Wolfen

by Alianne Donnelly

  “Please. Any man worth his dick around here wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.” A sick, backhanded compliment, as if the girl should count herself lucky to be on the receiving end of his attentions. What the fuck? Did that pass for pickup lines around here? Aiden knew the type, and he felt sorry for the girl, who clearly had no one to look after her.

  Her answer was a short, low hum that tickled Aiden’s eardrums. Whatever she’d said pissed the guard off—big time.

  “You need to watch your mouth, Tripod. Before something bad happens to you.”

  Aiden scowled and pulled away, wholly uninterested in the witch’s antics. He resumed his seat with his back to the door, and ignored the rest of the exchange. Whatever she got, she damned well deserved. And probably worse.

  Whump-whump-whump-whump-whump…

  He’d gotten so used to the vibrations he barely noticed them anymore.

  Drip. Drip. Drip.

  That he noticed. His eye twitched. He needed a distraction.

  Aiden waited for Desiree to come calling, but she didn’t. Voices grew faint, lost in the shuffle of life aboveground. People passed the tunnels but didn’t linger long enough to entertain him. Even the children kept their distance today.

  Hours went by. At some point, a different pair of guards took up post by the tunnel entrance. Aiden scented gunmetal and testosterone, a hint of alcohol, but nothing else. They didn’t talk to each other, and their presence kept everyone else at a distance, which left Aiden without entertainment once again.

  Drip.

  He kicked the far wall.

  Drip. Drip.

  With a growl, he pushed to his feet and traced the source of the drip to a tiny, protruding root high up in the wall, where water trickled quietly down to a crested outcropping, pooled into drops, and rolled off into a puddle below. Keeping his eye on the offending noisemaker, Aiden felt around for a loose rock. There were a handful of them, none big enough to use as hammer and chisel, but one fit nicely into his hand. He bashed it against that sharp peak until it dulled, then waited.

  Dripdripdrip—off to the side. A different leak. Eye twitching, he found the source in the opposite corner, right in the ceiling where water had soaked through, creating a crevice the width of his fingernail. He had nothing to plug it with.

  At the end of his wits, Aiden tapped his foot to the beat: Tap-tap, drip-drip. Tap-tap, drip-drip—a rhythm he could get behind. Lemons, lemonade, and all that shit. He closed his eyes, imagined an orchestra playing him a proper James Bond theme song. Why the hell not? Pretending the stage was all his, he held an imaginary mic to his mouth, and belted out the words to Feelin’ Good. His cell’s acoustics amplified his voice and made him sound badass, so he tipped an invisible hat, snapped his fingers, and sang.

  It worked, too. He vocalized the instrumental parts, nodded like he had a pair of shades on his nose, tapped his heel like he wore 60’s designer loafers instead of beat-up combat boots, and soaked up the applause in his mind, throwing in some fancy footwork to wow the crowds. “And I’m FEEELIIIN’…gooood…”

  Approaching footsteps ruined the mood. Aiden lost his groove, the sharp suit, gangsta hat, and his fandom audience, as four dark walls slammed back together around him. Good feeling’s gone.

  “Finally worked up the nerve, eh?”

  Three sets of footsteps approached, Desiree’s among them.

  “Aw, and you brought friends,” he said. “How nice.”

  Keys in the locks, tumblers turning, and deadbolts creaking out of their moorings. Aiden braced himself, ready to throw his weight against the door and bust out of here. Now was his chance.

  The door unlocked, and he moved. With only a few feet for a running start, he sure as hell made them count, and he slammed into that portal. The last deadbolt snapped off, and the door flattened whoever was on the other side. A wide-eyed guard across the hallway fired a shot from his piddly little gun.

  Aiden didn’t even feel the impact. He grinned savagely, and reached for the man’s throat.

  Or at least he tried.

  His arm wouldn’t come up.

  Aiden looked down at the ridiculous frilly dart sticking out of his pectoral. The paralytic in it spread faster than he’d have thought possible. His whole left side was already frozen, and it took tremendous effort to raise his head up to look at the fuck who’d shot him.

  He reached out with his right hand and got it up to waist level, no farther. Worse, the serum was like an army of fire ants running through his veins. It itched and burned at the same time, shooting tension through his limbs. No matter how Aiden strained, he couldn’t move. Caught in a precarious position in mid-step, he lost his balance, unable to correct. The dickhead guard let him fall on his face.

  A string of curses brought the second guard out from behind the door. Aiden recognized his voice as the one who’d come on to the witch. “You almost broke my nose, asshole!” He kicked Aiden hard.

  Aiden couldn’t reciprocate.

  Normally, pharmaceutical weapons had little effect on his kind. Sedatives and tranquilizers might make Aiden sleepy for a bit, but he always managed to shake them off, and give someone a piece of his mind. This was different. Aiden could barely breathe. He couldn’t blink. His heart rate slowed. Every muscle had gone rigid, including some very inappropriate ones, given the situation.

  The guard who’d be losing his leg very soon, stomped on Aiden’s spine, and kicked him three more times before his shooter buddy snapped, “Dare!”

  “What!”

  “Get him back inside,” Desiree ordered.

  Her two minions hoisted Aiden up by his arms and dragged him into the cell, laying him out diagonally so he’d fit in the confined space. While his eyes could still move, Aiden turned them on Desiree who brought in electric lanterns and two buckets, setting them within easy reach.

  “Go on, bitch,” Dare shouted at Aiden, “let’s hear you say something funny now.” He shoved Desiree aside to get at him again, and she slammed into the wall none too gently.

  “Arik,” she snapped, “get him out of here.”

  “The hell you say! I wanna see this.”

  “Arik!”

  Arik wrestled Dare from the cell and the door closed, locking Desiree in with Aiden.

  Perfect. If he could just get close enough to do some damage, she’d be minced meat long before either of those douche bags knew what was what.

  Move your arm. The neural message fizzled out at the base of his skull. Wiggle a damn finger! Nothing—just static at the back of his neck.

  And now he couldn’t even move his eyes. With every second that passed, Aiden became a prisoner in his own body. It wasn’t pain he felt, exactly. It was as if his muscles had suddenly turned to cold, hard stone.

  Worry began to gnaw at him. What the fuck was this?

  And then the witch’s words came back to him like a lame movie voice-over, and Aiden saw red. There are over fifty Wolfen females in Haven. And you. One, lone, viable male.

  The fuck that was gonna happen!

  Aiden fought the paralytic, tried to force his will on his own body, to make his limbs move. Shift. A fucking twitch would be enough. Something to get out of this. He was Wolfen, goddammit! He was invincible!

  He was frozen, stiff as a fallen statue, and ice filled his bones, chilling him to the deepest corners of his soul. Aiden couldn’t move.

  He couldn’t fucking move!

  Whatever they’d injected him with had not only rendered him utterly and hopelessly inert, but also uncontrollably hard. As pissed off as Aiden was, as much as he feared—for the females, more than himself—his body was primed to go, playing right into the witch’s hand. If evil could be condensed into a serum, it was now coursing through his veins, courtesy of one small, innocent-looking dart.

  And he wanted to kill something.

  Desiree gave a quivering sigh when the guards had left. She righted herself and turned to face him. A colorful bruise covered her entire right che
ek. She limped a step closer, bent over, and pulled on her pant leg. Aiden’s gaze was focused on a point too far above to see clearly, but he could make out enough.

  The witch had an artificial leg.

  Not a very good one, by the sound of it. She had to manually work it for the knee to bend so she could kneel by his side. When she did, she cupped his face to make him look at her. His skin crawled at her touch. A growl built in his chest and stayed locked there. Get the fuck away from me!

  Desiree glanced at the door, a four-inch barrier between her and two armed guys arguing out in the hall. “I didn’t want this,” she whispered.

  Fuck you!

  “I thought there would be more time, I…” She bit her lip. “I know you won’t believe me; you have no reason to. But I tried to stop this. I really did.”

  I will tear your fucking heart out! I’ll rip the rest of your limbs off and watch you writhe. I WILL DESTROY EVERYTHING YOU EVER LOVED!

  “I’m sorry.”

  No, don’t you do this! Don’t you fucking touch me!

  Inside his mind, Aiden screamed in impotent rage. It did nothing but make everything worse. His heart labored to pump blood through his body, and he grew lightheaded. His lungs drew in small puffs of air, nowhere near enough to keep him conscious, but some insidious component to this poison kept his mind churning.

  He couldn’t move, but he felt everything. He smelled the woman, and hated that her scent was so goddamned clean. Her thumb brushed his cheek and, to Aiden’s horrified disgust, the caress made him even harder. A fragile, one-legged human girl, and he was completely at her mercy. He had control over nothing, including the erection which couldn’t be called arousal, even as a joke. It was too sick, too fucked up.

  This isn’t happening. It couldn’t be.

  Aiden strained to loosen his vocal cords, and managed a small growl.

  Desiree didn’t hear it. In a businesslike tone, she said, “You’ve been injected with convert venom. Don’t try to fight it; it only makes the effects worse. When you…finish, it will start wearing off.”

  She uncovered one bucket, and Aiden scented cool, clean water. The other had artificial things—plastics and rubber. Stop, he tried to say, twitching his tongue to form the word, but he had precious little breath and his jaw felt welded shut. Don’t do it. Please!

  Desiree sighed. “Here we go.”

  No, no, NO!

  Aiden’s vision hazed with red when she undid his pants. It was all very efficient, clinical—pop went the button, down slid the zipper, out came his dick. His breathing turned ragged, his heart pumped so hard, and he sweat as if his body tried to rid itself of the venom through his skin. It didn’t work.

  “I’ll try to make this quick,” the witch said. But before she got to work, she hesitated, reached up and closed his eyes.

  Robbed of sight, Aiden almost lost his mind. His body quivered against the strain of denied movement, snapping muscle fibers one by one. The damage repaired itself even as his tissue burned, creating more.

  There were sounds all around, small, delicate ones he couldn’t decipher, and it scared the shit out of him, the not seeing, not knowing. Everything echoed in his mind, always circling back to what was happening, always keeping him in the present.

  Then came the first touch, a steadying hand to keep his dick still while she inserted a catheter. “This might hurt a little,” she warned. “I’m sorry.” She pressed down hard against the underside where it met the scrotum, and an agonizing convulsion overtook Aiden, forcing semen from his body in endless contractions.

  He lost his breath; his heart stuttered and stopped for so long, he thought it wouldn’t start up again. Fire snaked through his muscles, and an explosion of sparks seared his brain, obliterating all thought, leaving him empty of everything but pain.

  It felt like his whole spine was being ripped out through that tube, and all he could do was lie there. His throat worked to scream, but no sound came out. His eyes wouldn’t water, his hands wouldn’t clench. On the outside, he was good as dead. But inside, every nerve ending screeched in endless agony.

  And through the deafening roar of blood pounding in his ears, he heard the witch’s quiet litany: “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Forgive me…”

  He had no idea how long it lasted. At some point, Aiden’s mind couldn’t take anymore and shut down, catapulting him through a strange waking dream of psychedelic colors. He couldn’t make sense of anything—there was pain, but there wasn’t. Light danced before his eyes, but then it was gone. He knew he was lying on hard stone but, for a while, it cushioned him like ocean waves, rocking him between bone-grinding agony and mindless oblivion.

  By the time he drifted back to consciousness and registered the cool dampness against his skin, the cell was dark and empty. He was alone, limbs slowly waking from their paralysis. The cold water bucket sat by his hand, a wet cloth pressed to his groin.

  Aiden bit back a moan, refusing to let them hear. Shaking, he turned onto his side and curled in on himself, waiting for the end to come.

  27: Desiree

  Keep walking, Desiree. One foot in front of the other. Get up there—and don’t you shake like that! Step. That’s it. Another one. Good. Keep going. Almost to the top.

  The light is right in front of you, you just have to get to it and you’re home free.

  Stop. Shaking!

  Walk. Breathe. Walk. There’s the exit. You’re almost to the light.

  Take a breath.

  Take a—

  Oh, my God…

  ~

  Desiree shoved the bucket at Arik and turned away as her stomach heaved. All of it came out: pain, misery, anger, fear, and any hope of ever calling herself a decent human being all purged out of her, leaving her hollow and so damned cold.

  She couldn’t stop shaking.

  Through the ringing in her ears, she heard Dare’s loud, nasty laugh.

  “Shut the fuck up and make yourself useful,” Arik snapped.

  The bucket clattered to the ground. “Fuck naw, I’m not touching that shit!”

  Arik didn’t address it. He grasped Desiree’s shoulders and righted her, searching her gaze—for what, she didn’t know. She was empty, numb.

  Arik shook her. “Come on, now, girl. Stay with me.”

  She scoffed. “Like I can ever go anywhere else.”

  Arik’s mouth twisted. He wrapped an arm around her to keep her upright, ordered Dare to get the bucket, and walked her to the lab. Of course. No time to curl up in a ball and pretend the world didn’t exist. She wasn’t finished yet.

  Desiree’s stomach roiled again but there was nothing left for her to throw up. She clutched Arik with clammy hands, and let him lead her wherever. It didn’t matter anymore.

  Bright light suddenly dimmed as they went indoors. “Put it down and get out,” Arik said to Dare. “We’re gonna have a nice long talk later.”

  “Yessir!” Dare mocked, and dropped the bucket.

  “Asshole,” Arik muttered. He led Desiree to the hearth and stoked up the fire. “How are you doing over there, huh?”

  Desiree blinked. Oh, he was talking to her. “Fine,” she said.

  A blanket settled around her shoulders. “Here, drink this.”

  Desiree took a gulp and almost choked on the searing heat of raw, homemade whiskey sliding down her unprepared throat. She coughed, gasped, and shoved the bottle back at Arik. “That was uncalled for.”

  “Look at me.”

  She did.

  “That’s better. You okay?”

  Desiree shook her head, eyes burning with unshed tears. “No.”

  “Whoa, take it easy now. You’ll be all right. You did what you had to do, right?”

  “Did I?” Arik opened his mouth to respond, but Desiree shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. None of that matters. You know what really happened down there? Klaus won. Like he always does. The devil over my shoulder, forcing my hand. Only he didn’t. He taught me so well, I did it all by myse
lf. He finally got what he’d always wanted.”

  “What’s that?”

  “My soul.”

  Arik snorted, disguising the sound by clearing his throat. But his humor was stronger than his self-control, and he burst out laughing.

  “What the hell is so funny?” she demanded.

  “You!” he said between bouts of laughter. “Gaarrgh, the devil got my soul. Damn his evil hide.”

  “Stop it.” A thread of anger laced her voice. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t I? Seems to me like the Wolfen got one off for free. I’m supposed to feel sorry for him?”

  Desiree reached for the bucket, hand much steadier than it was a moment ago. She removed the lid and took out a stoppered 250ml beaker filled to 200ml with Alpha’s semen, tainted dark with blood. She held it up for Arik to see. “Does this look like fun to you?”

  His laughter died, and he turned pale, bordering on green. “What the fuck?”

  “Can we dispense with the jokes now?”

  Arik gulped and nodded. “ZX-127…what is it?”

  “Convert venom. It’s what they use to force mates to be fertile. In females, it induces instant ovulation. In males…this. There is a paralytic component that keeps their prey from fighting back while they’re…used, and in some cases, eaten. Klaus has been studying it on a molecular level for years. It’s never actually been tested as an injection before.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Will he heal?”

  She’d distilled a full dose to use on Alpha, and it had worked exactly as Klaus had predicted, maximizing sperm production to the point of physical damage, which usually made the venom a one-shot deal for human prey. But Alpha wasn’t human. “Wolfen can regenerate and heal fully, given enough time.”

  “Which means, as long as he’s here, Klaus can do this to him over and over again.”

  “Except, it won’t be Klaus doing the dirty work.”