Arak's Love: A World Beyond Book 2 Read Online Free

horror he associated with the scents emanating from below.
    Arak snorted. “Ready.”
    Counting off in his head, Arak burst through the doorway at the same time as Kyele only for a coil to snag around Arak’s leg on the second step. He roared as jagged pain tore through him. Thousands of knives slashed through his right thigh as he fell over the last step and to his knees before rolling onto his back. He roared again as the pain lashed at him.
    A loud thump behind him had Arak tensing as Kyele came crashing down. His friend was on his feet immediately and kneeling at his side.
    “How bad?” Kyele asked.
    Arak clenched his jaw, fighting back the pain as the spasms ripped through him. A quick check and for sure his leg was a mess. His combat pants bore a tear from the thigh down to his ankle where the material gapped around his black boots. Blood soaked onto the floor beneath him. “Bad enough.”
    He cursed for good measure as Kyele pulled a micro medi-pak from one of his many pants’ pockets. His teammate worked quickly and efficiently as he cleaned the area with a spray and swabbed Arak with an antibiotic. The pressure bandage he slapped on the bleeding wound burned worst than the pain of the injury.
    Arak’s fangs drew blood as he bit his bottom lip to force back snarls of rage. Kyele studied his expression then calmly asked, “Are you down for the count or good?”
    All sorts of good natured insults were on the tip of his tongue. Kyele’s scar twitched, green eyes glinting. Arak knew he waited for the litany of curses. Unbelievably, Arak chuckled. He refused to let the Marenians get the best of him. “I’m good. Help me stand.”
    The corner of Kyele’s mouth curved up as he leaned forward and wrapped an arm around Arak’s waist. With a heave, Kyele brought both of them to their feet. Arak’s muscles went taut with pain. Kyele waited long enough for Arak to attain his balance and stepped away. Surprisingly, Arak still held his laser in one hand. He tightened his grip and winced as he applied weight to his leg. It hurt like he’d been sliced open to the bone and probably had been. They’d have to wait to have Dr. Maku, their unit doctor, repair the damage when they returned to their home world of Enotia. It would make for a nasty transport ride back but Arak had been through worse.
    “What did I hit?” And why would the Marenians feel the need to leave the trap behind for an empty room? His gaze took in the interior of a single large space with racks screwed upright into the scored surface of stone walls. Abandoned chains lay in heaps in the darkest corner, while a table covered with medical equipment and a smashed communicator was pushed along one wall. Various stains marred the floor beneath their feet and Arak didn’t need a second opinion or the drain on the floor to confirm this place had once been used to torture reluctant slaves. The lack of dust declared its frequency of use.
    Kyele bent to pick up the remnants of a wicki wheel attached to a chain link that extended from the wall. The device was used by illegal hunters on the wildest game. “Retractable. Motion activated.”
    The rest of the trap lay shattered on the floor. In the midst of the pieces were several broken blades tipped with his blood. A dangerous toy to leave around. Arak eyed Kyele, who aside from a streak of dirt on his cheek next to his scar, looked fine.
    Arak inhaled sharply to control the pain but flinched as he shifted his weight and the essence of blood on the air filled his nostrils. A lingering whiff of death had his claws releasing on his free hand.
    “Do you see anything I’m missing?” Kyele asked, rising to his feet while waiting for Arak’s assessment.
    Another visual sweep and his senses, though alert, remained calm. Arak shook his head. “Nothing. Grab the memory chip from the communicator. We’ll see if Jaron can salvage anything.”
    Kyele nodded and tapped his mic. “Jaron, Faruk, the basement is clear.