Well here we go again. Book six in the Alpha Angels series.
I'm not sure how this story will accepted. Many of you have stated your reservations about the threesome Lucien, Rayne and Bo Rayne will be forming. I just hope you give these characters a chance to show you that they all belong together. Once more, I must warn you how flawed Lucien is (if you haven't gotten that from the previous stories). I hope you don't hate him too much and give him the chance to grow and redeem himself. Poor baby's been through Hell and back-literally. As for Rayne, have a little patience with her too. Poor girl really doesn't know any better. Hopefully you'll also learn to love Boy Rayne who's kind of like a mix between Remi, Natanael, and the innocence of Abdiel all swirled together.
Please don't forget to vote andplease do let me know your thoughts, good or bad. As I've said before, this story is emotionally draining for me to write based on how much suffering each of the main characters go through. last time I wrote this story I went into depression for a few months. This is a rewrite from the original, so your words will definitely boost me up.
Thank you. LH
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Prologue
The pain was excruciating.
"I told you. I told you not to throw project 30YR4YN in the arena yet."
Did he still have eyes? Had his opponent torn them out when it ripped the skin of his face off? He opened his mouth and touched his lips with his tongue. At least he still had a mouth. He might still be able to eat. Maybe.
"To Dimagrada with it," his Master hissed. I needed to regain the money employed in its creation.
"That gladiator is no good now," his partner raged.
"Oh, shut up and get a sample of its DNA to clone. No loss."
Project 30YR4YN felt someone grip his hand, the only one left. He screamed when he felt two of his fingers cut off, though no sound came from his throat. His voice box had been removed some time ago.
"Just toss him out back with the bodies waiting for incineration."
"Gee, boss. It's still alive."
"Wha-are you going soft on me now? You just snipped two of it's fingers off, Mongura brain."
"Yeah, but to burn it alive? That's harsh, dude."
His Master made a hissing sound.
He was lifted, tossed in a cart, and blacked out from the pain.
*****
Singing awakened him. Awful singing. There was something covering his face. Slowly, Project 30YR4YN sat up. He was on a mat in a very large hangar. There were other creatures lounging about around him. Some looked at him curiously, others never acknowledge his existence.
In the center of the room was a Lizdrac. From the scents wafting from the enormous pot he was stirring, it looked as though he was preparing something to eat.
Panic welled inside Project 30YR4YN. Where was he? Was he still slated for incineration?
He felt his face and discovered a metal plate covering everything but his mouth. His hair was loose and hung down his back to the backs of his thighs. How long had he been unconscious for his hair to grow so long? Rising up on his haunches, he noticed his old gladiators suit was what had been rolled up as a pillow beneath his head. Gripping the tattered remains of his suit, he looked around for a way to escape. There were many metal catwalks above with open vents. He looked at his hands...hand. He frowned. One hand Three fingers. No tail. He wiggled his toes. At least he still had his legs and feet.
He moved. Slithering along the floor like water, he prowled closer to one of the columns. Project 30YR4YN had many mixes. His Master had told him he started life from a Merulian egg, but they had fertilized that egg with other types of DNA. He had Fae to enhance his beauty, Feline to enhance his fighting abilities, and Mer to heighten his aggressiveness.
Now, he used his feline capabilities and agility to leap from the ground halfway up the column. Being one-handed slowed the process of climbing, but he finally made it to the catwalks.
Looking down, the Lizdrac never noticed his escape. He handed bowls of the fragrant broth to those who approached him to feed.
The lizard man chuckled, pouring soup into a bowl with a large black ladle. He suddenly looked up and fixed Project 30YR4YN with a toothy grin.
"Aye, there you go. Here's your chow if you're hungry."
He then walked over to a far corner in the hangar and set the steaming bowl down by another column.
"I figured you were going to go up. Cats usually do when they're scared. No one will bother you up there, but you'll need to climb down to get your supper. I'm not climbing up there."
It was most likely a trap, so Project 30YR4YN crept quickly to one of the vents.
Music pounded down the end of the metal tunnel drawing his curiosity. He crawled across the vent's shaft noting how it opened up into little niches. He might be able to use one for sleeping later.
The end of the shaft opened up into another cavernous area. He blinked in astonishment at the colorful lights flashing everywhere. Mirrored columns held a vaulted ceiling reflecting the various stages filling a smoke covered dance floor. There were exotic dancers, aliens of every kind, some completely naked, some copulating.
Where had he awakened?
A female drew his attention. She was chained to a pole from a jeweled collar around her neck. She was tiny, like a child. Her hair was jet black and spilled down her back in thick lustrous waves.
As Project 30YR4YN jerked his gladiators suit back on he watched how she danced. She looked sad, but the males surrounding her watched with lustful eyes. One reached over and gripped her thigh. The fool had long sharp claws and drew blood making her yip in pain and stumble away. Her high-heeled shoes stepped on the hand of the Hazdrac on the other side of the small stage were she stood. He howled in pain and jumped upon the stage in a fit of rage.
Project 30YR4YN didn't think when he saw the Hazdrac lift his meaty fist. He was going to hit her...and most definitely kill her.
He soared through the air, landing in front of the tiny girl, gripped the pole and used it hold himself stead as he sent both his feet into the apeman's chest.
The Hazdrac went flying.
Biting back his absurd terror of the girl, he gripped her around the waist and leapt back up to nearest column to the catwalks above. She clung to him, her little body shivering, her breath panting against his neck.
Crawling through the vent again, he carried her to the large hangar where he'd awakened. He took straight to where the Lizdrac had left the bowl of stew for him and dropped her when he was sure he was close enough to the ground she wouldn't get hurt.
Big blue eyes stared up at him as he made his way back up the column.
When he was finally on the catwalks again, he looked down.
"Th-thank-you," she said her lower lip trembling.
"Hey," the Lizdrac called out as he came closer. "What gives? What's going on?" He looked up at Project 30YR4YN. "Are you stealing the strippers now?"
"He saved me, Master," the girl said drawing the Lizdrac's attention.
"Saved you? Weren't you supposed to be entertaining King Dred's men?" The Lizdrac moaned as he scratched his head with a claw. "Oh, this can't be good. Not good at all."
The lizard man did not seem to want to hurt the pretty little girl, so Project 30YR4YN slipped away to hide. He wasn't sure how he'd gotten here—where here may be—but he wasn't letting himself get caught again. He was free.
*****
Chapter One
The grass whispered against his legs. It was waist high, yellowed, and brittle from lack of moisture. The sun baked his head, and a little drop of sweat made its way down his back. Lucien listened closely to the silence of death all around him. The trees were black, knotted bare limbs twisting up to the cloudless sky. The hot breeze blew strands of his hair across his face as he blinked at the desolation around him.
Why am I here?—he thought to himself.
He turned slowly and headed for where the mansion stood.
Whispering under his breath, he removed the spell that kept the old house hidden from view.
Thick, thorny branches covered most of it. How much time had gone by? Was this a dream? Would he find the rotting corpse of his stepfather still inside?
Lucien looked down at himself and grimaced. A loose fitting white robe draped his body. Despite being naked underneath, he tore the offending garment off, and slammed it to the ground.
Ancient words spilled from his lips, words of hate and loathing. The white robe lifted up slowly, and burst into flames. The white-hot fire rendered the garment to dust.
Lucien watched the ashes float away as he panted from rage.
Clenching his jaw, he snapped his gaze back to the house and stalked toward it. It was once a regal monstrosity of deep red brick and black wrought iron. The brick was beginning to crumble with age and the iron had rusted into near nothingness.
Thorns crisscrossed the stone walkway, but with a wave of his hand, a path opened up for his bare feet. The sound of creaking, snapping, crackling branches preceded him until he stood before the large wooden double doors of Blackhorn Hall.
The wind moaned around him. He hoped it was Malvano's wretched soul screaming for release from Hell. The doors creaked open and the cold air from within the mansion brought with it the stench of death.
Tipping his nose higher, Lucien entered. Last time he'd stood in this foyer, he'd held Lucifer's sword in his left hand and a smaller dagger dripping with Malvano's blood in his right. The mosaic floor no longer shone like glass and the chandelier hanging overhead from the vaulted ceiling was swathed in dusty white cobwebs. The webbing also covered the grand staircase, dimly lit by light filtering through the vine-covered stained glass window on the second floor landing.
Narrowing his eyes, he turned left and entered the great room. The grand piano still stood in the corner, its once gleaming black surface now buried under layers of filth. The rich velvet couches were also covered in a thick layer of dust, making the rich burgundy material look faded and worn. What little sunlight managed to penetrate the grimy mildew covered windows made the floating dust sparkle like pixie dust. Regardless, Lucien knew very well he was in no enchanted castle, but rather a cursed one...one he'd cursed himself many years ago.
With determined steps, he veered right and walked into the study.
Everything was as he remembered. To his left was a large ornately carved desk with a cobweb covered leather chair behind it. A wall of shelves was the desk's backdrop, full of expensive tomes, some rare first editions...all in various states of rot. To his right was a glass wall that showed the gardens, fountains, and pool, devoid of water but full of debris.
None of that held his attention. His eyes were riveted to the enormous fireplace before him and the wingchair before it.
Slowly he approached, circling until he stood before the remains of his stepfather. There was nothing left, just tattered remains of his burgundy robe and slippers. The glass of cognac he'd been drinking still lay on its side on the dusty rug.
The memories were still clear as if it happened yesterday. It had been Lucien's eighteenth birthday. Malvano had celebrated it by whipping him to the brink of death and then having his cult friends form a line to sodomize him on Malvano's brand new spanking bench, to which Lucien had been tied.
That night a devil appeared to him and gave him the opportunity to show his stepfather his appreciation. He slit the bastard's throat.
A soft whining sound drew his attention.
