WarDog: Book Twelve in the Galaxy Gladiators Alien Abduction Romance Series by Alana Khan (types of ebook readers TXT) 📕

“Fairea,” Brianna breathes, “one of my mates almost died last time we were there. It’s not my favorite planet.”

“The terrorist attack was a one-time thing. There have been no more incidents of that nature,” Zar says.

“Even if we kill him, wouldn’t his second-in-command just take his place?” Dax asks. He’s a huge male who spars with me often. I count him as a friend. He’s vowed not to fight in the gladiator ring again. For a mountain of a man, he has the spirit of an artist.

“Good question,” Beast answers. “He very well may, but we believe Khour has made this personal. Hopefully, whoever takes his place won’t be as obsessed with pursuing us as Khour is, especially after we attack Khour’s compound and kill a contingent of his males.”

More questions are asked, more whispering occurs at the dining room tables next to us, and people begin to mull this over.

“I’ll let you think about this until we reconvene at 1500. Here’s a vid of our adversary. They say Sextus ruined his face, but the only picture we have is from his younger days, before he rose in the ranks of the cartel, when he was just a foot soldier who reaped conscripts from more primitive planets.”

There are vid screens on every wall of the dining hall except the one with the large three-dimensional wooden sculpture Dax carved. It shows a peaceful hillside covered with flowers. He told me he’d teach me how to carve soon. I wonder if I could ever make anything half as beautiful as that.

The vid screens come to life and show a picture of a lavender male. I’m certain I quit breathing as my body turns to stone. On every screen in the room is a picture of the male who separated my mother’s head from her body in front of my young eyes. He’s the male responsible for stealing me from my planet and enslaving me in my canine form.

When I finally begin breathing again, the feeling of hatred overwhelms me. My fists clench as heat boils through my body. I taste blood and realize my fangs have bitten into my lower lip. Before I start crunching bones, I yank my hand out of Willa’s and lodge it in my lap.

Zar answers a few more questions, but that only serves as background noise as my mind catapults me back to that terrible day. I’d been unable to see details when my memories assaulted me before. I certainly see them clearly now.

He allowed a warring tribe of Skylosians to do his dirty work. They’d sacked the village, set it on fire, and rounded most of us up. When he pulled up in his hover, much of the slaughter was over.

I was still a teen, not yet twenty annums old, and had recently grown taller and stronger. Everyone in the village had remarked on how I was going to be a big male like my father had been. Sadly, my growth spurt would serve the cartel’s purposes well.

My eyes were riveted on the hover as it glided over the ground without touching it. We were a primitive planet, none of us had seen anything like it. The first things that emerged were shiny black boots, then Khour unfolded himself to his full height and strode to our band of males. We’d been herded into a small group at the point of knives and swords. Many of those who fought were slaughtered.

Just as Khour and four others of his purple race arrived, the remaining females were dragged to where the males had been gathered. My mother was among them. I’ll never forget her proud bearing even as the others cowered and wailed after watching the massacre of their kin and being ravaged by the males of the invading tribes.

Khour’s bristly black hair stood up on the middle of his scalp, having been shaved at the sides. It made him look even fiercer. I’d never seen anyone of another race before; our planet had never been visited by anyone from the stars.

I trembled with the overwhelm of all that had happened in such a short amount of time. The acrid smell of smoke stung my nose, the sounds of people writhing in agony in their death throws on the ground assaulted my ears. My friend lay dead—singed by the marauders’ magic weapon. That laser was centuries ahead of anything we would have developed on our planet. My people were decimated.

And there stood my mother, tall, proud, and defiant. She didn’t cower like the others, she stared that bastard straight in the eye. That must be why his attention narrowed in on her.

“That one,” he had said as he pointed with his chin.

My fingers squeeze my thighs so tightly it captures my attention for a moment. A soft growl bubbles from the back of my throat. I don’t care if I’m attracting attention from my shipmates, I couldn’t control my responses even if I wanted.

I watch in slow motion as my mother is dragged to Khour. She fights, trying to pull away but she’s no match for the two large males who have her in their grip. I never realized until just this moment how courageous my mother was to fight them in the face of all their weapons. She stood up to them with nothing but a hayfork. Even after being beaten and ravaged she still fought them.

“Kneel,” Khour ordered.

She didn’t answer back, just slowly shook her head. He ordered it again, but she continued to shake her head until he grabbed the broadsword offered by the Skylosian chief, strode the five paces to her, and sliced her head off.

My eyes slam closed. I wish I could shut out the vivid picture inside