Bane's Heart

  Bane’s Heart

  A World Beyond Novel

  By Michelle Howard

  Published by MH Publications

  Copyright © 2019 by Michelle Howard

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Bane's Heart (A World Beyond, #9)

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  License Notes

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. The eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this novel with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this eBook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please buy an additional copy for each recipient.

  No part of this book may be distributed in any format, in whole or in part without the express written consent of the author.

  Thank you for respecting the author's hard work.

  This is a work of fiction and is not a reflection or representation of any person living or dead. Any similarity is of pure coincidence.

  Dedications

  For M.K. Eidem who always encourages me to push boundaries and take risk with my characters. Bane’s Ceraton heritage came about all because of you saying, “Do eeet.” LOL. I hope he lives up to what you expected me to do. Thank you for all the years of friendship and many more to come.

  Chapter 1

  Four years ago

  Explosions rocketed all around. Screams, shouts of pain rang out. Through her window, the barrage of firepower lit up the night with bright flashes of light. Could it be happening again?

  The facility was under attack for the second time in a week.

  “Targa!”

  She jerked around at the sound of the voice calling out from her open door. One of the guards stopped in the hall to peer at her.

  “What’s happening?” she asked, heart in her throat as she exited her room to join him.

  “An attack! Dr. Kirkem’s missing. Probably at the cabin where he held the Argoran female. We have to go, Targa.” The explanation came out in a rush.

  Another fierce boom rocked the one remaining building that hadn’t been destroyed when the labs burned to the ground. The soldier took off running again. Without further questions, she raced behind him down the hall as smoke filled the air. Her only thought was of escape. She didn’t care what happened to The Collector. He’d used her as a means to an end in his sick games.

  The ground shook as the percussion blasts increased. She and the guard darted to the outside together. When he went left, she went right, knowing it was over. Everything they’d done here was over. There was no way The Collector would rebound from this.

  Which meant Lothar would be upset.

  Shivers cascaded down her spine and her lungs bellowed. Angering Lothar wasn’t something anyone tempted if they could avoid it. He made the actions of Dr. Kirkem, also known as The Collector, seem like child’s play.

  In the distance, a shuttle waited. The design was Marenian. A familiar face, dark hair and brown horns furled at the side of his head came into her view. One of Lothar’s inner circle. He glared from the entrance as she approached at a fast clip. For a moment, she wondered if he’d block her access to the departing shuttle and leave her to the attackers.

  “Hurry,” he snarled, shifting to the side of the doorway as she raced up the lowered ramp.

  The tightness in her chest didn’t ease, but she quickened her steps and escaped into the interior. Gordo. His name was Gordo, she recalled. The door clanged shut behind her.

  Gordo pounded his fist on the wall and yelled into the mic attached to the communication device on the black collar he wore around his throat. “Go! Go! Go!”

  Slumping into an available seat, she gazed at the disappearing landscape out of the view screen. Other ships were taking off unhindered, the stragglers of the ground forces too concerned with shooting at one another. She’d gotten away in time. Relief left her gasping, sweat trickling over her brows.

  There would be consequences for the failure here today. Consequences she would have to face. A violent tremble shook her frame.

  Maybe luck would be on her side though experience made her doubt it. She’d escaped one nightmare only to soon fall into another. The shuttle had her racing toward what could potentially be the very death she’d barely managed to avoid moments ago.

  Licking her lips to moisten them, she spoke in a firm tone to hide her fear. “Has Lothar been notified?”

  Gordo grunted, displeasure creasing his rough features but he answered. “We are returning to Marenia directly, Mischka. What do you think?”

  Her heart stuttered. Not because it was the first time anyone had used her real name in a long while but because she had been given one order when this all started. Break the Jutak warrior.

  Instead, the Enotians must have sent their military to launch a counter-attack rescue. Just days ago, the soldier she’d been tasked with helping The Collector get information from had escaped. Now this new attack on the site, which was surely the end of whatever Lothar and The Collector had planned.

  As if reading her mind, Gordo glanced in her direction and smirked. “Did you complete your mission here?”

  Her stomach rumbled and tightened. Forcing down her nerves, she met his stare directly. Showing weakness was the easiest way to be cowed. As a female, she was already at a disadvantage. “The Jutak got away. We were unable to get him to disclose any details about his team or their military units.”

  His grin took on a cruel twist. She turned her head away to stare at the rapidly shrinking ground. No matter. If this was her end, she’d face it bravely. That was her thought throughout the trip. Her thought through the landing procedures.

  It was all she had to cling to as she followed the others and disembarked when they landed on her home world of Marenia.

  The brief ride on hovercycles provided a distraction as the terrain was rocky and required concentration. All too soon it ended and she arrived at the massive structure where she’d resided since her parents sent her here a few years ago.

  Gordo and the others headed toward the security wing, pushing the sleek black cycles to a cleared parking pad for vehicles under household use. She lined hers up next to them and powered it down.

  “Guess by morning we’ll know how you fared,” Gordo said, forming a circle with three others.

  A debilitating rush of dread settled in the pit of her stomach. Everyone was aware of the bodies disposed of on the property. Those were the lucky ones. The screams of the unfortunate lived in her nightmares. Now fate would decide which side she fell on.

  Not bothering to give Gordo or his friends a reason to initiate a confrontation, she tucked her hair behind her horns and kept her steps brisk as she turned away.

  The halls of the huge home Mischka entered were empty. An unusual occurrence if Lothar was in residence. Usually, there were dozens of Marenians lining the halls.

  She considered escaping to the room she shared with two others who worked in the kitchen. There she could at least pretend a summons to his presence wasn’t expected. Too bad a large figure stepped into her path, halting her escape attempt.

  Tall with streaming black hair and burnished horns, Nikol was slowly growing into a more significant threat than his father. No one wanted his attention on them, nor did they wish to risk drawing his ire. Retaliation from him was always swift to the unwary. As proof he was a fearless leader in his own right, Nikol was the only one who opposed his father publically and lived to talk about it.

  “Lothar is expecting you, Mischka. Or should I say Targa?” His brown eyes glinted with an undefined emotion.

  Terror made the hair at her nape stand on end. Her mission was to have been in confidence yet he knew. Another nervous rumble rolled through her mid-section. “Targa was only for the assignment.”

  He eyed her from her disheveled hair to her smoke-stained clothing. His broad nose curled, the distaste easy to read. “I’m assuming sexual coercion didn’t work on the Jutak warrior. Is there a line you wouldn’t cross for Lothar?”

  Mischka’s face burned. His statement regarding the intimacies she’d forced from the Enotian soldier was too close. Too accurate. He had to have had a spy watching them.

  He tsked under his breath at her lack of a response. “Better hurry. Your master awaits.”

  Mischka jerked and moved closer to the wall in order to pass by without touching him. No way she was going to touch on him referring to Lothar as her master though it was the truth. She allowed her gaze to narrow the slightest bit but used her most respectful tone. Stupidity would get
her nowhere. “I will head to the kitse now.”

  Bile swirled in the back of her throat at the very idea of having to be in that space again.

  “Not the harem,” Nikol corrected with an arrogant toss of his head. “His office.”

  Before she could thank him or acknowledge the instruction, he shifted on his boot heels and strode past her. She waited until he disappeared around the corner before deflating in relief against the wall.

  ***

  At the closed door to Lothar’s office, Mischka took a deep breath, stilled her racing pulse as best she could and entered. She closed the door behind her and forced her feet to move forward until she stood in front of the opulent desk and the one seated behind it. As usual nothing was out of place on the surface. A glance down helped gather her courage to meet the deep black penetrating gaze.

  Some would view him as handsome. Black wavy hair fell like spun silk to his shoulders. Two prominent horns curved back from his temple to mix with stray strands. Thick lashes shadowed eyes darker than the night’s sky. His lips made one think of sultry kisses.

  As a younger, more foolish female, she’d fallen for his appearance. Believed what she wanted and ignored the rumors. Time had proven his ugliness was reflected on the inside and exceeded anything in her worst imagination.

  “You have something to report?” Lothar’s voice boomed.

  Mischka’s heart quaked in her chest as she prepared to deliver the news. Her throat locked. Nothing came out.

  “Mischka, do you deliberately seek to stir my attention? I admit I could be tempted.”

  It was a casual inquiry, his tone never rising but it brought with it memories of pain and degradation. Mischka never wanted to return to that. Thus her words were blurted out and held none of the calm she wanted to project. “There was an attack on the site. The Jutak escaped. I’m unsure as to Dr. Kirkem’s fate.”

  Lothar slammed both his fists on the desk and shoved to his feet. “Do you think I don’t know this?!”

  Her mouth flapped as he rounded the corner. Trepidation pounded at her skull and Mischka dropped to her quaking knees. “I’m sorry, Lothar.”

  “Sorry?” He came to a stop to the left of her, the tip of his boot nudging her outer thigh.

  Mischka swallowed but didn’t react as he trailed a finger over her cheek and down to her chin.

  Flinching was a definite way to earn punishment, so she held still under the chilling caress. Lothar cupped her jaw and tipped her head up. Rage. So much rage contained in a single glance. “Did you manage to learn anything from the Jutak at all?”

  His calm voice after the display didn’t fool her. “He...he resisted. Dr. Kirkem tortured him to no avail.”

  And she’d assisted. Under her guise as Targa, she’d hoped her sexual ministrations would give them a way to crack his psyche. Especially with the cocktail of drugs pumped into him.

  “What else? What of their leader who stalks me?” Lothar snarled, his fingers pinching into the flesh of her chin.

  His black eyes burned with a fierce light, sending a burst of renewed fear straight to her heart. Mischka wasn’t sure of the details, but a Unit Leader for the Jutak warriors was systematically tearing down Lothar’s sex slave trade. He was young and earnest in his efforts. As a result, Lothar despised him.

  She wet her lips. “Torkel Alonson never came on site to my knowledge. I don’t believe he was a part of the attack.”

  Pain exploded over the left side of her face. Mischka fell to the floor barely managing not to cry out. Before she could muster the energy to rise, Lothar crouched over her prone form. “You failed! I do not accept failure!”

  His fists powered into her face over and over again. Mischka didn’t fight back. She curled up and protected her mid-section as much as possible but like every other time before, she bore the brunt of Lothar’s anger when she disappointed him in a task. She lost track of time, her body one large knot of pain. Not sure how long the beating lasted, it took a moment to realize he’d stopped. Her breath came in ragged pants as he straightened and backed away.

  Everything hurt. Mischka rolled on her side as he kicked her for good measure. When Lothar stood, he brushed his now bloody hands on his pants. “You have been useless in this endeavor.”

  After his sneering pronouncement, he stormed from the office, leaving Mischka to painfully drag herself to her feet. If he calmed down later, maybe he’d let her see a doctor. Or not, if he was of a mind to let her suffer. He’d done it before. For now, she stood upright on shaky feet and made her way to the door. Her steps wavered as the swelling around her eyes impacted her vision.

  Blood dripping from her nose, Mischka vowed not to fail again. No matter how, no matter what Lothar asked. She. Would. Not. Fail. Because she wasn’t sure she’d survive another beating like this one. At least it reminded her of the key rules she tried to live by.

  No man was to be trusted.

  Everyone betrayed you at some point.

  Honor didn’t exist.

  She exited the office and was confronted by two stoic faced guards. Gordo and Sundar. Did they come to gloat? Mischka forced herself to stand upright despite the throbbing pain. “What do you want?”

  “Lothar has told us to give you a lesson to make sure you understand the seriousness of his warning that you do a better job the next time he sends you out. An incentive.” He grabbed one of her horns and jerked her close, the front of her chest smashing against his.

  It wasn’t worth it to resist so she let her body go slack. Both males exchanged smiles ripe with the gleam of evil. Mischka choked back a sob and renewed her vow to do whatever Lothar asked of her in the future, no matter the cost.

  As of this moment, life would be all about surviving.

  Chapter 2

  Present Day

  The reoccurring nightmare came with a vengeance. Running with his friend’s female, Eva. Bane sent her ahead and turned back to fight. Flashes of memories along with the inevitable ending filled his mind’s eye.

  Familiar sounds of lasers firing. Pain ripping into his back.

  “I-I’m hit. Took...them a-all down,” he muttered.

  Vee and Khane grabbing onto him as they half held, half-dragged him along. Devastating sounds of the fire fight taking place around them. Their target blocking the path of escape as he raised a deadly weapon in their direction. Vee yelled and Bane knew what he had to do as he launched himself toward Eva with a hidden well of strength. Tearing sensations in both his legs before they crashed to the ground together.

  Then numbness.

  Feminine screams filled his ears followed by barked commands. Bane watched it all as a distant participant. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t answer the questions thrown his way. Darkness then light filled his vision. Life changing words said in a regretful tone seeped into his conscious.

  Severe nerve damage.

  Risky treatment.

  Might not walk again.

  Bane jerked awake. Breath escaped in a rush. He tried to sit up but his legs didn’t respond. With a growl, Bane braced his palms flat and pushed up and back until the wall behind the medic center bed helped support him in an upright position. After a mission took a turn sideways, he had received necessary cybernetic enhancements in both of his legs and a corresponding chip in his brain.

  It was tech deemed outdated but a desperate resort for him due to the severe nature of his injuries. The team medic, Dr. Maku, had been quite clear when they spoke before Bane’s surgery.

  “More advanced techniques have been in place, but none of them would work with an individual who has sustained your level of nerve impact or in your position.”

  The procedure after therapy and rehab would enable him to control the movement of his lower limbs seamlessly. Newer technology required a complete replacement of the damaged nerves and had a seventy-eight percent success rate.

  Complete replacement would also end his career in the military with the Jutak warriors because the patients who were successful reported sporadic spasms that required extensive medication to control.

  Bane glanced down at his stretched out limbs beneath the pale blue cover he’d tossed over his lap. Sweat saturated the bed beneath him and dripped into his eyes. He tried to blink the droplets away then swiped futilely at his face. This had been his only option and it appeared to be a failure.