by Donya Lynne
“It’s okay, buddy,” Micah said, his voice gentle, his hands grabbing on to Trace’s forearm. He sounded like he was trying to tame a lion into a kitten.
More guards closed in and Trace splayed his fingers even farther, pulling them all into his realm of compulsion, halting them in their tracks. His gaze shot to Cordray, and for a moment, he wanted to pull her into his death hold, too, even though she made no move to interfere.
“Trace,” Tristan stepped forward, fear in his eyes.
“No,” Trace said. He didn’t care what happened to him, as long as nothing happened to Micah. “No one touches him but me. No one!” His voice resonated with menace, and he knew from experience his eyes had changed from pale green to vivid yellow. He could feel it. Only when he was this emotionally charged did his eyes change color like that.
They hadn’t changed color in a long time. Not since—No. He wouldn’t go there. He would keep the memories of his youth locked, especially with Peek-a-boo Bitch over there, staring at him, most likely trying to worm her way into his head again.
He was scared and angry all at once. He felt like a threatened, feral cat backed into a corner, pissed off that it couldn’t break free, back hunched, claws protracted, ears back, and fur standing straight on end. The thought of being confined for a month away from his new master scared the shit out of him. What if he lost control of his power? What if the scales tipped too far and he slipped into mutant? That was his greatest fear, and never before had he been tested to find his limits. Could he even go a month without the abuse he required to stay in control?
And how dare the guards treat Micah that way. He growled at the one who had hit Micah, crouching to the floor and pulling Micah down with him, blanketing him protectively even as Micah tried to resist.
His voice dropped to a deadly whisper, body bent, fangs bared. “No one touches Micah.”
Cordray had risen from her chair on the other side of the room and watched him with interest but didn’t make a move to interfere. Smart bitch. Because he would ice her just for her damning testimony if she took one step forward. Of everyone in the room, she was the most threatening. He was certain of that even if the idea didn’t make sense.
Everyone hovered precariously. It seemed no one knew what to do and could only wait until he calmed down before trying to approach him.
Micah patted his arm and said quietly, “It’s okay, Trace. I’m okay.”
Trace looked down to find Micah’s navy blues turned up to his. “I’m scared,” he said. How foreign the word sounded coming from him. Nothing scared him, but being threatened with prison, and faced with a tattooed succubus wearing designer pumps, fear crept in.
“I know you are.”
Trace could see in Micah’s eyes that he knew exactly what Trace was scared of, too.
He swallowed nervously. “What if I don’t make it?”
“You’ll make it. You’ll find a way. And I’ll take care of you when you’re out. You have my word. I’ll be here the moment you’re free.”
“Fuck…don’t you be late.” Trace had a feeling he would be ripped and primed with need by the time his sentence was up, if he made it that long.
“I know, brother. And I won’t be late. I promise. I’ve got your back, remember?”
“I’ve got yours.”
“I know you do.” Micah gave him a playful smack, making it harder than it needed to be. “But how ‘bout you take the day off and leave the back watch to me.” He smacked his cheek again.
Trace had a feeling Micah had hit him harder than necessary on purpose, because the sting of pain did calm him.
“Come on. Let me up, buddy,” Micah said. “You can let me go. I’m okay. They won’t hurt me.”
Trace slowly rose, keeping his free arm around the front of Micah’s waist protectively as his other continued to hold the guards at bay.
Micah turned to the king. “My apologies for my outburst.” He bowed his head in apology. “This is my fault. Trace is….” He paused and looked over his shoulder at Trace. “Well, he’s very protective of me.”
The king acknowledged him with a head dip of his own then looked at Trace. “That’s some power you have there, Traceon.”
Trace slowly maneuvered himself and Micah back to the podium, keeping his arm outstretched and his eyes on the guards. He wouldn’t release them until he knew Micah was safe from harm.
“Don’t worry, Traceon,” King Bain said, as if reading his thoughts. “Guards, you are not to touch Micah or any other member of Tristan’s team for the duration of this trial, with the understanding that there will be no more outbursts.” The king looked at Trace, then Micah, then Tristan and the others. “Understood?”
Everyone nodded.
“Would you release my guards now, Traceon?” King Bain said.
Trace frowned shamefully and nodded, then lowered his hand and let go of Micah at the same time. The guards fell out of compulsion and stepped away from him.
“Micah, you may return to your seat,” King Bain said.
“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll remain with Trace.”
King Bain sighed. “Very well.”
He probably realized that allowing Micah to stay was a good way to ensure Trace didn’t go bionic hand again.
King Bain cleared his throat and looked back down at his papers then continued now that the excitement was over. “As I was saying, Traceon, you are to be confined for one month and suspended indefinitely from your job as enforcer at AKM. You will also perform community service at the shelter two nights, or days in your case, since you’re a day walker, per week. You will be evaluated in three months, and if your performance and behavior have been satisfactory, your reinstatement at AKM will be considered.”
Trace bowed his head. He didn’t know how he would get by for the next two weeks in confinement, but even after his release, it would be no walk in the park. He took a measure of satisfaction from his work. Being an enforcer made him feel like he was somebody and not just a random face in the crowd. His powers could be put to use for good as an enforcer. What would happen over the next few months until his evaluation? Would he go crazy from the inactivity?
He looked at Micah.
“Don’t worry, brother. I’ll take care of you. We’ll get through this. Trust me.”
Micah’s reassurance helped, but it only went so far. There was only so much Micah could do for him. Already, he could feel his mind slipping into the past and to the blood brother he had lost with his father after his mother’s death. Where was Brak now? Had he survived? Sometimes Trace thought he could feel his twin, but most of the time he felt nothing. He didn’t want to be alone and idle, where his thoughts could open up to the past, but he didn’t have a choice.
“Guards, shackle him.” King Bain signaled the guards forward.
They approached him warily, clearly not wanting to set him off.
“Here, let me.” Micah stepped forward and grabbed the chained cuffs from the guards. “I think I need to do it, anyway. Don’t I, buddy?”
Trace glanced from the guards to the metal cuffs and heavy steel chains as they passed from hand to hand. Then, he slowly lifted his gaze to Micah’s. This was his master. Micah was the one who would set it all right for him.
But before Micah could shackle him, another guard burst through the door and rushed inside.
“My lord!”
Everyone jumped and turned toward the commotion as more guards poured into the room.
Donovan ran forward with a sense of urgency.
King Bain rose. “What’s going on here? Why have you—?”
“Miriam’s gone!” Donovan gasped for air as if he’d run the one hundred meter dash in record time. “She’s gone!”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Trace was suddenly forgotten, Miriam’s disappearance taking center stage.
Everyone in the room shot to action, surging away from their chairs, but no one moved faster than King Bain, who leaped over the benc
h and rushed forward.
“What?”
“She escaped, my lord. She’s gone.”
“Where is she? Were you able to track her?”
“Yes, but I fear for her safety.” Donovan gasped for air.
“Why?” King Bain’s face had lost all color.
“She was not….” Donovan stopped and visibly trembled. From fear? “She was not herself when she left.”
“What do you mean?” King Bain was beside himself as he gripped Donovan’s shoulders.
Donovan grimaced as if he didn’t want to speak openly in front of such a large crowd.
“Tell me!” Bain shook him.
Donovan tensed. “She was in withdrawal.” He shook his head. “Violent and despondent.”
The room practically exploded with tension.
King Bain recoiled, fear and raw emotion overtaking him.
“I don’t like this.” Cordray appeared at the king’s side and turned on Donovan. “Did Miriam know of Bain’s intentions to execute Io?”
“I don’t know, but it’s possible.”
Cordray’s brow creased, and Donovan went still, his eyes suddenly vacant. “Shit,” Cordray said.
“What?” The king grabbed her wrist as the guard reanimated.
“She’s in a female calling.” Cordray cursed again.
“Is that even possible?” Micah asked, dismayed.
The king could only shake his head in denial.
“It’s rare, but Miriam isn’t a typical female. In a lot of ways, she’s like….” Cordray turned toward the king. “She’s like her father. She inherited your essence, Bain. And from what I’m seeing, she’s not just in withdrawal. She’s attached herself to Io the way a male attaches to a mate, just not quite as strong, but strong enough to send her into a mental breakdown and cause the physical symptoms.”
“How…?” King Bain looked sick, his face pale.
Cordray grabbed his arm. “I know what I’m seeing, Bain.” She shook him. “Wake up! You have to fix this.”
Trace frowned at her. Who was this bitch who got away with what stronger men would be squashed for doing?
“And how do you propose I do that?” The king glared at her.
Good for him. Now maybe he would put that bitch in her place.
Cordray huffed as if talking to a six-year-old. “Send Io for her.”
The king recoiled, obviously not liking that idea.
“Listen to me,” Cordray said. “If you send anyone else, it could set her off. If she thinks Io is dead, she could do something stupid, such as kill herself. But if you send Io, she’ll see for herself he’s still alive. And he’s her mate.” She knocked her knuckles on the side of Bain’s head, and several gasps erupted around the room. “Hello! Think about that, Bain. He’s her mate. He’ll hone in on her like she’s a beacon with the hormonal overload he’s on.”
Bain didn’t look like he was buying it.
“Io is your only hope, Bain.” Cordray grabbed his arm.
By now, everyone had assembled in a disorganized mass nearby, ready and awaiting the king’s order.
King Bain erupted with anger. “Go after her! Bring her home!”
Cordray turned back to the king. “Damn it, Bain! You must send Io. If you send your guards, you will only provoke her. She won’t come home until she knows Io is safe, and the only way she will believe he’s safe is if she sees him with her own eyes.”
The king’s face flushed such a deep shade of red, he looked painted. “No.”
“You have to.”
The king paced away, but didn’t say anything.
“We’re wasting time,” Cordray said flatly. “The longer you wait to decide, the more likely it will be that you’ll find Miriam dead.”
Trace glanced around the room at the other shocked faces. None of them knew who Cordray was, but everyone seemed to be just as surprised as he was by her behavior.
“Fine!” King Bain spun around, his face the picture of menace and hostility. “Release him! Send Io after my daughter.”
“A wise choice,” Cordray said, as Donovan waved to one of the other guards and nodded. The guard immediately darted out of the room, followed by two others. “Only a mutant is more powerful than a mated male without his mate. Io will protect her well.” Cordray turned and bobbed her head toward Trace. “And send him, too.”
Trace glared at her.
“What?” King Bain took an aggressive step forward, but Cordray remained steadfast.
Micah was already handing the shackles back over to one of the guards.
“As you saw, Trace has a unique and powerful gift.” Cordray glanced back toward the center of the room where he had performed his magic act earlier. “If there is danger, he will be an asset to Io, who will be thinking of only one thing once he finds Miriam, since he has entered his calling.”
Everyone in the room knew what that one thing was, too. Io had already gone far too long without Miriam, and if he was in his calling, he was probably about to rip his skin off to mate with her.
Trace had to admit, as much as he disliked Cordray, she was smart and level-headed, thinking proactively while everyone else was in reaction mode.
King Bain waved his hand. “Fine. Release him. But as soon as this incident is over, you will serve your time,” he said, pointing at Trace. “Now go. Find my daughter and bring her home.”
“Let’s go.” Micah clapped him on the shoulder and made for the door as the rest prepared to move out.
He was about to hurry after Micah when a hand clamped down on his arm. As soon as he saw the silver-ringed fingers and tattooed hand, Trace scowled. With a severe yank, he pulled his arm away and jerked around to see Cordray standing next to him.
Her face was frozen in wonder, and she was staring at her hand as if it was a foreign object, not part of her body. It was as if she had forgotten Trace was even there.
“Do not touch me.” Trace punctuated the demand by bending down, getting in her her pretty face.
Cordray’s gaze lifted, and Trace could swear he saw fear in her eyes. Fear or shock. Maybe both. Either way, he really didn’t give a shit. She needed to be afraid of him, because his earlier fear of her was subsiding, leaving only anger.
Fueled by her show of emotion, Trace sneered and loomed closer. “Do I scare you, little girl?”
Cordray’s face blanched, and she appeared momentarily flustered.
“No. It’s just…you…I….” Cordray, who until now had been so eloquent, was at a loss for words.
“Spit it out, honey. I’ve got work to do.” Trace really did not like Cordray or the mind job she had pulled on him. The bitch needed to stay out of his thoughts and out of his way if she knew what was good for her. He had no reservations about icing her permanently after what she had done to him.
As if coming back to her senses, hot anger flared in Cordray’s eyes as she composed herself. “Make sure you bring back any humans or drecks you find with her. Do you think you can handle that, wonder stud?”
Trace glowered, his right hand going twitchy. “They might not give me a choice, sweetheart. When I’m ass-deep in the drink with fuckers who want to play hero with their stupidity, sometimes shit happens.” He pressed forward, looking down his nose at her. “But for someone like you, who spends her time indoors instead of out in the trenches, you probably don’t understand that, huh?”
“Well, Superman, make sure shit doesn’t happen. And what makes you think I spend my time indoors, hotshot?”
Trace got the distinct impression that if she could shoot fire from her eyes he would have been scorched by now.
When Trace didn’t answer, she glanced askance at Bain who was gesturing with animation as he spoke to his guards. “You know, I may not be the indoorsy type, but others are. And they’re a lot more dangerous to your health than I am.” She looked back at Trace with a satisfied smirk. “And he’s a lot tougher on shitheads with itchy trigger fingers than I am, too. You remember that.”
Cordray had trumped him. Clever bitch.
He would get his chance to put her in her place or die trying.
He stormed out to hurry and catch up with Micah. He didn’t even realize he had a hard-on.
* * *
Cordray ducked around a corner and slammed her back against the wall, gasping as she looked up at the ceiling.
She had felt Trace. She had actually experienced physical sensation when she had grabbed his arm. So much so that he had lit her up like a Roman candle on the Fourth of July. When was the last time she had ever felt anyone or even been aroused like this?
Running her palm down one inked up arm, she panted harshly and bent forward.
What did this mean? Why had that unbelievably powerful mixed-blood affected her like this? Was it just another attribute of his power, or was it something else?
All she knew was that her body was lit up like New York City on New Year’s Eve, a sensation she hadn’t felt in so long that she had forgotten just how torturous being aroused without a partner was. Too bad she wanted nothing to do with Trace to further explore whatever this was he had awakened inside her. As it was, she wanted nothing more than to see that smirk on his face get wiped off by Bain’s fist.
Fuck Trace. She’d find another outlet, because the last thing she wanted was that asshole’s hands on her.
What a pompous dick. She could do better than him. Much better.
With a frown, she pushed away from the wall and made her way out.
She wouldn’t let Trace get to her. That fuckhead was history.
CHAPTER FIFTY
Miriam entered the hotel, relentlessly scratching her arms, and smiled nervously at the desk clerk as she made her way to the elevator bay. The lobby of the Hotel Burnham had a nostalgic but elegant feel, as if the motif was modern-day 1930s.