by Shea Swain
A grunt from one of the men he commanded made Jasper sigh with frustration. He looked at the gun Ian had dropped, crouched down and picked it up. He momentarily thought to shoot the son of a bitch moaning down the hall along with the owner of the gun, but he might need the fucks if the kid woke up before he was ready to deal with him.
Admitting to himself that he might need help pissed Jasper off, but again, he wasn’t an idiot. You can lie to anyone and everyone, but he wasn’t able to lie to himself. He’d tried back in the day, and it didn’t work for shit.
Letting out a deep breath, Jasper tucked the gun in the back waistline of his jeans and looked over at Ian’s unconscious form again. Not in the mood for bullshit, he tasered the kid again—just for fun. Jasper still felt the sting from when Ian throat punched him at the rest stop.
He patted down Ian’s body, found a little black pouch that he removed and slid into his back pocket, then hoisted the kid’s twitching body over his shoulder. “Take that idiot with you,” he grunted to his man who was just waking up, “and join the others in medical four.” Jasper stalked toward medical two.
He typed in the code on the panel next to the door frame. A yellow light flashed several times then turned green. The door unsealed and swung open.
“What did you do to him?” Vincent rushed forward and peeled Ian off of him.
Jasper glanced at Aria who lay sleeping in the bed as he made his way across the room and planted his ass on the sofa against the wall. “What the hell I had to,” he growled. He pulled out the gun he had tucked in his waist, emptied the clip and the bullet in the chamber before reassembling it. Jasper laid the weapon on the table in front of him and slid the ammunition in his back pocket. He tossed the stun gun on the table next to the gun, then focused on Vincent.
“Your nephew can move shit with his mind.”
Vincent had seated Ian in a chair and was checking his vitals. He had one of the kid’s lids lifted and flashed a small light back and forth. “What?” Vincent asked, sounding uncharacteristically anxious and disbelieving.
“The Kid Can Move Shit With His Mind.” Each word was precise and singled out in case the intelligent Dr. Howl didn’t get or understand it.
Vincent stood up straight and turned toward him. “What are you talking about?” he asked, frowning.
“You shouldn’t stand so close to him,” Jasper warned. Vincent gave him a skeptical glare before he flew across the room into the side table, landing on the wall next to the bed Aria still slept soundly in. Jasper looked at Vincent’s crumbled form. “I tried to tell you.” He chuckled.
Vincent slowly got to his feet; Jasper assumed the wind had gotten knockout of him.
The gun on the table in front of Jasper catapulted across the room into Ian’s waiting hand. Jasper relaxed in his seat. He was asked to get the kid here alive, and he had. That meant he was pretty much off the clock, and to be honest, he wanted to find out how the kid could do that little parlor trick before confronting him.
Ian pointed the gun at Jasper and eyed him suspiciously. Ian’s other hand was raised toward Vincent, effectively pinning him half on the wall and half on the nightstand.
Jasper heard the rhythmic dripping of the water that spilled to the floor from the pitcher on the nightstand, the hum of the medical machines, and Ian’s heart beating. He also heard the girl’s heartbeat and noted how much stronger it was from what it had been when he’d taken her.
He turned his head to check on Vincent’s status. His friend’s wide eyes were fixed on Ian. It was a look of pure fascination and awe. Jasper could see the wheels turning inside Vincent’s head. His old friend was foolish. He clearly wasn’t afraid. His lazy heartbeat was proof of that. If Vincent knew the details of Carlos’ death maybe he wouldn’t be looking at his nephew like a proud…
Jasper narrowed his eyes and tilted his head as he studied Vincent’s face. Damn. Vincent actually loved the kid.
He and Vincent had accepted that anger, a constant disquiet, and self-preservation were all they had left of their emotions. Day by day, week by week, year by year all their emotions had withered away like summer leaves that fell with the coming of fall. Only the relationships prior to the serum held strong like an unbreakable tie, so how could Vincent feel that much for the kid?
Jasper turned his attention back to Ian. If he wasn’t so fucked up, he might have felt something for the kid too. He held no real ill will toward him; Ian was everything he admired. Strong, determined, fearless, and deadly—and those were just some of the traits that were at the top of the ‘Guys I’d want to cover my back’ list. Not to mention the little fucker retained his emotions and somehow hid them and his abilities. Ian was bad ass, and Jasper could admit it now. Thing was, Jasper was no slouch, and he wanted something Ian had. It was something apparently neither of them had a problem fighting for.
It was a shame his friend loved the kid. But in the big scheme of things, Jasper knew he couldn’t depend on Vincent to make the right decision. They were one and the same, they were. Even before the serum, way back when they were in high school, he and Vincent had approached problems differently, but had always come to the same conclusion. And the conclusion to this little experiment was that the precious, young lady was communal property once that baby was born.
SO MUCH RAW ANGER ROARED inside Ian that he was having a hard time controlling it. He wanted to remove Jasper’s head from his shoulders. And it didn’t help that the asshole had the cold, heartless look plastered on his face that he always wore. For years, Ian had been weary of the man. Never wanting to disappoint his uncle in any way, Ian had always followed Jasper’s instructions to the letter.
He’d excelled in his training, but Jasper was like his father and uncle: he’d never praised Ian for his accomplishments. No, the man had demanded he work harder, and Ian did regardless of how much Jasper freaked him out.
And that faraway look in Jasper’s eyes now only made Ian want to put the bastard out of his misery.
Ian kept the gun on Jasper, but turned his eyes on Aria. She didn’t look good.
“She’ll be fine, Ian,” Vincent spoke with confidence.
Ian eyes narrowed on a clear, plastic medical tube hanging from an insert in the wall before he turned his gaze to his uncle. Ian’s anger was instant. Vincent let out a gasp when the plastic tubing secured to the wall wrapped around his throat. Vincent tried desperately to remove the tubing from around his neck and Ian made it tighter because of his struggling. With a smile, Ian applied more tubing and pressure as Vincent tried to shred it.
Sound to his left caught his attention. It was barely audible, but Ian’s hearing picked it up. Jasper had moved his foot. Ian knew his attack on Vincent would spur retaliation from Jasper. When Jasper moved again, just as silent as before, this time his other foot, Ian pulled the trigger without moving his gaze from his uncle.
“You have to know the difference in weight between a loaded gun and one that’s been unloaded.” Jasper snorted just before darting toward Ian with lightning speed.
A heavy thud sounded through the room when the gun hit the floor. Ian spread the fingers of his hand that had held the gun just before Jasper reached him. His head slowly turned to Jasper, who was frozen mere inches from him. The man’s fists were closed, his brows furrowed, and his lips caught in a lined snarl. The way Jasper looked at him told Ian exactly what he wanted to do and the feelings were mutual.
“Ian. Your eyes…are changing color.”
His heart almost leapt from his chest. Her sweet voice assaulted Ian with a ferocity that almost had him on his knees. Ian released his hold on Vincent, letting him fall where he was. Jasper on the other hand, he wanted to punish. Ian allowed his power to build a little before pushing it toward Jasper. His teacher hit the wall above the couch so hard Ian heard the subtle crack of bone and plaster.
Ian was at Aria’s side so fast that she sucked in a gulp of air. She looked so frail, thinner of course and tired, but she was awake. The doct
ors at the hospital had discussed putting in a feeding tube and now he wished they had. Her long, luxurious hair was dull and lifeless. Her eyes had a glassy empty look to them, and her once soft lips were unrecognizable. The need to help her, to make her better, make her happy, was overwhelming.
“Leash your anger, Jas.” Vincent clutched his own neck as he moved to the end of the bed to confront a pissed off Jasper. “We need to focus on helping the girl.”
Ian kept track of both men, but followed Aria’s frightened gaze over to Jasper who was the bigger threat and a fuming one. His large muscled body shook with the need for revenge, but surprisingly Jasper relaxed with Vincent’s words, though he did so reluctantly.
“Did you give her anything?” Ian asked his voice low yet trembled with anger.
Vincent cleared his throat. “If I hadn’t given her the Beta serum she would have died. I can keep her alive, but first you and I need to get something straight. You feel a certain way about what you think happened to you and we will address that, but if you ever touch me in anger again, I will forget what you mean to me.”
Ian looked over his shoulder at Vincent. He wasn’t concerned with his uncle’s threats, or even Jasper’s presence. Aria had the Syn-Beta2 in her system already, but he knew it would burn out well before the month was over, maybe a lot sooner. He had to give her the injection Marroe had prepared when it did. His hand felt for the small black pack in his pocket, but it was gone.
He glanced at Vincent, but saw nothing in his expression. It was Jasper’s face the held the look of awareness and a slight smirk. Jasper hadn’t told Vincent about the pouch, which was clear, but why? For now, Ian felt it was best to keep the knowledge of Marroe’s existence a secret and not to mention the vials, though he would get them back.
“I can help her, Ian,” Vincent said, drawing Ian out of his thoughts.
Ian looked back to his uncle. “Whatever you did to me, did it kill my mother?”
Vincent shook his head. “No. I promise you that I did everything in my power to help Noemi.”
Ian considered Vincent’s statement. Whether Vincent’s actions had hurt or helped his mother, the man believed with all certainty that he didn’t cause her death. “I want to know what’s wrong with Aria. I want to know how you think you can help her, and I want to see your research. When I see that she’s stable, I want to hear from your own mouth how you could do what you did to her and to me, and why.”
Vincent brought his personal detailed research books into Aria’s room for Ian to look through. Ian also listened intently as his uncle gave him a high-level overview of the technical information and results of decades of research. Some of it was beyond belief and he was a living example of it, yet it still freaked him the hell out. As he listened to all the information, asking questions as needed, Ian kept picturing tumors with teeth, hair, and nails growing inside and outside of his body. At some point he just shut out the scientific talk and focused on Aria.
She lay on her side, facing him with one of her hands nestled under her head and the other gripping his. Holding her hand had made it difficult to work through all the logs and paperwork he’d been given, but their having skin to skin contact was the only way she’d drifted off to sleep. Being here with the men who wanted her dead a day ago had her on edge, but she trusted Ian wholeheartedly with her life and the life of their unborn child. The faith she had in him was humbling, and it made Ian feel both happy and hopeless.
He smoothed his thumb over the back of her hand as he thought of what he needed to do. This was all too much and he had to get Aria out of this place. Ian gently placed Aria’s hand on the bed, ripped open a small piece of gauze and began to pull the IV from her arm.
“Ian, what are you doing?” Vincent grabbed his shoulder.
“We’re leaving. I don’t want Aria or my child to be a part of this. You’re done playing God,” he snapped. The pressure on his shoulder increase, but Ian ignored it.
“Ian, think. Ian, listen to me, you have to allow me to help. Listen to reason.”
Blood trickled out of the small hole in Aria’s arm, so Ian held the gauze over it and applied a little pressure. The pressure on Ian’s shoulder let up, then suddenly it felt like someone had clamped a vice grip over it. Just as he was about to turn and confront his uncle, he was suddenly jerked off his feet and slammed into something hard.
Ian shook off the sting of the hard landing and jumped up in a low attack crouch. He quickly scanned the room to assess the threat. Aria was still in the bed, motionless. Vincent stood over her, frantically checking her vitals and covering her bleeding arm. No threat there. But Jasper, who hadn’t been in the room earlier, was standing between him and Aria, tense and ready.
“Get out.” Ian’s words vibrated over his tongue and came out more like a snarl.
“You need to remember your place, kid.” Jasper smirked. “If you can’t…I’ll be happy to remind you.” The threat was clear, but Jasper didn’t move.
It took every ounce of strength Ian had to calm himself and school his expression. There was no way in hell he was going to back down. It didn’t matter who he faced even if it was the devil himself, which he was almost positive Jasper was. But why wasn’t Jasper attacking? His old teacher would never be revered for his patience. Yet, he made no moves to attack.
“She’s fine,” Vincent said with a sigh, as he touched Jasper’s shoulder. Jasper noticeably relaxed, but it was so fleeting that Ian figured he was seeing things. “And for her sake, stop this pissing contest.” Vincent looked to Jasper, then to him. “We all want the girl safe, so let’s just play nice.”
Jasper curled his lips into an arrogant smile. He relaxed his muscles as he stood, then strolled toward the door. “Call if you need me to wrangle the colt again,” he said, as the door closed behind him.
Ian narrowed his eyes on his uncle. What the hell was that about? With his curiosity peaked, Ian decided he and Aria would stick around a bit longer to find out. He wanted this resolved before he left, whatever ‘this’ is. Plus he needed those syringes back.
“So she’s not on your hit list anymore,” he spat as he crossed the room. He’d hit the wall hard and it felt like Jasper had ground his shoulder bone into a fine powder, but he shook off the pain the way he’d been trained and his body was probably already healing itself.
“It was never personal, Ian.” Vincent’s jaw tightened as he held Ian’s gaze for a moment. Ian knew that look. His uncle was calculating, deciding if he was going to reveal something important. Ian had been told he did the same thing when he was thinking hard about something. “You were supposed to leave your DNA in a drugged-out whore, not some middle-class teen who has a family and a future.”
“Because whores are disposable,” Ian said sarcastically, as he sat down in the chair next to Aria’s bed again. He wanted Aria safe, and when she was he would kill Jasper for touching her. And my uncle, the man I’d always thought was at least loyal to me, can’t possibly be my blood relation, he thought as he tried to slow his heavy breathing. He felt like he was burning from the inside out with a rage that resisted his attempts to calm.
Vincent took one look at Ian and grabbed his wrist in an apparent attempt to take his pulse, but Ian pulled away. “Don’t touch me.”
Vincent didn’t cower. Instead, he reached out and took Ian’s wrist in his grasp again. “Do your eyes normally have this reaction when you’re angry, or do all intense emotions affect them?”
Reaction? Ian frowned. “What reaction?”
Vincent grabbed a flashlight and raised one of Ian’s eyelids and peered into his eyes—one at a time. “An orange-yellow color is bleeding from your irises. How do you feel?” Concern etched across the man’s brows.
“I feel fine.” Ian frowned as he ducked from under his uncle’s touch.
“You’re covered in sweat,” Aria mumbled.
A sense of relief washed over him. Ian’s body instantly relaxed. His head lowered and he averted his gaze until he
could get himself together. There was a war going on in his head and he wasn’t sure what side was going to win. He wanted to be calm for her, to show her he was in control, but on the other hand he wanted to rip through everyone involved with this cell regeneration project and burn HowlTech to the damn ground. Ian wanted to look at her beautiful face, but he didn’t want her to see whatever physical change he may be going through, that was apparently showing in his eyes.
She seemed to understand what was giving him pause because her soft hand touched the side of his face. He hesitantly lifted his head to meet her gaze. A hint of color had seeped into her once pale flesh. Her face was becoming more rounded, not like it used to be, but enough to give the appearance of health. The fingers that flexed over his jaw held warmth that wasn’t there before. Ian closed his eyes as he leaned into her touch and tilted his head to kiss her palm.
“They’re beautiful…your eyes are beautiful no matter what color they are.” Aria let go of his face and tried to sit up. Ian moved to assist her, but once he touched her, he couldn’t help pulling her into his arms and burying his face in her hair.
“I’ll give you some privacy,” Vincent said.
Aria stiffened and Ian was sure she’d momentarily stopped breathing. He pulled back enough to look into her beautiful face, but her eyes were locked on Vincent’s back as he left the room.
“Why are we here?” she asked, her voice quivering. Ian swallowed a curse.
She must know by now that he would always keep her safe. The need to do so was very powerful. “I will kill anyone who tries to hurt you, Aria. Anyone,” he promised. He pulled her to his chest, holding her close for several minutes. When he felt her shift, assuming she was feeling restless, Ian released her and sat on the edge of the bed.
“What did he give me?” she asked, giving him a half smile. “I feel different, almost normal.”
She did trust that Ian would never let harm come to her, even from his uncle. She had given him her trust from the very beginning and she continued to believe in him, again, he was humbled. “He made a serum. The same serum he gave to my mother when she was pregnant with me.”