Faultless (Detyen Warriors Book 4) Read online

  Faultless: Detyen Warriors

  By

  Kate Rudolph

  and

  Starr Huntress

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  More Detyen Warriors

  Soulless

  Ruthless

  Heartless

  Faultless

  Faultless © Kate Rudolph 2018.

  Cover design by Kate Rudolph.

  All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the copyright holder, except in the case of brief quotations embodied within critical reviews and articles.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is suitable only for mature readers.

  Published by Starr Huntress & Kate Rudolph.

  www.starrhuntress.com

  www.katerudolph.net

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

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  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter One

  LAUREL WOKE UP, A SCREAM lodged in her throat, tearing at her vocal chords and doing its damnedest to get out. But she couldn’t shout, couldn’t make a peep. She didn’t want them to hear her, they couldn’t know that she was awake.

  Them? Who were they?

  She swallowed the lump in her throat and winced at the scratchiness. It felt like she hadn’t talked in ages, but that couldn’t be right. Even in this hellhole, she still had conversations with the other girls. They kept each other sane when everything around them was hell.

  What other girls?

  She tried to shake her head to clear the cobwebs, to try and put her thoughts in order, but that only sparked the giant headache lurking at the edges of her consciousness. Laurel reached up and clutched the side of her skull, surprised to find that the hair on half of her head had been shaved clear off, leaving only soft stubble.

  Why had they done that?

  Despite the piercing pain of the headache, she managed to open her eyes, and for a moment she thought she’d been blinded. Everything was white, eye scorchingly white and bright and far too much for her battered vision to handle. She squeezed her eyes shut tight once more and it took another minute to convince herself to try and see again. The second time she opened her eyes it wasn’t as bad. The room around her was still far too bright, but her eyes adjusted enough that she could start to make out the edges of tiles in the ceiling and when she turned her head she saw a cabinet built into the wall.

  She wasn’t where she was supposed to be, but for once in her life that was a good thing.

  The past several weeks—months? Laurel wasn’t sure—were one giant blur of abuse and degradation, but never in all that time had she awoken in a pristinely clean room. Especially not unbound. There wasn’t even the faintest hint of suffering in the air. All she could smell was the telltale scent of recycled air and a faint whiff of a cleaning product. She’d never realized that something as simple as that might make her feel safe.

  Confused, but safe.

  The pain in her head pounded, but she forced herself to sit up and take stock of the room around her. There were no windows, so she had no clue where she was or the time of day, but she spotted a door in the opposite wall. The place looked a bit like a doctor’s office with computer panels in the walls and a medbot charging on a hook near the door.

  Laurel looked down at herself and found fading bruises along her arms and several bandages. She ached all over and her greatest desire was to lay back down and sleep for a week, but she couldn’t do that, not until she had some idea of what was going on. She raised her hands up to her head and found that only half of her hair had been shaved, the other half hung in stringy blond hanks down to her shoulder. Her hair, what was left of it, wasn’t clean, but it wasn’t as filthily dirty as it had been back when she’d been a captive. She must have been asleep for some time if they’d washed her after she’d been recovered from...

  From where? Where had she been? What was going on?

  Laurel’s last absolutely crystal clear memory was of getting in the taxi to go to her friend Andrea’s 21st birthday at a bar in Arlington. She had a vague recollection of the consumption of a lot of alcohol and then... and then things got dicey. There were other girls and too many men, men who used them and beat them and left them to rot. And every time Laurel tried to scream, tried to run away, something stopped her, froze her in place until she was nothing but a statue.

  How was that even possible? And how had she ended up here?

  The door opposite her bed slid open with a whisper and Laurel flinched, ready for an attack, but the alien who walked in kept more than an arm’s length between them and gave her a look that was probably meant to be non-threatening. He was tall and broad; if he was from Earth she would have guessed that he played football. His skin was dark purple and his eyes were so brightly blue that they looked like the summer sky. Dark hair was held back at the base of his neck and he wore a light gray coat over a black top and pants.

  Laurel had met a few aliens in her life, but she couldn’t identify where this one came from, and while she desperately hoped that he was a friend, she was scared to do anything to make him mad and have him prove otherwise.

  “I’m so glad to see that you’re awake,” her visitor said. “You’ve been asleep for several days since we recovered you.”

  “Re—recovered?” Laurel had to clear her throat halfway through the word, her voice scratchy from disuse. “What’s going on? Where am I?” She reached up and clutched at the shaved side of her head, silently asking what had been done to her.

  The alien moved towards one of the walls and Laurel tracked his every step. He touched a small panel and she tensed, waiting for something bad to happen, but all he did was release a small bench from storage and take a seat. She didn’t quite let out a relieved breath, but some of her muscles unclenched.

  “My name is Brakley Varrow,” the alien said. “I’m a researcher out of the Oscavian Empire. This is my vessel.” He made a vague gesture with his hand to encompass the ship they were sitting on. It was only then that Laurel realized that he was telling her that they weren’t on any planet, they were in space. “A week ago, my team discovered you unconscious and injured. There was a control chip implanted in your head.” He raised his hand to the side of his own head, a mirror of where Laurel was shaved. “Those are nasty beasts,” he shuddered, “and half the time they go critical and overheat, frying whoever had the misfortune of being implanted. Still, slavers usually use the
m in at least some of their stock to make sure they can maintain a certain level of control. It seems you were the unlucky victim.”

  Laurel’s skin pebbled, suddenly cold as she comprehended how close she’d come to dying and on the edge of that welling chasm of fear was the stomach turning sickness as she thought about what exactly a control chip could have made her do.

  “I don’t remember,” she said in barely a whisper, her teeth chattering as the words escaped.

  Varrow was suddenly on his feet and between one moment and the next had a bright pink blanket in hand. He gave it to her, helping her wrap it around her shoulders. It must have had some internal heat source from the way it began to warm her almost immediately.

  “They can play havoc on memories,” Varrow told her. “An initial scan showed some minor damage to the area where the chip was implanted.”

  Her eyes snapped up and got caught in the blue sky of his gaze. “Brain damage?” Could this get any worse?

  Varrow offered her a reassuring smile. “Minor, I’m afraid. You may suffer some headaches, confusion, and memory loss, but we’ve administered a nano protocol that is right now working to fix the damage. Since our nanos were calibrated for Oscavians and not humans, we’ve had to reprogram them and slow down the healing process to monitor it closely, but so far your results are promising.”

  “Why are you helping me?” Maybe her mind was caught in the confusion that he’d warned her about, but Laurel was having trouble keeping up. She’d gone from being held and controlled by slavers to now being healed by some random researcher on an Oscavian ship. How? Why? She’d heard of the Oscavian Empire, who hadn’t? But it was some giant power a gazillion light years away from home. They barely interacted with humans, so why did this one care?

  A fire seemed to light up in Varrow’s eyes and his jaw tightened, a tic showing the emotion he was trying hard not to let take him over. “Slavery is an abomination,” he spat. “No intelligent being should be subjected to the whims of beasts who would take what is not theirs. It is not often that I am given the opportunity to help so directly, but when we saw you, my crew did not hesitate. I know it must be hard to trust us, but we mean you no harm. You are free to move about any parts of the ship that aren’t marked for crew only. My onboard medic has told me that you’ll need some more tests before we can safely get you to one of the human embassies, but once we’re certain that no harm has come to you, we will do everything we can to return you to your people.”

  Laurel was so overwhelmed that she couldn’t breathe. This all seemed too good to be true, no, this was beyond too good to be true. How could she have gone from the depths of slavery to being recovered by someone who seemed like he just wanted to help a victim with nowhere else to go? For the first time in longer than she could remember she smiled. Maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be alright.

  DRUATH NAKAM KNEW PAIN. He knew it as a warrior of the Detyen Legion and as one of the last surviving members of his race. He’d been trained to endure hardship, torture, and any number of unspeakable things that could be done to a man. But he’d never before known this.

  The sound of anguish lodged in his throat, his vocal cords frozen and unable to make any sound. Ice flowed through his veins, freezing him and ripping him up from the inside. At first he’d been able to watch the fluid flow from a container on the wall beside where he was chained, but he’d long since lost the ability to see.

  He’d not been physically blinded, there was nothing wrong with his eyes, but his mind was so focused on the pain that everything he saw no longer made any sense. There was light and shapes and all manner of things, but he couldn’t tell what any of it meant. Not anymore, not when there was just pain.

  The sudden absence of excruciating torment was almost worse than anything else. Dru gasped, his lungs filling fully for the first time in an eternity as the lights around him suddenly brightened. After a moment he started to make out the shapes around him, seeing the three Oscavians who held him captive wherever he was. A space ship, if he had to guess. His mind snapped back to focus, taking in his surroundings as his training kicked in. His skin was too sensitive to be touched, and every cell hurt, but his mind was still intact.

  For now.

  As the lights dimmed, a shadow moved in front of Dru and it took him a moment to realize it was an Oscavian in a gray jacket crouching in front of him, studying him with intense blue eyes. “Oh my,” he said, voice full of wonder. “You are an exciting specimen, aren’t you?”

  Dru didn’t have the energy or the muscle control to spit or snarl, but he just about managed a scowl.

  It only made the Oscavian smile wider. “I’ve never seen one of you in person before,” he said conversationally. “I suppose that’s to be expected, isn’t it?” He paused to let Dru respond, but when he remained silent the Oscavian pursed his lips and stood up. He looked over his shoulder to one of the other butchers in the room, but whoever he was talking to was too far away for Dru to get a good look. “Are his preliminary results as expected?”

  “Yes, sir. Within 2% of the predicted baseline.” The voice that responded was higher, might have belonged to a woman, but Dru couldn’t be certain.

  Sir, or whatever his real name was, clapped his hands, the sound an explosion in Dru’s ears. “Your little legion produces perfect Detyen specimens, did you know that?” This time he didn’t wait for Dru to try and respond. “You’re all so focused on survival that you’ve gotten rid of all of the things that make life fun... and offer complications for predictive computer models. If you weren’t on the verge of destruction I might try and find a way to thank your leaders.”

  Verge of destruction? Dru’s head lolled up and his gaze connected with his tormentor. He couldn’t speak, but the question lay plainly in his eyes.

  “Your headquarters,” he explained. “Where did you think we found you?”

  It came back to Dru in a crash of insight. The recovered women, the betrayal of their location, the battle. His stomach clenched as he remembered the injury he’d taken, the reason he’d stayed behind to make sure that the ship full of human survivors and his fellow warriors made it out of the hangar. He wasn’t wounded now, there was no pain there, at least none any worse than the rest of him. Had his captors healed him only to torture him? What kind of monsters were they?

  “This is a scientific vessel,” his captor said, reading his mind. “I’ve long wished to make a Detyen a subject of study, but none have ever been so readily available.” He waved at his companions and Dru was jerked out of his slump and into a sitting position. “Now, I’d like to apologize that we’ve had such an unpleasant start. New specimens are so exciting and my colleagues could not help themselves. If you were a scientist, I’m sure you’d understand.”

  Dru just looked at him. He was pretty sure he could manage words now, but there seemed to be no point when this guy liked the sound of his own voice so much.

  “There is nothing to be done about all that,” he said, dismissing the torture as if it were a mild inconvenience, and Dru almost wanted to laugh. This whole conversation was so far outside the bounds of normalcy that he didn’t know what else to do. “We’ll move on and all can be forgotten, but it’s entirely up to you.”

  “It is?” Huh, it turned out sarcasm was completely possible, even when chained up in some mad scientist’s lab and under threat of certain death.

  The tormentor went on as if Dru had said nothing. “I can’t promise you that you’ll live, as we both know that you come with an expiration date, and besides, the final sequence of experiments we have to perform are not designed with your comfort in mind.”

  Oh goody. Dru kept the words to himself and distantly wondered why he wasn’t scared. He must have moved past terror and into anger at some point. He hoped the fear didn’t come back. Anger gave him strength.

  “If you cooperate, we’ll see to your comfort for as long as possible. Disobey and you’ll wish for the gentle comfort of the experiments that my
people have just performed on you. Do you understand?”

  Dru understood perfectly. This wasn’t actually a choice. But he had to survive through this if he was going to make it out the other side. “What’s your name?” It came out a husky growl, more animal than person.

  “You can call me Varrow.”

  Despite it all, Dru managed to smile. Varrow. He couldn’t wait to put the name on that man’s tomb.

  Chapter Two

  THINGS SHOULD HAVE become more clear in the following days, but for Laurel it was all a blur. Sometimes Brakley came and visited with her, explaining what he was doing in such a remote part of space. Something to do with studying the chemical makeup of asteroids, but she didn’t really understand the nitty gritty. Other times his assistants came in to do some tests, checking out her reflexes and mental capacity.

  They tested her memory too, and that was the one thing she was sure wasn’t working properly.

  A goddamn control chip. She’d heard of them. Everyone had heard about them in one way or another, but that didn’t mean she’d thought something like that could get implanted in her head. It was like she was living in some sort of media melodrama with dastardly aliens and swashbuckling celestial explorers. Except in her life, it looked like the aliens were the good guys and it was the swashbuckling humans who she needed to live in fear of. She shuddered to think what she would have done if Brakley Varrow hadn’t been there to rescue her.

  “What happened to the others?” she asked him toward the end of his second lunchtime visit. They’d shared the meal two days in a row and Laurel was thankful for the consistent serving of food, as it gave her some idea of the days passing. Food back in captivity hadn’t been guaranteed and they only got it when the slavers remembered to throw a little slop their way.

  “The others?” Brakley asked, brow furrowed and blue eyes searing her with their intensity.

  Laurel wondered why she didn’t find him attractive. She should have. He was a beautiful man... alien... whatever. Built tall and broad, he could easily bench press her, and those eyes of his shone so bright that she felt trapped in his cerulean gaze. It must have been all the shit that had happened. Her attraction receptors were completely dead. It wasn’t that Brakley wasn’t hot, it was that she couldn’t see it on anyone. And it hardly mattered. Even if she was in the market for a guy, she wasn’t about to risk screwing things up with her ticket home.