Page 42 of Tamed
“No,” Jessie cried. “I don’t want anyone dying for me. I’ll go talk to her, find out what she wants.”
The males ignored her as they formed a protective half circle around the females.
The rest transpired with surreal speed and sickening violence. Six Torretian soldiers streamed onto the transport. Pulse rifles were strapped to their backs but they attacked with long, curved blades. They faced the females and any stray shot could harm the precious conduits. The security team fired pulse pistols in rapid succession a millisecond after the invaders materialized, but the energy was absorbed by the formfitting armor of the Torretians.
Heather cried out and pressed her face against Jessie’s shoulder. “Make them stop. Please make them stop!”
The attacking force reached the security team and the real fight began. They stabbed and slashed with such viciousness that Jessie too closed her eyes. The invasion back on Earth still filled her dreams each night. She didn’t need more fuel for her imagination.
The Torretians outnumbered the Altorians two to one, so Jessie knew the fight wouldn’t take long. Hopelessness welled inside her as the sounds of combat stretched on. Would this be her life now, violent males endlessly fighting to possess her mythical power? Each scream of pain, each resounding smack of fists hitting flesh warned Jessie that the conflict would never be over.
“Come,” a deep commanding voice cut through Jessie’s despair. “We will not hurt you.”
Reluctantly, Jessie opened her eyes. The security team was dead; one glance at their blood-covered bodies confirmed that fact.
“You didn’t need to kill them,” Jessie sobbed, unable to stabilize her raging emotions. “I’d already agreed to come with you.”
The leader said nothing. He simply held out his hand, his expression filled with expectation.
Jessie unfastened her safety straps and eased Heather off her shoulder. “The fight’s over. We have to go.”
A harsh sob was Heather’s only reply, so Jessie released Heather’s straps and tried to pull her to her feet. Heather cried even harder, lost in hysterical fear. With her eyes stubbornly squeezed shut, she struggled against Jessie’s light grasp.
“I’ll take her,” one of the Torretians offered. He was younger than the others, his features less intimidating. “Come here, love,” he coaxed as he scooped Heather up in his arms.
To Jessie’s surprise, Heather wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in the side of his neck.
“No one will hurt you now,” he told her. “I guarantee it.” He strode to the back of the ship and a molecular teleportation beam streamed them off the transport. The other soldiers soon followed and Jessie was alone with the leader.
“You’re next,” the leader told Jessie. “Domar is waiting.”
She hadn’t known the members of the security team, barely remembered their names, but they had been willing to fight to the death to protect her. That meant a lot to Jessie.
Shock and confusion kept Jessie grounded in place. Her mind wouldn’t accept the brutality of what had just happened. Flashes of light drew her attention to the back of the ship and a soft gasp escaped her lips. Two of the Torretian soldiers returned, each one carrying an unconscious female.
“W-what are you doing?” Jessie moved away from the leader, putting as much room between them as possible.
He said nothing as the two females were placed in seats and their safety straps fastened. As Jessie looked closer at the females, she realized they weren’t unconscious, they were dead. “Oh, my God.” Had the Torretians tortured and killed these poor women so they could use their bodies? One female had dark brown hair not unlike Jessie’s own. The other was blonde, like Heather. The bodies were dressed in uniforms identical to the one Jessie wore and both had been badly burned. Her accusatory gaze flew to the leader. “You’re making it look like we died.” Didn’t they realize DNA testing would easily reveal the switch? The females’ faces were distorted by their burns, large portions of their bodies were charred, but there was still flesh on their bones. They would never get away with this.
The leader smiled, the expression cold and filled with menace. “Images will be sent to the Citadel and then the ship will explode. Some might wonder if this was set up, but they will never be able to prove if you are alive or dead. Now, move!” He grabbed her upper arm and dragged her out from between the seats.
“But why do you want Zevon to think we’re dead? What are you going to do with us?”
The leader ignored her questions as he positioned her in the back of the ship.
Refusing to look at the carnage, Jessie tried not to panic. They wouldn’t stage her death if they meant to kill her. They would simply kill her and leave her body where Zevon was sure to find it. This was only the fourth time she’d streamed since arriving in the star system so the endless sucking sensation was still disorienting. She materialized with a soft gasp and stumbled forward a step.
“Steady,” the leader said, his massive hand tightening around her upper arm.
She shivered, not yet ready to be touched by anyone. “I’m fine.” She twisted free of his grasp then crossed her arms over her chest.
After pausing long enough to make sure Jessie was steady, the leader escorted her to a luxurious cabin. At least luxurious by spaceship standards. The room was compact, but the furniture appeared posh and comfortable. Domar stood directly across from the door casually sipping a pale blue beverage. Her emerald green gown skimmed her body, hinting at lush curves rather than blatantly outlining them. From the crown of her shiny hair to the toe of her jeweled slippers, she was the picture of elegant privilege.
“Your soldiers just murdered my escort,” Jessie snapped. “And they’re setting up the transport to make it look like I’m dead. What the hell do you want with me?”
“Would you like something to drink?” She lifted her glass, head tilting to one side. “The benalis is lovely.”
Jessie glared at her. “Did you murder those two women so you could use their bodies? How much blood do I have on my hands?”