Kelsey entered the dining hall, her eyes searching the room. She'd spent the past fifteen minutes trying without success to reach Thea on her comm. It was utterly unlike her friend to ignore her—or anyone else for that matter—and a nagging, bottomless feeling had begun in Kelsey's chest. Jared had told her he'd be staying on the battle cruiser during tonight's operation. She hadn't liked his leaving base, not at all, but she'd understood that such risks were part of the cost in leading his people.
But only a few minutes after he'd left her in the hangar, something had begun to nag at her consciousness. It was the way he'd crushed her against himself, not wanting to release her—and it was the look in his black eyes when he'd finally stepped away. It was the same ruthless, dark expression he'd gotten the other night when her father had relayed the information about the vice president—and with the same terrible air of desperation.
"Jared?" she'd called out, but he'd just given her a little wave as Lieutenant Daniels accosted him. The two men walked together toward the main craft, boarding it as they continued speaking. Her last image was of Jared ducking through the hatch, his broad shoulders barely clearing the space.
After watching the craft catapult out of the mountainside and seeing the hangar door snap shut, she continued sitting off to the side, listening to the hum of machinery and the shouted commands and responses of troops on the deck. A few of the engineers glanced her way uncomfortably while she sat on the bench, both hands perched on her knees.
Something just didn't feel right about this mission, even more so now, as she thought back on those last moments, and Jared's silent wave in her direction. But it was more than that: For the first time in her relationship with Jared, she had the feeling he'd lied to her. That he was far more deeply involved in this op than he'd let on. So after hailing Thea without a response, she'd come to a very disturbing conclusion: Jared had put himself directly in the line of fire.
Around the dining hall, the loud din of voices fell quieter as she moved down the aisle, navigating the rows of tables. It was Friday night, so that meant those who were off duty got served alcohol and were allowed to let it all hang out for a while. For ten p.m. things seemed fairly tame so far, but it was obvious that her unexpected presence had the gathered soldiers at a loss. Some bowed over their tables and some rose and bowed, even though she tried to wave them off. Suddenly, she found herself standing in the center of the mess hall, surrounded by at least a hundred bowing and genuflecting Refarians.
She lowered her head and muttered under her breath. Even the music had stopped, leaving her stranded like a tall pregnant island amidst a sea of her people.
"Please … please, just go on with what you were doing. No bowing. I—I … am just looking for Lieutenant Haven. …" She had the sense that she'd wandered into some sort of demilitarized zone, a no-man's-land for queen-types, and it was all she could do not to back out of the hall as quietly as she could.
"Kelsey!" Thea trotted across the room, darting between tables.
She wanted to weep with relief at the sight of her friend. Thea reached her, slipping an arm through the crook of her elbow. Under her breath she whispered, "You're not supposed to come in here, my lady."
"Don't 'my lady' me, Thea," Kelsey shot back. "You're in on it."
Thea tugged her by the arm. "Look, they don't know how to respond. Jared never comes here, and it's not a good idea for you to visit this place, either."
"You're here."
Thea shook her head. "That's different."
"Because you're Refarian?"
"Because I'm not their queen," she explained, practically dragging her toward the door while more of her people bowed around her.
Kelsey tried to disengage her arm without letting the gathered soldiers see how upset she was. "I'm still pissed at you because I know you're in on it," she told Thea under her breath, "and you're also changing the subject."
"Wait until we get outside."
At last they reached the exit door, and as it closed behind them, Kelsey practically collapsed against it. "Don't worry," she told Thea, "I won't be repeating that maneuver again anytime soon. And if I'd been able to reach you on the comm, it wouldn't have happened at all."
Thea looked at her with a composed expression. "I never heard you."
Kelsey gave her friend a light shove on the shoulder. "Please. Don't you lie to me, too. I know he's going in on that op."
"I'm not sure I know what you mean," Thea answered blandly.
"Oh, really? You don't realize that Jared plans to go into that warehouse with the team? You mean you never heard that stupid, idiotic, asinine plan pass my husband's lips?"
Thea sighed, staring at the ceiling. "I can't lie to you. Not you, Kelsey. It wasn't fair of him to ask me to do it."
Kelsey felt the world grow unsteady all around her, the lights of the hallway swimming before her eyes. "So I'm right."
"He didn't want to upset you, not with the baby due so soon. He didn't want to worry you."
"But he was willing to put himself right in the line of fire!" she shouted, throwing her hands in the air.
Thea tried to put an arm around her, but Kelsey shook her off, storming ahead of her down the corridor. She didn't even want to hear Jared's lame excuses, and she sure as hell didn't want to argue with Thea about why she'd allowed him to endanger his life.
"Kelsey, please don't leave. Let me talk you through this." She could hear Thea's booted footsteps echoing behind her.
That was it. Finally, after all the past weeks of tension, the endless churning and discomfort in her belly, and now this knowledge that Jared might get himself killed—the dam inside of her soul gave way. Something simply crumpled right in her center, gave way until she was free falling, sobbing uncontrollably in the middle of the hallway. Wrapping her arms about her round belly, she hugged herself, hugged Erica. Wished she could hold Jared tight in her arms, and kept on sobbing.
Next thing she knew, Thea was tugging on her arm; Kelsey just dropped her head and wept some more. "Kelsey, please," her friend whispered, but Kelsey gave her head a little shake, feeling a current of nausea overtake her.
Thea placed a hand against her back, whispering something she didn't understand. Refarian words that were useless to her right now, only … they soothed her somehow.
"Wh-what are you saying?" She sniffled, turning slowly to look at Thea.
"I'm praying for you. Sending words of comfort from All to you."
Dimly aware of a few soldiers walking past them and keeping a wide berth, Kelsey wiped at the hot tears that kept streaming down her cheeks. "And now our people are going to think I'm crazy. I just … I made a fool of myself in front of at least a hundred Refarians in the mess hall, and Jared's in such danger …"
Thea stepped forward, wrapped both her small arms about Kelsey—quite the feat with her large belly—and held her tightly. "Shh, now. The people love you. All our people love you.… Shh, you're the Beloved of Refaria."
"But Jared—"
"Is a fantastic soldier. All these years he's been fighting, and he's only been captured one time."
Kelsey winced, stepping out of Thea's embrace. "That's what I'm thinking about—the things that Veckus did to him over in Idaho."
Thea's expression grew grim; she opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, and finally opened it again. "You're married to a military commander, Kelsey," Thea told her slowly. "It's not an easy road for you … or him. But you did sign on for this. You knew what his life was like when you mated with him."
Kelsey wiped her eyes angrily. "I don't need a lecture, Thea. In fact, it's the last freaking thing I need right now."
Thea took hold of her shoulder, looking up into her eyes with an intense expression. "It's not a lecture. I'm reminding you of who you are. You are our queen. Your people need your strength right now; so does Jared. And most of all, so does Erica."
"I keep wanting to use our bond. To tell him I love him, in case it's the last time, but … I
don't want him to hear how upset I am. I don't want to distract him or put him in danger, but this need to have some sort of link with him is almost more than I can stand."
"He will come home, Kelsey. I feel it with my intuition."
"Is your gift ever wrong?" Kelsey asked, rubbing her palm across her stomach, needing to be closer to Erica.
"Not very often."
"Then I'm going to hang on to what you've told me. I'm going to believe he will return."
Shelby blinked groggily, the ceiling above her head spinning like a whirlwind. Only, what ceiling? Last thing she remembered, she'd been on the dance floor, trying to move to that numbing, mesmerizing rhythm. The lights had sped up weirdly; then, she'd blacked out—almost as if the light show had triggered one of her seizures.
"Ohhh," she groaned. She was lying on a soft surface, something like a bed or a sofa, although she couldn't manage to look at anything other than the rafters overhead. Even they were more of a gyrating kaleidoscope than anything solid. She moaned softly, trying to turn her head to the side.
"So you're coming around," a deep, familiar voice said. Only it was devoid of all warmth, lacking any kind of compassion at all. With a woozy effort, she managed to rotate her head, feeling something heavy clamped against her throat. Her gaze locked on a pair of legs, thighs that were thick like tree trunks.
"Jake?" she murmured, the words gauzy as they passed over her tongue. "Oh, gods, I'm going to be sick."
"Don't do that, not in here." Again, coldness, a hollow sound to his voice.
She winced, and managed to follow the pair of legs upward, realizing dimly that Jake wasn't wearing what he'd had on earlier, the black jeans and shirt. He now sported a biker jacket with metal studs across the front.
"What's going …" The words died right on her tongue. The man staring down at her had a smirking, lecherous grin on his face. His eyes lacked any sort of vibrancy or life. They were like hard green marbles, lifeless and cold, a chilling contrast to his swarthy face.
The sick feeling in Shelby's stomach spread to her heart. This couldn't be good. No way, no how. There wasn't any positive spin she could put on the situation, not when confronted with this vile expression on the face that she'd come to know and care for so deeply. She tried to move her hands and feet, but something heavy held them, pinning her down.
Stupidly, she mumbled, "You're not Jake."
"Oh, yeah, I am," he replied, sneering at her. He reached for a lock of her hair, stroking it suggestively, but before she could even pull away from him, he tossed it against her cheek. "But you're right. I'm not the Jake you're looking for. Don't worry; he'll be along soon enough."
Alarmed, she struggled to sit up, but the Jake before her—the human, murdering one, she was now certain—shoved her back onto the mattress. Only then did she glance sideways and realize what the heavy weights on her hands and neck were. She'd been manacled with hard, metallic bands.
"Let me go!"
"That won't be happening, sweetheart. Not anytime soon."
She tried to move her hands, but the grip about her wrists tightened, almost as if in response. Oh, All, help me. They'd fastened her in reflexive metal, a psychic alloy that originated on Antousia. If you resisted, it understood and tightened; if you complied, it rewarded you by loosening slightly. She'd heard of soldiers driven insane by captivity within their harsh confines. Hope and Scott had been held with similar restraints back in December and had managed to undo them because of their lovemaking and deep feelings for each other. Here, in the presence of such a threatening man, she had no such promise for liberation.
Jake trailed his fingers down the length of her arm and, dipping inward, he grazed her breast lightly. Shelby jolted, but he continued touching her body.
"Where am I?" she asked, ignoring the maneuver. Intimidation tactic, plain and simple.
"In my world now. You can kiss your old life goodbye."
She blinked up at him. "What do you mean?"
"I have plans for you, girl. Very lucrative plans. Well, lucrative for me, of course. For you, I'm afraid they won't be so good." Jake stroked a hand along her cheek. "Or, to be more specific, I have plans for your body."
And with that, Shelby knew that she'd stumbled right into the heart of the sex-slavery ring.
"Where is my Jake?" she demanded. "You tell me right now!"
As she tried to move her legs, the bands around her ankles tightened; he had her pinned flat on her back. With a lift of her chin, she glanced down her body and finally understood exactly what this Jake had, done to her: She was splayed out on a padded table, hands and feet bound against the surface. It was clear he made a regular business of this routine, too, because the fastenings were tarnished and grimy. The black table had worn places in its leather, a rip running beside her thigh.
"I'm sure you know how these bands work," he told her softly. "The harder you fight, the worse it'll be for you."
He put his back to her then, walking across the room, and Shelby worked to focus her blurry vision and see what he was doing. The room was mostly dark, and she became conscious of a thrumming beat, heavy bass notes pounding above them. Obviously, she was still somewhere inside the warehouse, and that meant she had a prayer of survival. No, she was under the warehouse, she corrected herself, feeling a chill and deciding she'd just concentrate on the survival part.
Jake fiddled with something on the far wall, a clanking noise sounding as if two chains were dragging together. After a long moment, he pivoted slowly back toward her. "How many different ways do you take it?" he asked, approaching her with something in his hand. "The more the better, as far as my money goes." He looked her up and down with those empty eyes. "But I figure you can be made to do whatever needs doing. And the first thing is to tell me your name."
As he stopped beside her, she strained her head upward and spat, missing him by a ketro. He just laughed right in her face, rubbing a sinister, dark object in his hands that she couldn't get a good look at.
"Here," he told her coolly, "let's get down to business." He fastened whatever it was against her neckband; then at once the manacles around her ankles and hands sprang free. With a deft movement, she rolled to the side, throwing a kick at Jake's solar plexus as she did. She might as well have tried to drop kick a mountain; her whole body was jerked back with such force that at first she swore he'd broken her neck.
Feeling with her hands, gasping for air, she realized what he'd attached to her collar: a thick, velvet leash clamped to the circular band.
And now he had the controlling end grasped right in both of his beefy hands.
Chapter Eighteen
The first thing Jake thought, as soon as they grabbed him, was that he and the others had come into this place completely unprepared. As battle hardened as his team was, as many times as they'd gone up against these same enemies, they damned sure should have known better. But it had all happened so quickly, he tried to tell himself; still, that was no excuse. All the planning and preparation they'd done amounted to meshdki now that they were in the thick of things.
He and Jared had been walking along, trying to blend into the crowd while they searched for Shelby, when for the first time he noticed a barricaded back stairwell shrouded in darkness. He turned to look back at Jared, who just then was being approached by a tall, curvy brunette. Only this wasn't the Jared that the vlksai would know, at least by sight, because for this mission he'd adopted the form of a rugged blond ski bum. I'll leave him to deal with that situation, Jake thought to himself as the woman leaned toward Jared's ear, shouting to be heard over the loud music.
Jake slipped across the dance floor to the back stairwell that had caught his eye. The steps led upward to a balcony where partygoers stood surveying the scene below, but what interested him more was the flight that led downward, a dark, cavernous space filtered with shadowed light.
After climbing over the barrier, he crept carefully down the steps and through a door that opened onto a hallway made of
jagged stones. Their surface was illuminated by a dim light that seemed to be coming from farther along, around another corner. He inched forward, the noise from the dance floor pounding above and behind him, but when he stopped to peer down that next hallway, his breath caught in his lungs.
It wasn't just the fact that the man ten ketros away looked just like him, only younger—or that he'd finally found the prey he'd been hunting for five years now—it was the dungeon like room he was coming out of. The walls were bordello red, and an array of barbed whips and chains dangled from above like some grotesque type of curtain.
With a sick, helpless feeling, Jake realized that he hadn't seen Shelby in more than thirty minutes. It was all he could do not to lunge at the human and choke the very life from his lungs—for a second time—but he forced himself to remain hidden, knowing that Shelby's life depended on it.
Down the hall, the human looked first one way, then the other, before entering another room. Jake stole along the passageway to the dungeon and gently pushed the door open. Past the torture implements hanging from the ceiling, he could see a large padded table on which a woman struggled, the shiny blonde of her hair painfully familiar.
Catching sight of him, Shelby struggled against her restraints, a mixture of relief and despair in her vulnerable eyes. "Watch out!" she whispered hoarsely, just loud enough to be heard over the throbbing bass notes from above. "He'll be back any second."
"I know," Jake answered, stepping toward her. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay—now I'm gonna go get help."
"Jakob," she told him with a faint moan, "be careful. Please. Look after yourself."
"I'm going to look after you, Shell. I'm getting you out of this hellhole."
When he turned around, all his plans faded to nothing as he found himself staring at half a dozen burly guys in security T-shirts. Not human, not by a long shot, even though they occupied that form. The Antousian scent wafting off the gathered men was downright sickening. Well, well, well, he thought. So the stakes just got a hell of a lot higher. His finger twitching against his hip, he felt the hard outline of his luminator.
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