by K H Lemoyne
He reached for a syringe. “The next few hours will feel like hell. When the effects start to take place, you’ll return to confinement to learn control of your new body. I’ll deal with you after a few days.”
Accompanying another strange smile, Xavier’s bright obsidian eyes gleamed above the stark whiteness of his teeth. “I would have tried this on Isabella, but she would likely not have survived.” His voice rumbled deep. The rough timbre grated across Turen’s skin. “Convenient I can test this on you instead.”
He raised the needle of the syringe in the air, gave it a flick with his finger, and pushed the plunger enough to send liquid squirting from the top. With a smirk, he braced his hand on Turen’s abdomen. “This is going to hurt.”
The prick didn’t hurt. The fire that flooded into Turen’s stomach afterward erupted in his brain with a silent scream. His immobilized body contained the flames as searing shards of agony ripped through his flesh.
Xavier was right—the next syringes barely registered.
Minutes, hours, days later?
Turen wasn’t sure which. The flame moved and mutated through his entire system—every cell, every organ, every muscle in him convulsed and revolted at the toxic abuse. Jumping and seizing, his muscles refused his commands for control.
At the most violent, his body vaulted from the chair. His chest and chin hit the wooden table as his rubber arms and legs flailed in hopeless attempts to avoid damage. Thick arms wrestled him to the floor and contained him until his seizures subsided. When he thought he could take no more, his system began to give up everything.
He wretched until he was empty, heaving after that until his stomach no longer paused between spasms.
Somewhere in the middle of the prolonged torture, Xavier stripped him, hauled his naked body to a large, tiled shower stall, and left him on the floor to writhe in his pain as he sweated, purged, and eliminated the last fluids from his system. Xavier turned the showerheads on him, the pummel almost a blissful cool against the burning heat of his skin, and left him. The presence of his vomit and waste evidently proved too much to stand.
Function returned to him, but it took all his effort to angle his head so he didn’t drown in the spray of water. His hands flexed against the tile floor, so cold under his palms, so refreshing after the prolonged burn. Exhaustion beat at every muscle.
When the dizzying ache and thunder in his head subsided, Turen pushed up to kneel. Despite the uncontrollable shivers, he took a deep breath and then froze.
He forced control over his muscles as scents of Mia’s hair and skin permeated every synapse in his brain, choking him with terror.
Please, God, no.
His long, wet hair shielded his face from view, but he flicked a gaze around to confirm Mia wasn’t physically in the massive shower area with him.
Thick black boots stepped into his view and lined up with his fists on the floor. He lifted his head to follow the length of the leather pants to find Xavier watching him.
Turen breathed through his mouth, tensing to still the shiver of reaction to Mia’s scent that still blanketed his senses. The very thought of her hardened his cock like a steel pipe.
“Feeling’s a bitch, isn’t it?” Xavier’s voice was oddly distant.
A brief pinprick singed Turen’s neck, and then blackness crashed back in.
CHAPTER 11
The air in the cell clung to his skin in a thick, cloying layer. Enduring the discomfort, Turen focused on slow, shallow breaths through his teeth to minimize the intensity of Mia’s scent.
The sweet fragrance burrowed into his memory with each inhale. A complement of honeys tingled on his tongue, buried deep in his throat, and imprinted on his nerves, mimicking the pattern of a long-cradled addiction. The effect was so intense he doubted his ability to distinguish between the sensory pull of the illusion of her scent and Mia’s actual presence.
He was wrong.
Pricks of fire erupted along his skin and shocks of arousal vibrated along every nerve ending of his hypersensitive flesh. His muscles tensed and his cock tightened painfully; even his torn jeans hurt against his flesh. He struggled to restrain the surge of lust. No matter what Xavier’s treatments did, he wouldn’t allow loss of personal control to result in harm to Mia. She would come to no abuse at his hand.
From beneath half-lowered lids, he watched her and battled the overwhelming desire to pull her into his arms. His hands itched to slide over her curves, to satisfy the yearning to bury his face in the curve of her neck and savor her taste.
Her backpack dropped to the floor with a soft thud. One hand brushed at the leather sheath strapped to her thigh to slide home the small knife he’d taught her to carry during her folds. He could sense her wariness, her nerves battling with a new confidence.
Twice she’d controlled her fold to his cell. Each time, she balanced the cockiness of her achievements with the newer dictate of constant caution. A brief rush of pride swelled at the mastering of her accomplishments, doused just as quickly by fear those same skills would expose her to more danger than he could ever train her for.
“You should practice going home.” His low, thick growl was a surprise to both of them.
“Didn’t you miss me?” She paused to stare at him when he didn’t respond.
She backed away from him with a frown and spun to take in the spigot and a shower nozzle in the far corner. She spared only a glance for the series of tiny low-watt, pea-sized bulbs recessed behind the grates in the ceiling. “They moved you again, and you get to shower.”
Turen rolled his head, but tracked her progress from the corner of his eye. Even without direct line of sight, every movement registered in the slight breeze of her turns. The waft of her essence and the pulse of her life force thrummed in distinct sonar against his senses.
The lights flickered several times, then extinguished, leaving only two dim beams of haze in the ceiling at either end of the cell.
Her soft footfalls moved to the door, and she pushed.
Good girl.
At least she hadn’t allowed his attitude to wash away her instincts. He clenched his teeth to brace himself for her touch. The warm brush of her hand against his shoulder shocked him. The current of heat whipped over his skin in a pleasure equal to pain.
Conflicted by his response, he shrugged and moved back, not quite out of her reach, but as much as he could tolerate without causing his control to falter. Need urged him closer to her, while his will struggled to maintain an arm’s length.
“Are those bruises?” A steep rise in her voice echoed in the dark space.
He winced when she leaned in to check his arms and face. Hours ago, though it felt like days, they had removed his wrist manacles—and then the drugging had started. Only the manacles on his ankles remained. At least there was little risk he would poison her with his feet.
Guilt swamped him as he realized the direction his mind had taken with that brief thought. Right now he, and not contamination from his restraints, constituted her greatest risk.
She reached out to touch his face and he flinched, sucking in a deep breath. A hiss issued unbidden between his teeth at her gasp. She wouldn’t know what it cost him not to lean into her hand, not to press his lips to her fingers.
Rejection obviously not a deterrent, she reached for him again, resting her fingertips on the side of his face. Sweet relief sang through the sensitized nerves in his body. He swallowed and fought not to pull her closer. “Don’t.”
“What did they do to you?” she whispered. “Please. Talk to me, Turen.”
“Drugs.”
“Drugs did this?” Her fingers traced the larger bruise along his cheek. When he flinched again, she pulled back to stare at him. “Why?”
“To strip my control.”
“Control over what?” With a disturbing lack of self-preservation, she sat next to him and waited for a response. “What can I do?”
“Just. Stay. Away.” The command snapped out sharper
than he’d intended. The line of her spine went rigid, her shoulders pulled, and her head turned to hide her hurt. He knew the disgust lacing his words shocked her. Regret flooded him the instant the words left his mouth, but he didn’t have enough control to explain. It was all or nothing.
He reached a hand out anyway, the need to assuage the damage to her compelling him, but she had already walked away. With a silent curse, he dropped his fist.
“I wasn’t going to—” She glanced at him over her shoulder.
“You don’t understand, Mia.”
Her brows furrowed, and she pivoted around to wait for an explanation, one that wasn’t going to be sufficient to handle this situation.
“It’s best if you don’t come near me.” The effort to force some evenness into his tone warred with his brain’s demand for dominance. The struggle garbled his words and challenged his willpower. His previous snap hung between them, eloquence nowhere in reach. He could only look at her, drink her in, and wait.
Mia bit her lower lip, the sign her mind was processing his actions, and then bent to rummage through the supplies she’d brought. Her shoulders were stiff as she dug in the backpack, until she spun back with fresh resolve and a bottle of water. “Want something to drink?”
“No.”
The bottle plopped by his side with enough force to dent the bottom. She rocked back on her heels and crossed her arms. “Look. I get that they do horrible things to you, but my water is clean, not drugged, and I’ve been working on my control. I may not be of your caliber, but I can probably help you. Remember me—stuck in this, too. Shutting me out isn’t a help.”
“Too difficult.”
With a snort of exasperation, she turned away.
His hand snaked out to capture her wrist and pull her close enough to him that she almost lost her balance. The soft skin around her delicate wrist strained against his hold, the rapid beat of her pulse thrummed beneath his fingers, but he held firm, paralyzed by the scent of her so close and the lure of her lips a breath from his.
He mustered for a concession and angled his head against hers.
“You need to understand.” His words were out of control, clipped and tight. “You’re overwhelming me.”
She tried to move away, but he grasped her other arm and drew her closer. His cheek rubbed against hers and slid lower until his lips skimmed her jawline. With a duck of his head, he sucked in air through his mouth, trying to dull her scent, but everything was Mia. The graceful bend of her neck and shoulder called to him. He rubbed his lips against the sweet flesh in defeat.
The fight bled out of him as he nuzzled her skin, hunger for the taste of her escalating to the point of pain. When she tried to move from his grip, he refused to let go.
“Hey, I bathed today and I brought you food.” Her words were a cross between coax and temptation.
“Sweet.”
She froze. “What?”
He exhaled, blowing a stream of air down the parting of her shirt. The shiver of her response and the rapid intake of her breath registered her desire, signs too hard to ignore. “Your skin smells sweet like orange blossoms.”
Her struggles ceased. “What did they do?”
“No control.”
“You said that part already. I get the lizard-brain effect.”
“I can taste you on my tongue from just the air around you. I need to taste every inch of you, to make you feel pleasure you will never forget.” The need to have her feel with him, not to just experience pleasure alone, was more than he could convey.
She shivered again, but her muscles softened and her resistance disappeared. Or maybe he was just fooling himself to condone his behavior, but it was too late to rein himself in. He wanted her response. He needed her response, and he would bring it from her. Would she ever forgive him?
“The drugs made you horny?”
He pulled her close enough to nip her earlobe. Her slight shiver wound him tighter. “I want to drive myself so deep inside your body you’ll never forget I was there. To memorize the play of every muscle inside you as I make you explode.”
“Been a long time, has it?” She raised her palms to his chest, not quite a push but staking her space between them.
Her actions indicated a need for control. The shake in her voice said otherwise. Not fear. God, he wished it were fear. Fear made sense. Fear would force him back. No, anticipation threaded through her words. He must be losing his mind.
She blinked and swallowed hard, evidently trying to force some reality on their situation and talk him down. It wasn’t going to work. He had her in his hold, her skin against his, and he could feel the way her body responded to him. He was going to have her or go up in flames.
Dropping his hand to her waist, he feathered his lips across her cheek and her nose. “I don’t want sex. I want to possess you.”
“Maybe you just think that—you could—there are other ways.”
He leaned down and traced the tip of his tongue from the tender cord of her neck to her collarbone, to the fragile hollow of skin so warm and vibrating with Mia’s essence. He reached the restriction of her shirt and lost access to her skin. Not acceptable. He bent farther until his mouth closed over her breast through the shirt and bra, the rigid pebble of her nipple outlined under his tongue.
She clung to his shoulders instead of pushing away, her breaths coming faster. He pressed his lips against the wet layer of her shirt. “I want you.”
“I’m the only female here.”
A growl of argument rumbled in his chest, overruling his attempts to talk. She wasn’t understanding fast enough.
His teeth latched on to the shirt above her buttons. With a yank, he released first one then each button in a rapid and steady succession. Each new morsel of flesh received a caress with every freed button. “You’re right. Any female will do. As long as she has your scent, your skin, and your smart mouth.” Pulling her closer, he swirled his tongue from the top of her breast to the delicate skin beneath her ear.
“Is this the way it is with your people and sex? One minute you’re just insane?” Her voice came out low and rasping, a shallow pant punctuating her words.
“It’s not about sex. I can’t even think beyond the need to be close to you. I’m craving you, Mia. Nothing else. No one else.”
The warm indent of her waist pressed against his hand. Guiding her, he leaned back and pulled her body over his. His fingers delved and teased along her spine as his teeth pulled the edge of her bra aside to reach her nipple. “I’ve been trying to fight this for hours before you arrived. Your scent has driven me insane since Xavier’s lab.” He paused, his face buried between her soft breasts, holding her to him. “I thought they had you.” The words came out strangled, and her fingers curled over the back of his head, attempting to soothe him in spite of his manhandling of her body.
“It didn’t happen,” she whispered.
He moved his forehead to her shoulder and tried breathing, tried to move away from her, but the call of her arousal was too strong. “I need you to get away from me. Try to move to the other side of the cell. I will try to control this. I promise.”
Mia’s hands curled over his shoulders, but she made no move.
“A little drugging and all of a sudden you want me?” Doubt saturated her question, and he understood her underlying need. He wouldn’t lie to her. He could give her that much truth.
“No.” Shifting back, he cupped her face.
She waited.
He released a strained breath and launched ahead. “You’ve been a temptation since I caught your scent the first night in the tunnel. I just no longer have any control to hold myself back.”
“I’m not one of your people.”
“You don’t need to be one of us to experience desire, pleasure.” He drifted his hand to her rib cage and gently squeezed. At her sudden inhale, he brushed his thumb across her nipple, already stiff beneath his touch. “You’re my temptation, so determined to overcome your fears
.”
Unable to stop, he plumped her breast in his palm and held her gaze. Even in the dim lighting, he could see her lids heavy with pleasure, hear her breathing shallow and strained. “I love that you melt for me like you were made for my hands.” He would give her honesty. If she chose to move away, then that was her right. With every ounce of his energy, he would fight to defend her choice.
“You need to stop me before I lose all control. You have no idea how I hunger for you.” The last came out as a growl as he sucked in a breath and leaned his head against her jaw to steady himself.
She still didn’t move.
“Mia.” He didn’t raise his head but gritted her name through his teeth. He had a little willpower left, not much. “You need to go now.” The effort to release her almost killed him, but he dug his fingers in the rock slab giving her room to make her escape.
Meeting her gaze, he fostered a faint hope she would understand, that she’d forgive him for his already unforgivable breach of her trust.
She assessed him with dark eyes. Once he had seen her brilliant midnight blue eyes in the hallway’s bright lights. What he wouldn’t give to see the passion in them now.
Seconds were millennia, the warmth of her thighs covering his, a sensual torture. His resolve fractured with each deliberation that flickered in her expression.
***
Mia leaned forward with her hands braced on Turen’s chest, and straddled him higher on his hips. Her heartbeat pounded so loud in her ears she could barely breathe, but her thoughts were clear.
Turen had saved her, and she’d come back to help him, not once but many times. While she prided herself on logic, she had no illusion this was a payback of debt.
The feelings she held for this man went beyond comfort and protection. He made her think for herself and value her own worth. He evoked a level of desire she’d never considered possible. Because of him, she understood desperate craving. His very existence provoked her to take risks to help him, to be with him.