Brant_Science Fiction Romance Read online

  With a lift of her chin, she whispered, “You will not hurt him?”

  Diego gave her another push. “Not as long as you do what you’re told. Now, get on that bed and place your arms above your head.”

  Syrina shut down her emotions and slowly moved forward.

  “Syrina? I can feel your fear. What has happened?”

  Zyen’s voice inside her head was an unwelcome intrusion. She would not allow him to witness what was about to happen to her. He would relive it over and over until it drove him insane.

  She shut him out, closing her mind off to everyone she cared for and climbed onto the bed.

  “Arms above your head,” Diego demanded, his gaze flicking to Mateo. “If she fights me, shoot him.”

  Syrina glanced down at Brant’s unconscious form lying helpless on that floor. At least he wouldn’t have to watch them defile her.

  She turned her face away to stare up at the ceiling. “I will not fight.”

  “Stay away from her teeth,” Mateo chimed in, his voice sounding nasally as a result of his broken nose. “I heard about their teeth.”

  Diego grabbed hold of the bed sheet, ripped off a strip, and tied it around Syrina’s mouth. “That should take care of her biting ability.”

  In all Syrina’s dealings with the land walkers over the past couple of months, she had yet to endure such humiliation as she did in that moment. Everything she’d been told about the disgusting humans came rushing back with a vengeance.

  A Bracadyte male would never harm a female for any reason. They certainly wouldn’t force sex upon an unwilling partner. But these weren’t Bracadytes. They were land walkers. And land walkers were without morals.

  Her mind shifted to Thrasher and his complete devotion to Kaspyn, to Anthony Vaughn and his undying love for Naura, to Carmen…and finally back to Brant—brave, heroic Brant. He’d been willing to give up his life to prevent Syrina from having to endure the unwanted advances of the two guards. No, Syrina silently admitted, not all humans were bad.

  The sound of a zipper sliding down brought Syrina’s mind back to the man standing over her.

  Mateo abruptly announced. “Wait. You don’t know what kind of diseases that thing carries.”

  Diego hesitated. “I have condoms.”

  Syrina had no idea what a condom was or how it would be used, but it couldn’t mean anything good for her.

  Diego straightened, reached into his back pocket, and pulled a small square packet free. He ripped it open, revealing the packet’s contents.

  In that moment, it became abundantly clear to Syrina what a condom was used for.

  She closed her eyes to block out the sight of Diego’s disgusting erection as he hurried to remove his pants.

  The bed dipped with his weight, and his knee settled between her own to force her thighs apart.

  More humiliation ensued, followed by panic. She was about to be assaulted, and there was nothing she could do but lay there and endure it.

  The barbs on her wrists and ankles became erect without thought.

  Diego’s choppy breathing only enhanced the venom now rushing to the tips of her barbs.

  He dropped his heavy weight on top of her and reached between their bodies. “You’re in for a ride, sweetheart.”

  Syrina’s muscles locked up in preparation for his unwanted invasion. And then all hell suddenly broke loose.

  A hoarse roar unlike anything she’d ever heard before rent the air. The battle cry came from Brant, of that she had no doubt.

  That was all the invitation Syrina needed. She closed her hand into a fist, swung her arm to the side, and sliced Diego’s throat with the razor-sharp barb at her wrist.

  His mouth opened on a silent scream, but nothing came forth save a pathetic gurgling sound.

  Syrina quickly heaved his weight off her and sprang to her feet in time to watch Brant’s legs close around Mateo’s neck. With a sharp twist, Brant ended the guard’s life.

  Rushing over to Diego’s pants on the floor, Syrina dug through the pockets until she found a knife. After several attempts to open it, she finally figured it out.

  “Hold still,” she whispered to Brant, dropping to her knees next to him.

  He gave her his back, presenting her with his bound wrists.

  She realized her hands shook as she attempted to cut through the thick plastic that bound his hands.

  The reality of what had just happened settled over her like an oily film. She spun to the side and heaved up all the water she’d drank in the shower.

  Shudders passed through her repeatedly. And then Brant’s arms were around her, holding her tight. He rocked her back and forth, crooning soft words she didn’t understand.

  “Syrina?”

  Fighting another heave, Syrina wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and lifted her head to meet Brant’s gaze. She couldn’t look away from the torment she saw swimming in his eyes.

  Without releasing his hold on her, he whispered, “God, I’m so sorry. I would give anything if I could take it back. I—”

  “He did not rape me.”

  A suspicious moisture sprang up in his hazel-colored eyes. “You… He didn’t…?”

  “He would have had you not intervened. I owe you a debt I can never repay.”

  Looking away, Brant blew out a trembling breath and helped her stand. “You owe me nothing. If not for you, I wouldn’t even be alive.”

  “If not for me, you would not be in this predicament to begin with. It is me that they want, and they will use you to ensure I comply.”

  Brant shook his head. “No, they won’t. We’re getting the hell out of here. Now.”

  Chapter Eight

  Brant snatched up Diego’s pants and handed them to Syrina. He then removed Mateo’s shirt since Diego’s was covered in blood. “Put those on. We have to hurry.”

  He kept his gaze averted while she dressed, his stomach in knots over what he’d seen upon wakening.

  The sight of Diego attempting to force himself on Syrina had sent Brant into berserker mode.

  Flashes of Melinda’s screams, her helplessness and torment had erupted inside his already tortured mind.

  The room had turned to red in his peripheral, the sound of an unholy scream vibrating through his skull.

  It had taken Brant a moment to realize the sound had come from him, and another to splinter into a thousand pieces.

  Even with the sight of Diego on top of Syrina, Brant had known he’d have to take out Mateo first. Eliminate the greatest threat. And Mateo had held the gun. He’d been first priority.

  “I am ready,” Syrina whispered, her voice wooden and uneven.

  Brant shook off the visions plaguing him and plucked up Mateo’s gun. He handed Diego’s to Syrina. “Stay behind me.”

  He hurried across the room and put his ear to the door. The sound of footsteps could be heard in the hall.

  Taking a step back, Brant lifted the pistol in his hand and brought a finger to his lips for silence.

  The door cracked open, and a small, dark-haired girl poked her head inside. Her eyes grew huge when she took in the barrel of Brant’s gun. She glanced behind him at Syrina and then met Brant’s pissed-off gaze. “We don’t have much time. Hurry.”

  Brant moved his finger to the trigger. “If this is some sort of trick—”

  A high-pitched sound split the air, followed by an explosion somewhere in the building.

  Obviously terrified, the dark-haired girl pushed the door wide and waved them forward. “Move!”

  Brant reached back, grabbed on to Syrina’s hand, and sprinted behind the stranger down a long, narrow hall.

  The tiny scrap of a girl quickly turned a corner, brandished a set of keys, and stopped at the last door on the left.

  It took her several attempts to get the door open, her nervous gaze flicking back the way they’d come.

  She waved Brant and Syrina inside before following them in and locking the door behind them.

  T
he alarm became muffled enough to understand her words as she hurried past them. “Follow me!”

  Brant had no idea why the girl would help them, but left with little choice, he did as she said.

  They ran down a dark corridor lined with water pipes until they came to an exit at the end.

  The girl disengaged the locks, pushed the door open, and poked her head outside.

  Raised voices and screams of terror floated through the open doorway. She nervously glanced back at Brant. “Now’s our chance. Hurry!”

  Another explosion shook the floor beneath Brant’s feet. He held tightly to Syrina’s hand and raced outside, staying tight on the heels of the girl in front of him.

  They ran through the grass, not stopping until they reached the tree line beyond. Still, they ran, long after the alarm could no longer be heard and the sound of screams faded in the distance.

  The dark-haired girl finally slowed her steps, stopping next to a large tree. She rested her hands on her bent knees and spoke with labored breathing. “If you continue north, you’ll reach—”

  “What happened back there,” Brant blurted, confused and more than a little suspicious. “Did you start set off those explosions?”

  “I had to destroy the evidence they’d acquired from the alien. Now stop wasting time and get the hell out of here.”

  Syrina growled low in her throat.

  Brant held up a hand, hoping to stall Syrina’s obvious ire at being referred to as an alien, and took a step toward the small girl. “You’re not coming with us?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t. If they find out I helped you escape, it won’t bode well for me…or my mother.”

  Brant took a patient breath. “First of all, who are you, and why did you help us escape?”

  The girl straightened, her breathing still labored. “My name is Trescina. And I helped you because I need to find my sister. She is somehow associated with those…aliens.” She nodded toward Syrina.

  “We are not aliens,” Syrina growled back, her voice full of indignation.

  Trescina boldly held Syrina’s gaze. “Well, you’re not human. What else would you be?”

  “We are Bracadytes, a far superior race than mere land walkers.”

  Brant raised an eyebrow, his head swiveling around in Syrina’s direction before he turned to face Trescina once more.

  “Your sister is with the Bracadytes?” His mind went over every human residing in Aukrabah. “Who is your sister?”

  “Her name is Carmen Mendez.”

  Brant’s suspicion only grew. Did the girl even know that Carmen was Cuban? “Carmen Mendez doesn’t have any siblings, and she’s Cuban.”

  “She’s part Cuban,” Trescina shot back. “Our father was Caucasian. Carmen’s mother is Cuban; mine is African American.”

  Brant still wasn’t convinced. “She’s never mentioned having a sister.”

  “That’s because she doesn’t know about me. I only found out recently myself. My mother told me about Carmen when she became ill. You’re wasting time, Mr. Henagar. You have to go.”

  Brant held his ground. “How is it that you happened to be in the place we were being held?”

  “I work for Doctor Garcia. It’s how I found out about Carmen’s whereabouts. Now, I must get back before I’m missed. If you make it out of here alive, will you give this to my sister?” She handed Brant a folded piece of paper.

  “I’ll see that she gets it,” Brant assured her, grabbing on to her wrist as she turned to go. “Wait. What’ll happen to you if they find out you helped us?”

  “Let’s just pray they don’t.” She pulled free of his grip and disappeared through the trees.

  Chapter Nine

  Syrina ran along behind Brant for what seemed like miles. She knew he was in pain without having to ask… She could sense it. “Let us stop and rest for a moment. You will do us no good if you are unconscious.”

  He ignored her, his feet obviously continuing to move out of sheer will.

  Grabbing onto his arm, Syrina dug in her heels until he slowed to a stop. “Sit for a moment. We are nearing the Gulf. I can smell it.”

  Brant stared back at her, his eyes glittering in the moonlight. “If we’re that close to the Gulf, you need to go. They’ll never catch you once you reach the water.”

  Syrina’s mouth dropped open. “You think I would leave without you?”

  “Don’t be a hero, Syrina. If they catch you—”

  “And what of you? I am not going to leave you defenseless and injured.”

  Brant reached back and tapped the gun in the waistband of his pants. “I’m not defenseless. And we both know what will happen to you if they catch you. The worse they’ll do to me is kill me. It’s not me that they want.”

  “I will not leave you. Now, sit. Your face is as pale as the moon above your head.”

  Syrina locked her jaw, staring into Brant’s stubborn eyes until he blew out a breath and lowered to the ground.

  “We’ll rest for a minute, and then I want you on that beach before daylight.”

  Dropping down next to Brant, Syrina murmured, “I will head for the beach shortly and look for markers as to our whereabouts. Once Zyen knows our location, I will return to you.”

  Brant simply nodded, his jaw tight with obvious pain.

  “Show me where you hurt.”

  Her words must have caught him off guard if his expression were any indication. “I’m fine.”

  “You are not fine.” Syrina leaned forward and lifted the hem of his shirt. A large, dark bruise covered his side. “From the plane crash?”

  He moved to pull his shirt down, but she blocked him, her hand going to the bruise on his side.

  A hiss burst from his lips when she applied pressure. “What are you doing?”

  She eased up slightly but kept her palm firmly against his injury. “I am going to relieve some of your pain. Now, relax and hold still for me.”

  Her eyes slid shut, and her mind zeroed in on the warmth of his skin beneath her hand. Electrical currents began to pass between them, eliciting a moan from Brant. Or had it come from her? She didn’t know. Suddenly, all she knew was the feel of pain running up her arm. And then she slipped involuntarily into his mind.

  Energy passed between them with every breath Syrina took. His memories became her own… along with his pain.

  She saw a pretty blonde female wearing the human military attire, sitting across a fire from Brant with love in her eyes.

  The scene changed to one of laughter as they frolicked in the water together.

  “Melinda,” Brant lovingly scolded as she slipped into his tent, unannounced.

  Screams, horrible mind-numbing screams. Brant begging for the life of the pretty blonde who was tortured in front of him.

  His emptiness, devastation, and need to follow her into death slipped into Syrina’s very soul.

  Tears sprang to her eyes, but she forced them back, knowing that Brant would never want her pity. She groaned from the pain of it and jerked her hands back as if burned. “I do not think your ribs have been broken, but—”

  “Syrina,” Brant interrupted, his voice hoarse with emotion.

  When he didn’t continue, Syrina cleared her throat. “You need not talk about it. I saw enough to understand what happened.”

  “She died because of me,” he choked out. “And there wasn’t anything I could do to save her.”

  Syrina tilted her head to the side. “You hold great guilt over something you had no control over?”

  “I should have done something!” he hissed, torment shining in his eyes. “Anything!”

  “What could you have done differently, Brant? You could not have known what would happen.”

  “It doesn’t matter now, does it?” He cleared his throat and looked away. “Thank you for your help. Some of the pain has eased up.”

  Syrina took that as her cue that he was done talking about it. Yet, something inside her couldn’t let it go.

&nb
sp; Perhaps it had to do with the fact that Brant had saved her from being defiled by Diego, or that he’d gotten her out of that place just as he’d promised. Whatever the reasons, she wanted to help him. “I can take that from you, if you will allow me.”

  Brant brought his gaze back to her face. “Take it from me?”

  “Remove the pain of what you witnessed. It would become a distant but vague memory…”

  He looked horrified by her offer. “You mean forget Melinda and what happened to her?”

  Syrina shrugged. “It would help you to—”

  “Not an option. I’ll never forget her or what happened to her. Nor do I want to. It’s my cross to carry, and carry it, I will.”

  Unsure of how to respond, Syrina pushed to her feet. “Very well. It will be light soon. I am going to the beach to look for markers. I will return posthaste.”

  “Do not come back here, Syrina. You get your ass in that Gulf, and don’t look back until you’re a safe distance offshore. Don’t worry about me. I’ve survived in a lot worse condition than this.”

  “But—”

  “Dammit, go!”

  Syrina spun on her heel and took off in the direction of the beach. She could smell its salty scent calling to her, beckoning her to the safety of its depths. It would be so easy to dive beneath the waves and swim as far from Cuba as she could get. But she couldn’t leave without Brant. She wouldn’t…

  Chapter Ten

  Brant watched Syrina go with a mixture of relief and something else he couldn’t name.

  Having her inside his head, sifting through his memories was about as intimate as two people could possibly be. And he’d allowed her to do it.

  The first sensation of her entering his past had felt like an invasion. Yet the longer he hesitated to push her out, the warmer her presence had become until he’d subconsciously opened for her. Sharing it with her somehow relieved a small amount of his pain.

  He blew out a shuddering breath, gritted his teeth, and eased his back against the base of the tree behind him. As soon as Syrina made it safely to the Gulf, he would be on his way.