by Rena Marks
“We also have glasses for you, Zee,” Steele said. “To cover up the Midas eyeballs.” He slid a pair of shades down the table. “There are wrist monitors for all that will let you know how long signals are scrambled for. The monitors are linked to the trackers you’ll be placing.”
“Okay,” Jason said, standing up. “Any questions?”
Zee cracked his knuckles. He was ready for this.
Chapter Six
X eno Sapiens cloaked in hoods had the oddest effect of attracting more attention than when they were bared. Yet they milled about the public areas as if waiting for their conference to begin. It was agreed earlier to split up to give Zee the freedom to roam the facilities.
Freedom being a loose word. It felt like every eye in the place was glued to them.
But the briefest scent wafted across the room and Zee’s focus narrowed in on one man. Paler than the average Earth-Ground human, obviously from one of the floating cities where there was UV protectant within the clear walls.
And what would he be doing on Earth-Ground? The scrawny, dark haired male waited at the elevator, expecting to go up to the top floor. He impatiently watched the scrolling lights as the elevator came down to him.
Zee opened a telepathic link. What’s at the top level?
There was a few seconds reprieve while someone got him the answer.
A real estate development company. Why? Are you onto something?
I smell her scent on someone going to the top floor.
The penthouse is exclusive. We’ll attract too much attention if we’re interested in it. Let him go and we can use facial recognition to find out who he is.
It took every ounce of self control to go against his instincts and allow the human to remain at the elevator. But as the doors opened to let the man on, another stepped off.
They acknowledged each other briefly, holding the door open to whisper. Zealish pushed the button in his ear and kept his eyes on the speaking men.
Their voices magnified as all other sounds in the room drowned out.
“What the hell’s going on here today? Xeno Sapiens in our midst?”
“Just a conference to educate the public. They kept it secret to not cause a ruckus. It has nothing to do with us.”
“Are we sure?”
“Definitely. It’s been planned a while. If it hadn’t been, they wouldn’t have scheduled the court hearing for tomorrow. Two outings in the same week.” There was a brief inflection on the words court hearing.
“How many of us are going?”
The first male snorted. “This one is secure. We’ll leave a skeletal crew of four or six on her and go get the other with everyone else we can spare. Once we have both, we’ll move locations again. Just to be on the safe side.”
The elevator door began dinging since it had been held open so long. With a look between them, the males split up, one stepping into the elevator and the other looking around the room.
Zealish averted his eyes.
The male was headed toward the east exit of the building—one that headed to parking areas. The lot was well lit with cameras and recording devices. Zee hit the button on his wrist device that killed the recording frequency and quickly followed the male to the parking lot. It wouldn’t do to have cameras capturing what he was about to do.
Like most humans, the male hit his hovercar remote as soon as he cleared the doors, signaling which vehicle was his.
Unfortunately, the male was walking toward it. Even if Zee tossed the small, exploding ball of air at him when he entered the hovercraft, there was a chance that the doors might close before the time freeze could expand. Or, he could explode it now while he was walking and see what happened.
Zee tossed the marble at his feet. The man froze in midstep.
Fifteen seconds wasn’t a lot of time, so Zee hurried to the craft and slapped a tracker inside under the front seat. Technically a tracker could be placed on the outside of a vehicle, but if there should be an accident, it could get bumped off. Not to mention, they could have devices that scan the outer metals of a vehicle. No one would suspect someone placing a tracker inside a vehicle, because how would a stranger get inside?
As soon as the tracker was firm, he slammed the door closed and returned to the front doors of the parking garage, where he could watch from the safety of the glass but be away from cameras in case they clicked on. Not that they should, he still had several minutes on the scrambler, but it didn’t hurt to be safe.
As soon as his awareness unfroze, the male stumbled, not expecting his foot to be up in mid-step. He tripped with a shout, falling to his knees. Stupidly, he stared around at the ground, as if half expecting a bump in the concrete to appear that might have tripped him.
Now Zee understood what Pax had meant by saying the brain compensated for the time freeze.
Finally, the male shrugged and picked himself up, heading toward his hovercraft. He started it, lifted off, and sped away.
Zee looked down at the monitor on his wrist. The frequency was still scrambled.
Everything go okay? Brax whispered in his mind.
I think so. Just waiting for the scrambler to fix itself so I can make sure the tracker was good.
You might want to make your way back. We can’t have a hooded Xeno gone for too long, especially when the drones pick up on you watching the parking lot.
Good point. Thanks. Zee was so caught up in the plot, he hadn’t even thought about the drones kicking on in the parking lot. He’d have to be more careful. He moved away from the back door, heading swiftly into the public area.
Frequencies restored. This time it was Reson who communicated, notifying everyone of the return to normal.
Zee glanced down at his monitor to see the hovercraft in the maze of traveling cars heading past the airport structure.
As we suspected, Steele said. Heading toward unpopulated areas. We’ll snap a map picture of where it stops.
And I’ll head out, Zee said.
Once it’s dark, Renegade reminded him. We’ll all head out to study the area. The retrieval needs to be tomorrow when their security is lax.
Zealish fought against the impulse to growl. A lot could happen to his mate between tonight and tomorrow. But he knew he had to temper his instincts with intellectual thought processes. There was a fine balance to achieve between the two.
He slipped into the conference.
Jason was speaking. “Thank you all for attending. We’d like to tell you a bit about life on Xenia and how we’ve returned to the old ways of growing food and raising cattle. I mean, the very old ways. We don’t use any science that may be directly related to the food—no hormones for the animals, which had been shown in the past to pass directly into meat. Our chickens are allowed to roam free and eggs are harvested daily.”
“In what ways do you use science?”
“We’ve created clouds, which is an oversimplified way of explaining a difficult process. They run on a tight schedule, watering the fields each day. Rainfall is a healthier and more nutritious option than sprinkler systems, as we all know. So if science can assist us in returning to the old ways, we’re all about that. What we’re not about is using science to mass produce food products, such as food replication.”
A camera clicked.
Jason sighed. “Before we go on, I might remind everyone that we are not here to focus on Xeno Sapiens, including selling photos to the press. For that simple matter, we have a device that has scrambled camera photo rays. Please do not bother to try your cameras. It is another reason why our men, while willing to speak with you, are not interested in removing their hoods. They choose to be known for what is right here”—he tapped his forehead—“instead of for their pretty looks.”
A couple people snickered at his joke.
The conference went on all day, time dragging torturously as if Zee watched water boil.
Zee checked his monitor frequently, wanting to make sure the male from the penthouse offices stayed
in one location. He did.
Bingo. That was the spot where Angela was kept.
Chapter Seven
A ngela felt herself stirring to consciousness slowly. It was like rising through thick gel, the likes of which slowly leaked out of her eyes, nose, mouth, ears, and finally, her brain. The cottony, numbed feeling slowly went away as she broke the surface of consciousness like an underwater swimmer.
Of course, the knowledge that she was captive came to her. This seemed to be a game with the captors, waking her to taunt her. To test her while still in a stupor. So far she managed to remember she was pretending to be Everly. It was utmost on her mind, because protecting her sister was most important to her.
“Your sister’s coming, Everly,” the voice said. “Won’t it be nice to finally see her?”
She shook her head, trying to clear it of cobwebs.
“We’re going to hurt Angela. Reopen that scar she has on her head and see what went wrong.”
Her scar. Obviously the makeup was still in effect. It was supposed to be waterproof—but it was also supposed to wear off on its own.
None of them knew when.
“Of course, we may not need to open her up if you’d talk to us. Tell us when you started to feel the abilities. Was it when you reached adulthood? Adolescence? Had you ever expended them prior to that fateful day?”
She didn’t respond.
“Tell me, Everly. Was Angela aware of these powers within you? Did you ever talk about it?”
“She shouldn’t be giving us this much resistance.” A different voice said. “Attach the electrodes.”
Something was brought down over her head.
“Everly, I need an answer. Do you remember having the powers as a child?”
She held her tongue.
A searing pain exploded inside her head, setting off a siren. It was shut off abruptly, and she realized the siren was her scream. She stopped, her chest heaving with exertion.
The two people in the room were in the middle of an argument.
“The questions aren’t as important as the ramifications of damaging her brain! Angela was the one for pain and experimentation, not Everly.”
“Nonsense! We have her now. We have to as much out of her as we can.”
“It’s not long before we get Angela, too. We have to keep Everly safe until then. This is taking too much risk.”
There was a deep sigh. “Fine,” a voice snapped.
The familiar numb of drugs flooded her limbs. And when she dreamed, she dreamed of Zee.
* * * * *
Goddess, Zealish had the most beautiful hair ever. Rich, thick, glossy. Carefully she brushed it out over the pillow.
“Angela?” A female voice came over the intercom. It sounded like Dr. Amanda, but she couldn’t be sure. She was still aware of being held captive in the hidden facilities of Crested Ute. Aware that she was in the midst of a dream. Waiting for that moment when she would get lost in the different reality.
“Yes?” Her voice was tentative, wondering which way the dream would go.
“It’s bath day for Zee. I don’t suppose you’d mind? I mean, I can always call one of the guys to do it, he just seems calmer when you’re there.”
“I don’t mind,” she said.
“Excellent! Supplies will be in the cabinet at the end of the hallway. Just holler at the house computer if you need anything.”
“Will do,” Angela said. “But it should be fine.”
After all, it wasn’t her first time. She’d been there the first day when one of the guys bathed him, and was well aware of how he’d rolled his eyes when she made him take more care with Zee. To not scrub so hard with the scrub brush. It may take a bit more time to rub the dirt from his skin than scrubbing did, but he wouldn’t end up tender afterward. After that, they’d just handed her the washrag. Apparently, they’d let Amanda assume they were still taking turns bathing their comrade, however. It was okay. She didn’t mind.
She headed down the hall to get the tub and towel, the soaps, the washcloths. Even from down the way, she could hear his whining when she left the room.
“Shh,” she soothed when she re-entered, closing the door behind her.
He stopped shifting in his sleep.
Huh. Crazy Xeno Sapien. Even after all this, he still believed she was his mate. Boy, would he be in for a rude awakening when he woke up.
Singing softly, she raised the bed slightly. She shoved a thick towel behind his back to catch any drips and then lowered his gown.
A soft rumble caught her attention. Did he purr? Yes. That’s exactly what the noise was. The giant Xeno Sapien was purring for her.
Must be a really good dream he was in. At least one of them was having a good time.
She whipped his hair into a type of man-bun, since it had already been washed and brushed. She kept track of the schedule. It would be a shame not to care for such beautiful hair. He really was a lucky man. A gorgeous man.
But her heart broke, knowing he’d wake up soon and find out he still pined after Everly, and that Everly was happily mated to Thane. Angela couldn’t really blame Zee for trying to mold her into the second best thing. She’d probably have tried to do the same herself.
She did do the same thing herself.
She was currently pretending to be Everly. Protecting her sister—her twin—from the experimentation that would befall her now that Crested Ute realized she had the psychic powers Angela could never quite attain.
She looked down at Zee’s naked body. The dark skin in a gloriously swirled myriad of colors. Molded around perfectly sculpted muscles. Was he real? Or was this a memory? Or was it a dream?
Or…was it all a figment of her imagination? What if she’d never escaped? What if she was still in the same coma from when she was eighteen years old? Everly dead in prison, Angela unable to deal with her sister’s death, and she’d manifested this entire piece of her life.
God, she was pathetic.
“What’s going on with the lights?” The voice sounded like one of the Crested Ute officials.
Sure enough, there was a hissing and popping that sounded electrical.
“Drop the temperature.” A voice ordered. “She’s doing it.”
Ha. There was no way she could be doing it. If only they knew they had the wrong twin. It was the briefest thought—and then she returned to the dreams she loved best.
Zee.
Chapter Eight
S he felt the sweetest breath curl near the side of her neck where he spoke into her ear. “Wake up, mate. I don’t have all day to wait while you collect your beauty sleep.”
The voice was low—not only in volume, as it was whispered into her ear, but in pitch. It rumbled sexily, making her innards curl in her half-sleep state. For a second she imagined waking up in her pretend world where her modest, Tudor-style home was surrounded by a white picket fence. Children played in the front yard, the dog yapping at the giggling boy and girl child.
Then the meaning of the words hit her. Mate? Who would call her mate? Did she hear correctly?
She struggled to open her eyes, but her eyelids were so heavy. A soft moan escaped, sounding distinctly feminine. She couldn’t even cringe at the thought of her assassin-self sounding so girly. Finally the blurred world focused. She was staring straight ahead at the ceiling—the same way she had been for countless other awakenings. But this time was different.
The room was chilled, but not outright cold. She remembered they practically froze her the last session. And while she was sluggish, she wasn’t downright drugged. She glanced down at her arms. The tubes feeding her drugs had been removed.
“Rise and shine, precious.” The voice drawled near her ear.
She groaned softly. She struggled to sit up, and whoever was behind her helped her up with a hand in the middle of her back.
She was dressed. Someone had pulled her intravenous feeding tubes and dressed her naked body. Tight-fitting, black pants and a black, short-sleeved to
p with a V-neck. Ankle boots—flat, no heel.
Everything fit perfectly. Who would have dressed her? Who would have known her size?
“Okay, break time’s over, pretty lady. Time to go. Keep your dainty little self close to me and I’ll lead the way.”
Still standing behind her, the man pushed her from the table. Her legs wobbled, but he held her tight, though he was hidden from her view.
“Who—who are you?” Her tongue was thick, her speech slurred.
“I told you. Your mate.”
Her mate? That was a Xeno Sapien term. She turned to look over her shoulder—and froze.
She’d never seen this Xeno Sapien in her life. It definitely wasn’t Zealish, and technically, on paper, he would be the one who was her mate. Though the guy behind her was large, he wasn’t freakishly huge. His skin was mottled colors, but not the nearly-black Zee’s had been. This man looked more like an actual man. No elongated jaw, no extra teeth. His black hair neatly pulled back into a ponytail.
But his eyes. The same molten gold, though without a glow.
“Not pretty enough for you? You can go back to sleep,” he offered, his voice churlish.
“Zee?”
Something sparked in his eyes as if pleased with her recognition, the briefest glow that lit and then extinguished.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m your Plan B, baby. The extraction team.”
Jesus. How long had she been out? Robyn had sent a hard rescue as promised? And Zee, who she’d left unconscious, was heading it?