Skin Walkers: Taken

by Susan Bliler

  The guard who’d secured Rohm circled the cage and stood with his back to Rohm and Zavier. One hand went to the pistol strapped at his hip.

  “Help your friend,” Rohm demanded. “She’s going to attempt to escape.”

  He heard Nyree gasp and looked up to meet her shocked gaze. Her look of disbelief seemed to last only a moment before being replaced by such a look of betrayal that Zavier actually turned to growl at his Keeper.

  “He can handle her,” the cocky guard boasted.

  “He can’t!” Rohm countered. “She’s highly trained. If you want your friend to live, get over there.”

  What is he…? Angry tears flooded Nyree’s eyes. She knew Rohm hated her, but she’d never have guessed it was to this extent. He’d just thrown her, hell, all of them, to the wolves when she could have attempted to free them.

  Rough hands jerked her up off the table before folding one arm painfully behind her back. She sucked back the pain, stumbling forward as she was dropped on her feet and shoved, the two guards keeping a tight grip on her.

  “Get rid of the bear and back away,” one of the guards demanded of Rohm.

  With his arms secured behind his back, Zavier had a clear shot to leap home. Rohm faced his Soul Sentry, who roared his disapproval, not moving for long seconds.

  “Now!” Rohm growled at the great beast, commanding him to obey.

  Seconds later, Zavier snorted, turned his great head to eye Nyree, then faced Rohm and jumped into the Keeper’s chest where he was swallowed up by a blinding light.

  Rohm could only watch Nyree and hope she wouldn’t attempt to fight as the cage door was opened. One of the males shoved her hard from the back and she flew into the cell, grunting as she slammed into his chest with the force of the push. The cage door clanged behind her and she lifted furious eyes to meet Rohm’s before punching him hard in the jaw.

  Chapter 7

  “How dare you!” Nyree seethed. She heard laughter from the guards behind her, but ignored it as she hammered Rohm’s chest with her fists. In the distance she heard the door to the room open and close, and knew the guards had left them. Still seething, she lifted a hand to hit Rohm again, but he caught her tiny wrist in his hand mere seconds after she heard something tear.

  His eyes dipped to her heaving chest and he frowned at the deep cut that crossed her beautiful body. Moving his gaze to the wound near her shoulder, guilt hit hard. If he’d called Zavier sooner, he could have spared her the attack.

  “I could have saved us you fucking…” Nyree jerked out of his hold, spinning away to hide her frustrated tears. Glancing toward the cells she noted Ash watching them.

  Suddenly, one large hand gripped her hip and tried to turn her to face Rohm. “Let me tend your wounds.”

  She stepped away from him. “How?” She snapped sarcastically. “Do you happen to have a first aid kit in your pocket?” She moved as far away from him as possible, opting to drop to her knees in one corner of the cell, facing away from him. The get-up they’d put her in was mortifying. She looked like a whore, and hated the fact that Rohm had been allowed to remain in his BDU’s—well his pants at least—while she’d been stripped, by God knew who, and was now forced to fight for her life dressed like a damned harem wench. The reasoning for the slutty attire was even more disconcerting. Clearly they were attempting to accentuate her femininity, and she had no doubts as to why that was.

  Gritting her teeth, she kept her back to him, trying to ignore her body’s reaction to the shirtless Keeper. Muscles bunched on his arms, shoulders, neck, and chest while well-defined abs had her itching to run her hand down his torso. He was sexy as hell, she’d always thought so. It was his personality she didn’t like. “Can you contact anyone through the mist?”

  “No.” Unlike Skin Walkers, Keepers had no telepathic means of communication.

  “Will Fatal come for us?”

  “I am unsure.”

  She huffed. “What are you sure of?”

  “That your wounds need to be tended. Come here, Nyree.”

  She jerked her head to the side to frown at him over her shoulder, huddling into a tighter ball, her arms wrapped around her upraised knees. The damn negligee had her feeling soft, feminine…vulnerable. Not good for a soldier, especially a female soldier.

  “Nyree!” Rohm warned, his voice a low growl.

  She turned her head back to face the corner of the cell, ignoring Rohm until she was suddenly hauled up off the floor.

  She struck out at him instinctively, and when her fist connected with his face, she kept going. She was furious that he’d ratted her out, and even more infuriated that they’d been caught in the first place. Plus, if she’d had her wits about her when they’d first drug her into the room, she might have been successful in escaping. But oh, no. She’d been too dazed by their current situation to do what needed to be done. Too worried about Rohm, relief overwhelming her when she’d been brought down to this level and discovered him awake, though locked in a cell.

  Now, anger at the Keeper swelled. Why had she been paired with a Keeper who so obviously hated her? The partnership was destined for failure from the jump.

  She got in a few more punches before Rohm had her pinned on the hard floor. His weight centered at the vee of her parted legs, while one strong hand held both wrists pinned above her head, his angry eyes darkening dangerously.

  Chest heaving, Nyree wiggled but couldn’t do more than grunt her dissent as Rohm went nose-to-nose with her.

  “Be still,” he growled, then used his free hand to tilt her head to the side and lower his head as his mouth opened wide. She faced the cells, watching as Ash backed away from the window until he was no longer watching.

  Nyree froze. “W-what are you doing?” She knew she’d hit him hard, but she didn’t think it warranted a retaliatory bite, especially not to the side of her neck where she was already injured. She swallowed down a whimper that partially escaped her as a high-pitched whine.

  She felt a rumble in Rohm’s chest and he pulled back to look at her. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Damn right you’re not!” But there was no power to her words. He had her pinned down, and damn him, he could do with her as he wanted.

  He pressed his body harder into her, flattening her breasts against his chest as he again lowered his lips to brush them against her ear. “I’m going to tend your wounds.” His head inched lower, and she tensed when she felt the unmistakable glide of his tongue over her wound.

  Too shocked to stop it, a shiver coursed through her at the intimacy of the contact. “D-don’t.” Humiliatingly, her voice came out breathy and with little conviction.

  Rohm continued to lap at her wound.

  “People’s mouths are dirty,” she whispered. “You’ll…you’ll only make it worse.” She tried to pull her hands free, but Rohm’s grip only held her tighter as he continued to lave at the wound.

  Nyree’s body responded, her core heating and goosebumps rushing over her body.

  After long, agonizingly slow moments, his tongue slowed until, with one final lick the length of her wound, he pulled back to stare at her with bloody lips. “I told you. Keepers have healing abilities when we lick wounds.”

  “Like dogs,” she blurted out, simply to break the intense way he was staring down at her. She knew that, while dogs licked at their wounds, their mouths were full of bacteria.

  Rohm frowned. “Not like dogs! Like Keepers.”

  That really clears things up.

  His eyes dipped to the cut running across her chest, skimming the top of her breasts.

  No way! “Thanks! You can leave the rest. I’ll be fine.” She tried unsuccessfully to wrest free of his hold.

  He didn’t lift his eyes from her breasts, and she swore she felt swelling where he rested at the juncture of her thighs. Panic flared to life, and she stopped struggling, suddenly realizing she was rubbing her body against his in a manner that could be interpreted as sensual.

  “Rohm
! You can let me go.”

  He ignored her, dipping his head. His warm tongue smoothed a satiny path across the cut on her chest, and Nyree hissed at the zing of pleasure that shot through her, praying that he mistook the sound for one of pain. After the long stroke, he moved to one end, slowly lapping at her wound, working his way oh so slowly across the tops of her breast. To her utter mortification, her nipples hardened to stiff peaks and her breathing grew rough. She concentrated on steadying her breathing, noticing that his had picked up too.

  We hate each other, remember! She fought hard to remember why in hopes of quelling the rising ache in her lower belly. Her reaction to Rohm’s attempt to clean her wounds was highly inappropriate, and she knew it. Think about… there had to be something that would get her mind off the fact that a giant Keeper had her pinned to the ground with his body settled between her legs while he licked her breasts. It didn’t help that she was dressed for the part. Oh, God! She felt her sex cream, preparing her for him. Old man balls! Think of old man balls! It was the best she could come up with, but it didn’t do the trick. Not even close. She couldn’t concentrate on anything with Rohm’s tongue caressing her. She tensed hard to keep from arching into him and bit her lip to keep from moaning.

  “Get…get off me!” Her breathy words seemed to pull him out of a daze as he stilled over her. “Get off me,” she repeated more firmly. “And keep your damn tongue to yourself, you overgrown poodle!”

  Rohm growled as he quickly shoved away from her, leaving her suddenly missing his warmth. The comment was rude, but she didn’t care. She needed him—and his tongue—off of her. She watched him pace the cage as she sat up and pulled at the low-cut bodice of her gown. It was too low for her liking, but no amount of yanking it up resulted in any more coverage. A finger skimmed over her cut, and she noticed it no longer burned. Surprisingly, her neck felt better too. She pulled her legs in, attempting to cover them with the lacey skirt as she frowned at Rohm. “So, now what do we do?”

  He licked his lips as he paced. “Wait.”

  “For what?”

  A loud clang echoed through the basement and the lights went out. With no windows, the room was suddenly pitched into to total darkness.

  Nyree heard Rohm grumble, and she suddenly felt very alone. “Guess its bed time.” She tried to sound fearless; she felt anything but. Feeling her way back to her corner, she turned to prop her back against the bars and fidgeted with her gown, as she attempted to cover her chilled skin. Tired, hungry, sore, and afraid…hell of a way to end the night.

  She listened to Rohm moving around in the darkness and wondered what he was doing. When she heard water splashing she turned her face away from the sound, knowing he was pissing—hopefully out of their cell. The sound made her realize she had to go too, but with little other choice, she’d have to hold it.

  “The next time I get the chance, I’m getting us the hell out of here,” she whispered into the dark, hoping Rohm understood the severity in her tone.

  “The guard had a gun,” he responded, from what sounded like the opposite corner. “He’d have shot you while you fought the other. It was foolish to think you’d escape.”

  Anger burned to life. Fuck you! She bit back the response as she fingered the now healing wound at her shoulder. Memories of Rohm licking her skin came flooding back, and she slammed her eyes shut, dropping her hand. She needed to rest. It might be her only chance, and she’d need her strength for tomorrow.

  Chapter 8

  Nyree woke a few short hours later. It was still too dark to see, and she was freezing. Clamping her mouth shut to keep her teeth from chattering, she slowly climbed to her feet. She needed to move, knowing that if she got her blood flowing she’d warm some.

  Her head felt groggy and she wanted to sleep, but it was just too damn cold in the cell. For a moment she considered seeking out Rohm’s large form to cuddle up beside, but the idea was just as quickly discarded. He’d intentionally avoided physical contact with her during training, so the thought of him wrapping her in his massive arms now was silly. She thought of other things instead, like the mound of hot pancakes drenched in buttery syrup she was going to devour when this was all over. Her belly growled at the thought, and when she imagined taking a bite of the creamy yolk of an egg with her pancakes, her mouth actually watered. Groaning, she shook her head, trying to shake off her need for food. She was hungry, thirsty, cold, and dirty. She wanted a shower, warm clothes, a good meal, and a long nap, in that order. Sadness welled, and she wondered if they’d ever be saved. It was a stupid thought though. Of course Monroe would send a team for them, Fatal probably would too. She strained to listen, wondering and hoping that their rescuers were arriving as she stood there, shivering in the dark. When no sound was heard she began her miserable pacing again.

  She heard a shuffling noise in the corner but chose to ignore it. Seconds later, there was a bright flash and then something large brushed her hand. Startled, she jumped back. When she heard Zavier’s unmistakable snort, she reached out and buried her hands in his thick, warm fur.

  Unable to resist, she knelt and wrapped both arms around the beast’s massive neck and whispered, “Hey, big guy.” Across the cell, she thought she heard a moan. Ignoring the sound, she shivered at the instant warmth that poured off Zavier, seeping into her aching bones.

  He nudged her and she lost her balance, dropping back on her ass.

  “Hey,” she chastised quietly.

  Zavier used his snout to push her again until she was flat on her back before he settled on the floor beside her with a great ‘harrumph’.

  Nyree realized then that Rohm had summoned Zavier to keep her warm. As grateful as she was, it still stung a little that he’d prefer she cuddle with his beast rather than with him. But it was too late, too dark, and too cold for her to waste energy trying to figure out for the hundredth time why Rohm hated her. She burrowed into Zavier’s side and was delighted that his fur was so long that, if she turned on her side, she was laying mostly on it and not the cold floor. Within minutes, she was toasty warm but unable to go back to sleep.

  “Why do you call them Soul Sentries?” she asked into the darkness.

  Rohm, waited so long to respond she began to think he wouldn’t when he finally answered. “You are a Sentry that guards Walkers and their home. Zavier is the same, except he guards me. He is part of me, part of my soul, and he is my Sentry.”

  Okay, that made sense. Since he was so willing to answer questions, she racked her brain, trying to think of something else to ask, but Zavier’s warmth was too great and the day too long. Her blinks grew longer, and finally her eyes drifted closed. She kept them that way as she murmured an appreciative, “Thank you.” Whether she was thanking Zavier or Rohm, she’d leave it up to the Keeper to decide.

  ***

  Lights blared to life. Morning had come too soon.

  Nyree woke, noting right away that her body ached even more than it had the night before. Slowly sitting up, she groaned at the pain in her neck, back, arms, hips, and legs as she silently cursed the unforgiving concrete. She searched the cell, her eyes locking on Rohm’s angry gaze as he sat across the cage staring at her as if he’d been doing it for quite some time.

  “How are your wounds?” he ground out, sounding almost angry with her.

  Looking down, Nyree was surprised to see that the slash across her chest was already healing. She lifted a hand to finger the cut on her shoulder and it too was already sealed shut. “Uhh, good. Thanks. Any movement?” she asked, glancing around for their captors.

  “No.”

  The door at the far end of the basement opened and none too soon. Nyree walked to the side of their cage and gripped the bars. “I need to pee.”

  The guards advanced, and one said, “Put the bear away and go to the far side of the cage. Put your arms behind your back and stick them out of the cell.”

  Nyree turned to eye Rohm, knowing the guard was speaking to him. The Keeper stood scowling at the
guard while Nyree began to dance around a little. “Come on, Rohm. I really need to go.”

  The Keeper snorted before holding out his arms and accepting Zavier back into himself with a flash of light. Then he stomped to the back of the cell, turned to face Nyree, and stuck his hands through the bars.

  “You too,” the guard ordered, and Nyree spun to find him staring at her.

  Fine! She’d do whatever she needed to get to a toilet some time very soon.

  Standing next to Rohm with her arms behind her and sticking out the cell, she ignored the guard’s rough treatment as he bound her hands too tightly.

  The guard who secured Rohm took a little longer while the other guard circled back to the front of the cage. “Is he secure?”

  Secure? Nyree leaned back and realized the guards had not only used metal handcuffs this time, but they’d looped them around a cage bar so that Rohm was cuffed and secured to the bar itself so he’d be unable to step away.

  “Secure.” The guard behind her announced.

  Rohm tried to step forward, but the cuffs held him in place and he growled.

  “Come on.” The guard barked as the cage door was opened. Nyree gave Rohm an apologetic look as she rushed forward.

  Rohm simply watched as Nyree was taken.

  Chapter 9

  The guards escorted to Nyree to a cell at the back of the room and closed her in, allowing her to relieve herself in semi-private—if she ignored the guard who kept peeking in through the Plexiglas window. Finished, she quickly used the small sink above the toilet to wash her hands as she eyed the small cell for any weapon, but as expected there was none. Dropping her lips to the faucet she took a long drink of water before crossing to the door where she knocked on the window. “I’m done.” She half expected them to leave her in the cell, but the door opened and rough hands grabbed her and escorted her back toward the cage. Rohm’s clear blue gaze tracked her movement, his eyes narrowing on where the guards’ hands bit into her arms.