Trapped: A SciFi Convict Romance (The Condemned Book 1) Read Free Page A

way the woman’s ripped uniform clung to her curvy
body and the outraged rigidity of her spine even up against a man twice her
size. The nine other thick-necked, smug soldiers with similar military-issued
buzz cuts standing close by, no clue of the danger he represented, their sole
attention on the woman.
    In the next instant, the woman dropped into the dirt. On a
perfect, heart-shaped ass.
    Freezing in place, 673 waited to see what happened next.
    “Fine,” the woman shouted, stumbling to her feet. “Go. But
I’m not leaving. We’ll find a way.”
    “Your funeral.” Soldier bastard grabbed a pack off the
ground. He slung it onto his shoulder next to a similar one.
    “At least leave us one.” She surged forward, grabbing for the
pack, but soldier bastard darted out of reach.
    “Not so high and mighty now, are you, Cadet West? In fact,
seems like you and your Council-friends might need us after all.” Soldier
bastard patted the pack. “These were issued to the military crew, and you know
how strict Command Council is about ensuring resources are relegated to the
proper department. You survive the night, I’ll be ready to hear just what
you’re willing to do to get an unsanctioned taste.” With a final leer in her
direction, soldier bastard kicked it into a jog. “Let’s go, men.”
    An odd frisson of uncertainty snaked through 673. He wanted
those weapons. Wanted what was in those packs. But he’d come for a different
reason entirely, and with the seven soldiers out of the way, the few left would
be easy pickings.
    It was a curious thing: choice. For so long, there had been
only the option to survive. He didn’t like having alternatives. It almost made
him feel human again.
    “West, please,” a dark-haired female in a similar grey
uniform limped over to where the other woman stood, the quality of her boots
marking her as Council even without his ability to see the CC designation on
her skin, “go with them. You’ve done so much for us already. Why should you die,
too?”
    He’d already noted this second female and the wounded Council
officer on the ground and dismissed them as any kind of threat. Fact was, like
fighter girl, they were dead folks walking—because, in this case, soldier
bastard was right. The strong barely survived out here. The injured didn’t have
a chance in hell.
    His fighter girl didn’t seem to care, though. His? No, she wasn’t his. She wasn’t
anything but Dragath25 dirt in the making.
    He’d learned long ago not to stick his neck out for anyone
else. Keeping himself alive was hard enough.
    Just beyond, the wind picked up, brushing against 673’s skin,
signaling the start of another dust storm. Within the half hour, this place
would be choked in dirt and debris, everything within suffocated under an
indifferent cloak of dirt and rock.
    “I’m not leaving you.” Fighter girl stumbled forward, her
wavy, soot-colored hair brushing her ass…so easy to grab and wrap around his
wrist. “Let’s find something I can drag Dr. Winthrop in.”
    She turned in his direction, giving him his first full view
of wide green eyes, a lush pink mouth, and firm, high tits full enough to fit
his hands.
    His body rioted to attention, the man he’d once been waking
with a silent roar as white-hot lust flooded his veins. He jerked to standing,
all subterfuge, all caution, forgotten. The absence of touch for eight long
years a sudden agonizing stab of need across his skin.
    “Look!” She pointed near to where he stood, and for a heart-stopping
moment, he was sure he’d been sighted. But then she turned back to her friend.
“There’s something that looks like a cave only a little ways up. If we can make
it there, we can hide.”
    “But—”
    “No but. We are making it there.” She dropped to her knees
beside the wounded officer’s body. “No one else is dying. Headquarters will
send search and rescue to investigate the crash. We only have to stay alive
until then.”
    The shrieking