Chapter One
He sat in the meeting, listening to his imperator talking, yet he could barely make out the words.
Toren was inundated by stimuli—the light was too bright, the sounds too loud, and scents cascaded through his senses. His heart hammered loudly in his ears.
He forced himself to stay still, gripping the arms of his chair.
Worse than all the other inputs were the unfamiliar, overpowering emotions. They churned inside him like a storm.
He was a cyborg. He’d spent his lifetime not feeling much—only mild, fleeting sensations. He’d been created not to feel. Now, all he experienced was an ugly mix of anger, fear, frustration, and other things he couldn’t name.
Toren’s hands curled harder around the metal, his grip so tight that he wondered if the chair would snap. He tried to focus on what Imperator Magnus Rone was saying.
Around him stood his fellow elite cyborgs of the House of Rone. Their second-in-command, Jax, stood, nodding at what Magnus was saying. Mace had his brawny arms crossed over his wide chest, and, beside him, Acton’s head was tilted as he listened to the imperator. In the chairs beside Toren sat the newest additions to their elite group—Zaden and Seren. Handsome, young Zaden leaned forward as he listened intently. Seren had a cool expression on her face, which also bore the black, tattoo-like markings of her species. Her space-black hair was pulled tight behind her head, and two small, metallic, horn-like implants protruded from her forehead.
When Magnus paused, Jax started speaking, updating them on some injured citizens of Kor Magna who were being treated by the House of Rone healers.
Here in the capital city of the desert world of Carthago, everything revolved around the famous gladiatorial arena and the spectacular fights that happened inside it.
Spectators came from planets all across the outer rim quadrants to watch, scream, cheer, and place their bets. The House of Rone, like the other houses, spent a lot of money on acquiring and training their gladiators, and ensuring the fighters stayed fit and healthy.
But the House of Rone was different. It was a house of cyborgs.
Toren forced himself to look at Magnus. The cool, controlled cyborg sat motionless behind his massive desk. The imperator’s cybernetic arm—made of silver-grey metal—rested on the desktop. A metal implant circled one of his eyes that right now glowed a faint, neon blue.
He was the cyborg who’d started it all. He’d escaped a violent military program along with Jax, and created a haven for people who needed enhancements and implants. The House of Rone was known for its superior weapons-making skills, and for the high-tech implants, enhancements, and prosthetics its team of healers gave injured people who needed putting back together. They could heal just about anything.
Toren’s fingers flexed.
Except for him.
“Toren, are you all right?”
The female voice made him look up, and he stared into pale-green eyes. Ever Haynes was Magnus’ mate. The dark-haired female from Earth sat beside her man.
Toren managed a nod. As he shifted on his chair, he realized everyone was watching him.
Resentment welled. Since he’d been injured, they were always checking on him. Watching him like he was a luma bomb about to explode. Anger and helplessness choked him.
“I’m fine.” His voice was gritty.
Magnus shot him a cool look. Toren knew what Magnus felt now. The imperator was in love with the pretty Ever—a woman who’d been abducted from her distant homeworld by alien slavers.
Magnus had rescued her, along with several other women of Earth. The House of Rone had dedicated themselves to rescuing every single one of them from the Edull. The Edull. Toren’s pulse spiked. A drakking species of alien scavengers who hid in the desert like cowardly crudspawn.
Fresh anger burned through him, out-of-control and painful. On their last mission to rescue Simone, a woman from Earth, and her child, Grace, the Edull had captured Toren. They’d strapped him down, torn his implants out. His mouth went dry and his chest tightened. These were all sensations he wasn’t used to feeling, and he didn’t like them.
Before, he hadn’t felt. He’d been cool, in control, but now…
A dull roar of noise echoed in his head. The healers couldn’t fix him. The damage to his nerves, where his implants joined his organics, was extensive. The head healer had blathered on about needing time.
Toren didn’t look at his shoulder, but he felt the weight of the metal there. He was a sniper, and since the desert mission, his damaged shoulder weapon hadn’t been replaced. Mainly because they didn’t trust him to have the control to use it.
It felt like losing a limb. Now, he just had a smooth, metal plate fused with his skin, covering nothing.
But worse than that, he’d been banned from missions. He was too unstable.
His jaw worked, and he tried to force back the overwhelming emotions. But he was losing the battle.
Jax had resumed speaking. “The Edull are continuing their campaign of revenge against the House of Rone. Some of our gladiators were attacked at the underground markets.”
“Is everyone okay?” Mace asked.
“Minor injuries. Xias took great pleasure in stomping the Edull’s bots into scrap metal.”
The Edull specialized in crude robotic creations made of scavenged metal. Toren dragged in a breath. He’d seen the giant robots they’d made out in the desert.
“We will put any Edull attacks down swiftly,” Magnus said. “I will not let anything stop us from finding Bari Batu and Bellamy Walsh.”
Magnus was spending a small fortune on the search for the Edull’s city in the desert. They all knew about the aliens’ huge battle arena, of the innocent people forced to fight in it, and of Bellamy, another woman from Earth who was trapped there.
The drakking Edull. Toren’s hands flexed, his heartbeat a roar in his ears. The others kept talking, but the sound was all just a drone to him. There was nothing he could do to help stop the aliens, not when he was useless like this.
He stood so fast that his chair tipped over, hitting the ground with a clatter.
All the cyborgs in the room looked at him again. They were all working, fighting, useful to the house. Most of them even felt now. In addition to Magnus, some of the others—Jax, Mace, Acton—had all fallen in love with women from Earth. Even young Zaden was now mated to a rescued alien woman.
But his fellow cyborgs had come to their feelings gradually, not like him. Not in a wild, drowning rush he couldn’t control.
“I have to go.”
“Toren—”
He held up a hand to Magnus and walked out.
He hurried down the hall, his boots echoing on the stone floor. He had to get out. He had to make the feelings stop. At least for a little while.
He just wanted a minute of drakking silence in his head.
And he’d found one way to achieve that.
He ignored the rich wall hangings, all depicting legendary battle scenes from the arena. He ignored the few house workers he passed. Near the front entrance, he grabbed a cloak from the rack. It was black, which suited his mood. He wouldn’t let himself wear blue—the color of the House of Rone. Not where he was going.
The large double doors—embossed with the House of Rone symbol of a helmeted gladiator over crossed swords—was flanked by two cyborg guards. He’d almost reached them when a voice stopped him.