by K H Lemoyne
Focus. Clear the mind. Breathe. Count.
Slow in, two, three, four.
Slow out, two, three, four.
Seconds passed, and she counted. At some point, her hand fell from her knee to the floor. She acknowledged the cold rock on her knuckles at the same time a pressure pushed against her chest and disorientation rose with nausea from her belly.
Not giving in to the temptation to open her eyes, she waited and counted. Forty long counts and then Mia opened her eyes.
The comfort of her bed was beneath her and tiny bits of stone dust covered her feet.
CHAPTER 4
Mia didn’t want to go sleep. Not with two nights of horrors behind her and a potential third looming ahead. If she couldn’t control sleep, she damn well wasn’t going back to that hellhole in bare feet and a nightgown.
Back rigid, she sat on the couch and clutched her water bottle, dressed in jeans, a sweatshirt and hiking boots. Okay, the boots were a bit over the top, but the rock and stone had leached cold into her bones that no amount of hot water washed away.
She closed her eyes a minute in thought. No. It wasn’t the cold. Fear saturated every pore of her body and kept her tense in anticipation of the worst, because daylight only had minutes left.
With careful focus, she reviewed her next steps and managed to organize her racing thoughts.
A weapon had been a brief consideration—a kitchen knife, maybe her grandfather’s old baseball bat. Yet anything she could pocket or carry would be too easy to turn against her. Her lack of experience with weapons was another problem.
She’d written a few articles on the subject of self-defense and spoken to enough subject matter experts to understand the dangers of naïve assumptions. Without constant practice, she wouldn’t be prepared to use a weapon when the adrenaline spike hit and would likely end up a victim.
Even a gun, which offered her distance from her attacker, wouldn’t work. Time was necessary for the registration to clear, to develop proficiency, and to force her fingers to override the instinct to flinch.
She didn’t have time. Night came too soon for long-range plans.
Eyes gritty and heavy, she focused on the TV’s inane blare and took a deep breath. She’d spent the morning busy with errands and then wallowing in denial. The rest of the day, she had vacillated between distractions in her office and the construction of a plan. If her nightmares escalated, she refused to allow fear to drive her actions.
The coolness of the insides of her eyelids soothed the burn of her eyeballs for a second. Her breath rose and fell in a moment of peace.
“Back again?” The low, deep voice jarred Mia alert. The sound vibrated across her skin in an odd shimmer of comfort and heat.
Shit, it happened again.
“Not by choice.” Mia cringed. So much for blending into the shadows.
“You have a voice.”
He shifted across from her and she tucked herself farther into the darkness. She couldn’t credit this man with her fear, but the drag of his chains against the stone floor was a clear reminder she wasn’t safe.
“You come and go at will, and you’re threatened by me?” The light mocking in his voice was a stark contrast to their surroundings and his circumstances.
“This isn’t my choice,” she said.
Silence wrapped uncomfortably around Mia. With a surge of bravery, she decided to ignore him and check her options in what appeared to be a small cell. She scooted to the door, pushed once, and then again, hard. No give.
The door, thick metal with high, thin window slats, was roughly three inches deep. Three stubborn, unrelenting metal inches that barred her from the hallway. Granted, after last night, distance could be good.
Whoever kept this man caged wasn’t lax with his security. Cold, stone dungeon, strong door, thick chains. What crime warranted such action?
“So instead you sit out of sight and judge me?” The light humor disappeared.
Mia let out a breath of exasperation. Mind reader was obviously at the top of the list of his skills. “You’d have to admit locked and chained doesn’t give the best impression.” She waited on his response. Instead the silence grew and she struggled to dispel the strange unease she sensed at his displeasure. “Why are you here?”
“An error in judgment. I followed some bad advice.” Despite his flip response, his tone was weary.
“You should take whoever gave you this advice off your go-to list.” The words were out of her mouth before she had time to think.
“Her fate was worse than mine.” The thread of sadness in his words took her by surprise, as well as the uncomfortable twinge that pulled at her heart.
“What happened to her?” She swallowed a curse. Her words echoed with accusation and she didn’t even know this man. He might be a cold-blooded killer or not. Either way, he hadn’t done anything to indicate he meant her any harm.
A brief scrape of his metal links split the emptiness. “She died.”
Quiet words, followed by a quick wave of anger that was almost palpable against her skin. An indication she’d crossed a line with her question? No, his emotion didn’t feel directed at her. And yet… “Because of you?”
Damn, she’d never lacked finesse at asking questions—no, in this case interrogation. Her regret increased with his elongated silence.
“Perhaps, though I wasn’t present for her death.”
“I’m sorry.” It seemed an odd response for someone she didn’t know, but the echo of regret in his voice spoke to his feelings. Mia waited and considered leaving off with the questions. Yet she couldn’t. This was night three of her visits to the bowels of this dungeon, and there was a gap of logical explanations. Right now, she was subject to random fate and he might have answers. At the least, he might provide forewarning, which couldn’t hurt because she was tired of surprises.
“Did the people who put you here kill her?”
“I suspect not.”
Mia exhaled her exasperation. This was worse than pulling teeth. “She must have been someone close to you.”
“A friend.” His voice trailed off at the end, almost in uncertainty. “No. She was family.”
Hmm, bad advice from family. More likely betrayal from a lover. It happened. Mia knew firsthand, though these stone walls implied more than a relationship gone bad. “I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt, but it’s a little hard if you won’t open up and talk to me.”
“Why does it matter to you?”
“Honestly, I seem to revisit you each night like a bad movie. I want it to stop. Does that qualify me with enough stake in getting to the bottom of whatever is going on here?”
“Then we need give and take. I won’t answer your questions if you don’t have the courage to come close enough for me to at least see you.” He raised his restraints toward the shaft of light, chains strung through hoops on the wide manacles around his wrists. A sign of captivity, yes, though not a good indication of the limits of his reach. From her guess, there was plenty of length to the coil of metal.
“You could be here to force my betrayal,” he added.
Betrayal of what? “That’s farfetched. I don’t even know you.”
“From your point of view. From mine, you are another potential instrument of torture and deceit.”
Okay, maybe he had a point. Cautiously she moved a few feet, just outside the circumference of light from the hallway. Her vision adjusted to the change, acknowledging the pale grays that illuminated his space. They were close enough to discern each other’s outlines in shadows, but not close enough to distinguish expressions or read emotions. The dim light highlighted his broad, well-muscled shoulders and chest.
Big guy, even bigger than she remembered. Visual recognition confirmed the man who had antagonized the creatures in the corridor and probably the angry prisoner of her first visit. If he was larger than she’d remembered then so were the creatures. She dug her fingernails into her jeans to squelch a visual flashback.
/> He waited quietly on her scrutiny of him. His hair hid half his face as he leaned back against the wall. She could make out his lightly bearded jawline and feel his gaze burn across her skin while he assessed her in return.
“So why are you here?” she asked again and forced her question past a crack in her voice.
“I wanted answers. I walked into a trap to get them.” He inhaled and swallowed hard. “One I can’t escape from.”
Her voice had broken from stress. His sounded raw and rough, no doubt from abuse. “Here.” Without a second thought, Mia pushed her water bottle toward him across the stone floor.
“Ouch.” She jerked her hand to the light and checked the slice cut by the uneven rock floor. One thin rivulet of blood trailed down her finger, black against white, oil on snow.
A rough scraping noise filtered into the cell.
She squeaked in surprise as the man’s hand whipped out, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her close. The strength of his hold dragged her with shocking speed and wedged her against him despite the yards of chains. His palm squeezed over her mouth. “Hush. Stay still.”
Her struggles faltered under the iron band of his arm about her back. With his cheek pressed against her temple, he flipped them both, pressing her beneath him into the crease of the rock wall and the floor.
Mia panicked and bucked against him. His chest blocked her arm’s movements, his hand her breathing, and his thighs trapped her hips, restricting her lower body.
“Listen,” he hissed in her ear.
Her muscles contracted as she wound her body tight with the determination to fight and scream, with breath or without.
“Be silent.” His voice, low with a harsh insistence, cut through her haze of retaliation faster than a quick slap. “Listen.”
The sounds from outside the cell froze every molecule in her body. The familiar gurgle, the rough slide, and granular scrape—an instant image of leathery gray skin flooded her memory.
She tried to shake her head and wish away the sound, but he pressed his cheek against her crown and gave her a quick shake. With her silence, he released his hand from her mouth. Then still cradling her against him, he sucked her bleeding finger into his mouth.
The gurgles were within spitting distance. Loud, and distinct, they echoed in erratic vibrations off the cell walls. The grating of the teeth in the cavernous mouth thrummed louder in her ears than her own heartbeat. She pressed her face into the comfort of the man’s chest. His hold was gentle, but even with his protective presence she could picture the creature. The memory of bits of flesh stuck between the razor-sharp teeth triggered a hot, curdled twist in her stomach.
He moved his head against hers while involuntary shivers claimed her. She didn’t consider herself a weak person, but she squeezed her eyes shut and burrowed closer, seeking some way to drown her thoughts with his strong heartbeat.
The noises stopped. Then a heavy weight collided with the door. Her eyes opened in time to witness the pale light from the hallway disappear. Another large thunk hit the door. The three thick inches of metal didn’t give, even though the light from the hall flickered.
She tried to look into the prisoner’s eyes. Instead he held her closer to him, his hand at the center of her back. Comfort, not threat, came from his hold as his tongue applied warm pressure to her finger.
A growl slurred from the window. Not a human voice, not quite words. Something synthesized, technological and creepy.
Another series of hits reverberated along the doorframe. Mia winced, no longer able to hold back her shaking. The door held blessedly firm, but she had to work to force back thoughts of death in this cell.
The man shifted his large frame. Twisting, he pressed her deeper into the crevice where the floor met the wall and covered her legs with his, blanketing every inch of her from exposure to the door and its threat.
Her sanity wavered under the creature’s determined release of fury against the door. Cocooned under the man’s hard muscles, she strove to feel only his skin’s warmth and block out the rest. His thumb on her back began a slow, gentle stroke, a balm against her shivers.
Whatever his crime, he hadn’t exposed her to the creature. At least not yet. Shame rippled through her on the tail of that thought. He obviously rated importance to her compliance and calm, for it would’ve been far easier for him to render her unconscious.
The noises rasped and whined at the slats, a tiny child’s cry with digital overtones. However, there was nothing frail or innocent about the creature.
Another thunk and Mia’s body jerked. A long, high-pitched scrape rang along the door’s exterior, followed by a rasping tang on the metal and a frenzied rattle of the handle.
Please don’t let it come in, she prayed. The man rubbed his cheek across her hair, as if he sensed her thoughts, his movements conveying his communication.
A gong sounded and vibrated along the rock at her back. The assault on the door ceased.
Rough and slow, the scrape on the stone floor initiated again, this time drifting away from their cell.
Thin golden light through the door’s slats reappeared on the floor and the darkness took on a fresh quiet. Mia and her prisoner/savior waited in the dark. Minutes of quiet passed until finally the man eased his grip. Air flowed back through Mia’s lungs, and the terror released its hold. He slid her finger from his mouth, moved it to his chest, and covered it with his palm.
His lips brushed above her ear, and he whispered, “We still need quiet. The hybrid beasts have exceptional hearing as well as sense of smell.”
Oh God, they had smelled her. She’d brought that thing to his door.
Snapshots clicked through her memory and she made the connection—the creatures’ close proximity during her last visit, the same horrible snuffle followed by exaggerated breath, and frenzied movements. They had smelled her then, before the prisoner engaged them, before he’d led them away.
His breath stirred against her hair. He waited patiently for her to regain her composure, waited for her mind to assimilate the information. That he seemed so certain she would recover was reassuring. Mia didn’t feel the same confidence in her own abilities right now.
At her nod, he moved farther back and severed his connection from her. With the absence of his steady hold, her fear flooded in cold, sharp, and uncontrollable. Her shivers took on a new intensity and she tried to contract into a ball to make it stop. Her muscles and limbs refused.
The prisoner pulled her back to his chest, gently this time. His warmth surrounded her again as he pressed small strokes down her back.
It took all her effort to breathe and hold back the sobs that welled in her chest, resisting him not an option. Accepting solace from a dangerous stranger wasn’t smart, though she convinced herself it was only for a few seconds. He’d kept her from those creatures not once, but twice. Perhaps motivated by his sense of self-preservation, the result, however, was the same—they were both safe for the moment.
She tried to relax in his embrace. Just to quell the shivers and regain control. Or perhaps because her body responded to his solid male frame and protective actions.
His hands continued their steady stroke, up and down, around in a slow circle, never straying, until her tremors ceased. Embarrassment tweaked at her conscience, but she was loath to move. Thankfully, the dim light made it easier not to gauge his expression.
“Are there many of them?” she whispered.
His chest moved in a deep inhale beneath her cheek, while he seemed to debate his answer. “Here, I’ve only seen the ones that take me from this cell or bring me back. Three, perhaps four.”
Here?
“It won’t be back for a while. Someone summoned it. They are usually kept under tight wraps, given that they don’t play well with others.”
“It was my blood?” Her question came out in a croak. He didn’t answer, but started to stroke her again as another tremor traveled through her. “Where do they come from?”
He pa
used, and then brushed the hair along the back of her head. His every answer was so cautious it made her wonder.
“The hybrids are created.”
“Someone made those things? On purpose?”
“Mental instability combined with power and skill can be…very creative.”
Deviant power, maybe. He made the designer sound like a mad scientist or a superhuman comic villain. To create the amalgamation of biology and technology of those creatures would take formidable skills. Mia released her final hope that this was only a dream. In her own nightmares, she would have control and her imagination wasn’t this complicated. The thing at the door had no subservience to her will. This was all real. As real as the skin and muscles she clung to for reassurance. Another shiver spiked along the muscles she held tense. “Are there other creations?”
He silence made her wish she hadn’t asked.
Wetness slid over the hands she had curled against his chest. He tipped her head up and brushed his thumb over the tears on her cheeks. A soft hush whispered from his lips, the comfort for a small child.
“It’s gone for now.”
But she wasn’t a child, and the power, the strength of this man’s arms along her back certified his potential as a formidable threat. Even with that thought nudging at the back of her mind, she relaxed when his lips settled on hers with a light pressure.
Soothing comfort enveloped her with no tightening of his grip or movement from his hands. Instead, his lips traced hers with slow precision, his breath fanning her cheek. His touch, so gentle she held her breath to feel the fleeting caress. The stroke of his lips enticed her thoughts away from the fear. The distance was enough to allow her sanity to resurface and her mind to regain control over her body’s fear.
When his mouth moved away, she followed him. Reluctant to leave the minute escape he provided, reluctant to stop the swirl of heat uncurling from her belly, she pressed her lips back to his. His mouth slanted across hers and she opened to him, allowing the wet trace across her lower lip and into her mouth. Their tongues tangled, once and back, offering her the spicy taste of him. Heat tingled, burning along her skin, firing tiny sparks through nerves and muscles everywhere they touched.