Blaze of Secrets (Asylums for Magical Threats)
Page 5
When she didn’t move to cover herself, Jaxton decided that the first rule of Kiarra’s training would require the Ward family specialty: bluntness.
He gestured toward the blanket. “If you’re not going to use the bloody thing, then I’m going to take it back.” She looked up, her eyes widened in surprise. “Well, what’s it to be?”
Kiarra caressed the blanket like it was a long-lost treasure, but made no move to cover herself. Jaxton, never one to back down from a threat, reached out with his hand to snatch it back. That kicked her into action, and she pulled the blanket tight around her body.
Kiarra stopped shivering and a part of him relaxed at the fact, but he didn’t think too hard about why her well-being mattered. “Right. Now that you’re no longer in danger of catching pneumonia, let’s get down to business.” He took a step toward Kiarra and she huddled deeper into the blanket before squeezing her eyes closed.
Oh, hell no. He was having none of that. Jaxton crossed the space between them and took her chin in his hand. She flinched and he forced his voice to remain level yet gentle. “Look at me.”
The second rule of Kiarra’s training? Push.
When she didn’t react, he squeezed her chin gently and Kiarra finally opened her eyes, but he couldn’t read her expression. “What do you think I’m going to do to you, Kiarra?” He raised her chin another inch. Her breathing was fast now, tickling his wrist. “And be honest. I can tell if you lie to me.”
He held her gaze, glad that she didn’t look away. She tugged the blanket closer around her body and mumbled something, but he couldn’t make it out.
“Say it louder.”
“Punish me.”
“And what do you think is a good punishment?” She mumbled again, so he tapped the soft skin under her chin. “Never mumble. Yours words are meant to be heard.”
She searched his eyes, but said nothing. He tapped her chin again and she finally spoke up. “Whatever you think is best.”
Jaxton let go of her chin and crouched down so that he was eye level with her. “Take a look around you. Does this look like the AMT?”
“No.”
“Exactly. No one’s going to beat you, starve you, or whatever the hell else they do inside the Cascade F-block.” He leaned in closer and the smell of sweet grass filled his nose. Despite his proximity, she didn’t flinch. “As long as you don’t betray me or my men, no harm will befall you. Do you understand?”
They stared eye to eye, but her scent was starting to surround him. He wondered if her hair smelled just as good.
Where the hell did that come from? This was a mentally scarred first-born, put into his charge. He could not view her as anything other than a recruit.
Luckily she nodded, interrupting his thoughts. “Yes,” she said clearly, without mumbling.
Jaxton stood up and took a few steps back to clear his head. “Good. Make sure that you don’t forget it.”
When Jaxton finally put some distance between them, Kiarra let out the breath she’d been holding. She’d managed not to flinch beyond his first touch, but it’d taken everything she’d had not to fidget under his direct gaze.
She still couldn’t wrap her head around his actions. She’d openly stood up to him, at one point even attacking him when she’d rushed to help the other rescued AMT prisoner, but he hadn’t issued any punishment. Not even a mild one, such as withholding food for the next twenty-four hours.
No, instead of a punishment, he’d given her a blanket.
Jaxton took another step back, garnering her attention. “Now, why don’t you tell me about the experiment wing inside the Cascade F-block?”
Kiarra rested her chin on her knees. It was only natural that Jaxton would ask about the experiments, but talking about them might bright back the memories she’d fought so hard to forget.
But she was willing to try if it meant she could get more information, especially since Neena had been less than helpful.
She looked up at Jaxton and said, “Only if you tell me about DEFEND first.” He kept quiet and she waited for him to strike her for speaking up, but he said nothing, so she added, “Neena mostly talked about what the letters stood for, but not the organization itself.”
He stared her down a few more seconds and Kiarra wondered if she’d made a mistake. But luckily his lilting voice filled her ears before she could panic. “Neena rarely makes sense and only tells you what she wants to tell you, never a word more.” He moved to lean against the dresser. “In a show of good faith, I’ll give you the overview. But don’t fuck with me, Kiarra. If you don’t hold up your end this time, don’t expect me to ever exchange information again.”
His honesty was refreshing, but his tone only reinforced the idea of staying on his good side. “Tell me about DEFEND.”
Jaxton uncrossed his arms and placed his hands on either side of his hips. “DEFEND is a first-born activist group, started a little over ten years ago by two escaped first-borns. Its goal is to gain enough public support to dismantle all of the AMT compounds and set the first-borns free.”
This might be her only shot at information, so she forced herself to say, “But the AMT compounds still exist. First-borns aren’t running around on the street, enjoying their freedom. What has DEFEND accomplished in the last ten years? Anything?”
Jaxton leaned forward. “I think you’ve forgotten that we agreed to an information exchange. It’s your turn, pet.”
She wanted to protest and say that two sentences didn’t really constitute an overview, but Kiarra didn’t want to push her luck.
Still, this wasn’t going to be easy. Each first-born was required to keep their experiment-related experiences private or risk being carted away to a secret room, never to be seen again.
Kiarra took a deep breath, the smell of clean laundry soap filling her nose, reminding her that she was no longer a prisoner. No one was going to cart her away for more tests. Or enforce compliance
Meeting Jaxton’s gaze, Kiarra found the strength to say what needed to be said. “Within the first year of entering the AMT, first-borns are put in front of a panel and assigned to one of three types of experiments.”
Everyone remembered their sorting day. Even now, she couldn’t block out her memory as a young teen.
She’d stood up in front of a panel of men and women while they’d discussed her as if she wasn’t there. While afraid, Kiarra hadn’t yet morphed into a compliant inmate. She’d kept her chin up, unafraid of punishment, looking for ways to challenge them.
Eventually, her refusal to answer the panel’s questions had cost her. Within the hour, they’d whisked her away to her first compliance session.
After a full day of verbal abuse and conditioning, she’d experienced firsthand that the AMT wasn’t a compound created for first-borns’ safety; it was a prison, where first-borns had no rights.
She’d only been thirteen years old.
“Earth to Kiarra.”
Jaxton’s gentle yet firm voice brought her back to the present. She looked up at his face, surprised to find a lack of pity, only interest, and that encouraged her to keep going. “Each experiment track has its own pros and cons. Once assigned, the inmate goes through weekly sessions, unique to each individual.”
“But what are the three tracks?”
“They refer to them officially as the psychological, breeding, and gene therapy tracks.”
Jaxton clenched the edge of the dresser, his eyes dangerous. But as quickly as it appeared, his expression cleared. “Which one do you think Garrett went through?”
“Who’s Garrett?”
“My brother.”
So F-840’s name was Garrett.
She opened her mouth to explain, but snapped it shut as she realized that this was supposed to be an information exchange and right now the scales were tipped in Jaxton’s favor. She wanted to even it out, but after that flare of danger a minute ago in Jaxton’s eyes, withholding information about his older brother might set him off.
She’d better seize that offer before she lost her nerve. She raised her chin a few inches and said, “I’ve given you more information than you’ve given me, and I think that I should be able to ask another question.”
His lips twitched, confusing Kiarra. She hadn’t said anything funny.
Jaxton stood up and took a step toward her, but she found it easier to hold her ground compared to twenty minutes ago.
“Then ask me something,” he said.
He’d told her to say what she was thinking, so she jumped in with both feet. “What’s going to happen to me once I finish your training?”
“Honestly?” He shrugged. “I don’t know. But, after we figure out your strengths and weaknesses, Neena, or Aislinn—the other DEFEND co-leader—will probably give you an assignment. Whatever it is, you’ll have DEFEND’s network at your disposal. Someone will always have your back.”
Neena deciding her fate was a scary prospect, but maybe the other person, Aislinn, would be more normal.
From her experience, people only helped others for personal gain. Jaxton’s words were probably meant to comfort her, but Kiarra wouldn’t fall into his trap, hoping and wishing someone would give a damn about her.
Jaxton glanced at his watch and straightened from leaning against the dresser. “I know this is a lot to take in and that you’re probably tired, but I need you to answer my questions about Garrett. Tell me and you’ll have the rest of the night free.”
“Do I have to stay inside this room?”
He shook his head. “Just stay inside the house. Don’t open doors without knocking, or you might not like what you see.”
Why would he…Oh. Kiarra’s cheeks heated. It’d been almost ten years since she’d last seen a naked man.
He cleared his throat, which made her cheeks burn hotter. She hoped he couldn’t read her mind.
“So, which type do you think Garrett suffered through?” he asked.
Garrett’s condition was a cold slap in the face. Torture, because that was what honestly happened inside the AMT, no matter the nomenclature, would do that. “I could be wrong, but his symptoms of wild fits, aversion to touch, and his response to that particular tune all point toward the psychological experiments.”
Jaxton raised an eyebrow. “What do they entail?”
Kiarra gave a sad smile. “I don’t know. But the guards often took bets on how long a prisoner would last. Usually it wasn’t long.”
She peered at Jaxton, but despite her revelations about his brother, his face remained expressionless. That was a trick Kiarra was going to have to perfect here, on the outside, too. Inside the AMT, disguising emotion was tantamount to survival, but ever since Jaxton had charged into her cell, she hadn’t been able to control her emotions like before.
Jaxton went to the door and said, “Be downstairs tomorrow at 9 a.m. We’re going to start your self-defense training right away.”
Then he left before she could reply.
Chapter Seven
The next morning, Jaxton stood at the foot of the stairs, tapping the flat top of the newel post with his hand.
Kiarra was late.
After finding little of import last night in his intelligence backlog, in addition to only nabbing four hours of sleep, his temper was short.
Last night, Taka had wanted him to push Kiarra for more information. The man had a hunch about why Kiarra had had a knife pressed to her wrist, but declined sharing the information until he was more certain. When he’d tried ordering Taka to tell him anyway, Taka had said that he was keeping quiet on Neena’s orders and Jaxton would have to take it up with her.
In their two years of working together, that had been the first time that Taka hadn’t been completely forthright with him, which irritated Jaxton all the more.
The floor creaked from above and he looked to find Kiarra standing at the top of the stairs. Gone was her gray baggy AMT uniform and in its place were tight black workout pants and a billowing purple shirt.
Like any straight, red-blooded male would, Jaxton gave her a once-over. As his gaze lingered on her shapely legs, Kiarra tugged on her shirt, clearly embarrassed. He had no idea why, as any man would love to have those beauties wrapped around his waist.
Jaxton’s hand stilled on the newel post. What the fuck had happened to his ironclad discipline? That was twice now he’d slipped in less than twelve hours. It must be his lack of sleep playing with his mind.
Jaxton motioned for Kiarra to descend the stairs, anxious to get started. Self-defense training would help clear his mind and keep the blood in his brain. “Let’s get moving, pet. I have other things to do today.”
As expected, her mouth pinched at his words. But he’d take anger any day over seeing fear in her eyes.
When she was three steps above him, Jaxton decided training was in session. He reached out, fisted her loose shirt, and pulled, ripping the fabric. She fell forward with a squeak, crashing into his chest.
But he’d expected that and caught her, gripping her around the waist with one arm and the back of her neck with his free hand.
Smashed up against him, enveloped by his arm, she appeared tiny and fragile. She needed to gain at least a stone or two before he’d clear her for any kind of field work.
The AMT’s blatant disregard for human, or rather Feiru, rights was just what he needed to ignore the softness of her breasts now pressed against his chest. “The first rule of self-defense? Avoid loose clothing. An enemy will use it to draw you close enough for an attack, a kill, or worse, to capture you. The danger usually outweighs any benefit when it comes to concealing extra weapons or explosives. In your case, don’t risk it.”
As if his voice was a trigger, Kiarra started pressing against his chest and he released her. She eased back, her cheeks flushed. She hid her annoyance quickly, but not quickly enough. He reckoned Kiarra would break her conditioning by the end of the month, if not sooner.
He continued, “While in training, I’m giving you special permission to say whatever comes to mind. Call me a bastard if it helps to channel your anger. Swear like a sailor. The control of your emotions is the only way you’ll excel in the training room or out in the field.”
She stood silent, her expression unreadable. Most people would be annoyed as hell by now with her reluctance, but Jaxton knew the basics of a successful rehabilitation. To get her to act and think without hesitation, Jaxton just needed to give her some encouragement.
He saw that the seam of her shirt was ripped on one shoulder, the band of a blue sports bra peeking out, and knew what to do. He darted out a hand, fisted her shirt again, and pulled. But as she fell, he spun her around so that her back was to his front. Before she had the chance to struggle, he tugged at her shirt until it ripped all the way down the seam and he was able to pull it away from her body. He wrapped his arm around her ribcage, but despite the chill in the air, her skin was almost feverish.
Tossing the rag aside, he murmured, “Come to your lessons prepared, which means no loose clothing. If you come tomorrow with another shirt, I’ll just rip that one too. Don’t disappoint me, pet.”
For a split second, the familiar feeling of fire danced across Kiarra’s skin before fading, leaving only anger. Destroying the first new clothes she’d had in more than a decade, in addition to taking liberties with his touch, was going too far. She wanted to teach Jaxton a lesson.
The thought sobered her enough to think clearly. He had instructed her to channel her anger. She was going to take him up on his offer.
She remembered how some of the guards had taken down, or at least incapacitated, some of the unruly inmates inside the AMT. Maybe mimicking those moves would work.
She forced herself to relax, hoping she could catch Jaxton off guard. His hold loosened and Kiarra threw her weight against his arm, bending down to
elbow him hard in the stomach. He grunted and Kiarra was able to push out of his grip and dash halfway up the staircase.
Her heart was racing, but somehow, she’d managed to break free—and it felt pretty damn good. She couldn’t stop smiling.
She turned to let Jaxton know the boundaries he shouldn’t cross, but her words dried up in her throat at Jaxton’s expression.
Anger was not a strong enough word for it. But he’d been the one to give permission, and she wasn’t going to let him scare her again. Taking a deep breath through her nose, Kiarra lifted her chin an inch and said, “You’re the one who wanted me to do whatever it took, and I did. Next time, don’t underestimate me just because I’m small.”
Without a word, he started climbing the stairs. Every muscle in her body screamed to get moving, but she held her ground. Somehow she knew that if she didn’t stand her ground now, she never would.
He stopped three stairs below her, their eyes now level, and she noticed the unusual ring of gold around his iris.
Jaxton reached his arm out toward her, but Kiarra didn’t move; at least not until he brushed his fingers across her back and she shivered at the ticklish warmth. He voice was low, almost menacing. “How did you get these scars?”
Shit. In the heat of the moment, Kiarra had forgotten about them. The scars were ten years old and whatever pain she’d endured at the time had helped shape Kiarra to where she was today.
But judging by the expression on Jaxton’s face, he didn’t view them as nonchalantly.
Telling him the whole story would not only upset him further, but would bring back memories best forgotten, possibly undoing all the hard work she’d done so far.
But Kiarra was smart enough to know that Jaxton wouldn’t let her walk away without some sort of answer, so she said, “I would think it was obvious. I got them while inside the AMT.”
Something flitted over his face, and he drew his fingers away from her back. His green-gold eyes narrowed. “You’re under my protection now, but unless I know what we’re facing, I won’t be able to protect you. I need details, Kiarra.”