Taken and teased, p.1
Taken and Teased, page 1
part #3 of Warrior Elite Series Series
Taken and Teased
Warrior Elite Series Book 3
V.T. Bonds
Copyright © 2022 by V.T. Bonds
Cover design by V.T. Bonds
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Table Of Contents
Chapter One 6
Chapter Two 17
Chapter Three 24
Chapter Four 36
Chapter Five 47
Chapter Six 57
Chapter Seven 68
Chapter Eight 80
Chapter Nine 90
Chapter Ten 105
Chapter Eleven 115
Chapter Twelve 125
Chapter Thirteen 138
Chapter Fourteen 150
Chapter Fifteen 162
Chapter Sixteen 176
Chapter Seventeen 187
Chapter Eighteen 200
Chapter Nineteen 210
Chapter Twenty 223
Chapter Twenty-One 233
Chapter Twenty-Two 246
Chapter Twenty-Three 259
Keep Up With V.T. Bonds 267
Dedication
To those seeking an escape from the real world: I do it, too. I search through movies, TV series, comics, and books, sometimes for hours, and still can’t find what I’m looking for.
I hope you find an escape in these pages. As with each of my stories, I poured my heart and soul into this one, and Veena and Fek stole pieces of me. I hope they do the same to you, at least for a little while.
Thanks for taking a chance on me. I’ll never be able to express how honored and humbled I am over your support.
Happy knotty reading!
Chapter One
Veena
My heartbeat quickens along with the scratching of pencils on paper, the three other testers racing to finish before the dreaded alarm goes off.
I won’t make it. I passed the last three rounds by the skin of my teeth, earning a punishment each time for answering a question wrong. Fatigue wraps cotton around my brain, my hands shaking so badly I can barely circle the correct letters.
The page blurs before my eyes, but I scribble the next answer as fast as I can, despite my body’s jittery movements and hopelessly scattered thoughts.
It’s been a few weeks since we tested. The break should have restored me from the intensity of the last line of tests, so I should be able to handle the consequences, but today they’ve taken their toll.
I tighten my fingers on the pencil and move to the next question, desperate to reach the end on time. As I press the lead to the paper, a distinct crack filters through the buzzing in my brain.
I freeze in horror and sit staring blankly for endless moments, expecting to pay for breaking my pencil, but a soft sob pulls my attention to my right.
Oh no.
My stomach sinks to my toes as Aashna stares at the splintered wood in her hand. A tear almost lands on her paper, but she fixes her posture just in time for it to roll down her cheek instead. She doesn’t wipe it away for fear of reprimand, preferring to sit with the trail of humiliation and fear on her face than garner more attention.
The deceptively soft electronic chime sounds from the ceiling. All pencils cease their rushed scrabbling, and in robotic union we set them down on our desk, perfectly aligned with the right edge of our paper with the sharpened point aimed toward the front of the room.
Except Aashna’s is broken.
I tremble for her, wishing I could take her punishment, but knowing I would only earn her more pain if I tried.
The door opens, ending the façade of privacy. Why they bother to leave the room during testing, I don’t know. We all know they watch from behind the large, framed mirror, and the devices they’ve planted in and on us give them the power to punish us from afar.
My right leg twitches, still recovering from the last electrical shock. The device wrapped around my thigh almost cuts into my skin from how tight it is, and the one on my left thigh isn’t much looser.
They hurt less than my left arm, though. The injection site pulses with heat, a burning pain coursing down the back of my arm and infecting the rest of my joints with fire. I grit my teeth and ignore the sweat dripping down my back.
“Subject 143, stand,” says the masked figure standing at the front of the room.
Aashna rises to her feet, her shoulders curled forward in fear. She trembles but keeps her arms hanging loosely at her sides, the acrid stench of terror and dread permeating from her pores.
“Subject 186, stand.”
My body moves instinctively, taught through years of abuse. The cold floor turns my feet to ice, my thin slippers doing little to protect me.
“You have failed to complete the test. Place both palms on your desk.”
Like puppets on a string, we bend at the waist and place our hands at the top corners of our desks.
Lightning zaps both of my thighs, scorching my flesh from the inside and tensing every muscle from my toes to my face. For long, agonizing seconds, I stand locked in blinding pain.
When it ends, the true torture begins.
My arms shake so hard my desk rattles, but I squeeze my shoulders together and curl my toes against the floor, demanding my body fight the tremors.
A pencil clatters to the floor.
I wish it were mine.
Aashna sobs and begs for forgiveness, but two giants, covered head to toe in white, stalk into the room.
“Subject 143, you will receive an injection for failing to compose yourself and two days of solitary confinement for destruction of ISC property.”
Her wails bounce off the stark white walls, the polished floor doing nothing to soften her cries. I fight to stay bent over my desk, wanting nothing more than to grab her and carry her to safety.
But I can’t and it kills a part of my soul.
The door shuts behind them, cutting off her sobs and leaving a terrible silence.
“Subject 186, stand.”
My joints creak as I straighten.
“Subject 127, stand.”
Sharra rises to her feet, tears in her dull blue eyes.
“You have answered two or more questions incorrectly. Place your palms on your desk.”
We heed our puppet master’s command.
My calves cramp and stomach heaves, but I stay in position.
The door opens. Sharra tenses and grunts as her body jerks through her punishment, her thigh bands emitting a quiet sound as they shock her.
Wearing the same white uniform every other Enforcer wears, a massive form steps into the room. With a mirrored face shield and all-encompassing hazmat suit, complete with white gloves and boots, he strides straight to my side. He jabs a needle into the back of my arm, depresses the plunger halfway, and settles his hand on the back of my nape.
Seconds tick by. He doesn’t remove the needle from my arm. The prick of pain turns cold, stealing a whimper from me.
He empties the last of the medicine into my arm. My forehead clunks to the desk as he pushes me down by my nape.
Ice flows through my veins, freezing me from the inside. Dots dance in my darkened vision, the desk gaining bits of phantom colors while I battle whatever they injected me with.
By the time I draw a shaky, somewhat controlled breath, the Enforcer no longer haunts the room.
“Subject 186. Subject 127. Stand.”
I force myself upward, so weak I almost slump to the floor.
“Sit. Test H begins now. Ten minutes.”
With my butt in the chair and the pencil in my hand, I stare blankly at the fresh piece of paper on my desk. No matter how hard I try, I can’t gather my thoughts enough to focus on the black ink.
The lights flash red a second before an ear-piercing tone blasts through the room.
Myself, Sharra, and Wella, the omega on my left, sit frozen in shock.
We’ve never heard this alarm before. We have no instructions to follow, no training to adhere to, so we sit in horrified uncertainty as the alarm continues to blare and the eerie red lights flash.
A tremor begins under our feet, small at first, but it grows until our desks rattle and our chairs vibrate.
The door bursts open, and monsters clad in black and covered in weapons stomp in.
“Drop whatever you have and put your hands in the air!”
Pencils clatter to the floor and palms tremble above our heads as we comply.
A massive beast reeking of aggression and ash steps forward, his scent smacking my senses into a loop.
I haven’t smelled alpha pheromones in years. His makes my stomach curdle and soul shrivel.
“If you are an employee of the ISC, say so now or lose the protection of the Fleet Commander.”
We dare not move.
“You in the middle. Slowly stand and turn. Keep your hands above your head.”
My first attempt to rise fails, my legs giving out before I make it halfway up. I scoot the chair away from the desk with shaky legs before struggling to my feet since my muscles act like jelly.
I shuffle around, feeling vulnerable with a hoard of alpha beasts at my back. Before I can even blink, the male secures my wrists together at the small of my back.
Even with his gloves between us, my ski
n crawls as he pats me down, his touch rough but more clinical than interested.
“All clear.”
Thick fingers wrap around my bicep and haul me toward the door. Through the pulsing red lights, I see Sharra and Wella receiving the same treatment before the stranger pushes me through the doorway.
The hall contains nothing but chaos. Battle hardened alphas rush forward, leaving only a narrow strip of space in the direction my handler pushes me. After several hard knocks to my already hurting shoulder, the male behind me snarls and shouts a rough word.
The line of warriors creates more space, steering around us so I no longer get run into.
Realizing we’re heading away from the rest of my clan, my mind breaks from its daze.
“Wait, my sisters!”
The words barely croak from my terrified throat, but the stranger behind me hears me somehow.
“Are they down below?”
“Yes.”
“Then they’ll be rescued, too.”
Rescued? This doesn’t feel like a rescue.
“Not the ones in solitary confinement.”
The roughened pads of his gloved fingertips dig into my collarbone, his hand so large it almost spans around my entire neck.
He veers into a test room so quickly my slippers slide along the floor.
“Jokur, take those two to medical. This one says she has something to show me.”
“Yes, Commander Ru’en.”
Sharra and Wella disappear into the fray, the large black clad form blocking my view of them.
Adrenaline keeps me on my feet. Terrifying black eyes with white pupils train on me.
Commander Ru’en, as I now know him, frightens me more now that I know his name. Such an intimate thing, a name. Other than my sisters, I haven’t heard another name spoken, much less in a masculine voice, in over two years.
My heart quails as every fiber of my being demands I run away from him, but I remember Aashna’s screams as they carried her away.
“Where is solitary confinement?”
“Down.”
“Do you know your left from your right?”
“Yes.”
He points my toes toward the door, his hand never leaving my nape.
“You will tell me which direction to go no less than five steps before we turn. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Go.”
He pushes me forward. I stumble, but his grip keeps me upright. His pace nearly kills me. I run to keep up with his punishing strides, barely able to speak for how hard my heart pounds.
By the time we reach the hidden cells, my breaths rasp in my throat. Five other alphas stand behind Commander Ru’en, their weapons trained on the smooth wall ahead of us.
“Is this a trick?”
Unable to form words, I turn my body and pull my cuffed hands around my hip, doing my best to point up to the tiny notches along the ceiling, my body shaking so badly I worry they won’t see the minute differences in the paneling.
I won’t be able to show them how to open the doors if they ask me. I’ve never seen how—I only know the Enforcers always have their hands along the top when the doors slide open. When you’ve been in complete darkness for hours, the fluorescent light from the hallway blinds you, preventing you from seeing hidden latches or levers. And I’m much too short. And my wrists are bound.
One alpha steps forward and digs his fingers into the corner where the wall and ceiling meet. A latch pops open halfway down the wall. He grabs it and swings it wide.
With her face tucked in a corner away from us, Aashna curls into herself, her shoulders shaking from her sobs. The space is so narrow she has no choice but to remain standing.
Before I can call out to her, the alpha cuffs her hands behind her back and frisks her.
“How many are there?”
“Eleven.”
Commander Ru’en pushes my back against the wall and demands I stay. My limbs grow impossibly heavier, my senses dampening the chaos of war as my adrenaline wanes.
The floor vibrates under my feet, feminine screams and masculine shouts fill my ears and red lights stream across my vision, but numbness spreads.
The last solitary confinement door slams open. A black hole opens under my feet and gravity sucks me in.
A brief bit of pain flashes through my head before I succumb to the void.
Chapter Two
Fek
I rise from the depths, enjoying the murky water until I leave the cloud of sand near the lake floor. The sun streaks through the water, creating a brilliant display of tiny fish and floating plants.
The aquatic team has been hard at work developing this section of the lake, but it’ll still be months before any of these creatures will be ready for consumption.
I watch a tiny yellow fish dart this way and that, a sliver of envy working its way into my chest.
The little finned creature will be given every opportunity to grow and procreate before meeting its demise.
I will not.
Red and black scales flash across my outer vision.
Lyc.
We don’t belong underwater. Not any longer. Although our ancestors lived on an aquatic planet, time and evolution brought change. The surface dried and so we lost our ability to breathe water, but our lung capacity still exceeds most land dwellers.
If it weren’t for years of training on top of our natural aptitude, neither of us would be prolific in the swimming skill set.
I sweep my hand upward, signaling my ascent to my brother.
Born of the same pod, we’ve been together our entire lives. Our different colorations did not deter our young selves from the draw we felt to each other, and even with the difficulties his talents bring, I would not change our friendship for the universe.
The hot desert wind brushes against my scalp as I break the surface of the water, ruffling my mohawk despite how drenched it is.
Eerie black eyes join me, Lyc keeping the lower half of his face underwater. I lift a brow and motion to the far side of the lake where base camp stands.
His slitted pupils narrow before he nods and silently sinks back under.
Despite the beauty and hope surrounding us, a wriggling sense of unease taps at my breastbone.
Long ago, before we left our homeland, a younger version of my brother ruined any chances of our happily ever afters. A cloud of horror hangs over our heads, following us everywhere we go, even to the bottom of oceans and across galaxies.
This swim was a stupid idea. A fool’s last-ditch effort to find peace within the storm.
The future is coming, and there’s no way to stop it.
I swim, keeping my back along the surface to enjoy the warmth of the sun on my scales.
When I reach the shore, Lyc already stands on the path, clothed and ready to head back into town. He says nothing as I rise from the water and stalk to the tree where my clothes lay.
My unease grows as I dress, morphing from an unwelcome tapping to a painful thumping. After checking that my knives and other weapons remain battle ready, I join my brother on the path.
We head straight to the headquarters tent in the center of the main camp, intent on getting the most recent news. A sandy transporter screeches to a halt in front of us, blocking the entrance to the tent. The back hatch slams open, the tailgate bouncing a few times before the first warrior jumps out.
I recognize them as the members of the fourth Warrior Elite team.
My brows rise in alarm, and I meet Lyc’s eyes, his expression as neutral as ever, but I catch the knowledge of trouble in his pupils. Words of the past ghost through my ears, spoken by the lips of the one who refuses to speak now.
Fate must unfold.
Warrior Elite Team Four should be halfway across the planet right now, leading the attack on one of the ISC facilities expected to be almost the size of the one we failed to overthrow a few weeks ago.
Why are they back so soon?
The sense of dread thumping behind my breastbone roars to life. My ears ring. I almost turn and run—to where, I do not know, but the urge to flee strikes me so hard I lock my muscles in place to avoid looking like a terrified podling.
The commander of the team jumps free of the cargo bay.
My scales tingle in warning. The wind shifts, carrying the scents wafting off Commander Ru’en’s suit to me. Mixed with gunpowder, aggression, and terror, the sultry perfume of omega hits my sinuses and blasts through my skull.
