Defining Human (Only Human Book 4)

by Candace Blevins

  I’m certain Nathan locked his energy down, but mine felt as if it were searching through the cracks for the good stuff and no matter how much I tried to lock mine down, I kept losing focus. When I concentrated on what he was teaching, my aura wrapped itself around him. When I concentrated on keeping my aura to myself, I didn’t learn a damned thing.

  Finally, he said, “Follow me.” He walked us to a soundproof interrogation room. The second the door was closed, my back was to a wall and Nathan gave me all of him — his heat, his energy. He pressed against me, crushing me to the wall. Desire rushed through my veins and burned low in my torso. His hard length pressed into my hip. He growled, lifted me, and my legs wrapped around his waist.

  His lips found mine, and I let him own me.

  However, reason returned when his fingers worked the button of my pants loose, and I put my hand on his chest and turned my head.

  “I can’t do this.”

  My heart beat at least a dozen times, racing in my chest, and he finally sighed. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “We have to figure out how to be friends again.”

  “I want you so badly it hurts.” He kissed my forehead, settled me on my feet, and turned away from me. “But I can’t give myself to you.”

  “I know, Nathan.” I turned away, crossed my arms, scuff-kicked the floor. What would I tell a patient to do, if they came to me with this problem?

  “Let’s try something.” I turned to face him, but he kept his back to me. I gave him a few seconds, and when he didn’t reply, I kept going. “Instead of fighting our sexual attraction, let’s embrace as friends. My aura wants to connect with yours, so I vote we let them, but we appreciate who the other is as a friend when we do it.”

  “Having sex was supposed to erase the memories of having to tear you up inside with my barbs. It was a bad call. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not mad at you. There’s no need to apologize.”

  He turned and changed the subject. “In human form, crocodiles are as intelligent as any other human. In their half-form, some keep the majority of their human thought processes, but others are mostly reacting with their reptile brain. In a full shift, you’re dealing with a crocodile, fully in its reptile brain.”

  He’d already told me this, but it sounded like we were starting over from the beginning. I didn’t argue, but told him what I remembered. “And the reptile brain isn’t capable of complex thought, but is a single-minded predator. No wasted thought or motion.”

  “Correct. Fast, strong, and lethal. A single crocodile can take down a full-grown lion under certain circumstances. I can teach you to fight them when they’re in half-form, but you need to levitate out of their reach if they’re in full form.”

  This time, when he showed me where to strike and how to knock them off balance, I was focused and attentive, and the lessons took. When we finished, we hugged as friends and I concentrated on appreciating him for the Nathan I’d known since I met him — my coworker and friend. Loyal, honest, dependable, arrogant.

  I think he managed to pull it off on his end, too.

  “I’m headed to the range,” I told him on the way out of the interrogation room. “I get to play with some fun weapons for this job.”

  “Ryan will take you before an official when you arrive, and you’ll be given a license to carry certain types of weapons. His contract allows for his employees to carry, but each has to be vetted individually. Pay attention to what your paperwork says you can carry. It’s doubtful you’ll be cleared for automatic weapons.” He shrugged. “Then again, it’s possible he has the contacts for it. Just pay attention to the fine print. You don’t want to go to prison over there.”

  I’d seen pictures and maps of the lodge area, located just south of Nairobi and not too far from the national park. Unlike our local deer population, most gazelles can function in normal society and don't shut themselves into enclaves. The convention would be taking those interested in paying extra into the national park just south of the city, which wasn’t at all what I expected when I first heard we’d be guarding gazelles.

  Most were going to the nearby park, but of the nearly two thousand gazelles with reservations for the conference, only seventy were paying to be taken to the Maasai Mara National Reserve the day after the conference ended. Ryan, Cora, and I would accompany them, along with a few more of Ryan’s staff and a team of tour guides familiar with the park. I was looking forward to seeing non-shapeshifter lions in real life.

  “Are there differences between your lion form and the lions I’ll see in the reserve?”

  “Don’t try to pet them.”

  We made it to the top of the stairwell, said an awkward goodbye, and I made my way downstairs to the shooting range, where Ryan was already set up and waiting for me.

  Chapter 8

  Ryan handed me a fifty-caliber pistol with two grips as I walked in the door. “Cora has the strength to handle a standard fifty-cal, but let’s see how you do with this.”

  The caliber of American-sized ammo is figured in inches. A twenty-five caliber is a quarter-inch at the base. Or, technically, slightly smaller since the measurement is for the inside diameter of the barrel. A thirty-eight and a three-eighty are both three/eighths of an inch wide, though the length of the two are different. A fifty caliber is a half inch across. If we still had Tyrannosaurus Rex roaming the planet, we’d need to use fifty caliber weapons to have any chance of getting their attention. Fifty-cals kick like a hundred mules, so I didn’t argue with the double-grip. I’d have preferred a little telescoping handle out the back so I could rest it on the front of my shoulder, but then it legally becomes a short-barreled-rifle and is no longer a pistol — which is asinine, but that’s government bureaucracy for you.

  “Is this going to be my standard carry?”

  He shook his head. “You’ll have a Sig like the one you’re used to, though the ammo will be loaded heavier. You’ll have this one on you as well, and a tactical shotgun strapped to your thigh. Part of what we’ll do today is figure out where your holsters will be, and give you some practice drawing and firing.”

  As expected, the dinosaur gun kicked badly enough I wanted to put it right down, but I held on and kept shooting until I could accurately hit inside a five-inch circle at thirty yards. It took a while, and I was shaky when I sat down to eat a protein bar while he went over the features of the tactical shotgun.

  “I’d be happier with a traditional shotgun,” I told him. “Everything’s in the wrong place, plus it’s a pistol grip, which means I can’t brace it on my shoulder.”

  “The bullpup design means you get a long barrel in a much shorter weapon, and can holster it on your thigh instead of carrying it on your back. It’s a faster draw, and you can shoulder it if you want, though it’ll feel awkward at first. It also gives you fifteen shots without having to reload. Let’s work with it before you decide against it.”

  It was a steep learning curve on already exhausted muscles, but by the time Cora arrived, I could handle it okay.

  “Practice ammo is good, but she needs to feel the real thing before she leaves here today.” Cora’s look let him know the subject wasn’t open for debate, but Ryan nodded as if he’d planned on it anyway.

  “We’ll load field rounds once we get her holsters configured and she practices drawing and shooting.”

  “Guys, we’re going to need to go get something to eat so I can rest a little before we start that phase.” I practice in the range regularly, but I still get a big adrenaline dump when I shoot, and with a combination of the adrenaline wearing off and exhausted muscles — I wasn’t going to last much longer.

  “I’d like to see how you do with throwing knives, too,” said Ryan. “My dad was trained before gun technology kicked in, so he prefers them, which means I fall back on them a lot. Cora says you can handle them, but I need to know whether it’s worth it to outfit you.”

  “I had him add a few extras to the shotgun,” said Cora. “He held off o
n the stickers to cushion it against your cheek, but they’re available if you think you need them.”

  We shot another hour and a half before Ryan pulled out the holsters and made his suggestions. I ended up with my Sig in an external holster on my right hip in the same spot I have it when it’s concealed. The fifty-cal was on my left hip so I could cross-draw, and the shotgun hung from a belt around my waist and was strapped to my right thigh. The shotgun has an eighteen-inch barrel, and the entire gun is barely longer than two feet — but it was still too much to hang off my side.

  “I can’t maneuver with this.”

  “The old ones are used to dealing with long swords, so they don’t think it’s a big deal,” said Cora. “I think you’ll do better with a scabbard on your back though.”

  Ryan shook his head, but I couldn’t handle it where it was.

  “Let me see how it feels on my back.” I motioned to the weapon at my thigh. “This is going to cause more problems than it fixes.”

  It turns out, learning to draw a weapon from your back takes practice. A lot of practice. Still, it was easier to deal with it back there than on my side.

  I jumped and turned to the door with my weapon drawn when it slammed open. I didn’t lift it all the way up, but it was in position to shoot, which was a testament to how tightly wound I was — and how tired.

  “She’s done for the day.” Nathan looked pissed.

  I shook my head. “I’m tired, but I’d rather finish up and then eat at this point. If we stop, I won’t do as well when we start back.”

  He shook his head and it felt as if his eyes bored into me. “You’re exhausted. Mistakes happen when you’re tired.”

  “He’s right,” said Cora. “I’ve come close to saying something a dozen times over the past hour, but I didn’t figure you’d stop just because I could sense your exhaustion.”

  “How do you know she’s tired, Lion King?” Ryan asked, and he seemed way too interested in the answer.

  “We’re close, Slayer.” Nathan said the final word as if it tasted bad.

  “I know she’s bound to the wolf, is she bound to you?”

  “No!” I said, my patience wearing thin. “Nathan’s my friend, but I guess we’re as close as police partners would be, or whatever the equivalent is. We’re keyed into each other because we work together on missions so often. Also, Aaron was out of town when a bunch of shit when down, and it seemed like it was Nathan and me confronting it, which made us even closer.”

  No one said anything, so I filled in the silence. “I’m not ready to stop, but I agree it’ll be safer if I’m not working with hot weapons when I’m so tired.” I immediately saw the problem with that game plan. “But they won’t be weighted right if they’re empty.”

  I was opening my mouth to say I’d just practice another five or ten minutes when Nathan said, “You’re done. No more. Let Ryan show you how to break them down and clean them, and then I’d like to see you and Cora in my office.”

  I looked to Ryan and shrugged. “I’d have wanted at least one more practice session with them before we left, anyway. He’s probably right.”

  Breaking the shotgun down wasn’t as difficult as I’d feared, so it didn’t take long for us to clean everything and reassemble. Still, it was nearly an hour before Cora and I made it to Nathan’s office.

  Chapter 9

  Nathan sat in one of the chairs across from me in his office, his arms crossed. “Cora became aware of the way I chose to handle an issue with one of my lionesses, and she’s insisted I tell you.”

  I looked back and forth between the two. Something wasn’t right. I put feelers out and felt… damn, they were pissed at each other. My therapist brain took over, and I told Cora, “You’re furious with him for doing something, and he’s livid because you’re insisting he tell me. Why do I need to know?”

  “You’re the one saying secrets are going to get you killed.”

  “Not this one.” Nathan spoke so quietly, I barely heard him.

  I looked back and forth between them a second, and finally sat on one of the leather sofas. “Nathan won’t endanger me. I trust you both, but whatever this is…” I checked in with my gut again, and met Nathan’s gaze. “If you’re certain I won’t be in danger if I don’t know, I believe you.”

  “You need to know,” said Cora. “I won’t lie for him. Not about this.”

  “I’m not asking you to. You’ve let me know it’s something you wish I knew, but I sense pain from Nathan. You’re off the hook — if I find out what it is later, I won’t be pissed at you for not telling me.”

  “Yeah, you will. It’s only been eighteen hours and there’s probably time to mount a rescue operation now, but it’ll be too late if we wait another twelve hours.”

  “Kirsten will owe him another favor — probably several more favors,” Nathan told Cora, barely holding onto his temper. “And if Becca comes back, she has to die. At least she can live, there.”

  I leaned forward and put my head in my hands. “I’m sorry, Nathan. I think I need to know.”

  “You know how Prides work, yes? A male lion leads, the lionesses follow.”

  I stared at my feet and nodded.

  “An all-female Pride formed in the middle of nowhere, and male lions kept coming to town to try to take them over. They ran most of them off, killed a few, and did some unspeakable things to one in particular. I worked out a deal with the leader, so they can exist as they are without having to deal with being taken over, but one of the lionesses was…” He sighed. “The leader couldn’t control her, and I haven’t been able to socialize her within my Pack. My choices were to sell her outside of Abbott’s territory, or kill her. I was prepared to kill her, when…” He looked to Cora.

  “Xaephan requested he send a lioness to Hell in exchange for erasing one of Nathan’s favors. Part of the deal was he couldn’t tell any human, but he isn’t telling you. I am.”

  My gaze met Nathan’s and I was sure it clearly showed my shock. I couldn’t believe Nathan would give one of his people to Xaephan. “You didn’t!”

  “My people belong to me. I can do whatever I want with them. My predecessor had a deal to send lions and lionesses to the Prince of Hell regularly in exchange for favors. I refused, and I’ve been at odds with him since I took over. This was a step towards smoothing things over and resolved my issues with what to do with Becca. I didn’t want to kill her, but she chose death over slavery, when asked.”

  “But her choice was meaningless,” said Cora, and her voice sounded as pissed as I felt.

  “My people are aware of the trade, and why I made it. I’m not answerable to you, wolf.”

  I ran through all possible scenarios in my mind. “We aren’t on a rescue deadline,” I told Cora. “If I get a chance to talk to her, and if she prefers death to her situation, I’ll kill her in Hell without rescuing her. If she wants to stay there, she’ll stay. There’s no sense bringing her back to Earth if Nathan’s just going to kill her.” I looked to Nathan. “And until she’s been there a few months, she probably won’t know if she prefers her new life to death.”

  His entire face relaxed, and I knew his plan, the same as if he’d told me. If she was still miserable after a set amount of time, he’d have found a way to have her killed. This was at least a chance at life.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but he shook his head. “Whatever you’re thinking, if that were my plan, I’d be in breach of contract with a Demon Lord.”

  I sat back and crossed my arms. “I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt. Am I wrong to do so?”

  “Follow your gut, but don’t talk about it, please.”

  I looked to Cora, who stood with her arms at her side. She looked relaxed, but I knew her well enough to know this was her battle-ready stance.

  “I’ve met Becca,” Cora said. “She’s going to hate it. She wanted death before slavery.”

  “How’d you meet her?”

  Cora looked to Nathan, who told me, “Becca w
as living with my lionesses, and wasn’t allowed in public without one of them with her. She escaped while I was out of town, and my Pride asked for Cora’s help in tracking and taking her back into their custody. They hoped to keep her escape from me, but Cora isn’t in the habit of lying for people.” He gave her a grim smile. “A trait which gets both my respect and temper, depending on which side of the equation I fall.”

  “You both have my respect.” I looked at Cora. “Nathan says his choice was to kill her or sell her into slavery, and he’s never given me a reason not to believe him. You say you’ve met her, but how well did you know her?”

  “Well enough I want to rush into Hell to bring her back.” She glanced at Nathan and looked back to me. “She was raped and beaten on a regular basis. I’d have escaped, too.”

  “That’s the human part of you speaking,” said Nathan. “You’ve talked to my lionesses. You aren’t telling the whole story.”

  Cora crossed her arms. “The Becca they described wasn’t the woman I found and brought back.”

  “She showed you what she wanted you to see.”

  Cora pulled energy from me in a panic. She was under duress and in pain, and it made me want to lash out at Nathan.

  “Stop!” It came out of my mouth as an order, but I wasn’t in the mood to apologize. “Whatever you’re doing to Cora, stop.”

  I walked to Cora, put my arms over her shoulders, and she wrapped hers around my torso.

  Show me.

  We weren’t good at images, but we could manage when we focused. However, Cora really wanted to show me, so I saw more than I’d ever picked up from her before.

  And I saw a girl I pitied, but the therapist in me heard some duplicitous statements. I let Cora in on my take on the girl.

  She wasn’t lying about any of it. Her voice came through stubborn and pissed.

  “I know, but you know how half-truths work.” I spoke out loud so we didn’t leave Nathan out of this part of the conversation.