Rescued and Ruined: Warrior Elite Series, #1

By V.T. Bonds

"Anytime, omega. I'm ready. Primed. Hard and aching to fulfill the need between your legs."

  -Craize

 

 

Born to emotionally aloof beta parents, Raeni's omega heart aches to be the center of someone's world, but when two alphas abduct her from the streets, drag her deep into a secret facility, and reveal their plan to experiment on her, the only thing she begs for is a savior.

 

She gets Craize instead, a massive, scarred alien alpha with horns and a nasty temper. As a Warrior Elite–a top secret Special Operations unit of super soldier aliens–and the last Kescan'i in existence, he has only one goal in life: exterminate the scientists who slaughtered his race.

 

Finding a mate is not in his plans, but when Raeni's heart calls out to his in the middle of a raid, he flies into an alpha rampage and annihilates everyone in his path.

 

She's his omega lifemate, but he's too broken to give her the love she deserves.

 

He rescues her from evil scientists only to ruin her dreams of finding a gentle, devoted alpha.

 

 

Can she break through his defenses, or will his need for vengeance destroy their chance at a happily ever after?

 

 

Rescued and Ruined (Warrior Elite Series Book 1) is a full-length, scorchin' hot, dark sci-fi alien romance set on a far-off dystopian planet. Intended for +18 readers. For a full list of content warnings, please visit the author's website.

• Language: English
• Publisher: V.T. Bonds
• Release date: Jan 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201151966

V.T. Bonds

V.T. Bonds is an avid reader of all things filthy and enticing. They began the slide into darkness one book at a time. And now the results are complete. V.T. Bonds’ imagination has blossomed into darkness so extensive they cannot withhold it from you any longer. Embark on a thrilling, steamy journey with them. Let them share their corruption with you, one book at a time.

Book preview

Blurb

Anytime, omega. I’m ready. Primed. Hard and aching to fulfill the need between your legs.

  -Craize

Born to emotionally aloof beta parents, Raeni's omega heart aches to be the center of someone’s world, but when two alphas abduct her from the streets, drag her deep into a secret facility, and reveal their plan to experiment on her, the only thing she begs for is a savior.

She gets Craize instead, a massive, scarred alien alpha with horns and a nasty temper. As a Warrior Elite–a top secret Special Operations unit of super soldier aliens–and the last Kescan’i in existence, he has only one goal in life: exterminate the scientists who slaughtered his race.

Finding a mate is not in his plans, but when Raeni’s heart calls out to his in the middle of a raid, he flies into an alpha rampage and annihilates everyone in his path.

She’s his omega lifemate, but he’s too broken to give her the love she deserves.

He rescues her from evil scientists only to ruin her dreams of finding a gentle, devoted alpha.

Can she break through his defenses, or will his need for vengeance destroy their chance at a happily ever after?

Rescued and Ruined (Warrior Elite Series Book 1) is a full-length, scorchin’ hot, dark sci-fi alien romance set on a far-off dystopian planet. Intended for +18 readers.

Tropes/themes include:

*Size Difference

*Haters to Lovers

*Forced Proximity

*Strong Female Lead

*Special Monster Peen

*Reverse Rejected Mate

*A Morally Grey/Barely Redeemable OTT Jealous/Possessive Alphahole

*Nonshifter Omegaverse (nesting, knotting, marking)

*Graphic Violence (sexual and nonsexual)

*HEA (Happily Ever After)

*Mf pairing (male/female)

*No cheating

Chapter 1

Paragraph Squiggle with solid fill Alien Face with solid fill Paragraph Squiggle with solid fill

Raeni

I don’t have any enemies, but if I did, I wouldn’t wish this hell on them.

My head pounds with every beat of my heart and nothing but fear keeps my legs moving. I don’t know how I got to this part of the slums; I only know I must run. I must get away.

Dark eyes chase after me, the faint moonlight glinting off the crumbling buildings snuffed out by the evilness within the male closing in on my heels.

The hulking alpha darts forward, sending my heart into my throat and a shriek out of my mouth. I twist to the side and lose my footing, the debris scattered over the concrete stealing my balance.

The ground reaches up and knocks my head, the resounding crack echoing down the deserted alley.

Massive fingers wrap around my bicep and haul me upward.

My surroundings come to me in flashes, like pictures straight from a horror movie. Chiseled chin. Thick biceps. Tight shirt. Mean brown eyes. Short, militaristic hairstyle. Grungy shirt.

Shut up, bitch. I told you not to run.

The buildings on either side of us shift. Either that, or my head spins.

My body refuses to cooperate. I tell it to lash out, to try to get away, to fight, but although my hands lift, there’s no power in them.

Thick fingers dig into my arm and I jump as the sting of a needle enters my thigh.

Whatever it injects into my veins burns deep enough to make my bones hurt.

Perfectly straight teeth flash as dark brown irises shrink, this humongous alpha obviously enjoying my pain.

Don’t worry, Raeni. This is the easy part.

His use of my name sends impotent terror deep into the recesses of my soul. My heart threatens to burst through my ribs as darkness swirls along the edges of my vision.

Numbness rises from my feet, spreading like wildfire through my body until I lose all feeling up to my neck.

The world tilts, my captor releasing my arm and watching with amusement as I flop to the rubble-laden ground.

Another voice sounds from behind him, but I can’t figure out what he’s saying. His words become nothing but warbled noise scrambled in my brain.

As my lids slide down over my eyes, a dark shape, just as gigantic as my tormentor, approaches him from behind.

Vibrant blue eyes shine in the moonlight, ruling my nightmares as whatever drug they gave me forces me into unconsciousness. Surrounded by blonde hair, a sharp jaw, and model-perfect cheekbones, the visage should be comforting, but his menacing, lustful expression fills me with horror.

I’m doomed.

Chapter 2

Paragraph Squiggle with solid fill Alien Face with solid fill Paragraph Squiggle with solid fill

Craize

If all the Kescan’i were as dour as you, then I’m glad you’re the last one.

Fury yanks a snarl from my chest as Gric’s words sink into my cranium, his verbal jab too painful to ignore. Already on edge from camping in this abysmal desert with seemingly no end to our waiting, I lash out, burying my knuckles into Gric’s solar plexus. Since neither of us wears more than simple clothes and a few weapons, my punch sinks into his abdomen, but the brute merely grunts and smirks at me as he steps backward.

At least the females don’t run from me because I’m hideous.

It’s a low blow, but he’s earned it. No one smears my ancestors’ honor or speaks of the horrors I’ve seen with such blasé dismissal.

Gric’s bright green irises shrink as my words register, the agitation behind his assholery exploding into rage as my dual meaning penetrates his brain.

If anyone is hideous, it’s me. After several months of torture at the hands of our arch nemesis, my arms and legs display grotesque scars and my once vibrant flesh now looks dull and worn.

I dodge as the blur of a blue fist nears my face. Waiting until Gric’s left punch reaches its full extent, I lunge forward, grasping the brute’s forearm with my right hand and dropping my weight.

Lethal as always, he engages the spines lining the inside of his arms, cutting my palms.

I don’t let go.

My shoulder hits the sand as I tuck into a roll, wrenching his arm and forcing him to follow. He folds, surprisingly limber for his size, but hits the ground so hard it shakes under me, despite its naturally loose formation.

Our snarls dim as sand clouds around us.

I release him and finish my roll, popping onto my feet and sweeping my foot in a wide arc until it connects with my target.

He grunts, the tip of my boot grazing his shoulder as he rolls sideways, avoiding the worst of my kick.

My memory serves me visions of dead bodies and fragments of Space-Flyers floating in the vacuum of space. I snarl and use my fury to attack, landing a vicious punch to my opponent’s chin as he rises to fight. He flies backward, but before his heels leave the ground, he jabs the toe of his boot forward and flicks his long, thin tail, sending agony up my leg as he kicks my shin and lashes my thigh.

The second he hits the ground, I land atop him, my rage driving me to bury my fists into him again and again. He reciprocates, pummeling my sides and face with his fat knuckles.

Neither of us stops, even as crimson splatters the surrounding sand.

Seven months ago, we fought a space fleet of the Intergalactic Science Corps, also known as the ISC, and while they tucked tail and ran, we stared at the aftermath of their cruelty. Alphas, omegas, and betas of many species died that day, and the enemy never spared a look backward to mourn the destruction they caused.

They are the scum of the galaxy.

Long ago, the ISC made scientific discoveries with honor, but they grew too big, too greedy to stay trustworthy. When a chapter of the ISC destroyed my home planet Obiscar and desecrated my people decades ago, I vowed to massacre as many of them as I could.

I did well. For years, my life consisted of nothing but gore and death, much worse than the puny streaks of blood flying from myself and my current foe.

Until one tiny mistake landed me in a torture chamber.

My wrath spikes before my knuckles crack into Gric’s unyielding jaw.

Along with a few others, this ruthless alpha aided my escape from the enemy’s diabolical hands.

He punches just below my sternum, making my diaphragm seize before he twists his hips, forcing me onto my back as he raises his fist to clock me in the temple. I smirk into his almost neon green eyes, his flamboyant cerulean flesh and massive black horns standing out despite the blazing sun.

Bright orange scaly arms wrap around his torso. Fek’s violet irises shoot accusation at me over my assailant’s shoulder before he hoists Gric up and tosses him to the side.

Which is not an easy feat, considering the dullard weighs more than even I.

I jump to my feet, flicking the blood off my knuckles and stalking forward, not stopping until the toes of my boots touch Fek’s. Invading his space, I snarl in the age-old manner of challenge.

One perfectly symmetrical, scaled eyebrow rises, but nothing else on his body moves. Fek neither backs down nor leans forward.

The tiny squint he gives me highlights the deadly intelligence behind his eyes, but an eager glint in his slit pupils stops my hackles from rising.

Are you done?

Although his words hold a bite of disapproval, I don’t wrap my bleeding hands around his throat and squeeze.

Gric’s behemoth form lifts itself from the swirling sand but doesn’t approach.

Smart beast. I would much prefer to choke him on the blood trickling from my palms than have him nearby.

With a mouth as big as his attitude, he pushed too far and found the end of my patience. Yet again, he prods me with his next words.

He might be capable of another round, Fek, since you’re so keen on offering him a break.

Before I pivot my neck to glare at him, Fek steals my attention.

I didn’t interrupt you two to save your sorry ass, Gric.

Every muscle in my body tightens as I prepare for whatever announcement he has.

We have new orders. Time to gather the team.

The jumbled mass of vicious fury and mourning in my chest straightens in relief.

Of course, Gric beats me to the punch, his ability to say whatever’s on his mind lending him speed, if not tact.

Thank the tits off a tentacle. We’ve been here forever. Let’s go get some real action, before the Kescan’i bites off more than he can chew.

I ignore his blabber and set my toes toward the tent Fek indicates, stalking through the sand. This mission had better be difficult, otherwise even my close friends may be in danger of my wrath.

Chapter 3

Paragraph Squiggle with solid fill Alien Face with solid fill Paragraph Squiggle with solid fill

Raeni

Nothing makes sense.

I haven’t been in a Sky-Flyer since I turned six, but the distinct sound of wind buffeting the sides of a metal craft surrounds me.

The world fades, replaced by memories. My father’s scowl and mother’s bare-minimum glance up from her tablet haunt me. The last time I saw them, they did as they always had—either chastise or ignore me.

That was eight years ago, when I was fifteen. I’d left home that day, knowing I would never go back.

The world shifts as the Sky-Flyer banks to the side.

I can’t move.

With my face pressed against the floor and my body refusing to obey, I slide along as the craft tilts further. Something warm bumps against my side.

Despite the disjointed thrumming of my heart, I can’t remember what set it to galloping, or why I’d be in a Sky-Flyer.

The warm thing lets out a muffled moan and shifts against me. Dread climbs into my chest and spreads outward as I try to move my limbs again and can’t.

I pour my efforts into lifting my eyelids, but it takes several tries before they raise enough for me to peek through my lashes.

Gray metal glints in the overhead light, the sterile walls of the Sky-Flyer completely opposite to how I’ve lived for the past four years. Except for the medical shelters I visit on the outskirts of Embilte every three months for my heats, I’ve bunked down with my adopted family—an odd band of those unable to make a living within the city limits.

From the youngest preteen, Andree, to the older beta male, Wallen, we cared for one another the way family was meant to.

That’s why I left home. I couldn’t stand the disdain on the faces of those who should have loved me most. I hated the cold atmosphere of my parents’ apartment.

I struggle to lift my head and look down at the thing touching my hip, but give up when it proves too difficult.

When I try to suck in a deep breath, my mouth won’t open.

Terror sparks through my veins, but my brain takes a moment to register my fear.

The craft changes direction, pitching forward before making the floor tilt the other way. My limp body gets pulled around my gravity until the warm thing bumps against my hip, changing my trajectory so my legs lead the way downward and my hair covers my eyes.

I almost close them, wanting to give in to the ice coating my veins and the blackness swarming the edges of my vision, but my hair clears from my face.

I wish it had stayed.

Two naked women, both chained in lewd positions, stand strapped to the cargo net in the corner.

Vomit climbs into my throat as I glimpse bruises forming on their exposed flesh and opaque fluid dripping down their legs.

Whatever drug flows through my system beckons me to close my eyes, but I strain to keep them open, terrified the darkness will repeat this scene over and over until it drags me into insanity.

It gets worse.

The Sky-Flyer dips and jerks. For a moment, weightlessness disorients me until the floor slams into my chest and knocks the wind out of my lungs. In the chaos, other noises join the moans—a high-pitched wail, sobs, retching—all muffled. All terrified. All hopeless.

My stomach tightens, ushering the vomit higher up my throat, but I swallow it down and suck in oxygen.

The craft yet again changes directions, and I watch in horror as other bound women slide across the floor with me.

Someone’s brunette hair sweeps across my face while another woman’s glazed green irises run along my periphery.

I’ve been kidnapped.

My memory resurfaces in sickening waves until my heart threatens to burst into tiny shards of misery.

Two alphas chased, caught, and drugged me.

Mean eyes, one pair blue and the other dark brown, ran along my body, shining with lust. They promised me my life would only get worse.

I don’t want to, but I believe them.

A sinking sense of premonition settles in my guts.

My fate will be worse than the two women strung up in the cargo net.

***

My mind pops into awareness too fast. It hurts. Pain pulses deep in my head, beginning in the fissure of void between the hemispheres of my brain and spreading outward until my skull pounds in misery.

Something flops on my face before gravity pulls it downward. The relief I should feel at waking on my back wanes as the object slides downward, taking my nose with it until my neck tweaks.

A hand. Icy fingers trail across my face as the woman beside me goes lax. A moment later, she jerks again,