Chosen by Fate

by Virna DePaul

  When he stopped the motor, she immediately swung off the bike, suddenly wanting to get as far away from him as possible. Her body buzzed with arousal, and she felt that warm whisper of air again, this time all over her body. She felt flushed and achy. For a moment, she was tempted to leave her helmet on, but she didn’t want him to think she was hiding from him. So she slipped off the helmet and shook out her hair, keeping her facial expression blandly composed.

  “Why’d we stop?”

  He looked pissed. He got off the bike and stepped closer to her, which immediately made her want to run. She didn’t like the feeling. She didn’t run from confrontation, it ran from her. Still, she had to forcibly keep her feet planted where they were and remind herself that if she did run, Caleb would likely chase her down in the parking lot with all the enthusiasm of a lion hunting a gazelle.

  And if he caught her . . . She could practically feel his hot breath on the nape of her neck and the sting of his teeth clamping down on the tender skin there. A shiver of delight pulsed through her at the thought. She held her breath, waiting for him to touch her. Instead, he stepped around her, keeping a careful distance between them. Without a word, he walked into the restaurant, leaving her to follow.

  She chastised herself with each step she took. What was wrong with her? Attraction was one thing. But this primitive, all-encompassing neediness was uncharacteristic and unsettling. She was suddenly overcome with a desire to walk away and leave Caleb in the restaurant. She could get to the airport and L.A. on her own, couldn’t she?

  As soon as she asked the question, she dismissed it. There was still the damn death mark to contend with. Plus, he already thought she was afraid of him. Or, more precisely, of the attraction they shared. She wouldn’t give him another reason to believe that.

  THIRTEEN

  The chilly blast of air-conditioning managed to clear her head. She immediately beelined for the restrooms, not because she needed to pee, because she never did, but to give herself more distance from Caleb. She splashed some water on her face, hoping the wetness would cool her thoughts, but it didn’t. She cringed at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair looked greasy, and it had conformed to her scalp where the helmet had been. Her skin looked splotchy and . . .

  She cursed and looked closer.

  Her skin didn’t just look splotchy . . . it looked . . . She blinked. It wasn’t her skin that was different. It was her vision. Her skin looked shaded in places it normally wasn’t. At the same time, the roots of her hair were definitely getting darker, and her eyes looked a little clearer than normal. Was some of what she was seeing, these new gradations of shadow, actually spots of color? The other changes were subtle, not likely to be something Caleb would notice. Still, the change was progressing faster than she’d thought it would.

  What did that mean? That she was on an expedited course for death?

  She bent and reached under her pant leg for the knife she kept strapped to her ankle. Unsheathing it, she pressed the serrated edge against her throat, just under her jaw. For a moment, she considered doing it. Slicing her throat and seeing if, this time, it would work. If it didn’t, she’d what? Increase the pain she felt at another’s contact? If it did, she’d bleed out and die. A blessing in some ways, yes, but she’d still die without knowing who she was.

  Undecided, she closed her eyes, but they popped open when she felt the cat wriggle and change positions inside her pocket. When it mewled, she realized it must be hungry. She lowered the knife and swiftly sliced the blade against her forearm. The physical pain was minimal, and the wound instantly started to seal. For such a small wound, however, it seemed to take especially long to finish healing.

  Yet more proof that her time was running out. The more human she became, the closer she moved toward mortality. To death. To her end.

  Her end without Caleb.

  With a sigh, she slipped her knife back into its sheath and walked back into the restaurant. There was no sign of Caleb. After looking her up and down like she was a walking insect, the hostess stammered an offer to show her to the table where Caleb sat. Annoyed that Caleb was obviously taking more than a bathroom break, Wraith thought about hissing at the hostess but dismissed the idea. Apparently, she’d lost all sense of fun.

  She’d take a few seconds to get the cat some water and food, but then she wanted back on the road. She’d suffer the closeness of Caleb’s body for another hour, but then she’d make sure things got back to normal. No more talk of forgetfulness or peace or possibilities. Her sole focus would be on the mission. She followed the hostess to a booth where Caleb sat, slouched and comfortable. Along the way, she felt the stares of every individual they passed. Caleb, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to the attention she was attracting.

  “I’d like to get back on the road,” Wraith told him.

  He simply picked up his cup of coffee and stared at her as he took a sip. She rolled her eyes and gracelessly flopped onto the seat across from him. As soon as she sat down, her long legs momentarily tangled with his splayed ones, and she quickly pulled them back and to the side.

  He responded to her retreat with a slight tilting of his lips. She met Caleb’s stare with her own, trying to set things on the right course. “Fill me in on the specifics of the mission.”

  He took another sip of coffee, then took his time answering. “There’s not much to tell. Three felines have been raped, apparently with the aid of drugs, since there are huge holes in their memories. Before being raped, each feline frequented a different sex club. That’s three different sex clubs in close proximity to one another, including a place called Ramsey’s. There’s one more club that fits the pattern. Lucy’s going to act as bait, the rest of us as backup. We’re going to do the club scene until we get the scum responsible. It’ll be a cakewalk.”

  A cakewalk. That’s exactly why it made no sense, even if her old lover Ramsey did own one of the four clubs Caleb was talking about. “That’s it? No concerns about why Mahone is bringing in the team for this?”

  “He needs Otherborn. Who else is he going to bring in?”

  “Local law enforcement?”

  Caleb shrugged. “Maybe he just wants the best. The felines are slow to anger, but when they do, they’re vicious. If they think humans are going after their females, they won’t wait very long to extract their own brand of justice.”

  “Which would be what?”

  His expression darkened. “Let’s just say the human way of torturing someone will look like child’s play in comparison.”

  “And that’s what you’re trying to avoid? Because of what happened to you in the War?”

  Just like that, his expression was wiped clean. He looked up when their waitress approached them. Wraith didn’t miss the way she immediately perked up upon seeing Caleb. She tossed back her hair, sucked in her stomach, and stuck out her impressively perky chest. She was pretty, but Caleb barely glanced at her.

  That pleased her. Why? It shouldn’t matter if he slept with every woman from here to Los Angeles. But it did.

  The waitress devoured Caleb with her eyes. “Can I get you . . . something, sir?”

  Wraith barely restrained herself from ripping out the woman’s fluttering fake eyelashes. Why didn’t she just offer to get down on her knees and give him a blow job?

  Wraith feigned an avid interest in the rundown diner. After a few seconds, she felt ridiculous and brought her gaze back to Caleb, who watched her from beneath hooded eyes. He placed his order without looking away.

  The waitress turned to her with lifted brows, as if she wasn’t worth the effort of speaking.

  “I’m dead, in case you can’t tell. I don’t eat.”

  Caleb waited until the waitress walked away before continuing their conversation. “Yeah, I want to avoid that kind of torture if I can. I’d think you would, too, given what you’ve been through.”

  Now it was her turn to look away. She didn’t like the fact that he knew about the experiments. That he’d ev
en seen the videos that Mahone had. The knowledge burrowed under her skin and poked with unerring accuracy at every vulnerable spot she had. Even a few she’d been completely unaware of. Stubbornly, she remained silent, and he seemed unwilling to push her.

  It was only a matter of minutes before the waitress brought Caleb his food—eggs and bacon—and another smile. Wraith waited impatiently for her to leave.

  “You have a history with the felines,” she pointed out. “You used to date their princess, and it certainly looked like she was amenable to starting things up again. Why can’t you go in and talk to them? Convince them to cool down?”

  Caleb stopped chewing for a second and dropped his gaze to his meal. With his fork, he pierced his eggs with more force than necessary. “Believe me, the felines are the last race that would listen to anything I said, even with my prior relationship with Natia.”

  “Because you killed her brother?”

  Caleb stopped eating, wiped his mouth, and leaned back in his chair to stare at Wraith.

  Despite the shocking statement she’d just thrown down, he didn’t even blink. No way was he going to give her the reaction she so clearly wanted. Instead, remembering the way she’d spoken of “felines” so disdainfully, he went digging for his own gold.

  “You have your own history with the felines, don’t you, Wraith? Some reason to hold a grudge. A former lover, perhaps? One who did you wrong?”

  Sure enough, her expression closed up. “You’re way off.”

  “Am I?” He studied her and she squirmed, clearly uncomfortable with the turn in the conversation.

  It was her own fault, he assured himself. He hadn’t been this hard this long since he was in high school. Back then, all he’d had to do was look at a woman, and he’d get a massive hard-on. Wraith always had the same effect on him. Even when she glared at him like she was doing now.

  Especially when she glared at him.

  Caleb had stopped at the restaurant because he’d wanted to eradicate the sexual feelings she was bringing out in him, but now he welcomed them. He’d do anything to avoid talking about Elijah. But he didn’t want to be the only one on the hook. The only one who had problems. Vulnerabilities. Wraith had plenty of them, and for some reason he wanted to explore each and every one. On the night she’d offered herself to him, on the night he’d accepted, he’d wanted information just as much as he’d wanted Wraith’s body. He still did.

  “Tell me something . . . Are you a virgin?”

  About to give the cat some food and water, she choked instead. “What?”

  “I asked if you’re a virgin.”

  “I heard you. Why the hell are you asking me that?”

  “Given what you wanted from me a day ago, it seems a fair question to ask.”

  “Since it’s not going to happen, then it’s not open for discussion. It wouldn’t be, anyway.” She shook her head. “But to answer your childish question, I’ve had lovers. Were you hoping otherwise? That you’ve been the only guy to ever make me feel desire?”

  “So you admit you desire me.”

  “I’m not doing anything but leaving.”

  Despite her threat, she didn’t stand. Didn’t move at all. Mildly, he said, “Give the cat some water, Wraith. I won’t go there anymore, okay?”

  She looked at him suspiciously, then gave the cat some water and some of Caleb’s bacon. She didn’t like her response to him, but he knew his ability to goad her was a direct result of the fact that she was attracted to him. And fighting it. Just like him.

  “Can I ask you a question, though? All hostility aside?”

  She just stared at him, which he took for her consent.

  “Have any of your partners been able to touch you without causing you pain?”

  She hesitated only briefly before replying, “No.”

  It was the answer he’d been expecting, but not the one he wanted.

  She started to get up, then met his gaze directly. “It wouldn’t be any different with you. No luck of the Irish, not when it comes to me. You understand that, right?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

  “So let’s just get the mission over with, O’Flare, okay? The sooner we do, the sooner we can find out who I was, and the sooner I can leave and get back to where I belong.”

  “And where is that?”

  “Away from you.”

  Amazing how those three words hurt him. Perhaps sensing that, she shook her head. “Look, let’s just get going—”

  Abruptly, she stopped talking. Looked over his head at something and narrowed her eyes.

  Caleb tensed. “What is it?”

  She looked down at him then jerked her chin in the direction of the window.

  From his place in the booth, Caleb turned and saw what she was seeing. Two men messing with his bike. “Shit.”

  Wraith sprinted for the door with him just behind her.

  “Take care of my cat,” she told the wide-eyed waitress. Then she said to Caleb, “I’ve got the big one,” as they both shot out of the restaurant.

  “Of course you do,” Caleb muttered.

  The two men, one definitely bigger than the other, whipped around, saw them, and took off running in different directions.

  Having obviously heard Caleb’s comment, Wraith shot him a grin—a fucking honest-to-goodness grin—before she veered to follow her mark.

  Wraith pumped her legs faster, steadily gaining ground on the man. “Stop,” she yelled. “Don’t make this harder on yourself.”

  Of course he didn’t listen to her. No one ever did. Kind of hard to blame them when something that looked like her was after them.

  He headed toward a steel-framed building surrounded by mounds of junked-out cars and piles of trash. When he made a sharp turn around the building, Wraith immediately stopped, drew her weapon, and put her back against the wall so she could peer around the corner and into the alley where he’d disappeared.

  No sign of him. He was obviously hiding behind one of the Dumpsters that were scattered erratically down the narrow corridor.

  She pulled back and shouted, “My partner and I saw you fiddling around with our bike. Just relax. You don’t need this kind of trouble. Why don’t you come out and talk to me?”

  Silence followed for several moments before the man shouted back. “I ain’t going back to jail, bitch! I’ll kill you first.”

  “Tell you what. I have no interest in hauling you anywhere. We can figure this out. It doesn’t have to get dirty.” She realized as she spoke that she was applying some of Felicia’s verbal judo techniques. The hostage negotiator had once taught Wraith a humiliating lesson about the benefits of using intellect as opposed to force in certain situations. At the time, Wraith had felt disdain for the human female’s philosophies. Today, she’d applied Felicia’s lesson without thought. Imagine that.

  Holding her weapon in front of her, Wraith cautiously entered the alley, taking care to scope out any places the man could be hiding before moving forward. She heard some thuds and screams in the distance, telling her that Caleb had caught up with the man’s companion.

  “You hear that? Looks like your buddy is being taken down. My partner will be here soon, and then you’ll have to face the both of us. You won’t like that, I promise.”

  He didn’t respond. Wraith was halfway down the alley when a door suddenly opened behind her. Wraith flinched toward the sound, just for a second, but it was long enough for the man to get a drop on her, a gun in his hand. He alternated his aim between her and the person who’d opened the door—a young, wide-eyed human kid, maybe about sixteen, dressed in stained overalls.

  “Whoa. Whoa.” She didn’t know who she was talking to, the boy, the man, herself, or all of them. “Look. Don’t do this. Like I said, I’m not here to—”

  “Shut up.” From the way his gun was shaking, Wraith suspected the guy was high enough on adrenaline to actually pull the trigger.

  “Drop the gun or I’m gonna shoot him! Now, bitch.”<
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  On the outside, she remained calm. On the inside, because of the kid, her nerves were as jumpy as his.

  “Put your gun down or I’ll shoot!”

  She jolted as he yelled the words. Slowly relaxing her stance, she lowered her arm, pointing her gun toward the ground but held on to the grip. The man immediately walked up to her and pushed the barrel of his gun to her head. The barrel skipped erratically against her temple as his hand continued to shake.

  He was hyped up on something. Meth, probably.

  She watched him as his gaze skittered nervously between her and the kid.

  “Let him go. You don’t need him. You don’t need me.”

  “He said you’d be tricky,” he mumbled.

  “Who? Who said that?” She immediately thought of Joanna and her male companion, Michel. Had he sent someone for her after all? But she couldn’t imagine Michel sending this junkie. He was too amateur. He actually thought he was going to get the best of her. If it weren’t for the kid, she’d have taken him down already. Besides, Michel seemed like someone who would come after her himself.

  The man glanced at her nervously. “Drop the gun first.”

  She nodded. Slowly bent her knees until she could place the gun on the ground.

  As she straightened, she said, “Now let him go. Please.”

  “Go on. Get out of here,” he shouted to the kid. The kid ran from the alley as if it were on fire.

  Shifting her right leg slightly behind her, she held up both her hands. “So, you going to tell me who you’re working for? Seeing as how you’re going to kill me and all.”

  “I’m not supposed to kill you. We was just supposed to—”

  Wraith sprung, swinging herself out of the line of fire and elbowing him in the face. Almost simultaneously, she grabbed the gun with both hands and performed a C move with her right leg, sweeping it 180 degrees. She violently pushed the gun toward him, and he screamed as she dislocated his trigger finger. He fired the gun, and shards of heat grazed her face. Taking advantage of his pain-induced weakness, Wraith twisted the gun so that she could control him with a reverse wristlock. With his arm locked straight, she applied enough pressure to dislocate his elbow and drive him to the ground.