by Susan Bliler
Her words didn’t work. It was like herding cats, trying to keep them focused. Instead of paying attention, they broke formation and began spreading out, noses lifted to the air. Goosebumps rose on Nyree’s flesh as she watched them. Rohm paced closer, but wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were focused on the nearby tree line.
“Rohm?”
Then, she heard it. She knew the Keepers didn’t understand the noise, because none of them moved, but she did.
Prior to coming to StoneCrow, she’d trained under Commander King Mulholland in the Navy’s Special Warfare Division, and she knew well the sounds of infantry moving in. Dry grass being tamped down by many booted feet, the metallic click of weapons being readied.
“FUCK! GET DOWN!” With expert efficiency, she ejected her intentionally empty cartridge, letting it drop into the field of tall wheat as she quickly lowered to a knee, jerking a cartridge of live rounds from the pants leg of her BDU’s.
She had just chambered a round into her rifle when Rohm rushed to stand over her. Jerking her head up, she saw he was still fixated on the tree line. Glancing around the clearing, she noted that all the Keepers had ignored her command and were all standing upright, tall as you please, making perfect fucking targets.
“Get down,” Nyree hissed at the scowling behemoths.
In unison, the Keepers dropped to their knees, and as Nyree lifted her rifle, aiming toward the tree line, Rohm turned to her. To her disbelief, he placed a large hand across her chest and shoved her back. With a soft grunt she fell backward, landing on her ass. Opting to keep hold of her rifle rather than catch herself, the impact jarred her teeth and sent pain shooting up her tail bone. What in the fucking hell?
Scrambling to her knees, Nyree growled, “What is your damn problem?”
Rohm didn’t respond. Instead, he turned too quickly for her to react. Her eyes rounded as he tackled her, sending the pair of them crashing to the ground before a bright flash and deafening boom rent the air. Sucking in a breath, Nyree instantly regretted it when she was greeted with an acrid scent that burned her nose before being sucked down into her lungs, causing her to cough uncontrollably. Rohm was coughing as well, even as he ripped the bottom part of his shirt free and jammed it to her face, covering her nose and mouth instead of his own. It was too late. The flash grenade either had gas incorporated into it, or their enemies had detonated a gas bomb at the same time.
On top of her, Rohm fell forward barely catching himself in time to keep from crushing her. Big bastard! Wide-eyed, Nyree watched as his braced elbow shook and he growled low and deep. His chest shimmered, but nothing happened; Zavier, Rohm’s polar bear Soul Sentry, wouldn’t be coming to their aid. Fear hit hard as she watched Rohm’s eyes close, then open too slowly. One large hand gripped her hip and pulled her more tightly underneath him before he crumbled forward and used both hands to cover her face and head. He was shielding her…protecting her?
His eyes rolled back even as Nyree tried to push him off. The effort forced her to breathe harder, the thin scrap of Rohm’s shirt over her face not enough to keep her from sucking in more of the noxious fumes. As Rohm’s dead weight settled on top of her she wondered if she’d die from the gas, or from being crushed by the gigantic Keeper. She didn’t get the chance to find out as darkness consumed her.
Chapter 3
Rohm paced his cell. Even without windows he could tell it was underground. The walls were white and the place felt sterile, but they couldn’t cover the scent of earth that surrounded the place. Plus, it was damp, his tongue picking up hints of rotting wood while his nose tickled with the scent of mold.
His cell wasn’t comprised of bars, but of cinder block walls painted to match the floor and ceiling. One small cot was bolted to the wall and there was a toilet in the opposite corner with a small stainless steel sink above it. The metal door was solid and had no give; Rohm had already tried to break it down. One small Plexiglas window allowed him to look out, and there was a small slit near the floor. He assumed it was how they got food in to their prisoners. There was also a hard plastic bulb in the corner of his cell that housed a camera. He’d already tried to smash the shell, but it was tough as hell and hadn’t even cracked.
He stopped pacing to brace his hands on the door and stare out the small window. The only thing he could see was an empty room, sterile white matching the one he was in.
The room was the size of a large basement, but there was nothing stored within to hint at their location. In the center of the room a curtain stretched from the floor all the way up to the ceiling, and was on what looked like some sort of mechanism for electronically closing the curtain to cut the space in half. He ignored the exam table that sat on the furthest side of the room where, if the curtain was closed, he’d be unable to see the menacing looking object from his cell. The table was fitted out with restraints for legs, arms, waist, and head. Rohm growled with unease as he considered his captors’ intent.
It had to be designed for a human, because even with the numerous straps, it wouldn’t be able to hold him, and certainly not his Soul Sentry. Part of him hoped his captors were foolish enough to try.
Aside from the table and curtain there was a large cage closer to him. It looked like something humans used to engage in mixed martial arts fighting. It was hexagonal, but instead of chain link, it was surrounded with thick bars on all sides and covering the top. He couldn’t help but wonder if they’d be sending him in to battle.
On the furthest wall a lone door, the only one he could see, was currently closed. Pacing again, Rohm snarled, taking turns scowling between the door and the video camera hanging in his cell. There were more cameras hanging all around the cage as well. Things didn’t look good.
He’d woken on the floor of the cell with a pounding headache and horribly dry mouth, but those weren’t his concerns. Nyree was missing. He’d attempted to scent his surroundings in hopes of finding a trace of her, but the action caused his eyes to water and his head to throb with the residual effects of the gas that had burned his nostrils and throat. He couldn’t smell a damn thing.
“RAAAAAAAAAGH!” He flashed his teeth as he snarled at the camera for the umpteenth time. He didn’t know if Zavier could break through the door, but he doubted it. He’d already tried to pound it down, and with the camera on him, he was reluctant to let loose his Soul Sentry.
Still in his black BDU pants and battle boots, he’d been stripped of all his weapons, assault gear, tactical vest, and even his shirt. With no idea how long he’d been out, he couldn’t even gauge how far he’d been taken from their original position. Nyree. The thought had him snarling in fury. He’d heard stories of what human males did to females in battle. If anyone touched her, he’d ensure they died, painfully.
Just then, the door on the far side of the other room opened, drawing Rohm’s full attention. A man entered alone. He wore a white lab coat and carried a thin object in one hand. The man was unremarkable really, just a plain old brown-haired, brown-eyed human.
Rohm faced him fully as the man slowly approached.
“AWAKE….FINALLY,” the man shouted as he approached. He didn’t need to though. Because of his Soul Sentry, Rohm’s sense were heightened. He’d have heard the man even if he’d mumbled.
The man stopped feet from the cell.
“I’m Dr. Chambers. I’ll be in charge of you from here on out.”
Rohm growled. “No man commands me!”
Ignoring Rohm, the man continued to stare at his I-pad. “No halo, which means you’re not a Walker. Good.” He lifted cold, sadistic eyes. “I’ve been waiting to get my hands on one of you.” He eyed Rohm from head to toe. “Produce your Sentry.”
Rohm didn’t move. How does he know? And how does he know about the Skin Walkers and their halos?
Chambers clenched his teeth and huffed in impatience. “Emit your Sentry.”
Rohm tensed, but didn’t comply. He’d put Zavier on display for no man.
Clearly annoyed, the m
an lifted an arm and the door at the back of the room opened. Two men dressed in camouflage with black masks over their heads entered, hauling Nyree between them.
Rohm’s eyes locked on her, but he didn’t speak. Instead, he drew in the sight of her as he always did when she entered a room. Stunned into an awed silence as usual, he drank in her beauty, feeling that familiar tug of yearning in his gut that constantly mocked him, reminding him that she was something he wanted but could never have. She was perfect. Perfect to him anyway. Her skin was like golden honey, and her eyes glistened like two amber jewels. Impossibly full lips now sat in a deep frown. Studying her, he had to force himself from his silent, appreciative perusal in order to gather as much information as he could without the use of his nose. She was too far from him to get an accurate scent reading, but his eyes narrowed on her as he studied every detail.
Her tactical uniform had been removed, and she’d been dressed in a flowing white gown that reminded him of something he’d seen in one of the magazines Valor had introduced him to, the ones with women exposing and touching themselves. The material barely covered her breasts, and was so sheer it was practically see through. He could see all her curves, and the other men could as well. The fact enraged him.
The white material made Nyree’s tan skin tone seem deeper, warmer. The bodice was cut low in front, lifting her breasts until they almost spilled out of the top. The skirt was long and lacey, split down the front and tapering to the sides to expose her slim legs. Her hair, which he’d only ever seen pulled tightly back, now hung loose about her shoulders in a curtain of black satin that brushed her shoulders. She looked…
He remembered back to the only other time he’d seen her look this vulnerable.
***
They were out in a thickly wooded part of the Estate doing what Nyree called War Games. He held a rifle loaded with non-lethal rounds designed to explode on impact leaving nothing but a splat of paint indicating you’d been “hit.” It seemed foolish to Rohm, but she seemed to think it was important.
He heard an inhalation behind him that sounded labored. He didn’t turn and look. If Nyree was out of shape and breathing heavily, that was on her.
At her directive he was heading for higher ground, hoping to get him and Nyree to a vantage point where they could spot the other teams.
A few more steps and his ears picked up a definitive wheezing. Annoyed, he jerked round to find Nyree holding something up to her lips as she compressed it and inhaled sharply. Her angry eyes met his as she held her breath. Rohm’s eyes dipped to her chest, noting the welts and redness from the scratch sustained earlier had spread significantly.
“What’s wrong with you?” he growled.
Nyree slowly released her pent-up breath, her eyes narrowed on him. “I’m having an allergic reaction to the weeds you tossed me in, asshole.”
Unsure what that meant, or what he should do, Rohm noted the contraption in her hand. Her trembling hand. Scenting the air, there was no fear, and he knew she wasn’t cold. He inhaled again, sorting through the scents. Worry was all he picked up, but he didn’t understand the source.
Eyes snapping in fury, Nyree shoved the object she held into the pocket of her BDU’s and made to pass, but stumbled. Rohm caught and righted her, but noted that when she jerked back from him it lacked her typical power. Whatever this reaction was, it was draining her.
Without asking, or even understanding the need, he bent and scooped her off her feet, cradling her in his arms as he stalked toward their destination.
Nyree frowned up at the behemoth holding her. Fisting his shirt angrily she wheezed out, “Put me down, Keeper!”
He smirked, but didn’t oblige. They went a few steps before he stopped and looked down at the cut on her chest. “Our saliva has healing properties. If I licked that…”
She didn’t let him finish. “Hey! If I want licked, I’ll let you know when,” she smirked, “and I’ll let you know where.”
The words had Rohm’s blood suddenly rushing through him. He wanted to ask what she meant. Instead, he asked, “What do you need?”
“Diphenhydramine,” she replied.
“Do you have this?”
Nyree looked down to her BDU’s, tapping the pocket near her knee as if to ensure she still held something. “Yes.”
“Then use it,” he commanded.
“Can’t.”
“Why?” he growled.
“It’ll put me out.” She kicked her legs. “Put me down,” she commanded.
Rohm knew she was in rough shape. The typical Nyree would have already chopped him in the throat and gotten free. This Nyree was vulnerable and needed protecting, and the knowledge had Zavier pressing to be free. He’d never experienced this type of emotion before, and was having difficulty understanding it. He usually found the female to be annoying and distracting, but like this… His senses heightened with the need to protect her, and holding her made him feel possessive. “Take your medicine,” he commanded, starting to move again without looking at her.
“Didn’t you hear me? It’ll knock me out. I’ll be worse than useless in that state, I’ll be a liability. I’m not taking it.”
Rohm stopped, dropping to a knee while keeping Nyree on the other. He reached for her knee pocket and she fought him, but it was no use. The action only made her wheeze harder until she began to cough and then struggle for breath. Panic hit him then, and he growled, “STOP!” He pulled a capped syringe from her pocket and eyed it. He’d seen one used in the infirmary at StoneCrow. Lifting it, he pulled the cap off with his teeth and Nyree started struggling again. Stepping over her legs, he used his thigh to pin her down. The arm resting at her back reached around and crushed her to him, holding her arms firmly clamped against him, but he stilled when her head jerked up, her fear filled eyes imploring. “Rohm! Don’t!”
He wanted to grant her request, but her breath was coming in rapid, short pants, and he didn’t know how to fix it without the medicine she needed. Even if he licked her wound, it wouldn't fix her breathing.
“Please,” Nyree begged.
He’d never seen this side of her, and he was intrigued. She’d only ever been hard as iron, and seeing her soft…the fact that she needed him. It was heady.
“Look,” she licked her lips. “If you do this, we’re as good as dead out here. I won’t be able to defend myself, or watch your back.” She shook her head. “You can’t do this.”
“As you said, it’s just a game.” Rohm punched the syringe into her thigh as her eyes rounded and she gasped, “NO!”
Too late.
He pressed the plunger, knowing he was a worthy enough Keeper to protect her and himself.
She fought against him, slapping his hand away and trying to struggle to her feet, but he held firm. After a few minutes she realized she wasn’t going anywhere and stopped fighting to frown up at him. It didn’t last long. Her eyes dipped in a long blink, the next blink even longer. He could tell she was fighting to stay awake, but eventually her eyes fluttered closed. Yes, there’d be hell to pay when she recovered, but right now the prospect of her vulnerable and needing his protection had his chest expanding and his eyes narrowing on their surroundings. He’d never had anything or anyone to care for before, and this made him feel like he’d finally found his purpose.
Chapter 4
Seeing her now, watching her lift her chin in feigned confidence, Rohm felt that familiar stirring in the pit of his stomach. Defend. Protect!
A rumble started in Rohm’s chest at the sight of her, which he quickly tamped down. He watched as Nyree fought and struggled against her captors, but the two men were too strong.
Large brown eyes found his and she stared at him in both relief and confusion. The guards led her toward the table, and she tore her eyes from Rohm to stare at the contraption before trying to jerk to a halt. Her feet were bare and gained no purchase on the smooth concrete floor.
“NO!” she shouted as she twisted, attempting again to free her
self.
Wordlessly, she was spun and jerked off her feet as both men lifted her, then slammed her back onto the table. The air was knocked from her lungs with the impact, and one wrist was already secured before she had a chance to catch her breath. . She used the leverage to try and wrest her other wrist free, but was rewarded with a blow to the face.
Rohm roared, throwing himself against the door of his cell. There was a loud boom that drew the men’s attention, but the door didn’t budge. Bracing his legs, Rohm curled his large hand into a fist and pounded hard on the Plexiglas window. It didn’t break.
Nyree hadn’t seen the blow coming, and hadn’t been prepared for it. Her head snapped to the side and stayed there a moment too long as her second wrist was secured. One guard moved to her leg and she kicked at him. He caught her foot, slamming it to the metal table and she sucked in a breath and grunted at the pain. The second guard grabbed her other leg and within moments she was fully secured. Silently, the guards stepped back and exited the room, leaving Nyree writhing on the table in a futile effort to free herself.
Chambers stepped toward Rohm, blocking the Keeper’s line of sight to Nyree, and smirked. “Show. Me. Your. Sentry.”
Rohm growled before throwing his head back and roaring loudly. The sound startled the doctor, making him flinch, which only seemed to anger him further.
With reddened face and speared brows, the man stalked to Nyree, moving to the far side of the table where Rohm was unable to see what he was doing. His eyes cast down, there was a loud squeak as the doctor studied something below Rohm’s line of sight.
“What are you doing?” There was a hint of panic to Nyree’s tone. “Let us go, now!”
The man held up a scalpel, ignoring Nyree as his eyes locked with Rohm’s. Eyebrows rose in question as the doctor waited for Rohm to comply with his request.