Brant: Science Fiction Romance (Enigma Series Book 11)

by Ditter Kellen

  “I may not have been born a Bracadyte, but I am brother to them.”

  A spark of feeling swirled through her chest at his confession. “I will tell them nothing.”

  “Promise me…”

  “You have my word.”

  Chapter Four

  Brant watched two guards enter his room and move toward the foot of his bed.

  Doctor Garcia stepped through the door behind them, holding another syringe in his hand.

  He stopped next to Brant’s bed. “I have a proposition for you, Mr. Henagar.”

  Brant stared up at the doctor’s face. “If it doesn’t include letting the female go, I’m not interested.”

  “I can’t do that, but the president is willing to compromise.”

  Holding his tongue, Brant waited for the doctor to finish.

  “You convince the creature to cooperate with us, tell us what we want to know, and her life will be spared.”

  The asshole doctor was full of shit. He also had no idea that Brant was able to communicate with Syrina. Had Garcia known, he certainly wouldn’t be in here now, attempting to bargain with him.

  Brant knew damn good and well they wouldn’t kill Syrina. Not yet at any rate. They needed her too much. Now Brant, on the other hand, was definitely disposable. “I have no idea what it is that you want to know.”

  “Everything,” the doctor insisted, his eyes glittering with impatience. “She’s hiding pertinent information that could help us, and the mere mention of testing her blood on humans nearly sent her into a frenzy. I want to know why.”

  Hoping to plant a seed of fear into the doctor’s heart, Brant lifted the corner of his mouth. “Perhaps what she didn’t want to tell you was that her blood carries bacteria that could quite possibly wipe out our entire race. And that experimenting with it in humans would trigger an apocalypse to rival the Book of Revelation.”

  Garcia took a step back. “We’re aware of the Incola virus, Mr. Henagar. We’re also aware that your CDC had a part in creating it—”

  “Yes, the CDC is responsible for Incola becoming viral, but it was originally bacteria—a Bracadyte carrying bacteria. Only one of many.”

  The doctor eyed Brant for several heartbeats. “That creature’s blood brought you back from death’s door. I saw it with my own eyes. And according to Doctor Gomez, their blood saved the lives of three humans on Playa Pilar.”

  “All of whom became feral a few days later and had to be put down,” Brant easily lied, shocked that Doctor Gomez had betrayed Oz in such a way. Well, Brant would take care of Gomez’s betraying ass as soon as he got the hell out of here.

  A muscle ticked along the doctor’s jaw, yet an unguarded uncertainty swam in the depths of his eyes. “You lie.”

  “Do I?” Brant softly countered.

  Garcia spoke to the guards as he brought the syringe to Brant’s arm. “As soon as he’s unconscious, move him in with her.”

  Brant barely felt the needle penetrate his skin, his gaze remaining pinned on Garcia.

  Recapping the syringe, the doctor looked back at the eager guard. “If what he says is true, and he becomes sick, we’ll see if she lets him die or not.”

  “And if he survives?” the guard nervously replied.

  “Then she will be forced to watch him tortured until she talks.”

  Peeling his lips back, Brant growled, “The United States military will come for us before that happens.”

  “I doubt that Mr. Henagar. As far as they know, you perished in that plane crash two nights ago.”

  Let him continue thinking that, Brant thought as the drugs he’d been injected with pulled him under. The Cuban government had no idea the Bracadytes could communicate telepathically or that Brant had the ability as well. No, Brant still held the upper hand…for the moment.

  * * * *

  Soft hands caressed Brant’s face with an urgency that brought him out of his slumber. He blinked to clear his vision and stared up into the amber-colored eyes of Syrina.

  Memory came flooding back with a vengeance. He sat up so fast, his head screamed in protest. “Are you all right?”

  “I am unharmed, but you do not look so well.”

  Brant swung his feet over the side of his bed and took in his surroundings. Another bed sat in the center of the room, a couple feet away from Brant’s, with a barred window behind it. Nothing else occupied the space apart from two doors.

  Syrina jumped up as Brant attempted to stand. “What are you doing?”

  He swayed on his feet, his head swimming from the sudden movement. “How long have we been here?”

  “Nearly three days,” came her soft reply.

  No wonder Brant’s stomach felt as if it were eating his backbone. “We have to get out of here.”

  “I have tried the door, but it appears to be made of steel and locked from the outside.”

  Of course it is, Brant thought with no surprise. “Where does the other door lead?”

  “To the toilet. There is a shower in there as well, but I have not used it yet. They only released me a short time ago, and I did not want to leave you alone while you were unconscious.”

  Brant’s gaze lowered to her wrists, noticing the chafed areas on her skin. He took hold of her hand and gently brushed his thumb across the angry red marks. “Did they hurt you?”

  Syrina shook her head. “I do not think the doctor would have allowed it. They seem to fear him.”

  “It’s not him they fear.” Brant released his hold on her hand. “It’s Mendoza. And rightfully so from what I’ve heard.”

  Brant scanned the room in search of a camera and then slipped effortlessly into Syrina’s mind. “I don’t see any cameras in here, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have listening devices. Until we get out of here, we keep conversation to a minimum, and anything of importance will be communicated this way. Understood?”

  “I understand. I have been in contact with Zyen. He has informed me that they are near, somewhere outside the city.”

  Brant knew that Syrina would have contacted Zyen by now. “I was about to reach out to Gryke. He’s probably tried connecting with me, but I’ve been drugged since I’ve been here.”

  Gryke picked that moment to enter Brant’s thoughts. “We are near, brother. How do you fare?”

  Brant kept his gaze on Syrina while he filled Gryke in on everything that had recently happened. “Where are they holding us? I assume we’re in Havana?”

  “We do not know your exact location, but we are working on it,” Gryke sent back. “It is taking everything I have to stop Fiona from racing in and blowing up the entire city.”

  “Tell her not to do anything stupid. They’ve moved me to the room they’re holding Syrina in.”

  Gryke’s confusion was instant. “That is surprising. What purpose would they have to put you together?”

  “They have plans to experiment with Syrina’s blood, but not until they see what effects it has on me first.”

  “They are going to give you Syrina’s blood?” Gryke quickly sent back.

  Brant hesitated, knowing that Syrina listened to his every word.

  He broke eye contact with her to answer Gryke. “They already have.”

  “I tried to convince them that the Bracadytes carry certain bacteria that reacts negatively in humans,” Brant continued when Gryke remained silent. “Hopefully it’ll buy us some time.”

  Chapter Five

  Syrina listened to the exchange between Brant and Gryke, not missing the regret in Brant’s voice when he informed the Bracadyte of her blood in his veins.

  Why did she care if he wasn’t happy about receiving her blood? She wasn’t jumping for joy over that fact herself.

  It wasn’t that Brant was unworthy in any way, and truth be told, she found him quite comely. But Syrina had always prided herself on her independence, and when the day came for her to choose a mate, it certainly wouldn’t be a land walker.

  Over the past few months, Syrina had come to
care about some of the humans in Aukrabah, especially Fiona and her son Andrew. Yet as much as she loved Aukrabah and all its inhabitants, Syrina intended to return home to Arkadia at some point—once King Kryten permitted it. And her father would never allow her to dwell within Arkadia’s walls if she were mated to a human.

  But she wasn’t mated to Brant, she reminded herself. His blood didn’t flow in her veins, nor had she taken him inside her body. No, she was merely connected to him.

  Giving Brant her back, Syrina smoothed her palms down the front of the golden sarong she wore and attempted to block out her hunger.

  She’d been tied down for the past three days without food or nourishment of any kind. To make matters worse, they’d been taking her blood at regular intervals, leaving her weak from the loss.

  “You need blood.” Brant’s voice whispered through her mind.

  Syrina started at the unwelcome assessment and turned to face him. “It is nothing to concern yourself with. I will be fine.”

  He stared back at her for several moments, his jaw hard and unyielding. “You’re weak. I can feel it.”

  “Not as weak as you,” she returned.

  Softening her expression, she amended, “I appreciate your concern for me, Brant, but you should conserve your strength for yourself. Though you are healing at a rapid rate, you nearly died from a head injury. You are not out of danger yet.”

  His jaw tightened even more if that were possible. “You’re right about that. And when I don’t soon show signs of becoming sick or feral, they will torture me while you watch. They’ll do whatever it takes to make you talk.”

  Syrina swallowed hard, unable to take her gaze from Brant’s hazel-colored eyes.

  He took a step forward, his words clear inside her head as if he’d spoken them aloud. “No matter what they do to me, no matter how bad it gets, you keep quiet. If the Cuban government learns of the Bracadytes’ abilities, they will stop at nothing to get what they want. From Aukrabah to Arkadia…no one will be safe. That includes my sister and nephew. I will die before I let that happen.”

  Syrina’s respect for Brant grew with every second that passed. “I will not talk, brother of Fiona. You have my word.”

  Relief sparked in his eyes. He sent her a quick nod and turned toward the door, speaking aloud as he went, “We have to get out of here.”

  “I have tried that many times.” Syrina moved to stand next to him. “Perhaps if we pool our strength, we might have a better chance.”

  Pressing her shoulder against the door, Syrina waited on Brant’s nod and then pushed with everything she had. But the door held firm.

  “Son of a bitch,” Brant growled, his face growing paler by the second. He staggered back a step, unsteady on his feet.

  Syrina rushed to his side. “You need to lie down. Your strength has not yet returned.”

  “I’m fine,” he argued, obviously not wanting to appear weak in front of her.

  She slipped into his mind to keep their captors from overhearing. “You are not fine. Go back to the bed and rest.”

  His lifted his head and met her worried gaze. “You’re the one who needs to rest. How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”

  Not backing down, Syrina sent back, “I am not the injured one. It will do us no good if you relapse. We must be ready when the others arrive.”

  Brant simply nodded and staggered back to his bed.

  Once his head touched the pillow, Syrina moved toward the bathroom, her gaze straying to the exit as she went.

  Brant cleared his throat. “What are you doing?”

  It took her a moment to realize he’d spoken aloud. “I am going to use the facilities.”

  When he didn’t respond, she entered the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

  Dizziness assailed her. She turned on the water to the shower, stripped out of her sarong, and stepped under the spray.

  The cool, healing water sluicing down her body felt amazing to Syrina. She tilted her head back, opened her mouth, and drank to her heart’s content.

  Some kind of sweet-smelling soap rested on a small ledge in the shower. She plucked it up and went about removing the remnants of the plane crash from her body.

  Her mind drifted to Brant and the life-threatening injuries he’d sustained in that crash. Though Syrina resented Mendoza for taking them against their will, Brant would have died had he not. And Syrina didn’t want Brant to die. He was Fiona’s brother. A very handsome brother…

  Chapter Six

  Brant could feel Syrina’s emotions spilling from that bathroom as surely as if he stood in there with her.

  Her confusion, her helplessness and rage poured through him in a whirlwind of chaos he was powerless to block out.

  Brant’s breathing slowed to a crawl the longer her thoughts filtered through his psyche. She thought him handsome…

  His stomach flipped with that realization.

  Obviously preoccupied with her anxiety, Syrina was unaware that her mind had opened to Brant. And though he felt guilty for eavesdropping on her thoughts, eavesdrop, he did.

  The door across the room suddenly opened, catching Brant off guard. He’d been so caught up in Syrina’s feelings he hadn’t sensed the enemy’s approach.

  A tall, dark-haired man stepped into the room with an equally tall, balding man tight on his heels. Both men carried trays of food.

  The door shut behind them.

  “Doctor Garcia wants you to eat,” the balding man barked with a heavy accent.

  Syrina picked that moment to step out of the bathroom.

  Her wet hair lay over her shoulders to drip down the front of her sarong. The silky gold material clung to her full breasts, accenting her erect nipples.

  Brant forced his gaze from Syrina’s chest to find both the guards leering at her and practically drooling on their boots.

  The balding one quickly set the tray he held on the floor at his feet and motioned Syrina forward.

  “You fucking touch her, and I’ll rip out your throat with my bare hands!” Brant was on his feet before the guard realized his intent.

  Pulling the pistol from the holster at his side, the balding guard raised it to Brant’s head. “Stop right there.”

  Without taking his gaze from Brant, the guard spoke to his dark-haired companion. “Tie him.”

  Brant saw red. He knew without a doubt what would happen if they tied him to that bed. They would force Syrina.

  “Syrina, run!” Brant sent through her mind as he bolted forward and slammed into the balding guard.

  They went down hard near the foot of Syrina’s bed. Brant straddled the guard, his fist connecting with the guy’s face multiple times before the sound of his companion’s voice penetrated Brant’s rage.

  “I’ll kill her!”

  Brant stilled, his fist poised above the balding guy’s face.

  “Now, get up or I’ll put a bullet in her brain.”

  Pushing to his feet, Brant backed away from the fallen guard and turned to face Syrina.

  She stood in front of the dark-haired guy with one of his arms around her waist and the other holding a pistol to her head.

  The man on the floor rolled to his knees, wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, and stood.

  He slammed a fist into Brant’s jaw, sending stars erupting behind his eyes. But Brant didn’t go down. He had far too much adrenaline pumping through his veins to go down.

  “Bind him, Mateo,” the one holding Syrina barked.

  Mateo moved to Brant’s back, gripped his arms, and jerked them behind him. Within seconds Mateo had Brant’s wrists secured with what he assumed were zip-ties.

  “I swear to God,” Brant ground out between gritted teeth, “if you touch her—”

  “You’ll what?” Mateo gripped the back of Brant’s hair and jerked his head back. “You’re not in a position to do a damn thing but watch while Diego samples the goods.”

  The one known as Diego laughed, a low, disgusting s
ound that nauseated Brant.

  Mateo suddenly kicked the back of Brant’s leg, forcing him to his knees. Mateo knelt behind him and wrapped his forearm around Brant’s neck.

  Memories of Melinda’s terrified screams exploded through Brant’s mind to mingle with the laughter and taunts of the soldiers who’d tortured her.

  A cold sweat popped out on Brant’s forehead.

  “Don’t do this,” Brant growled, his gaze locked on Diego. He couldn’t look at Syrina for fear of what he’d see.

  The corner of Diego’s mouth lifted, and the arm he had around Syrina’s waist moved upward until his palm slipped inside the top of her sarong. “Do what? This?” He covered her breast and squeezed.

  Syrina’s eyes slid shut, but she didn’t cry out.

  “You piece of shit!” Brant snarled, fighting against the hold Mateo had around his neck.

  Diego abruptly released Syrina’s breast, gripped the material near her neck, and gave it a yank. The sarong floated to the floor to pool at her feet.

  Mateo whistled next to Brant’s ear. “My God, will you look at that.”

  In that moment, Brant didn’t care about anything but the look of humiliation in Syrina’s eyes. He reared his head back, slamming his skull into Mateo’s nose.

  The satisfying sound of bone breaking filled the room, followed by a roar from Mateo.

  Mateo stumbled to his feet, brought his leg up, and kicked Brant in the side of his head.

  Brant’s world turned dark.

  Chapter Seven

  Syrina watched in helpless horror as Brant toppled over to his side, unconscious. She wanted to run to him, to help him in any way she could, but the guard known as Diego held his weapon to her head.

  Diego gave her a shove. “Go lie down on the bed.”

  Syrina dug in her heels. She knew what would happen if he got her on that bed.

  “Shoot him,” Diego demanded of Mateo.

  That was all the encouragement Syrina needed. They would kill Brant if she resisted.