Authors: Aubrey Ross
“You know nothing.” He collared her throat with one hand and
leaned down until their lips touched. “If I dissolve the link you’ll be my
prisoner again. I don’t think you’ll enjoy that nearly as much.”
* * * * *
Garrett’s grip on the steering wheel tightened as the prison
complex came into view. Two nights on the road with Jackson were enough to make
anyone stir-crazy. It would have been faster to travel as mist, but that would
have required them both to leave all their possessions behind. Garrett wasn’t
sure when, or if, he’d return to Tara’s Vancouver compound, so he’d filled his
SUV with his belongings and headed south.
When Tara told him she’d bought a prison, he’d thought she
was joking. Utilizing the security of a functional prison made perfect sense
and the facility she’d chosen was less than ten years old. Operated by a
private security firm, the prison had suddenly closed when three consecutive
contracts were awarded to competing companies. Turning a profit on the
rehabilitation of criminals was becoming a popular endeavor.
“Isn’t this where they keep terrorists and ultraviolent
inmates?” Jackson looked around with a mixture of curiosity and dread. Few
things intimidated Vladya hosts but the possibility of imprisonment was
certainly on the list.
“You’re thinking of the supermax near Canon City. That’s
farther south. There aren’t any inmates here. We have this entire complex to
ourselves.” Garrett didn’t feel nearly as indifferent as he sounded. Tara’s
thinly veiled rejection still chafed. He had managed this project remotely for
the past six months and there was no legitimate reason he couldn’t have continued
to do so. She wanted him out of the way and he wasn’t sure why. Had his defense
of Eloise sparked Tara’s decision or was there another, more significant,
reason for his exile?
Mountains marched along the western horizon, contrasting
sharply with the vast emptiness of the surrounding plains. Hazy twilight had
all but surrendered to the coming night. High razor wire fences encircled the
compact complex, which was arranged into four identical wards. A uniformed
guard stepped out of his small brick building as they approached the main
entrance.
“Are they expecting us?” Jackson’s agitation was starting to
annoy Garrett.
“Of course. I called this morning to confirm.” He handed the
guard his driver’s license and the guard asked for Jackson’s as well. “I told Dr.
Cordell that we’d be arriving tonight.”
“No one is allowed inside without an escort,” the guard told
Garrett as he returned the IDs. “Someone will be out for you shortly.”
Garrett felt as if he were leaving reality behind as he
selected a parking place near the front door. The lot was nearly empty so it
wasn’t difficult to find a spot. He turned off the engine and got out of the
car. Cool stillness enveloped him yet the tranquility seemed out of place. This
was a prison, a warehouse for those who refused to follow the rules. Or it had
been until Tara found a unique use for the building’s redundant security
features.
Jackson joined him beside the car, looking around with
obvious interest. “Are the test subjects here already?”
“They were scheduled to arrive a couple of days ago,”
Garrett told him. “We’ll know shortly.”
His only response was a semi-verbal grunt.
Jackson had been Tara’s favorite fuck-buddy for so long
Garrett had a hard time thinking of him as anything else. But Jackson’s name
appeared while Garrett was searching the medical records for initiated humans
with AB positive blood. He’d tucked the fact away in the back of his mind for
use at a more opportune moment. Now that Jackson had fallen out of favor with
Tara, Garrett intended to take full advantage of the younger man’s bitterness.
Besides, Jackson’s model-perfect face and athletic body would make what Garrett
had in mind even easier.
“So what’s this all about?” Jackson prompted. “You’ve been
damn evasive ever since we left Canada.”
“I’ll let Dr. Cordell explain. He’s onsite head of the
project and knows more about this than anyone.”
Rather than Dr. Cordell appearing to greet them as Garrett
had expected, a uniformed guard pushed open the door and motioned them inside.
They were led down one nondescript corridor after another. Most of the gates
they approached opened automatically, which told Garrett they were being
watched.
“This is as far as I’m allowed.” The guard opened the final
gate with a physical key and motioned them inside. “Dr. Cordell is in the lab,
down the corridor on your right.”
“Thank you,” Garrett muttered automatically and Jackson shot
him an annoyed look. Jackson felt humans were beneath any host and didn’t
bother with common courtesy.
“You’ll need an escort on your way out,” the guard reminded.
“Radio ahead from the control room and we’ll send someone to let you out.”
Though Dr. Cordell’s Vladya symbionts could have maintained
his human body almost indefinitely, he had convinced them to allow his body to
age so that he appeared to be in his late fifties. His experience and vast
knowledge would have seemed suspicious in anyone younger and his work
frequently required him to interact with human scientists.
“Garrett, my boy. Welcome.” He held out his hand and smiled
with genuine warmth as Garrett and Jackson entered the lab.
Garrett had known Fen Cordell for more than twenty years,
but their work on the current project was by far their most important
collaboration. “It’s good to see you in person again. Video conferences just
aren’t the same.” They shook hands and Garrett motioned toward Jackson. “This
is Jackson. He’s to be granted full access but he answers directly to me.”
“Understood.”
“So give us the grand tour.”
Cordell laughed. “The unit we’re utilizing is fully
mechanized and designed for isolation. You can see everything from the control
room.” He led the two younger men farther down the hall and into the security
hub. A row of monitors had been mounted above a wide desk inset with a variety
of controls. The two employees seated in front of the desk wore jeans and black
t-shirts rather than prison guard uniforms. “Each cell is completely
self-contained, even has a shower. The only time the test subjects are removed
is when they’re scheduled for treatment.”
“There are only four cells?” Jackson nodded toward the
monitors.
The female employee smiled at him and said, “The images
rotate every ten seconds, unless you want to see something specific. Then the
system responds to voice commands. It’s a recent upgrade and it makes supervision
really simple.”
Jackson returned her smile and the woman blushed. Garrett
had watched it happen over and over. Females couldn’t seem to resist Jackson’s
practiced charm, which would play perfectly into Garrett’s plans.
“We need to bring Jackson up to speed,” Garrett told Dr.
Cordell. “Do you have an office?”
“I seldom use it but I have one.” Cordell led them back the
way they’d come and then toward a small cluster of offices adjacent to an
employee lounge. Rather than take them into the tiny office, Cordell entered
the lounge and motioned them toward the round table in the back corner of the
room.
“You call them test subjects,” Jackson started as they all
sat down around the table. “What are they testing or what is being tested on
them?”
Garrett didn’t wait for Cordell to respond. Jackson only
needed to know the basics and Garrett was much better at summarizing than the
detail-oriented scientist. “On Strigoia Prime blood is blood, there are no
different types or Rh factors to complicate transfusion. The antigens in human
blood create eight slightly different environments and not all of the strains
are strong enough to adapt to each environment.”
“That’s why the Levari died out and Rom strain isn’t far
behind?” Jackson mused.
“Exactly. No one has sensed a Levari host for years and the
Rom population has been steadily declining.” Jackson started to say something
but Garrett held him off with an upraised hand. “Let me finish. If you still
have questions when I’m done, I’ll address them then.” Jackson nodded so
Garrett went on, “We’re not sure how she made the connection, but Inatta, head
of Rom strain, has obviously realized that AB positive blood is the only type
Rom symbionts can tolerate. AB positive blood is hard to find, but the
combination has created human hosts with unusually powerful abilities.”
“What does that have to do with Vladya strain? Tara wouldn’t
have gotten involved unless she stood to benefit from the research.”
Garrett smiled. Jackson obviously knew his ex-mistress well.
“If increasing Rom abilities was the only advantage, Tara would likely have
slaughtered the test subjects rather than…commandeering the research.”
“So what are the other advantages?”
“AB positive blood also creates an environment in which more
than one strain can coexist.”
“The test subjects host more than one strain?” Jackson’s
obvious doubt was understandable. Garrett hadn’t believed it until he’d seen
the evidence for himself.
“Yes, but it’s more complicated than that.” Garrett glanced
at Cordell. The doctor hadn’t spoken since Garrett began the overview. He was
just skimming the surface of all they’d learned and Cordell was likely curious
to see how many layers he’d peel back before he joined the conversation.
“Inatta initiated all the test subjects with her own blood. We don’t know if
she intended to introduce a second strain into their systems directly or if
she’d chosen the same course we’re on now.”
“What does that mean? What course are you on now?”
“We began with direct introduction of Vladya strain, but all
four test subjects died.” Cordell finally spoke but he followed Garrett’s
example and kept the information vague. “Rather than risk any more test
subjects, we chose a less direct route.”
Garrett paused, allowing Jackson a moment to absorb all the
facts before they moved on to the current phase of testing. “According to
Tara’s research, if an AB positive host is impregnated by a host from one of
the other strains, the offspring will be born with both strains.”
“You’re trying to breed a multi-strain host?” Jackson leaned
back in his chair, clearly stunned by the revelation. “Has it worked? Do you
have a multi-strain baby locked up in one of those cells?”
“We have six confirmed pregnancies but each is still too
early for PUBS,” Cordell told him.
“What the hell is Pubs? I presume you weren’t referring to
an English bar.”
“Percutaneous umbilical blood sampling. Drawing blood from
the umbilical cord while the fetus is still in the womb,” Cordell clarified.
“Amniocentesis can be done earlier, but it’s not as accurate for strain
identification.”
“We won’t terminate the pregnancy even if the fetus only
hosts one strain. Any pureblood host is valuable,” Garrett stressed. The
position was his, not Tara’s. Tara considered anything less than complete
success a waste of time and would have ordered an abortion. Garrett found her
hardline stance needlessly wasteful.
“We’ve encountered another complication,” Cordell went on.
Like most doctors, he tended to lapse into medical jargon, but he also
understood the specifics of the program better than Garrett. “Many of the test
subjects have found a way of resisting the clinical procedures. We’ve attempted
intravaginal, intratubal and intracervical insemination, but the symbionts keep
triggering ministration.”
“So we’re ready to try something a bit unconventional.”
Garrett scooted closer to the table and caught Jackson’s gaze before he
continued. “There is clearly an emotional element that we’ve overlooked. The
women feel abused and violated even though we’ve tried to keep the procedures
as professional as possible.”
“The women are unwilling participants. Nothing you do will
make them feel less violated.”
Garrett nodded. “They need to have a reason to cooperate, a
motivation that will make bearing a child in captivity less objectionable.”
Jackson snickered, pushing back from the table. “Good luck
with that.”
“You’re an AB positive host. You were initiated by Tara,
which makes you damn near as strong as a pureblood.” Garrett chose his words
carefully. Jackson was vain and egocentric, characteristics he intended to
exploit to the fullest. “It would be extremely beneficial if you would attempt
a direct impregnation.”
“You want me to be a sperm donor?” Jackson sounded almost
amused. “That seems like a waste of my talents.”
“I agree.” Garrett grinned. Jackson had stepped right into
his trap. “That’s why I said ‘direct’. We’ll rough you up a bit and then throw
you into a cell with the female of your choice. You’ll scream and cuss and
convince the female that you’re a captive too.”
“I’ll earn her trust and then seduce her?” A salacious smile
curved Jackson’s lips and anticipation made his dark eyes sparkle. “This could
be fun.”
“If she’s stubborn, we can threaten to starve or torture
you. We can even arrange for her to witness your abuse, but it all depends on
you making an emotional connection with the female.”
“You’re talking about a recently initiated host who has been
held captive and traumatized. She’ll be so desperate for comfort and
protection, it will be like shooting fish in a barrel.”
Caresse soared through the night at Desmond’s side, strong,
exhilarated,
free
. After draining a hunting party with unabashed
savagery, they had turned to mist and taken to the sky. She didn’t know where
they were going, didn’t really care. Desmond had rescued her from a fate worse
than death—for the second time—and she would eagerly follow him anywhere he
chose to go.
Energy coursed through her veins, a wealth of explosive
power instantaneously at her command. It was sweet, intoxicating and she never
wanted to be hungry again. In truth, it had only been a matter of weeks since
they arrived on this dreadful planet, but it seemed much longer. She had been
weak for so long, famished, desperate for freedom as the Brethren gradually
eroded her shields. How could members of her own strain treat her so badly? If
it weren’t for Desmond’s unique physiology she would be a mindless slave,
consumed completely by the Levari Brethren.
But Desmond had returned. He’d saved her and they were on
their way to a future only they controlled.
Suddenly Desmond changed direction, drawing her with him
without explanation. She didn’t question his decision or resist his psychic
pull. He was her champion, her lover, the other half of her soul.
They floated through the treetops with no apparent course
and then Desmond stopped and drew her downward. A truck was parked in a small
clearing that served as a primitive campsite. Rather than pitch a tent, the
young couple had spread sleeping bags in the bed of their truck. They’d zipped
the bags together, forming one enclosure, and the undulation of the thick
fabric made it obvious they were having sex.
Let’s have some fun.
Malevolence, dark and cloying, accompanied the thought.
Caresse never would have recognized the transmission as Desmond’s but there was
no one else around.
Without waiting for her assent, he materialized in the bed
of the truck and ripped the sleeping bag back, exposing the couple to the cold
night air. The woman screamed and the man sat up and wrapped his arms around
her. The woman straddled his hips, her only garment an open flannel shirt. The
man’s jeans were bunched about his ankles and his chest was bare.
Desmond silenced the humans with a wave of his hand but
terror shone from their eyes. The woman clung to the man, burying her face in
the bend of his neck. They both trembled violently and the smell of fear became
so strong Caresse fought back a gag.
Are you just going to watch?
Reluctantly Caresse materialized beside the truck. They
didn’t need the blood. At least she was sated. Perhaps Desmond was still
hungry. He had expended massive amounts of energy when he awakened his Strigo
symbionts.
Desmond shoved the man back down onto the makeshift bed but
he kept the woman upright. “Don’t let us distract you. Blood tastes sweeter
right after you come.” Moonlight gleamed off his fangs as he flashed a cruel
smile. The woman whimpered and the man moaned then turned his face away.
Desmond grabbed his chin and turned his head back around. “Either you make her
come or I will. And I’m not sure she’ll survive my idea of pleasure.”
With a strangled protest the man grasped the woman’s hips
and thrust up into her. The woman covered her face with her hands and began to
sob.
Can we just go?
Caresse backed away from the truck as
dread gripped her stomach. Desmond could be ruthless when backed into a corner
but he wasn’t usually cruel.
If you need more blood I’ll wait, but I don’t
want to—
I saw what you really want, what your body craves.
There’s no reason to pretend any longer. I’m willing to indulge you.
She stared at him in horror, stunned by the bitterness in
his words and the hate burning in his eyes.
I had no choice. They would
have…
He snarled and grabbed the woman’s hair, yanking her head to
one side as he latched on to her neck. The woman’s scream was muffled by
Desmond’s compulsion, but she twisted and thrashed, beating his chest and
shoulders. The man bucked and kicked, to no avail. Desmond flung the woman’s
body into the trees with utter disregard.
His cock is still hard and I’ll make sure it stays that
way.
Desmond’s maniacal laugh was audible.
Come ride him, my love. I
won’t let him come until you’ve had your fill or I can fuck your ass while he’s
still inside you. Now that I know you need—
Caresse had heard enough. She turned to mist and flung
herself into the night. How could he possibly think she had enjoyed what those
bastards did to her? The Brethren had poisoned Desmond’s perceptions and
twisted his priorities. Pain and sorrow stabbed through her, driving her to the
ground. A hard, choking sob burst from her throat as her body spontaneously
materialized.
She landed hard on her hip then rolled to her side, drawing
her knees up toward her chest. He despised her. She’d seen it in his eyes,
heard it in his thoughts. The Brethren had ruined everything.
A cool hand touched her shoulder and she cried out,
scrambling toward the nearest tree where she crouched, barely able to see
through her tears.
“I’m sorry.” Desmond knelt at her side, his hand on the tree
beside her head. “My thinking is muddled. My symbionts continue to surge and it
skews my understanding.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and looked up at him
through her hair. “I did what I had to do to survive. I did not want any of
that. I love only you, want only you. Scan me if you doubt my words. Search my
being.”
He pressed his hand against her face as his gaze searched
hers. “We each used the weapons available to us. We will never speak of it
again.”
Shifting to her knees, she wrapped her arms around his neck
and inhaled his breath. “Let’s put all this behind us, find a quiet place where
we can live in peace. That’s why we came here, why we risked so much. Let’s
return to our original goals. I am so tired of running, so weary of all this
conflict.” She tried to kiss him but he unhooked her arms and pushed to his
feet.
“I will not hide like a frightened child.” Determination
hardened his features and made his voice brittle. “I host two strains and both
have betrayed me. Such treachery cannot go unanswered.”
“You are one man. What can you do on your own?”
His gaze narrowed to gleaming slits and his fangs peeked out
from between his lips. “I will explore the information I stripped from Farren’s
mind until I understand every image. If the Levari Brethren will not bow to my
authority, I will destroy them.”
“And how will you respond when Strigo strain realizes we
survived the crash? The only reason Alexi is not searching for us is because he
thinks we’re dead.”
“You doubt my abilities after all I’ve done for you?” His
tone was nearly a snarl, making the words hard to understand.
“I don’t doubt you.” She stood as well but didn’t try to
touch him. His mood was still too volatile. “I just want this over.”
He placed his hands on her shoulders and his gaze drilled
into hers. “It will be over when the Yeagers pay for their treachery and not
before.”
“You cannot take on the Yeagers. Desmond, you are just one
man.”
“I am at the moment, but soon I will command an equal
force.”
She shook her head, unsure how to reach him. She’d never
seen him like this, obsessed and irrational. “Even if you take over the Levari
Brethren, they are no match for Strigo Strain.”
“Vladya strain is.”
She stilled, terrified by the resolve in his expression. Was
he slipping into some sort of delusion? He’d been so different since his Strigo
symbionts awakened. She hardly knew him. “I don’t understand.”
He grinned then whispered, “Just trust me, my love. All will
be revealed in time.”
* * * * *
When Eloise awakened the following night she was alone. Her
immediate relief was followed by a twinge of disappointment, leaving her
confused and annoyed. She scooted to the edge of the bed and swung her feet to
the floor. Bronik had taken her twice more before they both succumbed to dawn’s
pull. The first time he’d been fierce and possessive, his actions fueled by her
insistence that he dissolve their bond. But the bond had allowed her to feel
all the emotions he refused to reveal. He cared for her, felt genuine
affection, respect and tenderness, as well as consuming passion.
She abandoned the bed, not wanting the tangible reminder of
all they’d shared. The second time, or actually the third, he’d been slow and
gentle, gradually building the heat until she’d surrendered to the fire. She’d
never been with a man who poured his heart and soul into sex. But this wasn’t
just sex. She paused at the thought, troubled by the implications. They’d
exchanged emotions and blood, thoughts and pleasure as their bodies fused. Each
intimate act had strengthened their link and made the psychic flow more
natural, almost effortless.
He hadn’t allowed her to shower once their desires were
sated. He’d wanted his scent all over her as they slept. So where had he gone
and what would become of her now?
She wanted to believe that Tara would be reasonable, that she
would understand that all this had been beyond Eloise’s control. A pang of
guilt made her stomach tense. That might have been true before she gave Bronik
the locations. Now she was every bit as much a traitor as Simone.
The shower felt wonderful, relaxing yet refreshing. After
combing out her hair and brushing her teeth, she pulled on a clean pair of
jeans and one of the shirts Simone had brought her. Without shoes, a walk
through the woods was not going to happen, but Simone had provided socks.
Bronik still hadn’t returned by the time she finished
dressing. Did he intend to leave her here all night with nothing to occupy her
mind? Not a wise plan. An idle mind was the devil’s playground, or so she’d
heard.
Bored and restless, she crossed to the door and tried the
handle. As she’d expected, the portal was securely locked. Bronik told her the
cabin where he’d first taken her was shielded and sealed, but she suspected
that this building was on Edrick’s estate. The entire estate was shielded, so
it was unlikely that the gatehouse had separate defenses. All she had to do was
find a window or vent through which to escape.
And then what?
There was no one in Vladya strain who would risk Tara’s
wrath to help Eloise. She might have been a victim when this debacle began, but
she’d made intentional choices since. Now she would have to live with the
ramifications. It was only a matter of time before Tara learned that Eloise had
cooperated with Strigo strain. Tara hated loose ends. She’d send assassins to
silence Eloise. If they hadn’t been dispatched already.
Still, she couldn’t stay here. Bronik’s appeal was too
compelling, too addictive. She wasn’t willing to sacrifice her freedom
regardless of how much pleasure she found in his arms. Bronik considered her a
possession, a pet. And she didn’t find the arrangement nearly as demeaning as
she should. She had to escape, had to find a way out of this mess that didn’t
chain her to an arrogant Strigo warrior.
She took a deep breath and scanned her surroundings. She
hadn’t realized how isolated her life was until she tried to identify an ally
outside of Vladya strain. Her interaction with humans was extremely limited and
the few humans she did have contact with were loyal to Tara.
What about Inatta? She didn’t know the Rom leader well, but
Inatta hated Tara. Did Inatta’s hatred run deep enough to make her offer Eloise
sanctuary? Rom and Vladya strains were basically at war. Inatta had nothing to
lose but what did she have to gain? Eloise would have to offer the Rom queen
something more significant than an opportunity to piss off Tara.
The possibility, though shaky, was as close to a plan as
Eloise had managed, so she intensified her scan. She’d go to Las Vegas and
request an audience with Inatta. If Inatta refused to assist her, at least
Eloise would be in a thriving metropolis where her chances of disappearing were
better.
Energized by the strategy, Eloise released her corporeal
body and sped through the room as mist. It felt wonderful to have her abilities
restored, to be less helpless. The windows were sealed so she floated into the
bathroom. Again the window offered no escape, but the ceiling fan vented into
the attic and one section of the roof was warped just enough to create a small
slit. The tiny opening was all Eloise needed. She paused, meticulously blocking
her end of the connection with Bronik. She couldn’t sever the link but she
could fight like hell to keep him out of her mind. When the link was securely
plugged, she flowed through the slit and gathered speed as she propelled
herself skyward.
The estate’s shields were designed to protect, not imprison,
still she hesitated again. Likely some sort of alarm would sound as soon as she
made contact with the barrier. She needed to move fast but a direct route would
be easier to follow. Teleportation was faster than incorporeal propulsion.
However, teleportation required a fixed destination.
Her only other option was to return to her cage and wait for
Bronik. And that was simply unacceptable.
Renewing her determination, she gathered energy and shot
through the shield. A moment of stinging resistance was all she experienced and
then she soared through the night. She changed directions over and over,
doubling back from time to time while putting as much distance between herself
and Strigo strain as possible.
Bronik’s image teased her memory, the burning intensity of
his eyes and the sculpted perfection of his body. She couldn’t allow herself to
think about him. She would be no one’s slave!
But she hadn’t felt like a slave in his arms. She’d felt
special and important. He’d been demanding and intense, but he’d put her needs
before his and offered himself as completely as she’d surrendered herself to
him.