"I didn't kill them"
Mr. X took two easy steps forward and coldcocked Mr. O in the jaw. The other man went down to the floor.
Mr. X put his boot on the side Mr. O's face, pinning him. "Let's quit it with that, okay? What I was saying was, do you have any idea how long it takes to make a Prime? Decades, centuries. You managed to wipe out three of them in one night. Which brings you to a total of four, counting Mr. M, who you sliced without my permission. And then there were the Betas you slayed tonight, as well."
Mr. O was spitting mad, his eyes glaring up from around the Timberland's sole. Mr. X leaned into his foot until those lids were wide, no longer narrow.
"So, again, I have to ask myself, are you worth it? You're only three years into the society. You're strong, you're effective, but you're proving impossible to control. I put you with Primes because I assumed you'd fall in line with their level of excellence and temper yourself. Instead, you killed them."
Mr. X felt his blood rise and reminded himself that anger was not appropriate for a leader. Calm, levelheaded domination worked best. He took a deep breath before speaking again.
"You took out some of our best assets tonight. And it is going to stop, Mr. O. Right now."
Mr. X lifted his boot. The other lesser immediately sprang up from the floor.
Just as Mr. O was about to speak, an odd, discordant hum weaved through the night. He looked toward the sound.
Mr. X smiled. "Now if you don't mind, get the hell into that bedroom."
Mr. O crouched into an attack pose. "What's that?"
"It's time for a little behavior modification. A little punishment, too. So get into the bedroom."
By now the sound was so loud it was more a vibration of the air than something ears could register.
Mr. O shouted, "I told you the truth."
"Into the bedroom. The time for talking's passed." Mr. X glanced over his shoulder, in the direction of the hum. "Oh, for chrissakes."
He froze the large muscles in the other lesser's body and manhandled Mr. O into the other room, shoving him down on the bed.
The front door burst wide open.
Mr. O's eyes bulged as he took in the Omega. "Oh God no"
Mr. X tidied up the man's clothes, straightening the jacket and the shirt. For good measure, he smoothed all that dark brown hair down and kissed Mr. O's forehead, as if he were a child.
"If you'll excuse me," Mr. X murmured, "I'm going to leave the two of you alone."
Mr. X took the back door out of the cabin. He was just getting into his car when the screams started.
CHAPTER 8
"Ah, Bella, I think our ride is here." Mary let the curtain fall back into place. "Either that or a third-world dictator is lost in Caldwell."
John headed for the window. Wow, he signed. Check out that Mercedes. Those blackened windows look bulletproof.
The three of them left Bella's house and walked over to the sedan. A little old man, dressed in black livery, got out of the driver's side and came around to greet them. Incongruously, he was a cheery sort, all smiles. With the loose skin on his face, his long earlobes, and all those jowls, he looked like he was melting, though his radiant happiness suggested disintegration was a fine state to be in.
"I am Fritz," he said, bowing low. "Please allow me to drive you."
He opened the rear door and Bella slid inside first. John was next, and when Mary was settled back against the seat, Fritz closed the door. A second later they were on the road.
As the Mercedes glided along, Mary tried to see where they were going, except the windows were too dark. She assumed they were headed north, but who knew?
"Where is this place, Bella?" she asked.
"It's not far." But the woman didn't sound all that confident. In fact, she'd been on edge since Mary and John had shown up.
"Do you know where we're being taken?"
"Oh, sure." The woman smiled and looked at John. "We're going to meet some of the most amazing males you've ever seen."
Mary's instincts knocked around in her chest, sending all kinds of tread-carefully signals. God, she wished she'd taken her own car.
Twenty minutes later, the Mercedes slowed to a stop. Inched forward. Stopped again. This happened at regular intervals a number of times. Then Fritz put down his window and spoke into some kind of intercom. They cruised along a little farther, then came to a stop. The engine was turned off.
Mary reached for the door. It was locked.
America's Most Wanted, here we come, she thought. She could just imagine their pictures on the TV, victims of violent crime.
But the driver let them out immediately, still with that smile on his face. "Won't you follow me?"
As Mary got out, she looked around. They were in some kind of underground parking lot, except there were no other cars. Just two small buses, like the kind you took around an airport.
They stuck close to Fritz and went through a pair of thick metal doors that opened into a maze of fluorescent-lit corridors. Thank God the guy seemed to know where he was going. There were branches splitting off in all directions with no rational plan, as if the place had been designed to get people lost and keep them that way.
Except someone would always know where you were, she thought. Every ten yards there was a pod set into the ceiling. She'd seen them before in malls, and the hospital had them, too. Surveillance cameras.
Finally they were shown into a small room with a two-sided mirror, a metal table, and five metal chairs. A small camera was mounted in the corner opposite the door. It was exactly like a police interrogation room, or what one must be like according to the sets on NYPD Blue.
"You will not have to wait long," Fritz said with a little bow. As he ducked out, the door eased shut of its own volition.
Mary went over and tried the handle, surprised to find it released easily. Then again, whoever was in charge here clearly didn't have to worry about losing track of their visitors.
She looked over at Bella. "You mind telling me what this place is?"
"It's a facility."
"A facility."
"You know, for training."
Yeah, but for what kind of training? "Are these folks of yours with the government or something?"
"Oh, no. No."
John signed, This doesn't look like a martial-arts academy.
Yeah, no kidding.
"What did he say?" Bella asked.
"He's as curious as I am."
Mary turned back to the door, opened it, and stuck her head out into the hall. When she heard a rhythmic sound, she stepped from the room, but didn't wander.
Footsteps. No, a shuffling. What the
A tall blond man dressed in a black muscle shirt and leather pants lurched around a corner. He was unsteady on his bare feet, with one hand on the wall and his eyes focused downward. He seemed to be watching the floor carefully, as if he were relying on his depth perception to balance himself.
He looked drunk or maybe sick, but good lord, he was beautiful. In fact, his face was so dazzling she had to blink a couple of times. Perfectly square jaw. Full lips. High cheekbones. Broad forehead. Hair was thick and wavy, lighter in the front, darker in the back where it was cut short.
And his body was just as spectacular as his head. Big-boned.
Thickly muscled. No fat. His skin was golden even under the fluorescent lights.
Suddenly he looked at her. His eyes were an electric teal blue, so bright, so vivid, they were almost neon. And they stared right through her.
Mary sank back just the same and thought the lack of response wasn't a surprise. Men like him didn't notice women like her. It was a fact of nature.
She should just go back into the room. There was no sense in watching him not acknowledge her as he passed. Trouble was, the closer he got, the more mesmerized she became.
God, he really was beautiful.
Rhage felt like holy hell as he weaved down the corridor. Every time the beast came out of him and his vision headed off for a little vacation, his eyes took their own sweet time in getting back to work. The body didn't want to play, either, his legs and arms hanging like heavy weights off his torso, not exactly useless, but damn close.
And his stomach was still off. The very idea of food made him nauseous.
But he'd had it with being stuck in his room. Twelve hours flat on his back was enough wasted time. He was determined to get to the training center's gym, hop on a recumbent bike, and loosen himself up a little
He stopped, tensing. He couldn't see much, but he knew for sure he was not alone in the hall. Whoever it was stood close beside him, to his left. And it was a stranger.
He spun around and yanked the figure out of a doorway, grabbing it by the throat, forcing the body into the opposite wall. Too late he realized it was a female, and the high-pitched gasp shamed him. He quickly eased up on his grip, but he did not let go.
The slender neck under his palm was warm, soft. Her pulse was frantic, blood racing through the veins that came up from her heart. He leaned down and drew a breath through his nose. Only to jerk back.
Jesus Christ, she was a human. And she was sick, maybe dying.
"Who are you?" he demanded. "How did you get in here?"
There was no answer, just quick breathing. She was utterly terrified of him, the smell of her fear like wood smoke in his nose.
He softened his voice. "I'm not going to hurt you. But you don't belong here, and I want to know who you are."
Her throat undulated under his hand, as if she were swallowing "My name my name is Mary. I'm here with a friend."
Rhage stopped breathing. His heart skipped a beat and then slowed.
"Say that again," he whispered.
"Ah, my name is Mary Luce. I'm a friend of Bella's We came here with a boy, with John Matthew. We were invited."
Rhage shivered, a balmy rush blooming out all over his skin. The musical lilt of her voice, the rhythm of her speech, the sound of her words, it all spread through him, calming him, comforting him. Chaining him sweetly.
He closed his eyes. "Say something else."
"What?" she asked, baffled.
"Talk. Talk to me. I want to hear your voice again."
She was silent, and he was about to demand that she speak when she said, "You don't look well. Do you need a doctor?"
He found himself swaying. The words didn't matter. It was her sound: low, soft, a quiet brushing in his ears. He felt as if he were being stroked on the inside of his skin.
"More," he said, twisting his palm around to the front of her neck so he could feel the vibrations in her throat better.
"Could you could you please let go of me?"
"No." He brought his other arm up. She was wearing some kind of fleece, and he moved the collar aside, putting his hand on her shoulder so she couldn't get away from him. "Talk."
She started to struggle. "You're crowding me."
"I know. Talk."
"Oh, for God's sake, what do you want me to say?"
Even exasperated, her voice was beautiful. "Anything."
"Fine. Get your hand off my throat and let me go or I'm going to knee you where it counts."
He laughed. Then sank his lower body into her, trapping her with his thighs and hips. She stiffened against him, but he got an ample feel of her. She was built lean, though there was no doubt she was a female. Her breasts hit his chest, her hips cushioned his, her stomach was soft.
"Keep talking," he said in her ear. God, she smelled good. Clean. Fresh. Like lemon.
When she pushed against him, he leaned his full weight into her. Her breath came out in a rush.
"Please," he murmured.
Her chest moved against his as if she were inhaling. "I er, I have nothing to say. Except get off of me."
He smiled, careful to keep his mouth closed. There was no sense showing off his fangs, especially if she didn't know what he was.
"So say that."
"What?"
"Nothing. Say nothing. Over and over and over again. Do it."
She bristled, the scent of fear replaced by a sharp spice, like fresh, pungent mint from a garden. She was annoyed now.
"Say it," he commanded, needing to feel more of what she did to him.
"Fine. Nothing. Nothing." Abruptly she laughed, and the sound shot right through to his spine, burning him. "Nothing, nothing. No-thing. No-thing. Noooooothing. There, is that good enough for you? Will you let me go now?"
"No."
She fought against him again, creating a delicious friction between their bodies. And he knew the moment when her anxiety and irritation turned to something hot. He smelled her arousal, a lovely sweetening in the air, and his body answered her call.
He got hard as a diamond.
"Talk to me, Mary." He moved his hips in a slow circle against her, rubbing his erection on her belly, increasing his ache and her heat.
After a moment the tension eased out of her, softening her against the thrust of his muscles and his arousal. Her hands flattened on his waist. And then slowly slid around to the small of his back, as if she were unsure why she was responding to him the way she was.
He arched against her, to show his approval and encourage her to touch more of him. When her palms moved up his spine, he growled low in his throat and dropped his head down so his ear was closer to her mouth. He wanted to give her another word to say, something like luscious or whisper or strawberry.
Hell, antidisestablishmentarianism would do it.
The effect she had on him was druglike, a tantalizing combination of sexual need and profound ease. Like he was having an orgasm and falling into a peaceful sleep at the same time. It was like nothing he'd ever felt before.
A chill shot through him, sucking the warmth out of his body.
He snapped his head back as he thought about what Vishous had said to him.
"Are you a virgin?" Rhage demanded.
The stiffness in her body returned, like cement setting solid. She shoved hard against him, moving him not one inch.
"I beg your pardon. What kind of question is that?"
Anxiety tightened his hand on her shoulder. "Have you ever been taken by a male? Answer the question."
Her lovely voice turned high, frightened. "Yes. Yes, I've had a lover."
Disappointment loosened his grip. But relief was right on its heels.
All things considered, he wasn't sure he needed to meet his destiny this ten minutes.
Besides, even if she wasn't his fate, this human female was extraordinary something special.
Something he had to have.
Mary took a deep breath as the hold on her throat relaxed.
Be careful what you ask for, she thought, remembering how she'd wanted a man to be enthralled by her.
God, this was so not what she'd expected the experience to be like. She was utterly overwhelmed. By the male body pressing into her. By the promise of sex seeming out of him. By the lethal power he could wield if he decided to squeeze her neck again.
"Tell me where you live," the man said.
When she didn't answer, he undulated his hips, that massive erection moving, circling, pressing into her stomach.
Mary shut her eyes. And tried not to wonder what it would feel like if he were inside of her while he was doing that.
His head came down and his lips brushed the side of her neck. Nuzzled her. "Where do you live?"
She felt a soft, moist stroke. God, his tongue. Running up her throat.
"You're going to tell me eventually," he murmured. "But take your time. I'm not in a big hurry right now."
His hips left her briefly, returning as his thigh pushed between her legs and brushed against her core. The hand at the base of her neck swept down to her sternum, coming to rest between her breasts.
"Your heart is beating fast, Mary."
"Th-that's because I'm frightened."
"Fear isn't the only thing you're feeling. Why don't you check out what your hands are up to?"
Shoot. They were high on his biceps. And they were gripping him, pulling him closer. Her nails were digging into his skin.
When she let go of him, he frowned. "I like the way that feels. Don't stop."
The door opened behind them.
"Mary? Are you okaOh my God." Bella's words trailed off.
Mary braced herself as the man twisted his torso and looked at Bella. His eyes squinted, flicked up and down, and then came back to Mary.
"Your friend's worried about you," he said softly. "You can tell her she shouldn't be."
Mary tried to get loose and wasn't surprised when he mastered the jerky movements easily.
"I have an idea," she muttered. "Why don't you let me go, and then I won't have to reassure her?"
A dry male voice cut through the hall. "Rhage, that female wasn't brought here for your pleasure, and this isn't One Eye, my brother. No sex in the hall."
Mary tried to turn her head, but the hand between her breasts slid up her throat and took her chin, stopping her. Teal blue eyes bored into hers.
"I'm going to ignore them both. If you do the same, we can make them disappear."
"Rhage, let her go." A sharp torrent of words followed, spoken in a language she didn't understand.
While the tirade went on, the blond's brilliant gaze stayed on her, his thumb running gently back and forth along her jaw. He was lazy, affectionate, but when he replied to the other man, his voice was hard and aggressive, as powerful as his body. Another series of words came back, this time less combative. Like the other guy was trying to reason with him.
Abruptly the blond let her go and stepped back. The absence of his warm, heavy body was a curious shock.
"See you later, Mary." He brushed her cheek with his forefinger and then turned from her.
Feeling weak in the knees, she sagged against the wall as he staggered away, steadying himself by throwing his arm out to the side.
God, when he'd had her at his mercy, she'd forgotten he was ill.
"Where's the boy?" the other male voice demanded.
Mary looked to her left. The guy was big and dressed in black leather, with a military haircut and a shrewd pair of navy-blue eyes.
A soldier, she thought, somehow put at ease by him.
"The boy?" he prompted.
"John's in there," Bella replied.
"Then let's get to it."
The man opened the door and leaned against it so she and Bella had to squeeze past him. He paid no attention to them as they went by, but stared at John instead. John looked right back at him, eyes narrowed as if he were trying to place the soldier.
When they were all sitting at the table, the man nodded to Bella. "You were the one who called."
"Yes. And this is Mary Luce. And John. John Matthew."
"I'm Tohrment." He refocused on John. "How you doing, son?"
John signed, and Mary had to clear her throat before translating. "He says, 'Fine, sir. How are you?' "
"I'm all right." The man smiled a little and then glanced at Bella. "I want you to wait in the hall. I'll talk to you after I speak with him."
Bella hesitated.
"That isn't a request," he said in a level voice.
After Bella left, the guy turned his chair toward John, leaned back in it, and kicked his long legs out. "So tell me, son, where did you grow up?"
John moved his hands, and Mary said, "Here in town. First in an orphanage, then with a couple sets of foster parents."
"You know anything about your mom or dad?"
John shook his head.
"Bella told me you had a bracelet with some designs on it. Would you show it to me?"
John pulled up his sleeve and extended his arm. The man's hand engulfed the boy's wrist.
"That's real nice, son. You make it?"
John nodded.
"And where'd you get the idea for the design?"
John extracted himself from the soldier's grip and started to sign. When he stopped, Mary said, "He dreams of the pattern."
"Yeah? Mind if I ask what your dreams are like?" The man returned to his casual pose in the chair, but his eyes were narrow.
Screw martial-arts training, Mary thought. This wasn't about some karate lessons. This was an interrogation.
As John hesitated, she wanted to grab the kid and march out, but she had a feeling the boy would fight her. He was utterly absorbed by the man, intense and intent.
"It's all right, son. Whatever it is, it's okay."
John lifted his hands, and Mary spoke as he signed.
"Er he's in a dark place. Kneeling in front of an altar. Behind it, he sees writing on the wall, hundreds of lines of writing in black stoneJohn, wait, slow down. I can't translate when you go so fast." Mary concentrated on the boy's hands. "He says in the dream he keeps going over and touching a strip of writing that looks like this."
The man frowned.
When John looked down, as if embarrassed, the soldier said, "Don't you worry, son, we're cool. Is there anything else you can think of about yourself that strikes you as odd? Things that maybe make you different from other folks?"
Mary shifted in her chair, really uncomfortable with the way things were going. John was clearly going to answer any question put to him, but for God's sake, they didn't know who this man was. And Bella, though she'd made the introduction, had been obviously uncomfortable.
Mary lifted her hands, about to sign a warning to John, when the kid unbuttoned his shirt. He opened one side, flashing a circular scar above his left pectoral.
The man leaned forward, studied the marking, and then moved back. "Where did you get that?"
The boy's hands flew around in front of him.
"He says he was born with it."
"Is there anything else?" the man asked.
John glanced over at Mary. He took a deep breath and signed, I dream of blood. Of fangs. Of biting.
Mary felt her eyes widen before she could stop herself.
John looked at her anxiously. Don't worry, Mary. I'm not a sicko or anything. I was terrified when the dreams first came to me, and it's not like I can control what my brain does, you know.
"Yeah, I know," she said, reaching out and squeezing his hand.
"What did he say?" the man asked.
"That last part was meant for me."
She inhaled deeply. And went back to translating.
CHAPTER 9
Bella leaned back against the wall in the corridor and started braiding pieces of her hair, something she did when she was nervous.
She'd heard members of the Brotherhood were almost a separate species, but she'd never thought that was true. Until now. Those two males were not just colossal on a physical scale; they radiated dominance and aggression. Hell, they made her brother look like an amateur in the hard-ass department, and Rehvenge was the toughest thing she'd ever come across.
Dear God, what had she done in bringing Mary and John here? She was a little less concerned for the boy, but what about Mary? The way that blond warrior had acted around her was flat-out trouble. You could have boiled an ocean with the kind of lust he'd thrown off, and members of the Black Dagger Brotherhood were not used to being denied. From what she'd heard, when they wanted a female, they took her.
Thankfully, they weren't known to rape, although going by what she'd seen just now, they wouldn't have to. Those warrior's bodies were made for sex. Mating with one of them, being possessed by all that strength, would be an extraordinary experience.
Although Mary, as a human, might very well not feel that way.
Bella looked up and down the hall, restless, tense. There was no one around, and if she had to stand still any longer she was going to have a headful of cornrows. She shook out her hair, picked a random direction, and meandered. When she caught the sound of a rhythmic pounding in the distance, she followed the thumping to a pair of metal doors. She opened one side and walked through.
The gymnasium was the size of a pro-basketball court, its wooden floor varnished to a high gloss. Bright blue mats were laid out here and there and caged fluorescent lights dangled from the high ceiling. A balcony with stadium seating jutted out on the left, and beneath the overhang, a series of punching bags was strung up.
A magnificent male was beating the crap out of one of them, his back to her. Dancing on the balls of his feet, light as a breeze, he threw punch after punch, ducking, hitting, driving the heavy bag forward with his force so the thing hung at an angle.
She couldn't see his face, but he had to be attractive. His skull-trimmed hair was light brown, and he wore a skintight black turtleneck and a pair of loose black nylon workout pants. A holster crisscrossed over his broad back.
The door clicked shut behind her.
With a swipe of his arm, the male whipped a black-bladed dagger out and buried it into the bag. He ripped the thing open, sand and padding pouring down in a rush onto the mat. And then he spun around.
Bella clapped a hand over her mouth. His face was scarred, as if someone had tried to cut it in half with a knife. The thick line started at his forehead, went down the bridge of his nose, and curved over his cheek. It ended at the side of his mouth, distorting his upper lip.
Narrowed eyes, black and cold as night, took her in and then widened ever so slightly. He seemed nonplussed, his big body unmoving save for the deep breaths he took.
The male wanted her, she thought And was unsure what to do about it.
Except just like that, the speculation and odd confusion were buried. What took their place was an icy anger that scared the hell out of her. Keeping her eyes on him, she backed into the door and pumped the release bar. When she got nowhere, she had a feeling he was trapping her inside.
The male watched her struggle for a moment and then came after her. As he stalked across the mats, he flipped his dagger into the air and caught it by the handle. Flipped it up, snatched it back. Up and down.
"Don't know what you're doing here," he said in a low voice. "Other than fucking up my workout."
As those eyes went over her face and body, his hostility was palpable, but he was also throwing off raw heat, a kind of sexual menace she really shouldn't have been captivated by.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know"
"Didn't know what, female?"
God, he was so close now. And he was so much bigger than her.
She flattened herself against the door. "I'm sorry"
The male punched his hands into the metal on either side of her head. She eyed the knife he was holding, but then forgot all about the weapon as he leaned into her. He stopped just before their bodies touched.
Bella took a deep breath, smelling him. His scent was more like a fire in her nose than anything she could name. And she responded to it, warming, wanting.
"You're sorry," he said, titling his head to the side and focusing on her neck. When he smiled, his fangs were long and very white. "Yeah, I bet you are."
"I am very sorry."
"So prove it."
"How?" she croaked.
"Get on your hands and knees. I'll take your apology from there."
A door on the other side of the gymnasium burst open.
"Oh, Christ Let her go!" Another male, this one with a long head of hair, jogged across the vast floor. "Hands off, Z. Right now."
The scarred male leaned down to her, putting that misshapen mouth close to her ear. Something pressed into her sternum, over her heart. His fingertip.
"You just got saved, female."
He stepped around her and went out the door, just as the other male came up to her.
"Are you okay?"
Bella eyed the decimated punching bag. She couldn't seem to breathe, although whether that was from fear or something altogether sexual, she wasn't sure. Probably a combination of both.
"Yes, I think so. Who was that?"
The male opened the door and led her back to the interrogation room without answering her question. "Do yourself a favor and stay here, okay?"
Good advice, she thought, as she was left by herself.
CHAPTER 10
Rhage came awake with a jolt. As he looked at the clock on his bedside table, he was psyched when he could focus his eyes and read the thing. Then pissed off when he saw what time it was.
Where the hell was Tohr? He'd promised to call as soon as he was done with the human female, but that had been more than six hours ago.
Rhage reached for the phone and dialed Tohr's cell. When he got voice mail, he cursed and hung up.
As he got out of bed, he stretched carefully. He was sore and sick to his stomach, but able to move a lot better. A quick shower and a fresh set of leathers had him feeling even more himself, and he headed for Wrath's study. Dawn was coming soon, and if Tohr wasn't answering his phone, he was probably doing a download to the king before he went home.