Possessing Providence [Warriors Of Kelon Book 6] Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  WARRIORS OF KELON BOOK 6:

  POSSESSING PROVIDENCE

  by

  Angela Castle

  TORRID BOOKS

  www.torridbooks.com

  Published by

  TORRID BOOKS

  www.torridbooks.com

  An Imprint of Whiskey Creek Press LLC

  Whiskey Creek Press

  PO Box 51052

  Casper, WY 82605-1052

  Copyright Ó 2013 by Angela Castle

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  ISBN 978-1-61160-711-6

  Credits

  Cover Artist: Gemini Judson

  Editor: Dennis Hays

  Printed in the United States of America

  Other Books by Author Available at Torrid Books:

  www.torridbooks.com

  Dragon Down Under

  Dragon Down Under: Two Plus One

  Warriors of Kelon Series

  Abducting Alice

  Tempting Tara

  Resisting Rachel

  Claiming Clare

  Saving Sara

  Blue Bloods of Archalon Series

  Blood Rich

  Moon Shadows Series

  Moonlight Captivation

  Sin’s City

  Dedication

  This one’s for my fans. Thank you for encouraging me to write another Kelon story.

  Chapter 1

  M.A.R.C. Cosmetics. Creating new faces for the future. A bright and shiny, picture perfect blonde—thin, cover model with gleaming white teeth smiled at her as she passed under the ten foot high sign.

  “What a crock.” Providence blew out a breath, using the back of her hand to swipe her pastel pink and blue streaked hair out of her face. Sweat gleamed on her skin. Figures, thirty-eight degree heat and my van’s air conditioning unit is broken.

  Typical. She was running around fixing everyone else’s air-conditioning units and didn’t have time to fix her own. She licked her dry lips and tried to ignore the grimy sweat trickling down the centre of her back.

  Money was money, even on a stinking hot day. M.A.R.C. Cosmetics offered her a bucket load of it to come and fix their problem ahead of everyone else’s.

  Standing in the shade next to his booth, a guard in a white shirt took a long swallow of bottled water as she pulled her van to a stop.

  With her window already down, she leaned over. “Hey, I’m Providence Velour, of Velour Electronics.”

  The six-foot-two guard eyed her wearily, his gaze lingering on her coloured hair, while he accepted her identification card. “I got an emergency call saying something overloaded. I thought you guys had your own sparky?” Her gaze swept over his bulk and sweat-bathed, white shirt; she noted the black gun belt around his navy blue pants, complete with holster and handgun.

  “Yeah, we did.”

  She didn’t press for more info, but thought it odd when he didn’t elaborate. “You’re clear to go through. Head around to your right, enter via the blue door.”

  “Gotcha.” She gave him a nod.

  He handed back her ID card, stepped down onto the road and pushed up the red and white striped, boom gate.

  M.A.R.C. Cosmetics was one of the biggest cosmetics companies in Australia. As far as she knew, it produced anti-aging creams and also medical creams for its clients. The company moved into an old army base two years ago. They spent a shit load of money fixing it up and bringing jobs to her home town of Butterfield Creek in the remote, northern part of Victoria, Australia, which had nothing more than miles of sheep paddocks and one obscure, little hill.

  The only thing that stood out in the town was her.

  She didn’t care if she got stared at, or the elderly residents of her town shook their heads in disapproval. She was forced to grow up tough, with a father always watching for her to slip up, waiting for another chance to show her how inadequate she was, how disappointed he was, that she wasn’t the son he always wanted. After his death, she went to dying her hair wild colours, dressing more and more like a guy, and not caring what anyone said.

  She took her foot off the brake and rolled forward. The old, army barracks stood to her left, but she motored around to the newer large, warehouse sheds, painted in gumtree green to blend in with the native bushland. It wasn’t too bad. Then, she spied the long rows of covered exhausts not far off from the main buildings.

  Pulling her van to a stop, she peeled sweaty legs off the seat, collected her tools from the van’s side and headed towards the door.

  ‘Press Bell for Customer Service.’ She glanced up, spying several surveillance cameras, but doubting they were working if the power was out like they claimed.

  Prov rang the bell and knocked for good measure, waiting until the door swung in.

  Another six-foot man with a white shirt and navy blue pants, complete with weapon, glared down at her.

  “You’re the electrician?” It wasn’t hard to miss the dry sneer in the man’s tone and the disapproving look.

  Prov glared back, her temper flaring along with her already heated body temperature. She was in no mood for games. “No, I’m the resident clown, so unless you’re going to assist me with my magic tricks, you better lead me to where your electrical problem is, or I’m going home to have a tall glass of ice lemonade.”

  The new, armed guard stepped back. His sneer morphed into an amused grin. “This way, rainbow sprite.”

  She snorted and stepped into the dim interior. The temperature was only slightly cooler than outside. The only thing in the room was a four-foot-high, red ochre-coloured, reception desk. The guard reached for a clipboard, complete with a white sheet on top.

  “I’ll take you down to the main circuit room, but you need to sign this form first.”

  She frowned and snatched the board from his hand, glancing over the printed words.

  “It’s a privacy contract; anything you see in the labs below cannot be talked about. Or we can sue you. There is some highly secret stuff M.A.R.C. competitors would love to get their hands on.”

  Prov rolled her eyes. “I don’t care about your crappy creams. I’m here to fix your electrical problems.”

  “It’s good to hear that, but still—sign at the bottom of the paper.” He waved a silver pen in front of her nose.

  She took the pen and read a few lines about keeping secrets, being prosecuted…blah, blah, blah….she scribbled her name at the bottom, wanting to get this job done and out of there as soon as possible.

  “Right. There you go, show me the way and I’ll get this mess sorted.”

  The guard had clean-cut, good looks, but what kept Prov from admiring the pretty boy was the cool gleam in his grey-blue eyes. He turned, heading into the sparse, open room. She took note of three doors—each painted a different bright colour: fire engine red, cobalt blue and the third a Kermit the Frog green. What was thi
s place, a fun house? She grinned at her wayward thoughts of little Oompa Loompahs appearing at any moment.

  The guard walked toward a second blue door, opening it. She saw it led down a long corridor and quickly followed. The radio on the guard’s belt sounded suddenly.

  “Two-six, report. Has the electrician arrived yet?”

  The guard unclipped his two-way radio and answered. “Affirmative, taking her to the circuit room now.”

  “Good, we need to have this done quickly. The back-up batteries are starting to run out.”

  “Understood.” The guard glanced down at her. “We will pay you extra if you can get everything working quickly again.”

  “Quickly all depends on what the heck you did to short out a whole factory.”

  They passed several other blue doors. “This is the blue section of the manufacturing plant. You’ll find an electrical schematic in the power room.”

  “Good, it’ll make finding the problem easier.”

  Unhooking a key from his belt, he opened a door and stepped aside. “I’ll wait here.”

  She peered inside. No little men in funny suits. She snorted. It looked like a standard power room of a modern factory. She set her tool box down, opened the first power cabinet and got to work.

  * * * *

  Lights swam before Zelron’s vision. Slowly, he began to awaken. He struggled to move his limbs, but found them strapped down, again.

  Human males moved around him on the table and lights flickered…they’d drugged his food, again, but what could he do, not eat? Pride would not allow him to self-terminate his life, but despair was starting to weigh him down, and more and more his thoughts turned in an unhealthy direction. What did he really have to live for, other than fighting?

  Anger rolled through the pit of his stomach and he struggled to calm the violent rage, wanting to break free and kill every human he could lay his hands on.

  Humans. Earth. How long was it since he joined his fellow Kelon warriors in the battle to protect the little blue planet? At the time, he understood Earth was a crucial part of the war between the Alliance and the Federation—the enemy.

  Zelron, a hardened career warrior, lived to fight, to kill the enemy. It was all he had—no family, no female would ever take him. No matter the battle, he fought savagely, not caring if he lived or died.

  His commander knew. The reckless abandonment of self-preservation made a warrior more deadly. When assigning him a Kelon Fire Skimmer, out on the front line, they had not paired him with any other.

  It was a wise decision, considering he took out fifteen small, Xerson fighter ships before his Skimmer was targeted by a larger warship, which destroyed his engines and weapons system. So near the planet’s atmosphere, the final hit sent him hurtling towards the planet below.

  Death had not come, although the impact rendered him unconscious. He wished, by the great god Elron, he’d gone to meet his forefathers. Dying in battle would have been honourable, instead of being found and nursed back to health, but a captive of cruel humans; humans he was sent to defend.

  “It’s not working with the drugs in his system. Every time we extract samples, we can’t separate the drug compound from his blood. We need him awake, alert and drug free. Damn these lights…the back-up battery is failing. Someone find out when the power will be restored. Now!”

  Zelron recognized the voice of his regular tormentor. The human called himself Dr. Martin.

  “I got word the electrician has arrived and is working on the problem, but you know what happens when the subject is drug free. Remember how he broke the last set of table restraints?” Martin’s partner, Dr. Forrester, said. “We need something to keep him compliant without the use of drugs, some kind of leverage.”

  “He has nothing. Even the promise of sending him back home hasn’t swayed him to cooperate. It’s been nine months and still he attacks us every chance he gets. He’s so fucked up, I doubt his own kind would want him back, if they knew we had him, but the compound in his blood is too valuable to ignore. All tests have proved positive but, like I said, we need to get it without drugging him.”

  “What about getting him a companion? It’s clear he hates the other subjects. I hear Kelons are rather fond of fat women.”

  The pair chuckled. “From the newspaper reports, only tall, fat women can keep up with their advanced libido.”

  “Now, there’s an idea—we haven’t taken any semen samples yet. I would like to analyse the genetic proprieties and how they can be applied, as well.”

  “Agreed. The more we can take from him the better, but still it comes back to how.”

  “I’ll think on the issue. I wonder if the genetic blend of this alien and human would produce a better serum or dilute it?”

  “It’s a possibility we shouldn’t ignore. From all the reports, human women are breeding compatibly with this species.”

  Zelron’s limbs were still heavy, but he fought the drug in his system, growling low. He never understood the appeal of human women to other Kelon males who took them for mates, although he never met one in person and had no desire to. Females mattered little to him since an incident years ago left him horribly disfigured. There was never any chance of him attracting any kind of female to carry on his line, or would he ever touch a human woman, especially one forced on him.

  “He’s waking up, we need to hurry. Call the guards to get him back to his cell before he fully awakens. No doubt, he would break our necks and those of every worker in the laboratory, if he ever got free.”

  Dr. Martin spoke the truth. Nothing would stop Zelron from killing them for what they’d done to him, or to the others locked in the cells next to him. He did not care if they were Xersons—the torture the humans put them through in the name of science was unacceptable. They needed quick, clean deaths, not to endure forced experimentation, time after time.

  Four guards entered his vision. Unbuckling his straps, they hauled his large bulk from the table, onto the chair with wheels. They took him back through the corridors and into the cell with bars thick enough to prevent any kind of force, other than a large explosion, from breaking him free. They dragged him in and quickly backed out as he struggled to turn over. Zelron heard the locks slide into place and growled. Weakly, he pushed himself up. Soon, the drugs would wear off and he would go back to doing what he did to help control the violent impulses riding him.

  When a warrior could not train or fight, his desire turned inward. Only hard workouts helped distract his mind from their natural sexual urges. The system of self-control worked for thousands of years, along with the removal of flesh foods from the Kelon diet. This honed their race into an intelligent, space-faring people.

  Zelron was far from space and far from his people, trapped in a never ending nightmare. Escape and revenge were the only things keeping his mind and body from giving in.

  Chapter 2

  Providence scowled, unable to find anything wrong with the circuit boards she examined, which meant the problem was deeper. Possibly the problem came from an appliance, or another part of the factory which wasn’t on the main board.

  This was an old army base, so she doubted she was in the main power room. She would have to look around to find the source of the blackout.

  She gripped her flashlight, heading for the door. Outside, the guard was gone. Shrugging, she headed right, down the long corridor, finding herself back in the room with the coloured doors.

  “Hmm…eeeny, meeny, miney, mo? Ah, what the heck, we’ll start with red.” Walking up to the door she tried the handle. “Figures.” It was locked.

  With no guard in sight, it only took her a few minutes with two pieces of flat metal to pick the lock; a skill she’d learnt from a, disreputable former friend. Things were always easy to open when you had the know-how and the right tools at your disposal.

  A self-satisfied smirk curled up the corners of her lips when she pushed open the door and was greeted by a flight of stairs heading down.

&n
bsp; Ha! She knew there was a lower part of these old barracks.

  “You’re not here to snoop, Prov, find the loose circuit, then get the hell out.”

  Goose bumps rose on her skin and there was a chill in the air—something didn’t sit well with her. Why the heck would a cosmetics and cream factory need a modern looking basement? She couldn’t keep the thought from circling her brain.

  “Suck it up, woman; get your frickken job done.” Talking to herself was a bad habit she developed after spending way too much time alone.

  She sighed and carefully navigated her way down four fights of narrow stairs.

  Once reaching what she figured was the main corridor, she easily spotted the electrical conduits running along the ceiling and the row of flickering, dim lights… Hmm, they must have a back-up generator.

  The lights cut out, throwing everything into darkness, apart from the beam of her high-powered flashlight. Needing to find the circuit board, she followed the seemingly endless piping, getting deeper and deeper into the facility. Two steel doors blocked her entry, Authorized Personnel Only stamped in bright red letters across them. From the look of the locks, they were electric, too—not too hard to open. She pulled out a hand-held, power pack, flipped open the lock’s control panel and attached the battery’s alligator clips to the circuits. There was a small surge of power, the panel sparked, and in the next moment, Prov smiled, hearing the click of the locks unlocking. Honestly, anyone with half a brain could break into these things. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling something wasn’t quite right.

  Unhooking the battery and tucking it back into her tool apron, she grunted, pushing open the doors.

  I seriously need to lose some weight and get into shape…well, I will, after summer.

  Mind you, this was the plan for the last few years—she was always more on the plump side, but who was she trying to impress? She never really had a man or even boy in her life, apart from her dad and a few guy friends. Also, work kept her busy.

  Sometimes, she didn’t know why she bothered to think about things like eating healthy and doing exercise programs. Cos you’re never gonna meet a guy looking like a fat frump.