“No!” I snarled. “The woman I killed, she was my girlfriend. Long time ago, when we were kids.” Harsh laughter scraped my throat. “Well, she never got to be more than a kid, thanks to me. The truth is, I killed her because I couldn’t control my anger.” Damn, I was about to throw up, chasing the sour words with the vomit that churned my gut.
Lyrie shifted from her knees to sit, dust coating her bare legs. “Tell me. From the start.”
I blew out a long breath, fighting back the bile. Hells, I’d never told anyone the whole story. Not even Becka’s parents. “We met at college. Becka was a cool chick, popular with everyone. We hung out. Messed around. You know how it gets.” Or maybe she didn’t know. Lyrie didn’t strike me as someone who’d had much fun in her life.
“Anyway, after a while, things changed. We weren’t so good together, anymore. So, one day she says she has to tell me something. I didn’t want to hear it, and, like any teenage guy, I jumped on my skimmer, planning to hightail it out of there.”
Lyrie’s forehead was furrowed, but she remained silent. Which meant I had to keep talking.
I rubbed a hand across my jaw, hard enough to excuse my eyes watering. “Becka was hysterical and jumped right on the board behind me. I should’ve cut the engines and told her to get off. Instead, I gunned it, knowing how speed freaked her out.”
As I stared up, the rocky ceiling above us became a giant vidcom for the pictures my memory painted. Carnage. Skimmer parts spread across the road. Becka’s helmet rolling and rolling, as though it had a life of its own.
And her body. Bloodied. Broken. Bent into impossible angles.
I swallowed around the barbs the next words set in my throat. “She didn’t scream or yell. Just wrapped her arms around my waist and hung on for a moment. Kissed my cheek, then she made a grab for the stick. I lost control. The skimmer hit rocks, skidded and rolled. I killed her.”
Lyrie studied the dirt on her legs, one hand plucking at the hem of her shirt. Finally, she glanced up at me. “Did you love her?”
I shrugged. “Thought I did. But, like I said, I was young. It’s not like we felt any real…bond.”
Fuck. Bond. The word came out slow, stuck on my tongue like it didn’t dare creep into the gloom of our cave.
I lurched to my feet, hoping movement would loosen the sudden knot in my gut.
Bond.
Was that what made me feel differently about Lyrie?
No. Couldn’t be. Because the deepest conversation I’d had with her was about my long-dead girlfriend. Well, that, and a brief touch on her equally dead husband. Hardly a great set-up. In any case, the way I’d heard it talked about—and from what I’d witnessed with Herc and Leo—for those few who did find a bondmate, rather than just settle, like most Aaidarians, the bond formation was instant, obvious and undeniable from the first touch.
Lyrie and me, we didn’t have anything like that.
“Thing is, I knew Becka was working up to dumping me.” I rubbed a palm against my chest to ease the crushing weight of guilt, hating the bitter, trembling twist of my lips. “But hells, I sure took care of that, didn’t I?”
Lyrie’s green eyes locked to mine, and I wished she’d look away, give me a moment to get my thoughts straight. “We all have dead people in our past. Many we loved.” She lifted an eyebrow and spread the long, narrow fingers of one hand. “Some, not so much. But if they’re dead and we’re alive, we are automatically and irrevocably guilty. Whether it’s of murder, or of failing to save them. Or maybe of nothing worse than being the one who was lucky enough to survive a bomb blast. No matter the reason, there’s no escaping the blame. The guilt. Yet you have to learn to live with it. I don’t even want to put a number on the people who’ve died in my place, but I can name each of them. Their faces haunt me, even when I’m awake.”
Even as a mercenary, I wouldn’t claim people had died for me. Who the hells was Lyrie? “Why would—?”
Her palm sliced the air to stop my words, then she held up a rigid forefinger. “The one thing I can tell you is that wallowing in the guilt and allowing myself to curl up and die sure as fuck isn’t going to bring a single one of those people back. So, unless you’ve been celibate for the last decade, I can’t see why you’re letting such a useless emotion dictate what you have to do. Your refusal to fuck me the way it has to be done will kill both of us, and still you won’t bring Becka back.”
I raked my hands through my hair, wishing something would interrupt this damned conversation.
Nothing. The cave silent as a tomb, even the wints had stopped rustling. All holding their breath, waiting for my final admission.
“It’s wasn’t only Becka. She was pregnant. More than halfway through. I’d felt our cub kicking in her belly. My baby died, too.”
“Shit,” she hissed. “I’m sorry.” She stood, her stiff movement betraying pain from either her numerous injuries—though only the odd purplish yellow tinge marred her smooth skin—or a remnant of an ache from her first experience of shifting. “I guess I kind of understand, then.”
“I can’t fail another child.” My words came out flat, deader than a corpse.
Both arms wrapped around her narrow ribs, Lyrie hugged herself. “Okay. The deal was a secret for a secret.” Her words were so quiet my ears twitched to catch them. “Despite your observation the other day, I didn’t order my husband assassinated.”
I winced “Yeah, about that, I shouldn’t—”
She waved away my attempted retraction. “Whatever. I’m only telling you this because you need to know.” Her teeth worked at her bottom lip for a moment, and she squinted at the far wall as though she could see something other than chalky, long-dead stalagmite husks. “Not that I wouldn’t have had him killed, if I could’ve worked out how. We were only together to—” she broke off with a snort of mirthless laughter. “Well, much like here, it was my duty to breed. Have you ever seen a woman who looks less like a breeder?” She swept a disparaging hand down her front.
Startled by the undeniable shimmer of tears in her eyes, I instinctively gripped her upper arms, but I was unable to find the words to console or reassure her. Lyrie was unfathomable, I had no idea what I should say.
She remained unyielding, not leaning in to me at all. “My failure to get pregnant was one of the biggest issues in our marriage. One of many, anyway.” A solitary tear worked free, tracing a path through the dust powdering her cheek, but she ignored it, scowling as though daring me to remark on it. “See, chances are, no matter what you do, I’m not going to get knocked up, and the Regime will soon realize they have no use for us. Seems I’m broken.”
The only thing broken about her was her voice, catching on the last three words. Gods, I could recognize internalized pain when I heard it.
This time, when I tugged her closer, she only resisted for a second, then leaned in against my chest, her face buried against my throat. Though she didn’t make a sound, I could feel the sobs coursing her body, each jerk of her bony spine beneath my palms. I wanted to tell her not to cry, but knew she wouldn’t appreciate the acknowledgment of her momentary weakness. Plus, if the woman I’d known for a few short days was any indication, she probably rarely allowed herself the catharsis of tears.
Instead, I pressed my lips into her hair. “It’s okay, Lyrie. Spike and I have a plan. We’re getting out of here. “
“Spike? Is he—”
“Felidaekin. Yeah. They have him in the cells. But he has contacts, and we’ll work it out. When Hartlin pulls us out of here for testing, we’ll go willingly, okay? Then I’ll find a way to communicate with Spike.”
“Can’t you roar from here? The guards wouldn’t understand.”
“Still can’t shift. But roaring’s for posers, in any case, it doesn’t communicate much other than emotion or warning.”
As Lyrie leaned back to look up at me, I winked. “I keep my mouth for other things, sweetheart, but I can’t roar. Cheetahkin. Neither can Spike.”
A
n odd look of relief flashed across her face. “Oh, so Spike’s a cheet—”
A distant clang interrupted, and she pressed against me for a moment before stiffening her spine and tossing her head back, as though she was accustomed to having long hair she needed to flick from her face. “That’s the guards. Coming to test me.”
She glanced at the dirt where I’d tossed off, grimaced, and bent to scoop up a handful. Smeared it between her legs. “Let’s hope there’s enough traces of semen in there to confuse their analytics.”
I closed my eyes for a long moment. Hells, this wasn’t going to work. My selfish concern, my determination to stick to the behavior I’d set for myself, as though it’d do penance for the harm I caused Becka, now meant I’d put Lyrie in danger.
I wrapped my arms around her waist. “I’m sorry, Lyrie. It won’t happen this way again. It’s not worth the risk.”
“Well, like I said, I’m not going to get pregnant. We only need to do our best to fool the Regime, until your friend works out how to get us out of here.”
“Yeah, that’s prob—wait.”
She looked up at me, then toward the far end of the cave as a rhythmic pounding of metal and stone, evidently a summons, intruded. The flash of fear on her face ripped at my heart, but I rushed the words out. “Lyrie, maybe the reason you didn’t get pregnant by your—husband,” the title was poison on my lips. “You’re not a Glian.”
She frowned. “Yes, I am—oh!”
The sudden hope in her expression was painful.
Damn, I should’ve kept my suspicion to myself.
“Maybe,” she said slowly.
“Shifter!” Smithton’s nasal tone was unmistakable, echoing through the cavernous chambers. “We have a deal. Get her up here.”
I slipped my arm around Lyrie’s waist. “Okay, let’s get test number one out of the way. See if you can create a bit of a distraction, keep the guards busy, so I can locate Spike, or at least have chance to scent him, so I’ll know where to find him next time.”
As she nodded determinedly, striding through the passageways toward the stone steps that led up into the compound, I tugged her arm, holding her back. “Just don’t do anything dangerous, all right?
She arched her eyebrow and shot me a wicked grin. “I could always shift and take them all on.”
I shook my head. “Not yet. Not until you can control it.”
“Teasing, Khal.”
“Yeah, I know,” I lied. Truth was, this woman was wild. I had no damn idea what she’d come up with, or what she was capable of. Or even who she was.
And that totally rocked my world.
She leaned in close and tilted her chin up.
My lips met hers and drank in her taste and her smell, a surging current tightening my arms around her slender frame. “Just be careful, Lyrie, okay?”
No way in hells was I going to lose her.
#
Hartlin kicked back in the leather recliner behind Smithton’s polished desk and gazed at me over his steepled fingers. Seated across the room in a plush chair beneath an enormous portrait of a striking woman in a deep red dress, Spike’s wrists were, like mine, bound with nylonium strips. Our eyes met for a long minute, and he gave me a slight nod.
The tension in my chest eased a little, though I kept my ears trained on the hallway outside, down which Smithton and the guards had led Lyrie. Spike looked okay. Apparently, he’d not been beaten for his failure to perform with Tina. Either that, or his shifter abilities were finally overcoming the drugs they’d whacked into him, and he was able to regenerate.
Hartlin slapped a palm lightly on the table, summoning my attention. “So, success, Khal?”
My jaw spasmed at his use of my nickname. This bastard would be one of the few Glians who might actually be able to pronounce my full Aaidarian name. Not that I was giving it to him. “Of course.”
“The sensory deprivation technique worked, then?”
“The what?” My hands curled into fists. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Hartlin’s purple eyes flashed as a cruel smile curved his lips. “We’ve been trying to get her to shift for weeks. Tests show she has a latent shifter gene, but we needed to find a key to activating it. Special treatment didn’t encourage her. Neither did beatings and torture. However, we took a calculated risk in allowing her into the catacombs. Pitch black in there, so far from help. No sound but the constant drip of water. Research indicated that, with a few hours of sensory deprivation, she’d become unstable. Then we added a little something to torment and terrorize her.”
His gaze flicked to Spike, including him in the conversation. “When that threat was removed, her cortisol and adrenalin levels would be extreme. Enter her lover to soothe her, creating a swift seesaw of changing emotions, a total imbalance that we hoped would provoke an uncontrolled shift.”
He rubbed his narrow hands together, then leaned forward to pour amber liquid into two glasses. “A drink to your pending fatherhood, then, Khal. We could hear you rutting, but, unfortunately, Lyrie had moved beyond the range of the infrared cameras, so we’ve not yet viewed our prize.”
He tossed his drink back, though I ignored the one he nudged across the desk toward me. “So, tell me, what is she? What amazing crossbreed are you two producing for me to replicate?”
Chapter Eleven
Lyrie
W here were they taking Khal?
A tall, bulky guard tightened his grip on my arm when he guessed I was about to break free and chase after them.
My overwhelming need to make sure Khal was safe was stronger than my own self-preservation, and the realization stunned me.
Worry for another person was a torturous thing, because it made me vulnerable.
While I gasped and held my anger and fear tight inside, I watched as Khal was dragged down the hall and around the corner.
Maybe they no longer had any use for him now that he’d done what they asked. Sort of done it. If screwing me but pulling out at the last—vital—minute counted.
To them, it probably would. Most knew pulling out didn’t mean he hadn’t made me pregnant. Of course, I was the only one who knew he pulled out.
“Take her to his room,” Tina said from directly behind me.
I spun and lifted my free arm, in a fist, horrified I’d let the witch creep up on me. Not paying attention could be my downfall, especially with this one.
“Anything you want, babe,” the guard holding my arm said. His sleazy gaze traveled up and down her body, stopping at her breasts, and the ass had the nerve to lick his lips.
But rather than smack him or give an insulted sniff, Tina grinned and chuckled. Turning on her high, black heel, she minced toward Khal’s cell, exaggerating the swagger of her well-rounded hips.
I rolled my eyes as the guard gulped and blinked.
“Go.” He shoved my spine, not taking his intent gaze off Tina.
She entered the room ahead of me and waved. “Pin her down on the bed,” she said dryly. “Be quick about it. I’ve got other…engagements to attend to.”
“Sure thing.” The guard holding my arm nudged his chin to the other men behind me who milled in the hall. “Grab her. But watch out, or she’ll hurt ‘ya.”
As he’d learned when he tried to hold me down all on his own. That lesson took. I imagined his nuts had spasmed for a week.
“I’m not worried ‘bout a little thing like her,” one of the guards said. Tall and skinny, he advanced with a slimy leer smeared across his face.
My pulse jumped as I stiffened and gave him a quick assessment. Cocky grin. Green, if his brand-new uniform was anything to go by. And in dire need of being knocked down a notch or two.
I hadn’t met up with him before, so he hadn’t been fully educated. Yet.
When he snatched my arm, I jabbed out my elbow, catching him square in the chin.
His head snapped back, and he grunted and stumbled away, his hands rising to cup his face. “Fuck. All hells,” h
e moaned. “Damn slut.” Hands dropping fast, he rushed me, his chest heaving.
Before I could kick or land another blow on his tender face, he was joined by his fellow guards. The three of them grabbed my arms and legs and hefted me as I squirmed and shrieked. They carried my struggling body over to the rock-hard bed and dumped me onto the surface. The impact jolted through my backside, and my teeth clunked together.
The tall guard flung himself down on top of me, knocking out my wind. As I lay there gasping, his eelon-coated breath drowned my face, making me gag.
Adrenalin surged through me, and I bucked.
While the two other guards pressed my arms and legs down onto the bed, the wounded guard groped my breasts. My crotch. After copping a feel, he lifted himself up off me and wiped my spittle off his face with a disgusted grimace. “Skinny bitch isn’t worth the poke anyway.”
I just glared, satisfied enough by the encounter.
Until Tina descended with her endless needles.
“Hold her steady,” she said pertly. “I need extra blood this time.” Crimping her lower lip with her teeth, her brow furrowed as she tightened the tourniquet on my upper arm and then slapped at my exposed skin.
“Just a little prick,” she said with a smirk, holding up her needle.
“Looks like a bunch of them to me,” I said, meaning the guards.
The tall guy ground his teeth and started toward me again with his fists raised to pummel, but one of the other guards held up his arm.
“Don’t bother, dude,” the guy said. “We can hit the sleaze-easy once we’re done here. Buy us some purchase mates who are more than willing. Prettier, too.”
They chuckled.
I held in my flinch when Tina’s needle gouged through the tender surface of my flesh. And I stared at the ceiling while she jabbed around, trying to find a vein.
There wasn’t anything worse than ceding to her control, while I had none.
Today, like usual, she dug and prodded, slamming at the tender bits inside the soft part of my arm.
CAT SHIFTERS OF AAIDAR: ENSNARE: (A Sci-fi Alien Romance, Book 3) Page 11