into a series of pitches and turns that stressed the old girl to her limits. Mercy patted the console gently. “Sorry, girl. You stay in one piece for this run and I promise I’ll make it up to you. How does a new plasma matrix and a fresh coat of nano-particulate paint sound?”

In all the years she’d talked to the ship this way, it had never answered her. So when a strange voice came from behind her, she nearly levitated out of her seat.

“Why offer bribes to a machine?”

“Fucking hell!” she yelled, not taking her eyes off the monitors. “Didn’t anyone tell you to never distract the pilot when she’s flying the fucking ship? Especially not when we’re under attack?”

She spun the ship ninety degrees to the left, a lifetime of space travel allowing her to maintain her equilibrium. She expected the land-dwelling alien to bounce off the walls like a ping-pong ball in freefall, but that didn’t happen.

All she heard were several odd, metallic pings. When she looked back, she found her new passenger had slammed clawed hands into the bulkhead on either side of the cockpit. He had braced himself there in a show of strength that would be more impressive if he hadn’t just punched holes in the walls of her ship.

“You break it, you buy it,” she muttered and turned her attention back to the monitors. The last of the missiles were ahead of them now, and the ship’s automated defenses took them out before they could reorient on their target.

As the last of the red blips vanished from her screen, she exhaled and reactivated gravity. Then she righted the ship and activated the star drive before slumping back in her chair.

“We’re clear,” she said and patted the console again. “Good job, girl.”

“The ship did nothing you didn’t tell it to do. Why praise it? You are the pilot. You should congratulate yourself.”

Mercy spun around to face her passenger. That’s when two things struck her. One, he was huge. The cockpit was originally laid out for a three-man crew, but he took up all the available space. Two, he was still naked—delightfully, distractingly naked, apart from the field dressing her medical bot had applied to his injured shoulder. Her gaze drifted down his body, taking in every detail. Dark blond hair. Golden skin… or was that fur? Big amber eyes surrounded by a ring of black, and dark marks over his eyes that vanished into his hair, and horns.

Does that mean he’s horny? Some twisted part of her mind whispered to the rest of her.

Big horns, big feet, big… Another part observed.

Stop that. She was losing her mind over a male. What in the hells was wrong with her? Granted, he was an impressive specimen of prime manhood. Malehood? Whatever, he was young enough to be all toned muscle and unwrinkled skin.

He was definitely pretty, but he was also a stranger, an escaped prisoner, and a whole lot of trouble wrapped up in a tempting package.

She unbuckled her harness and raised her head so she could look him in the eyes. He’d retracted his claws and lowered his arms to his sides in a stance that reminded her of a soldier at parade rest.

“Welcome aboard. You got a name?” They’d already spoken, so despite the fact she didn’t recognize his species, he spoke one of the known languages. If he didn’t, her translator wouldn’t have worked.

He stared at her for a few seconds before answering. “I am Rage.”

She bit her lip to hold back a bout of involuntary laughter and managed a polite nod instead. Translators were finicky things, and for all she knew in his language his name might mean something totally innocuous.

She rose. “I’m Mercy. Let’s get you to the med-bay and get your shoulder fixed. Then you and I need to have a chat about why you’re on my ship and what the fuck I’m going to do with you now that you’re here.”

5

Rage

This was all very strange. This female was the first person he’d ever met who wasn’t verexi. In fact, she was the first female he’d ever met of any species, other than the pleasure bots the verexi had provided to the fa’rel once they reached sexual maturity.

She wasn’t already versed in every detail of his life, and she hadn’t called him by the only name he’d known until he’d chosen one for himself. He wasn’t Subject One anymore. He was Rage, and he was free.

But his brothers weren’t. Not yet. He would not leave without them. “We have to go back.”

The female was tiny and delicate compared to him, but her laugh carried a tone of command. “No.”

He snarled and bared his fangs at her, an act that used to send the verexi scuttling for the nearest exit. “You will do as I say.”

He expected her to flinch away from him, to quail or scream with fear. She didn’t. This little female did none of those things. She rose to her full height, locked her dark eyes on his, and laughed louder. “Don’t even try to pull that macho, chest thumping bullshit with me. I don’t know what you are or what you did to get sent to that hellscape, but this is my ship, and I give the orders here.”

Her confidence intrigued him as did the subtle lines that marked her face, especially around the corners of her eyes. He was about to ask her what they were, but before he could, she stepped into his space and poked him in the center of his chest. “I’m the boss. We clear on that?”

He raised his hand to bat hers away but then froze as his annoyance was replaced by something else. The moment of contact became a moment of connection. He forgot about her challenge and the way her confidence called to him. All thought of his brothers and even the vague pain in his shoulder vanished. All he could think of was her.

Need thrummed through him, primal and more powerful than anything he had ever experienced before. Not even the raw need that tore at him all through his transition to adulthood had been this strong—back in the days when his captors had brought in machines with pleasing shapes and soft voices that he could use to take the edge off his sexual hunger.

He had used them and learned from them, rutting with them for hours until the worst had passed. He’d found pleasure with them as well as the blissful sleep of exhaustion, but he’d never been satisfied.

This felt different. He could feel it in his balls and the slow, steady throbbing of his cock.

He didn’t understand why, but right now he didn’t care. She wasn’t the same race as him. She wasn’t submissive or sensual the way the pleasure bots had been, but none of that mattered. He craved her… and he would have her.

He captured her small hand in his and then took a moment to drink her in. Her skin was darker than his, and her eyes were brown with a cluster of gold around her iris. She had hair the color of the night sky he’d seen during his brief moments of freedom, deep black with twinkling hints of star-lit silver here and there.

He reached up to touch her cheek, careful to keep his claws retracted as he ran his fingertips over her skin and to her ear. Her hair was shorn almost to the scalp at the sides but rose up at the center into a line of intricate twists that followed the curve of her skull.

She had no horns and no markings he could see, but to him, she was beautiful. In fact, she was perfect.

“You belong to me.”

Her lips parted on a startled gasp and her scent strengthened, filling his lungs with the promise of… he didn’t know what, but he wanted more of it. What he got instead was a blow to the stomach from one of her tiny hands. It tickled.

“No.” Her tone held more warning than the punch she’d thrown. No one dared to speak to him that way. He ruled over the rest of his clan, and the verexi might be his captors, but even they were afraid of him… as they should be.

This female was not. In fact, she was defying him.

“Yes,” he retorted. “I do not understand it, but that doesn’t change things. You are mine.” He chuffed out a laugh as her lip curled up in an adorable little snarl.

“I don’t fucking think so.” This time, her attempt to strike him wasn’t a surprise. Her chosen target was. Her hand shot down, slender fingers clamping down on his balls and squeezing hard enough to get his full attention.

He caught her by the wrist but made no attempt to tear her hand away. The pain was nothing compared to the pleasure of her touch.

“You’re wrong. You are mine.” He grinned. “The only Mercy I have ever known.”

“Not the time for puns, big guy. You need to back off before I do some permanent damage to your equipment.” For a brief moment, her grip relaxed, and she looked almost regretful. “That would be unfair to whatever female decides to accept your heavy-handed attempts to bed her.”

“There will be no others. Only you.” He had no idea where that thought had come from, but the idea of sampling the pleasure of any other female didn’t appeal to him anymore. After years of dreaming about what he’d do with his freedom—indulging in every vice and experience he could find—reality had presented him with another option. He didn’t want every pleasure anymore. He wanted her. Now.

And for the first time in his life, he was free to take what he wanted.

He crowded her into the nearest bulkhead, not stopping until she was pressed between the metal and his bare skin.

“You wear too many pieces of fabric. They annoy me. Remove them.”

She snorted and glared up at him, her delicate fingers tightening around his scrotum until the pain eclipsed the pleasure. “Your attitude is annoying me. Remove it.”

He grinned despite the discomfort, flashing his fangs. “I cannot. It is part of me.” He bowed his head until his lips were only a hairsbreadth away from hers. “As are you.”

“See? That’s annoying.” Her free hand moved, and before he knew what was happening the little female had a blade against his throat. “Stop it. Now.”

Admiration and lust tore through him, sending more blood rushing to his cock. He was harder than he’d ever been in his life. “I can’t. You are…” he shook his head, words failing him.

“If the next word out of your mouth is ‘mine,’ I will have to stab you on principle.”

He laughed and then moved with all the speed he possessed, snatching the weapon away from her and knocking her other hand off his balls before she did something they would both regret.

He didn’t move far from her, just enough to disarm her without giving her the freedom to flee. They’d have time for that later. He would chase her around this ship, taking her against every surface until she accepted what he already knew… she was his. He was not good with words. He’d had little chance to communicate with anyone other than his captors and his clan. He would have to show her instead.

She yelled in frustration and threw herself at him, her fingers curved into claws. Instead of deflecting her attack, he pulled her in close, ignoring the sting of her nails as he hauled her up against his chest.

She hissed and struggled, every motion arousing him even more. Then instinct kicked in and he did something he’d never done before. He bowed his head and crushed her mouth with his.

6

Mercy

The only thing more annoying than an arrogant, domineering man was an arrogant, domineering, sexy as hell alien male. Worse, somewhere around the time she’d tried to lay down the law with her new passenger, her libido had taken control and overridden her small but treasured stash of common sense. She should be escorting his naked, annoying ass to the nearest cabin and locking him inside it for the duration of the voyage. Instead, all she wanted to do was climb him like he was the world’s biggest sundae and declare herself the cherry on top.

He’d looked good before, but once she laid her hand on the silky hair that covered his hard-as-steel chest, she’d lost her damned mind and hadn’t managed to get it back yet.

Then he’d kissed her, and she’d stopped trying to reclaim even a modicum of sanity. If this was the moment her mind snapped, she was willing to go mad… just as long as he didn’t stop what he was doing.

She’d appreciated his body the moment she’d seen it on camera, but now she’d viewed it up close and oh so personally, she couldn’t get enough of him. Soft fur covered hard muscle, and sharp canines grazed her lips as he plundered her mouth with more hunger than style. It reminded her of the first kisses she’d ever had—eager, sometimes clumsy, and pulsing with the fire of youth.

His passion was like that but more, as raw and brutal as he was. And holy nukes and novas, she liked it. Muscle and sinew flowed beneath his skin like steel under velvet. Whoever he was. Whatever he was, he was danger and power personified. But a little voice whispered that he was no threat to her.

That little voice had to belong to the part of her that had lost the fucking plot. She didn’t do random hookups anymore. Especially with impossibly hot young men with bodies built for all sorts of sins.

Tiny stings pierced her awareness. But desire had befuddled her reflexes so she didn’t move until it was too late. He tore through her clothes with his claws, letting the shredded fabric fall away. She was naked in a matter of seconds.

“Hey! You’re going to pay for replacements.”

“I have no money,” he said, his words almost lost beneath a new noise that sounded oddly like…

“Are you purring?” she asked.

“I am… I don’t know what it’s called. I make this noise when I am well-pleasured.” He grinned at her. “Or about to be. How much pleasure will it take for you to consider the debt paid off?”

Holy hells. Had he just offered to pay her off in orgasms? That was the most offensively arrogant offer she’d ever had. And the most tempting.

She cast about for some logical reason for her sudden onset of sexual insanity. Pheromones. That was a thing. Right? That had to be what was going on here because she was on the verge of naming a price that was purely carnal.

He folded her against his chest, the rumbling purr growing deeper and making her throb in places that had never so much as quivered before. He stroked her bare skin, exploring her with gentle fingers as his claws grazed lightly over aroused flesh.

She rose on her toes, hands moving from his chest to his shoulders and then up into the long, golden hair of his head. It was thicker than she expected, more like a mane than human hair… but of course, Rage wasn’t human, a fact that grew more obvious every second.

His scent was a blend of musk and spices and his lips tasted like candied sin—hot, sweet, and addictive. His hands slid down her back, palming the cheeks of her ass as he pressed the hard bar of his cock against her body. She could swear he felt bigger now, and he had raised ridges she hadn’t noticed before.

When he lifted her off the deck, she went willingly, too far gone with whatever madness this was to resist. She wrapped her legs around his hips, his tongue spearing into her mouth as he pinned her against the bulkhead. This was more than lust or the need to let off some steam after her adrenaline-fueled escape. She should be afraid of just how out of control she was, but she wasn’t. The thought skittered and skipped around the edges of her mind as most of her gray matter turned to sizzling mush.

Small details grew, taking up all of her awareness. The chill of the metal wall against her fevered skin made her arch away, so she rubbed up against him instead.

Silky fur caressed her nipples, sending shards of pleasure zinging through her body and adding more fuel to the fires already burning. He lifted her higher and then brought her down slowly, positioning the thick head of his cock against the folds of her pussy. She was wet and ready for him even though he’d barely touched her. How was this happening?

Pheromones. That little voice whispered. Oh, right.

He held them like that for what felt like forever until she realized he was waiting for her permission. Her lips quirked up at that.

She was still in control, sort of. That was good enough. “Yes,” the single word was torn from her throat to hum against his lips.

His purr deepened, but he stayed frustratingly still. She wriggled against him, tightening her legs and gripping his shoulders, careful to avoid his injury while still trying to take what she needed. “I said yes already.”

“Admit you are mine,” he demanded.

“No.” Denying the arrogant young buck took more willpower than she’d ever admit to anyone, but she managed it. This time.

Rage rocked his hips, sliding those intriguing cock ridges across her clit. Fuck, that felt good. Too good. Her will weakened and then buckled faster than a bad hull repair in a vacuum. “Yours,” she bit out the word like it was poisonous, raising one hand to grip the horn that curled beside his jaw. He stiffened, every muscle tensing for a moment before exhaling with a snarl that melted what was left of her mind.

“Do you want me, Rage?” she asked softly.

He stared into her eyes, his amber ones almost glowing with desire. “Yes.”

“Then I think you belong to me.” It was official. She’d lost her damn mind. The last thing she wanted was to lay claim to this sexy, snarly, arrogant furball. But she already had… and she couldn’t bring herself to regret it.

“Yes.” Rage’s answer surprised her.

Her brain—or at least what was left of it—fell out of orbit to crash on the surface of the planet what-the-fuck. “What?”

“You are mine, and I am yours.” He surged upward, filling her completely with one bruising, powerful thrust.

She caught hold of his horn with her free hand, gripping it like a handle and pulling his mouth to hers. “Ditto,” she whispered as she kissed him. She could think of a thousand reasons this couldn’t last, but fuck it. She’d enjoy the moment and deal with the consequences later.

7

Rage

He didn’t know what was most appealing about the curvy little spitfire—her passion, her confidence, or the fact she wasn’t afraid of him. He didn’t spend any time working it out, either. He had better things to do. He had a female to pleasure. His female.

Freedom could be lost too easily for him to let these moments slip away. However long he had, he intended to spend it all buried balls deep inside her. Starting now.

He pushed into her body, not stopping until he was sheathed in the slick heat of her cunt. She was nothing like the pleasure bots his captors had provided. She was tight, and hot, and the sounds of their mutual pleasure filled the air like music.

She moaned and quivered around him, her slender fingers still curled around his horn. Her touch undid him, every caress of her hands threatening to shatter what was left of his mind.

He withdrew from her, letting the ridges of his cock slide along her inner walls as they flexed around him. He pulled back until only the tip of him still rested inside her, pausing just long enough to tease them both.

“Don’t make love to me,” she whispered. “Fuck me. I won’t break, Rage.”

He didn’t understand what the first part meant, but the rest was clear enough. After a lifetime of resisting every order he’d been given, this was one he was happy to follow. He dropped the last chains binding his control and gave her everything she’d asked for—everything and more.

He claimed her body with his, losing himself in the heat of their combined passions. She was freedom made flesh, and he would never let her go. “Mine,” he snarled the single word against her lips before kissing her deeply, his tongue dancing to the same driving beat as his cock as they mated.

Her hands slipped from his horns to his shoulders, her tiny nails curling into his fur. Her teeth sank into his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, the taste of it spreading over his tongue and hers.

He raised her higher, changing the angle between their bodies to increase the friction between them. Something was happening. He didn’t know what it was, but he could feel it building. It simmered in his blood like a fever only she could cure.

The rhythm between them changed, becoming erratic as he drove into her. Each thrust pinned her to the metal wall of the ship. She was so small he could be hurting her, but all he heard were her cries of pleasure with no hint of pain or fear.

He tore his mouth from hers and then threw back his head to roar at the stars. She joined him in that moment, raising her voice to echo his as his cock swelled and his balls tightened. Pleasure uncoiled deep in his groin, tearing through him and taking him far beyond anything he’d ever known before.

The ridges on his cock flared, expanding until they were locked together as he emptied himself inside her, branding her with his essence.

She came apart around him, her inner walls gripping his cock and milking every bit of seed from his balls. They stayed like that, both of them lost in what felt like unending ecstasy.

She quivered and writhed against him, held fast in his arms until the storm passed. He sank to the floor with her cradled against him, her legs still wrapped around his waist. Her lips feathered soft, breathy kisses on his cheeks.

He lifted his head to speak but stopped when a new sensation blazed into his awareness. The skin on his chest tingled and then burned. His lips curled back into a snarl, but before he could do anything else the pain faded away.

He looked down at his chest, expecting to see blood or a wound of some kind. All he saw were black marks across his fur that hadn’t been there until now.

“Scars?” Mercy asked, her voice almost as soft as her touch when she traced the lines. “Like claw marks?”

She was right. He leaned back, giving himself enough room to move. He raised a hand, extended his claws, and held them over the new markings. They were a perfect match.

Mercy placed one hand over his, splaying her fingers widely enough to match the strange new lines. She drew her fingers down the lines, starting at his shoulders and crossing over his chest in an X. “What did this? Why?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I stopped asking that question a long time ago. The verexi never gave us any answers.”

“Us?” The little female’s tone had lost its sultry softness. “More of you are back there?”

“My brothers.”

Her lips thinned, and she gave him a tight nod. “That’s why you wanted to go back.”

“Yes. Can we go back now?”

She shook her head. “We got lucky last time. We were nearly out of range before they got their guns primed to fire. If we go back, they’ll blow us to the nine hells long before we can land. This is a freighter, not a warship.”

He scowled and uttered a low growl of frustration. “Where can I find warships?”

Mercy snorted. “A sane person wouldn’t ask that question. Most of us try to avoid them at all costs.”

He slammed his fist into the floor, denting it. “Then how do I free my clan?”

He didn’t recognize the look in her eyes at first. He’d never seen it on another being, except in the videos the verexi allowed them to view sometimes. It was pity.

That wasn’t acceptable.

“No.” He lifted her up and set her down beside him on the chill floor. “We have to free them. I am the eldest. I swore…”

She raised a hand and pressed a finger to his lips. “Shush. You won’t save anyone if you’re dead. I understand promises. Made a few myself. Kept them, too. Mostly. Take it from someone older and theoretically wiser than you. Some promises take longer to keep.” She quirked a dark brow. “And that is the last time I will ever admit to being older than you. Bring it up again and I’ll make you pay for it.”

“I don’t know how much time they have.” Frustration still had him in a stranglehold, but he recognized her attempt to calm him with jokes. Her age didn’t matter. She was his Mercy. That was the only truth he cared about. She had to help him free the others.

“Bysshe knew. He told me that my contract would end soon because that place, whatever it is, was shutting down.”

He chewed on each word before spitting it out. “It’s a verexi laboratory. They made us. Experimented on us. If they are shutting down that place, the others…” The dent in the floor deepened as he slammed his fist down several more times. They’d kill them. Or move them so he’d never find them again. He wouldn’t let that happen. He would not lose them. They were all he had.

Mercy caught his fist in her hands. “Beating up my deck isn’t going to change anything. We’ll figure this out. Whatever they’re planning can’t happen right away. There are no ships in the area. We have a little time.”

We. No one besides his brothers had ever used that word. “You will help?”

She shot him a frustrated look. “Of course I’ll help. Bysshe paid me very well to get you off that planet. More than he promised me, in fact. I assume that’s because the job isn’t done yet. He knew you’d need the money. That is one sneaky android.”

He reared back, stung. “You think of this as a job?” This time, he didn’t just hit the deck plate. He punched his claws through it.

Her brows scrunched together, creasing her dark skin around her stormy eyes. Then the storm cleared and she shook her head softly. “Honestly? I have no idea what this is. You… this… this is as weird for me as it is for you. I don’t normally sleep with my passengers. Hell, I don’t normally have passengers, period. But… she raised her arms. Black marks, smaller versions of the ones on his chest had appeared on her forearms. They started at her palms and wrapped around to cross over the top of her wrists.

“Whatever the fuck is happening, it appears we’re in it together.”

“What is that? What does it mean?” he asked.

Mercy laughed. “Fuck if I know. Humans don’t spontaneously manifest random markings. So whatever this is, I’m blaming you for it.”

She got to her feet, leaving the pile of shredded fabric on the floor. Her curvy body distracted him, and he wanted nothing more than to pull her back into his arms and make her scream his name again. But that would have to wait… for a little while.

8

Mercy

She hadn’t noticed when the marks appeared on her wrists. Her senses had been on overload, and her body was still quivering with orgasmic aftershocks. She was having a hard time thinking clearly, and the last thing she’d considered doing was checking herself for randomly appearing marks. They were hard to see against her dark skin, but they were there, and she took that as a sign that somehow, someway, her destiny was tied to Rage’s.

This was not what she’d been expecting when she’d rolled out of her bunk this morning. Breakfast, a delivery, and then nothing to do until she got back to civilization. Instead, she’d gotten a heaping serving of trouble with a side order of sexy alien. The universe had clearly been drunk when it had come up with this plan, and she was certain she was going to need a few drinks and some time before she came to terms with it all. He was young, brash, and unbridled, a reminder of all the things she’d been once.

That was a long time ago, though. She’d been alone so long, toiling to pay off her parents’ debts as well as her own. They’d died long since, but she hadn’t given up. She’d pushed on, day after day, grinding through the years until she’d managed to free herself. And now, apparently, she had a new agenda… and a partner. Holy hells. A partner. A lover. A Rage.

Something kindled in her heart at the thought. A fire she’d thought had gone out sparked to life again. She had to be crazy, but what the hells. What did she have to lose?

First things first, though. They needed a plan if they were going to free the rest of her alien’s clan. Too bad she had no idea how the hells to do it. They had no army, no weapons, and nothing to go on apart from a supernova’s worth of physical chemistry between her and a lab experiment gone rogue.

Rage got to his feet, looming over her like a predator ready to chow down on his next meal. “I don’t know what these marks are, so you can’t blame me for them. They bind us somehow. You are mine now, and I am yours.” He crossed his arms over his chest and then drew his claw over the marks in a slashing motion.

“What, like fate? Divine intervention?” She shook her head and made a negating motion with both hands. “I don’t believe in any of that. We’re born. We die. The rest is just random chance and zaktar shit.”

“I was born in a lab. The only freedom I have ever known were fleeting moments when I broke out, but I didn’t have anywhere to go. No real escape. Not until today.” He thumped his big hand against his even bigger chest and grinned. It was a primal expression—fierce, dangerous, and seriously sexy. “We will make our own destiny.”

She should have laughed at the arrogance of that statement. Or run. Running would have been smart. Instead, she moved into his space, wrapping her arms around his waist with her head on his broad chest. “Yeah, we will. You and me. Together.”

It was the craziest thing she’d ever said, and she meant every word. She was so fucked.

* * *

The first seeds of an idea sprouted while she was trying to keep Rage still. The med-bay’s system was regenerating his shoulder wound, but a lifetime of abuse had left the big growly guy with trust issues the size of a planet. She had to explain everything the system was going to do before he would allow it, and then she had to remind him to hold still during the procedure.

In the end, she opted to distract him. He might not be human, but males were all the same. If you petted the right parts, their brains stopped working. She parted his thighs and claimed a spot between them as he watched her with his dazzling amber eyes.

“What?” he growled at her.

“This.” She tried to growl back, gave up, and wrapped her fingers around the impressive length of his cock. He hardened quickly, the air of the med-bay filling with the low rumble of his purr as she stroked him. His cock twitched in her hand, his eyes partially closed now and his head tipped back in pure male enjoyment as she learned what he liked.

By the time the med-system was finished, Rage was only thinking about one thing and she was happy to oblige.

He pulled her in close, kissing her hard. Then he was on his feet, spinning them both around so she was bent over the bed he’d been on only seconds before.

Before she could protest, he had his hand between her thighs, already working two thick fingers into her pussy while using another to stroke her clit. She whimpered, gripped the bed, and held on as the sound of his purr grew louder, punctuated with the occasional snarl.

It was the sexiest thing she’d ever heard.

He pressed her thighs apart, sinking to his knees behind her. When his mouth latched on to her clit, she lost what was left of her control, surrendering to the raw pleasure of it all. The heat of his mouth and the vibrations that resonated along his tongue as he lapped and suckled at her flesh was all too much. Too perfect.

She came harder than she had in her life, and while she was still shuddering with the force of that release, Rage got to his feet, settled himself behind her, and drove himself deep.

Strong hands gripped her hips, holding her in place as he claimed her with bruising thrusts. Time slowed, every moment drawn out as the pleasure amplified until it filled her awareness.

As they fucked, her new marks tingled, adding another layer of sensation to the experience. When Rage’s cock swelled again, she knew what to expect, taking one last deep breath before his orgasm hit and sent them both tumbling into a glorious freefall that ended with the two of them sprawled over the edge of the bed in boneless, sated, harmony.

It took her a while to find the threads of her thoughts again and longer still to weave those threads into something substantial enough to be called a plan. By then, they’d showered, eaten, and had the ship create some clothes for Rage. He didn’t think much of them, but she’d convinced him to don the pants after explaining that nudity was not acceptable among many cultures, including the ones they needed to contact.

“I still don’t understand how this will help. We need an army. Warships. You said this person is not a fighter,” Rage said. They were standing in front of a blank vid-screen, waiting for someone to respond to her outgoing call.

“He’s not. He’s something better.”

She caught his hand and squeezed it. “Trust me.”

He snarled something under his breath, too soft for her to hear the words.

“I know. Trust doesn’t come easy for you. I get it. But this is the best shot we have.”

He gave her a look that was somewhere between frustration and awe. She loved the way it made her feel to have a man like him look at her that way.

“Do this and then we’ll have two weeks to ourselves. Sound good?”

He drew her hand over his crotch, letting her feel exactly how he felt about that. Yeah, she couldn’t wait either.

The screen flickered to life, showing them the square-jawed visage of the only friend she trusted further than she could punt a fantra. “Raju. How’s the universe treating you?”

“I’m human, so you know how it’s going. Bad pay, no chance at promotion, and no fame or glory to be had. You?”

She grinned and tugged at Rage’s hand, drawing him into Raju’s line of sight. “I think I’ve found your ticket to fame and glory.”

9

Mayhem

Bysshe brought the evening meal to Mayhem’s cell himself, a clear warning to brace for bad news.

The rarely heard sounds of weapons fire earlier, followed by the ground-shaking thunder of the missile batteries launching already had him on edge. Something had happened, but he and the others had been locked down for hours. Normally the bots or Bysshe would have come by to share at least a little information, but today, they’d heard nothing.

Now the android stood outside the bars of his cell, his face as expressionless as ever.

Mayhem stopped pacing and stood across from him, hands at his sides, eyes lowered just enough to appease any verexi that might be watching.

Bysshe nodded once. “Hello, Subject Two. Before I deliver your repast, I have been ordered to convey the following information. Several hours ago, Subject One attempted to escape. He was captured and confined. At this time, it was determined that Subject One had proven to be a nonviable candidate for further study. He was scheduled for termination and informed of his change in status.”

“Not long after this information was provided to him, Subject One escaped again. This time, he endangered the entire installation by attempting to depart on a computer-piloted cargo freighter. Both he and the freighter were destroyed. Any more attempts to escape will result in the immediate termination of the subject involved.”

Bysshe set the tray down on the floor and stepped back to make room for a small bot to push the tray through the bars and into Mayhem’s cell. He ignored both meal and bot. Instead, he gripped the bars with both hands, threw back his head, and roared. One by one, the others joined him, lifting their voices together in an act of collective grief. It would be the only time they’d be permitted to mourn together. Their captors feared them too much to let them gather in numbers greater than three, and even that was rare these days.

He wanted to fight and rail against the news, to have it be some kind of cruel new experiment meant to test him and the others. He looked at Bysshe, hoping for some small sign that this wasn’t happening. That Rage still lived.

The android only stood there, his foot scuffing softly on the hard floor. It took Mayhem’s grief-clouded mind a moment to recognize the message. “Be careful. Danger high for all.”

He moved over to the tray, dragging one foot slightly in answer. “Understood.” Then he bent down, waiting until his face was hidden before subvocalizing his question. “Did you see it happen?”

Bysshe replied in the same low undertones, his lips not moving. “No. I…” He paused for a moment before continuing. “If I did, it has been wiped from my memory. They suspected I might have helped in the second escape. They tore through my database. It is… damaged.”

Mayhem kept his eyes on the chunks of meat resting on his tray. He should stop subvocalizing and let Bysshe continue his rounds. The others wouldn’t know who they were mourning for… though they’d likely have guessed. He stood, balancing the tray in one hand, and looked at Bysshe. The android had told him all he could.

“May the All-Seeing Ones have mercy on his soul,” he intoned the empty words of the verexi faith. They meant nothing to him, but he knew Bysshe would understand the message. They’d both lost a friend today.

“May the All-Seeing Ones have mercy on all our souls.” Bysshe’s voice dropped to a whisper on the last few words, and Mayhem’s blood turned to ice.

It was as clear a warning as the android could give. They were running out of time.

Rage hadn’t been able to find a way to free them. Now he was gone, and it was Mayhem’s turn to fight.

10

Rage

Two weeks alone with Mercy hadn’t been enough. He could spend a lifetime exploring the pleasures of her flesh and another one discovering that there was more to life than he’d ever imagined. It wasn’t all unending suffering and imprisonment. It could be funny, or pleasurable, or humbling—sometimes all three at once. His time with Mercy showed him how much he didn’t know about the universe or the people living in it. She was a source of constant fascination for him. She taught him about pleasure, and patience, and how one could enhance the other. She knew so much about so many things, and her knowledge only added fuel to the hunger that always burned when she was near him.

The quiet times after their lovemaking were almost as good as the sex that came before. They’d talk and make plans, and he discovered the joy of having someone to rely on, someone who understood how to make things work in their favor.

The more he learned, the more questions he had. Were others out there like him, more test subjects in other labs? Where had the verexi found the genetic material to create him and the rest of his clan? Could he bring his brothers somewhere so they could live free? That’s all he wanted… right after he’d killed the ones who had done this to them.

Mercy didn’t approve of the last part of his plan, but he would convince her eventually. He looked forward to learning how many orgasms that would require. He hoped it was a lot.

“We’re about to transit back to normal space. You ready?” Mercy asked without looking at him.

“Ready.” Not that he had much to do. The gunner’s chair was too small for him to sit in, so they’d removed it. He was crouched over the controls, anxious to see what, and who, waited for them.

The Timeless Blue might not have much firepower, but what little it did have was primed and ready to fire in one of six pre-programmed barrages designed to give them a chance to escape. His job was to determine which program to initiate.

The odds were decent but only because the verexi weren’t much for warfare. Mercy had explained to him that the species who had created him were so frail they had never adapted well to space travel. The radiation, variable gravity, and even the high g-forces that came with combat were more than their bodies could handle. They were too weak to fight on land, too. They were a vulnerable species trapped inside their own planetary system for the most part. That fit with what he’d learned from Bysshe about his purpose. The verexi had created the fa’rel to be the soldiers their own species could never be.

That decision was about to bite them in the ass.

They dropped into normal space, the ship groaning in protest at the abuse while the inertial dampeners struggled to keep up with the sudden stop. Now he understood why Mercy had insisted on rigging a harness for him. He hadn’t wanted to be restrained, but now he could see the reason. With no chair to sit on, he needed something to keep him steady and close to the controls. If he punched his claws into anything here, he could cripple the ship.

“Shit!” Mercy’s hands flew as she keyed in new commands. The monitors filled with images of other ships and his console marked them with colored dots to indicate which were friendly. Few were friends out there.

Only one verexi ship was present. It was smaller than the others, little more than a box attached to an engine. Mercy had warned him this was likely. The scrawnies couldn’t travel this far, but they could send a drone ship that would allow them to be present at this moment via communication relays.

“You’re sure the drone isn’t armed?” he asked.

“If they are, they’re in deep trouble. All these assholes don’t agree on many things, but weaponizing drones and bots is at the top of the “do it and die” list.”

The assholes she referred to were the governments of the various species and factions that lived in this part of the galaxy. They were the real threat here, not his former captors. Survival now hinged on how many of the verexi’s well-bribed allies were present and whether they could be discouraged from getting involved.

They all hung in the vast empty expanse, comms silent, waiting. He felt like he’d aged a year before the comm channel chimed, announcing an incoming message. Mercy opened a link and a second later a booming voice filled the cockpit.

“This is Commander Velto Bray, representing the Galactic Legion, hailing the occupants of the Timeless Blue. You have a wanted fugitive aboard your vessel. As per the ratified agreement covering this area of space, your ship will be boarded and impounded until our investigation is complete.”

“Last time I checked, humans hadn’t been invited to sign that agreement,” Mercy muttered to herself. She had warned him this might happen, and he made a note to reward her brilliance with more orgasms later.

“Doesn’t matter which part of the Gal-Leg finds us, they’re all the same,” she’d told him during their preparations. “Self-aggrandizing idiots who care more about appearances than actually doing anything useful. If they wanted to, they could have protected my species. They didn’t. Asking for help won’t work. We’re going to try something else.”

Rage could tell this particular legion idiot was logaran. He didn’t know much about them except that they were one of the more dangerous species around, with blue-black skin and bulbous features as ugly as they were distinctive.

Rage’s hand hovered over the controls as he waited for events to unfold. Mercy’s plan could work. But if it didn’t, the two of them would go down fighting. Better a quick death now than anything the verexi would offer them later.

Mercy turned in her chair and leaned over to brush her fingertips across his lower back. “If we live through the next five minutes, I’ve got something I need to tell you.”

“Then tell me now.” He looked over at her. She grinned and shook her head.

“Nope. If you want to know, you have to stay alive. Deal?”

He nodded and uttered a low growl he knew would arouse and amuse her. “Deal.”

“Okay then. Let’s give the nice commander our reply.” She faced forward, squared her shoulders, and started broadcasting.

“Commander Bray. This is Mercy Johnson, captain of the Timeless Blue. Your information is incorrect. I do not have a wanted fugitive aboard.”

She paused just long enough for the commander to try speaking and then cut him off by boasting her signal so it trampled his and swamped every signal in the area. “I have a survivor on board who requests asylum from the Galactic Legion. In exchange, he will testify against his abusers, the verexi. He and his entire species have been imprisoned and experimented on continuously for decades, and it is time the verexi answered for their crimes.”

Chaos followed. The verexi drone ship was bombarded with tightbeam messages. The Blue’s comm unit almost flash-fried itself as a torrent of requests for more information poured in, and several of the ships allied to the verexi broke formation to leave the immediate area. They had no way to know what the verexi were saying, but the sheer volume of comms traffic hitting the ship was enough to light up the screen.

Mercy muted her mic but held her expression and body still as she waited for the chaos to ebb. The only part of her that moved were her feet, which were tapping out a happy little tune well out of camera view. This was going according to plan.

“Three, two, one… and there he goes, right on time,” Mercy crowed as Raju’s perfectly chiseled features appeared on her monitor, his signal boosted high enough to cut through the chatter.

“This is Raju Asan from GNN on the scene of a standoff between the Galactic Legion and a ship the verexi claim is carrying a dangerous fugitive. The ship in question has just countered with a claim that the verexi have tortured and experimented on the fugitive and the rest of his race.”

Three windows appeared on the wall behind Raju, each one showing a different person. The first was a verexi, their dull green skin so pale it was nearly translucent. In the next was Commander Bray, and in the third was Mercy, looking determined and calm.

She was beautiful, and the idea that this amazing female would fight for him and his brothers still filled him with awe. She was the one good thing the universe had given him, and he was grateful to this delicate, fierce beauty whose body was made to sheathe his cock.

The second this was over, he’d take her right here in the cockpit, maybe tangle her up in the harness she’d made for him. Yes. That’s exactly what he’d do. And if these were their last moments of life, he’d track her down and fuck her in the next life… whatever that turned out to be. He’d never given much thought to that until now, but Mercy had changed that, too. She was his forever, and not even death would change that.

On the screen, Raju was still talking, peppering the verexi with questions and then pivoting to demand what Bray’s side was going to do to make things right. Mercy stayed quiet until Raju finally asked her a direct question.

“Captain Johnson, can you prove any of the allegations you made here today?” Raju asked. This was it—the moment they’d prepped for over the last two weeks.

Mercy shook her head with a small smile. “I can’t. But I’d like to introduce you to someone who can.”

She turned toward him and whispered softly, “Your five minutes is up. So here’s what I needed to tell you.” She grinned and then winked at him. “I love you.”

Before he could process her startling confession, she activated the camera at his station and introduced him. “This is Rage, formally known as Subject One. He can tell you everything you need to know.”

He wanted to howl to the stars that Mercy loved him and that all was well in the universe. He also wanted to reach through the screen and throttle the verexi until its soulless black eyes popped, but instead he kept his eyes on the image of Mercy and told his story. It wasn’t the revenge he’d always dreamed of, but killing the enemy would not free his brothers.

This might.

And once he was done, he was going to tie Mercy down and tell her he loved her too.

11

Mayhem

The verexi had never shown him a moment’s kindness before, which made Mayhem doubt everything the scrawnies were saying now. Nothing was the same after Rage’s death. There were no more experiments or medical tests. He’d been pain free for weeks, and for the first time in memory, he had enough time and rest to heal and grow strong.

Bysshe had no information to share, and as the days dragged on, Mayhem grew increasingly concerned.

Something had changed, but what?

The answer came eventually, but it wasn’t what Mayhem had expected.

“You are to be freed.” Bysshe’s announcement had stunned him into complete silence.

“Freed? They’re letting us out of our cells?” he asked.

“The verexi have ended this experiment and decommissioned the base. As you cannot survive here without support, you will be moved to an uninhabited planet. You will be given supplies and allowed to live the rest of your lives in peace. Follow me, Subject Two. You are to depart immediately.”

Ten minutes later, his entire clan stepped into the hold of a transport ship. They stayed silent and still, not even daring to subvocalize until the doors closed and the distant rumble of an engine made the entire deck thrum.

“Seat yourself quickly and strap in. This vessel is fully automated and will launch in sixty seconds, whether you are secured or not.” Bysshe made a point of taking a seat on one of the benches that lined the sides of the space and strapping in. They all followed suit.

Mayhem sat next to the android, who immediately scuffed his foot in the familiar “danger” message.

So, this wasn’t over. Mayhem almost felt relieved. The others looked at him expectantly. They hadn’t believed this was an act of kindness, either.

Once the engine noise had died away a little, he cleared his throat and subvocalized to Bysshe. “What’s really going on?”

Instead of answering, the android unclipped his harness and rose. He walked over to a keypad near the front of the hold and tapped out a long string of characters. “Now, we can talk. I’ve disabled the remote monitoring system the verexi are using to watch you. We haven’t got long before they notice, so I will be brief.”

Everyone leaned forward, gold and amber eyes fixed on Bysshe, the only ally they’d ever had. “Something happened. I do not know what it is. They have altered my programming somehow to prevent me from learning about it or retaining any information I may inadvertently acquire. The block did not prevent me from discovering what they planned to do in the future. They intend to vent the atmosphere from this section just before we arrive at the planet. Once you are dead, the ship will crash, destroying all evidence. If you want to live, we have one chance. We have to commandeer this ship and maintain control long enough to land.”

“Killing us, I understand. But why destroy this ship and the bots running it? Why kill you?” Strife asked. He’d always had a sharp mind and a way of cutting to the heart of things.

Bysshe touched his bald temple. “They suspect I have been helping you and have done invasive examinations of my memory banks trying to find proof. I was able to delete or hide most of the evidence, but it is apparent that I am a liability to them. So are all of you. They are willing to sacrifice this ship in order to make your deaths believable.”

“Then we should take this ship and go,” Menace said, his voice sharp and full of anger.

“If we run, they will hunt us. This ship has no weapons and no communications system.” Bysshe looked down at him. “We have one chance.”

Mayhem nodded, unclipped his harness, and rose to stand beside the android. “Then we do what Rage always told us to do if the opportunity came. We rise up. We fight. We win.” He raised his fist into the air and roared.

The others joined him, and in that moment, Mayhem could almost feel the presence of the one who should have been here to enjoy this moment.

“For Rage!” he called out, and the others echoed his cry.

It was time to fight back.

Finally.

Epilogue—Mercy

No plan survived implementation. She and Rage knew that better than most. That knowledge didn’t help them deal with the catastrophic clusterfuck they were watching unfold on the planet below.

They stood together in the cockpit of the Blue, leaning into each other as they tried to figure out what the fuck had gone wrong with their plan to free the rest of the fa’rel.

Things had been going so well, both with the verexi and between the two of them. She felt like someone had installed new batteries in her soul. Rage was wild, and raw, and real, and his energy filled her—not just in bed but in every waking moment. The Blue rang with laughter for the first time in years. It had been good. Until now.

Now, it was a disaster.

More data filled the screen, all of it bad news. Rage slammed his fist into the nearest bulkhead, adding another dent to the interior. With so many of them now, she’d stopped complaining about them. Besides, not all the damage was his fault. She’d torn loose a few chunks of the ship herself during their marathon sexcapades. She hadn’t worried about it since the plan had been to join the rest of Rage’s clan on the surface and only use the Blue as an emergency escape vehicle.

That plan had gone to the hells in nine rocket-powered handcarts.

Instead of releasing their prisoners on an uninhabited planet as agreed, the verexi had tried to kill them all. At least, that’s the only reason Rage could think of that would trigger his brothers to rebel and bring down the ship they traveled on. The verexi weren’t talking, his brothers were trapped on the surface, and the ship along with the plan lay in ruins.

“I want to join them,” Rage said to the male on his screen. Another officer from the legion, this man sported crimson mandibles and an exoskeleton of black chiton.

“You cannot.” Her translator knew the alien’s language well enough to get most points across, but it wasn’t perfect.

She could tell that much because either the liksik species took a long damned time to say anything, or it was paraphrasing because those two words had been translated from nearly a dozen clicks and popping sounds.

“They were supposed to be freed!” Rage snarled, and she reached out to take his hand with hers. He caught her fingers as he always did, running one claw over the pattern on her wrist. He knew what that did to her, but she’d rather get all hot and bothered than let her mate lose his temper.

“You said they were nonviolent!” the officer retorted.

That wasn’t what Rage had said at all. She’d been there for every conversation. He’d promised that his brothers could learn to be peaceful citizens of the Galactic Legion given enough time and the means to make a life for themselves. He’d also warned them that the verexi would try something, but the ones with the power hadn’t believed him. The verexi didn’t have an army, but their system held vast amounts of talium-6, a precious, crystalline mineral that powered every star drive in existence. They’d used that to negotiate, twisting the truth until there were enough doubts to let them escape serious repercussions. Hells, they’d even convinced the others that Rage shouldn’t be allowed to contact his clan until they were safely on the surface. They had no idea what the verexi had told his brothers about him or their future.

Now, they couldn’t even find out what happened on board, because the only witnesses were verexi-controlled bots. The assholes had planned this… and it had worked.

Mostly.

According to the scans, the ship had crashed surprisingly close to where their supplies had been soft-landed. Better yet, life signs proved that everyone on board had survived the crash. Rage’s brothers were safe.

“I need to get down there,” Rage repeated.

The officer paused, listening to something being said off screen. Then he said, “That’s not possible. This planet is within the boundaries of the verexi empire. They have denied you permission to land. In fact, they are requesting that I transfer to your ship and personally escort you out of their territory. All permissions and licenses to access their space have been terminated, effective immediately.”

Mercy scowled at the screen. “If you leave your post, no one will be left to observe what happens. You have orders to ensure that this transfer went according to plan. To do that, you have to stay with the verexi and ensure nothing happens to the fa’rel. That’s your job!” And as far as she was concerned, the officer had failed miserably at it.

Rage leaned in and flashed his fangs at the officer. “They don’t even know I’m here. I wasn’t allowed to make contact until they landed. I need to talk to them. Now.”

The liksik showed the slightest hesitation before answering. “It’s impossible. The ship’s communications are down. We have no way to reach them.”

“Then let us land!” Rage’s roar shook the deck under her feet, but she already knew it was a wasted effort. The verexi didn’t want anyone else on that planet. No witnesses meant no chance of their secret getting out. Whatever those secrets were…

The officer looked lost now, his mandibles clattering together in what looked like agitation. “You need to leave this area immediately.”

“And my clan?” Rage demanded.

The liksik officer muted the channel while he had another, more prolonged conversation with someone off screen. When he spoke again, he sounded more certain. “They’ll be safe. This system is now restricted space. No one in. No one out. A defense grid will be placed around the planet and warning beacons will be posted. Your clan has their planet, as agreed.”

“The hells they do. They’re still prisoners!” Even before she opened her mouth, Mercy knew she couldn’t change anything. The decisions were already made. The verexi had cut a deal with someone, and they had no time to figure out who it was or how to counter them. Public outrage had burned in their favor for a while, but the news cycle had already moved on to the next story.

The officer started clicking and popping again, and she knew what he’d say before the translation started. “This incident will need to be reviewed at a higher level. You will be contacted and invited to submit your statement in writing at a later time.”

They’d just been dumped into diplomatic limbo. Fuck.

The air around Rage almost crackled with barely repressed fury and frustration. “I’m not leaving until I speak to them. They don’t even know I’m alive.”

“If you do not leave immediately, you will be in violation of the terms of this agreement,” the liksik chittered, his appendages all quivering in agitation.

Mercy moved before Rage could. “We’ll go,” she said tersely and then disconnected the link with a slap of her hand.

“No!”

She turned and took hold of Rage’s horns, wrapping her fingers around the part that curled beside his jaw. “Yes. We’re going. For now. We can’t fight this. We don’t have the money or the connections to fix this fuckery.”

“I’m not leaving them.”

She smiled and kept up the gentle stroking. “We’re not leaving them. Humans have a saying that I think you need to learn.”

“Hmm?” he was nuzzling her hand now, his amber eyes already filling with heat.

“He who fights and then runs away…” she started.

“Is a coward!” Rage snapped.

“No. They live to fight another day. Your clan are safe for now. We’ll find a way to help them eventually. I promise. This fight isn’t over.” She pulled his head down and kissed him. “But first, we need a plan.”

“Does this plan include vengeance and copious amounts of sex?”

She threw back her head and laughed. “As a matter of fact, it does.”

She took her seat and fired up the engines, charting a course for the edge of verexi space. That was when she noticed a small blue light flashing on her comm console. Someone had sent her a data packet. She called up the log, but what she saw there made no sense. According to her system, it had been sent the day she’d first met Rage. But that was weeks ago. Why hadn’t it registered until now?

She scanned it for anything dangerous, but it was exactly what it appeared to be, a simple data packet. Once they were underway, she called Rage over so they could review it together. Something told her this would be about him.

She was right.

The recording was audio only, but she recognized the voice right away as Bysshe, the android from the lunar installation.

“Hello, Captain Johnson. This is Bysshe, and this message was recorded before you were out of range of the lunar outpost. It had a time delay, which means that it is now several weeks past the day we last spoke. I apologize for the delay, but it was necessary.

“The verexi suspect I was complicit in the escape of Subject One. To protect myself and the other fa’rel, I am purging my data banks of all memory of his escape as well as any other incriminating information I had obtained during my time here. I’m sending it to you in hopes you will share it with Subject One.”

The recording lapsed into silence for a second. “Though I suppose he’ll be calling himself Rage now. Hello, Rage. I hope you are well and thriving. I will continue to protect your clan as best I can. They are strong and determined to survive, just as you are. Did you know that fa’rel is a verexi word? It means wild ones in one of their older dialects. But that is not the name of your species. I can’t tell you what it was. There’s no mention of it that I can find, but I do know that you were not created by the verexi. You and the others were abducted and altered, but your species is out there, on a planet in one of the unknown areas of the universe. I have sent you all the information I could find, but to find them you will have to cross several contested areas and violate the legion’s non-interference pact with still-developing races.”

Rage snarled, which was actually a pretty mild reaction considering what they’d just discovered.

Mercy had been explaining the complex rules that governed the Galactic Legion, and he’d learned enough to know that what Bysshe was suggesting wouldn’t be easy.

“The verexi will do all they can to hide the truth of what they’ve done. I will do what I can to protect your clan, but I don’t have enough information to prove anything, and the verexi have powerful allies. You will need to find your people, Rage. And you must hurry. Be well, and good luck. I hope to see you again someday.”

The message ended.

For the first time in her life, she was grateful that humanity had never been invited to sign on with the legion. She wasn’t bound by their rules… and neither was Rage.

They could do this. Humans might not rule the stars, but they did one thing better than any other species she’d encountered. They persisted. And she could do better than merely endure. Now that she had Rage in her bed, with all his youthful fire and a stubbornness the equal of her own, she could do more. They’d both been survivors before they met. Now that they had each other, anything was possible.

“Give me a big enough lever and I will move worlds,” she murmured against his lips.

His laughter rumbled up from his chest. “I am big enough to rock your world, little female.” He set a big hand on her shoulder. “How do we find them?”

His trust in her was like a shot of premium narcotics straight to the bloodstream. “I call some friends. Cash in more favors. We make a plan.” She turned and nuzzled her cheek against his fingers. “Then we go find your people.”

He pulled her out of the chair and kissed her, his tongue tangling and dancing with hers until she was breathless and trembling. Stars above, the things he could do with that tongue…

They broke their embrace to watch as the fa’rels’ new homeworld dwindled to a speck on the monitors, the two of them wrapped in each other’s arms. “I will be back for you, my brothers. Until then, be free. Be well. Survive until I return.”

“You mean until we return,” she reminded him.

“Yes. We. But before I introduce you to them, I will need to speak to them all.”

She rubbed her ass against the hard line of his cock, already suspecting where this was going. “Why?”

“Because they are all like me. Strong, virile males. But they are alone down there, and when they see what a magnificent mate I have found, they will want to take you for their own.”

An entire clan of hot, horned, and horny alien males. Many women out there would give their life savings to find something like that. She wasn’t one of them. She had all she needed. “Then I’ll have to tell them I want no other male but you,” she said.

“No. Then I would have to kill them. Once they are free, they can find their own females. You are mine.”

She tipped her head back to smile up at him. “So you keep telling me.”

“Do you doubt it?” he rumbled.

Not for a moment. She just wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of saying it aloud. “Maybe you should remind me again who I belong to.”

His purr was low and deep, the sound making her pulse race and her pussy cream in anticipation. She squealed, ducked out of his arms, and pelted down the corridor to their quarters.

She wasn’t going to make it. Not with a predator only a few steps behind, primed and ready to show her all the ways she belonged to him.

They were headed for danger and the unknown, looking for answers to questions they’d only just discovered … but they’d be together. The two of them against the universe.

Bring it on.

***

Thank You for Reading Marked For Rage

I hope you enjoyed Mercy and Rage’s story. Don’t worry, we’ll be hearing from this couple again in later books! I invite you to explore the rest of the series… starting with Marked For Mayhem.

Marked For Mayhem

Her last shot at love just crashed and burned… Literally.

 Bella signed up for the interplanetary courtship cruise hoping for travel, adventure, and maybe a chance at romance. Now she’s crash landed on a strange planet with no one around but a horned, alien hottie who showed up and laid claim to her gear, her ship… and her.

He’s too brash, too pushy, and much too young for her. He’s also not taking no for an answer…

This wasn’t the adventure she imagined, but it might just be the romance of a lifetime, if she can stay alive long enough to enjoy it.

**Buckle up. This sci-fi romance contains an alien with fur, fangs, horns, and a very possessive attitude when it comes to the woman he’s claimed for his own.

Continue the adventure with Marked For Mayhem

Want to read more stories with book boyfriends

that are out of this world?

Check out Susan Hayes’ other Science Fiction Romance Series

Crashed And Claimed

The Omega Collective

(Co-written with Mina Carter)

The Drift: Astek Station

The Drift: Nova Force

The Drift: Haven Colony

Star-Crossed Alien Mail Order Brides

About the Author

Susan lives out on the Canadian west coast surrounded by open water, dear family, and good friends. She’s jumped out of perfectly good airplanes on purpose and accidentally swum with sharks on the Great Barrier Reef.

If the world ends, she plans to survive as the spunky, comedic sidekick to the heroes of the new world, because she’s too damned short and out of shape to make it on her own for long.

To contact her about her books or to arrange end of the world team-ups, you can email her at susan@susanhayes.ca.

For all titles by Susan Hayes, please visit her website:

susanhayes.ca

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