by Aubrey Ross
“They were scheduled to arrive a couple of days ago,” Garrett told him. “We’ll know shortly.”
His only response was a semi-verbal grunt.
Jackson had been Tara’s favorite fuck-buddy for so long Garrett had a hard time thinking of him as anything else. But Jackson’s name appeared while Garrett was searching the medical records for initiated humans with AB positive blood. He’d tucked the fact away in the back of his mind for use at a more opportune moment. Now that Jackson had fallen out of favor with Tara, Garrett intended to take full advantage of the younger man’s bitterness. Besides, Jackson’s model-perfect face and athletic body would make what Garrett had in mind even easier.
“So what’s this all about?” Jackson prompted. “You’ve been damn evasive ever since we left Canada.”
“I’ll let Dr. Cordell explain. He’s onsite head of the project and knows more about this than anyone.”
Rather than Dr. Cordell appearing to greet them as Garrett had expected, a uniformed guard pushed open the door and motioned them inside. They were led down one nondescript corridor after another. Most of the gates they approached opened automatically, which told Garrett they were being watched.
“This is as far as I’m allowed.” The guard opened the final gate with a physical key and motioned them inside. “Dr. Cordell is in the lab, down the corridor on your right.”
“Thank you,” Garrett muttered automatically and Jackson shot him an annoyed look. Jackson felt humans were beneath any host and didn’t bother with common courtesy.
“You’ll need an escort on your way out,” the guard reminded. “Radio ahead from the control room and we’ll send someone to let you out.”
Though Dr. Cordell’s Vladya symbionts could have maintained his human body almost indefinitely, he had convinced them to allow his body to age so that he appeared to be in his late fifties. His experience and vast knowledge would have seemed suspicious in anyone younger and his work frequently required him to interact with human scientists.
“Garrett, my boy. Welcome.” He held out his hand and smiled with genuine warmth as Garrett and Jackson entered the lab.
Garrett had known Fen Cordell for more than twenty years, but their work on the current project was by far their most important collaboration. “It’s good to see you in person again. Video conferences just aren’t the same.” They shook hands and Garrett motioned toward Jackson. “This is Jackson. He’s to be granted full access but he answers directly to me.”
“Understood.”
“So give us the grand tour.”
Cordell laughed. “The unit we’re utilizing is fully mechanized and designed for isolation. You can see everything from the control room.” He led the two younger men farther down the hall and into the security hub. A row of monitors had been mounted above a wide desk inset with a variety of controls. The two employees seated in front of the desk wore jeans and black t-shirts rather than prison guard uniforms. “Each cell is completely self-contained, even has a shower. The only time the test subjects are removed is when they’re scheduled for treatment.”
“There are only four cells?” Jackson nodded toward the monitors.
The female employee smiled at him and said, “The images rotate every ten seconds, unless you want to see something specific. Then the system responds to voice commands. It’s a recent upgrade and it makes supervision really simple.”
Jackson returned her smile and the woman blushed. Garrett had watched it happen over and over. Females couldn’t seem to resist Jackson’s practiced charm, which would play perfectly into Garrett’s plans.
“We need to bring Jackson up to speed,” Garrett told Dr. Cordell. “Do you have an office?”
“I seldom use it but I have one.” Cordell led them back the way they’d come and then toward a small cluster of offices adjacent to an employee lounge. Rather than take them into the tiny office, Cordell entered the lounge and motioned them toward the round table in the back corner of the room.
“You call them test subjects,” Jackson started as they all sat down around the table. “What are they testing or what is being tested on them?”
Garrett didn’t wait for Cordell to respond. Jackson only needed to know the basics and Garrett was much better at summarizing than the detail-oriented scientist. “On Strigoia Prime blood is blood, there are no different types or Rh factors to complicate transfusion. The antigens in human blood create eight slightly different environments and not all of the strains are strong enough to adapt to each environment.”
“That’s why the Levari died out and Rom strain isn’t far behind?” Jackson mused.
“Exactly. No one has sensed a Levari host for years and the Rom population has been steadily declining.” Jackson started to say something but Garrett held him off with an upraised hand. “Let me finish. If you still have questions when I’m done, I’ll address them then.” Jackson nodded so Garrett went on, “We’re not sure how she made the connection, but Inatta, head of Rom strain, has obviously realized that AB positive blood is the only type Rom symbionts can tolerate. AB positive blood is hard to find, but the combination has created human hosts with unusually powerful abilities.”
“What does that have to do with Vladya strain? Tara wouldn’t have gotten involved unless she stood to benefit from the research.”
Garrett smiled. Jackson obviously knew his ex-mistress well. “If increasing Rom abilities was the only advantage, Tara would likely have slaughtered the test subjects rather than…commandeering the research.”
“So what are the other advantages?”
“AB positive blood also creates an environment in which more than one strain can coexist.”
“The test subjects host more than one strain?” Jackson’s obvious doubt was understandable. Garrett hadn’t believed it until he’d seen the evidence for himself.
“Yes, but it’s more complicated than that.” Garrett glanced at Cordell. The doctor hadn’t spoken since Garrett began the overview. He was just skimming the surface of all they’d learned and Cordell was likely curious to see how many layers he’d peel back before he joined the conversation. “Inatta initiated all the test subjects with her own blood. We don’t know if she intended to introduce a second strain into their systems directly or if she’d chosen the same course we’re on now.”
“What does that mean? What course are you on now?”
“We began with direct introduction of Vladya strain, but all four test subjects died.” Cordell finally spoke but he followed Garrett’s example and kept the information vague. “Rather than risk any more test subjects, we chose a less direct route.”
Garrett paused, allowing Jackson a moment to absorb all the facts before they moved on to the current phase of testing. “According to Tara’s research, if an AB positive host is impregnated by a host from one of the other strains, the offspring will be born with both strains.”
“You’re trying to breed a multi-strain host?” Jackson leaned back in his chair, clearly stunned by the revelation. “Has it worked? Do you have a multi-strain baby locked up in one of those cells?”
“We have six confirmed pregnancies but each is still too early for PUBS,” Cordell told him.
“What the hell is Pubs? I presume you weren’t referring to an English bar.”
“Percutaneous umbilical blood sampling. Drawing blood from the umbilical cord while the fetus is still in the womb,” Cordell clarified. “Amniocentesis can be done earlier, but it’s not as accurate for strain identification.”
“We won’t terminate the pregnancy even if the fetus only hosts one strain. Any pureblood host is valuable,” Garrett stressed. The position was his, not Tara’s. Tara considered anything less than complete success a waste of time and would have ordered an abortion. Garrett found her hardline stance needlessly wasteful.
“We’ve encountered another complication,” Cordell went on. Like most doctors, he tended to lapse into medical jargon, but he also understood the specifics of the program
better than Garrett. “Many of the test subjects have found a way of resisting the clinical procedures. We’ve attempted intravaginal, intratubal and intracervical insemination, but the symbionts keep triggering ministration.”
“So we’re ready to try something a bit unconventional.” Garrett scooted closer to the table and caught Jackson’s gaze before he continued. “There is clearly an emotional element that we’ve overlooked. The women feel abused and violated even though we’ve tried to keep the procedures as professional as possible.”
“The women are unwilling participants. Nothing you do will make them feel less violated.”
Garrett nodded. “They need to have a reason to cooperate, a motivation that will make bearing a child in captivity less objectionable.”
Jackson snickered, pushing back from the table. “Good luck with that.”
“You’re an AB positive host. You were initiated by Tara, which makes you damn near as strong as a pureblood.” Garrett chose his words carefully. Jackson was vain and egocentric, characteristics he intended to exploit to the fullest. “It would be extremely beneficial if you would attempt a direct impregnation.”
“You want me to be a sperm donor?” Jackson sounded almost amused. “That seems like a waste of my talents.”
“I agree.” Garrett grinned. Jackson had stepped right into his trap. “That’s why I said ‘direct’. We’ll rough you up a bit and then throw you into a cell with the female of your choice. You’ll scream and cuss and convince the female that you’re a captive too.”
“I’ll earn her trust and then seduce her?” A salacious smile curved Jackson’s lips and anticipation made his dark eyes sparkle. “This could be fun.”
“If she’s stubborn, we can threaten to starve or torture you. We can even arrange for her to witness your abuse, but it all depends on you making an emotional connection with the female.”
“You’re talking about a recently initiated host who has been held captive and traumatized. She’ll be so desperate for comfort and protection, it will be like shooting fish in a barrel.”
Chapter Eight
Caresse soared through the night at Desmond’s side, strong, exhilarated, free. After draining a hunting party with unabashed savagery, they had turned to mist and taken to the sky. She didn’t know where they were going, didn’t really care. Desmond had rescued her from a fate worse than death—for the second time—and she would eagerly follow him anywhere he chose to go.
Energy coursed through her veins, a wealth of explosive power instantaneously at her command. It was sweet, intoxicating and she never wanted to be hungry again. In truth, it had only been a matter of weeks since they arrived on this dreadful planet, but it seemed much longer. She had been weak for so long, famished, desperate for freedom as the Brethren gradually eroded her shields. How could members of her own strain treat her so badly? If it weren’t for Desmond’s unique physiology she would be a mindless slave, consumed completely by the Levari Brethren.
But Desmond had returned. He’d saved her and they were on their way to a future only they controlled.
Suddenly Desmond changed direction, drawing her with him without explanation. She didn’t question his decision or resist his psychic pull. He was her champion, her lover, the other half of her soul.
They floated through the treetops with no apparent course and then Desmond stopped and drew her downward. A truck was parked in a small clearing that served as a primitive campsite. Rather than pitch a tent, the young couple had spread sleeping bags in the bed of their truck. They’d zipped the bags together, forming one enclosure, and the undulation of the thick fabric made it obvious they were having sex.
Let’s have some fun.
Malevolence, dark and cloying, accompanied the thought. Caresse never would have recognized the transmission as Desmond’s but there was no one else around.
Without waiting for her assent, he materialized in the bed of the truck and ripped the sleeping bag back, exposing the couple to the cold night air. The woman screamed and the man sat up and wrapped his arms around her. The woman straddled his hips, her only garment an open flannel shirt. The man’s jeans were bunched about his ankles and his chest was bare.
Desmond silenced the humans with a wave of his hand but terror shone from their eyes. The woman clung to the man, burying her face in the bend of his neck. They both trembled violently and the smell of fear became so strong Caresse fought back a gag.
Are you just going to watch?
Reluctantly Caresse materialized beside the truck. They didn’t need the blood. At least she was sated. Perhaps Desmond was still hungry. He had expended massive amounts of energy when he awakened his Strigo symbionts.
Desmond shoved the man back down onto the makeshift bed but he kept the woman upright. “Don’t let us distract you. Blood tastes sweeter right after you come.” Moonlight gleamed off his fangs as he flashed a cruel smile. The woman whimpered and the man moaned then turned his face away. Desmond grabbed his chin and turned his head back around. “Either you make her come or I will. And I’m not sure she’ll survive my idea of pleasure.”
With a strangled protest the man grasped the woman’s hips and thrust up into her. The woman covered her face with her hands and began to sob.
Can we just go? Caresse backed away from the truck as dread gripped her stomach. Desmond could be ruthless when backed into a corner but he wasn’t usually cruel. If you need more blood I’ll wait, but I don’t want to—
I saw what you really want, what your body craves. There’s no reason to pretend any longer. I’m willing to indulge you.
She stared at him in horror, stunned by the bitterness in his words and the hate burning in his eyes. I had no choice. They would have…
He snarled and grabbed the woman’s hair, yanking her head to one side as he latched on to her neck. The woman’s scream was muffled by Desmond’s compulsion, but she twisted and thrashed, beating his chest and shoulders. The man bucked and kicked, to no avail. Desmond flung the woman’s body into the trees with utter disregard.
His cock is still hard and I’ll make sure it stays that way. Desmond’s maniacal laugh was audible. Come ride him, my love. I won’t let him come until you’ve had your fill or I can fuck your ass while he’s still inside you. Now that I know you need—
Caresse had heard enough. She turned to mist and flung herself into the night. How could he possibly think she had enjoyed what those bastards did to her? The Brethren had poisoned Desmond’s perceptions and twisted his priorities. Pain and sorrow stabbed through her, driving her to the ground. A hard, choking sob burst from her throat as her body spontaneously materialized.
She landed hard on her hip then rolled to her side, drawing her knees up toward her chest. He despised her. She’d seen it in his eyes, heard it in his thoughts. The Brethren had ruined everything.
A cool hand touched her shoulder and she cried out, scrambling toward the nearest tree where she crouched, barely able to see through her tears.
“I’m sorry.” Desmond knelt at her side, his hand on the tree beside her head. “My thinking is muddled. My symbionts continue to surge and it skews my understanding.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and looked up at him through her hair. “I did what I had to do to survive. I did not want any of that. I love only you, want only you. Scan me if you doubt my words. Search my being.”
He pressed his hand against her face as his gaze searched hers. “We each used the weapons available to us. We will never speak of it again.”
Shifting to her knees, she wrapped her arms around his neck and inhaled his breath. “Let’s put all this behind us, find a quiet place where we can live in peace. That’s why we came here, why we risked so much. Let’s return to our original goals. I am so tired of running, so weary of all this conflict.” She tried to kiss him but he unhooked her arms and pushed to his feet.
“I will not hide like a frightened child.” Determination hardened his features and made his voice brittle
. “I host two strains and both have betrayed me. Such treachery cannot go unanswered.”
“You are one man. What can you do on your own?”
His gaze narrowed to gleaming slits and his fangs peeked out from between his lips. “I will explore the information I stripped from Farren’s mind until I understand every image. If the Levari Brethren will not bow to my authority, I will destroy them.”
“And how will you respond when Strigo strain realizes we survived the crash? The only reason Alexi is not searching for us is because he thinks we’re dead.”
“You doubt my abilities after all I’ve done for you?” His tone was nearly a snarl, making the words hard to understand.
“I don’t doubt you.” She stood as well but didn’t try to touch him. His mood was still too volatile. “I just want this over.”
He placed his hands on her shoulders and his gaze drilled into hers. “It will be over when the Yeagers pay for their treachery and not before.”
“You cannot take on the Yeagers. Desmond, you are just one man.”
“I am at the moment, but soon I will command an equal force.”
She shook her head, unsure how to reach him. She’d never seen him like this, obsessed and irrational. “Even if you take over the Levari Brethren, they are no match for Strigo Strain.”
“Vladya strain is.”
She stilled, terrified by the resolve in his expression. Was he slipping into some sort of delusion? He’d been so different since his Strigo symbionts awakened. She hardly knew him. “I don’t understand.”
He grinned then whispered, “Just trust me, my love. All will be revealed in time.”
* * * * *
When Eloise awakened the following night she was alone. Her immediate relief was followed by a twinge of disappointment, leaving her confused and annoyed. She scooted to the edge of the bed and swung her feet to the floor. Bronik had taken her twice more before they both succumbed to dawn’s pull. The first time he’d been fierce and possessive, his actions fueled by her insistence that he dissolve their bond. But the bond had allowed her to feel all the emotions he refused to reveal. He cared for her, felt genuine affection, respect and tenderness, as well as consuming passion.