Alpha's Promise

by Rebecca Zanetti

  “You’re thinking so hard I can feel it,” she mumbled, opening her eyes.

  “Sorry.” He stopped rubbing her arm and gently smoothed the curly hair back from her face. “For everything. I really am sorry.”

  “You have to stop apologizing.” She yawned and stretched, blinking sleepily. “What happened?”

  He should probably leave her alone in the bed, but his body didn’t want to move. “Mercy came inside, and you seized and passed out.” Again. “You’ve been sleeping for about three hours, no doubt so your brain could heal itself.”

  “Brains can’t heal themselves,” she whispered, her pink lips curving in a small smile.

  Hers probably could. If the pain was related to an enhancement, which it no doubt was, then she had gifts she didn’t understand.

  “So.” She lifted her free arm and ran her fingers along his healed forehead. “Want to explain this?”

  Her touch was soft and her skin smooth. The gentle glide slid right beneath his skin, offering comfort. “I heal easily?” he rumbled.

  “Nope. There’s more. And while you’re at it, you can explain what Adare, Mercy, and that loud Benjamin gentleman have in common. What is it about them that attacks my mind?” Her eyes remained sleepy. “It’s time you told me everything.”

  There was no doubt the woman had a high IQ, so lying to her would just be silly. From the very moment she’d challenged him so bravely and knocked his ass out of her car, he’d wanted to know her. Wanted her to know him. The real him. “All right. Here it is. There are seven of us in this business, and we make decisions together. I am going to tell you everything, no matter what, but I’d like to wait until everyone agrees. Ronan, Benny, and Adare are fine with it, so I’ve reached out to the two on mission, and I’d like to give them the respect of waiting for their agreement.” It was the least he could do after they’d pulled him out of himself the last three months. Without his brothers, he’d be dead, and he wouldn’t have cared. They’d made him care again. “If that’s okay with you.”

  She explored the side of his face, watching her finger as it dipped over his cheekbone. “Since you jumped off a cliff with me, I think it’s time you told me everything. I didn’t see anybody coming for us, so you’re asking for a lot of trust here. Besides, counting you, that’s only six people. You said there were seven business owners.”

  “One is unreachable at the moment.” Ivar’s body tightened at her soft exploration. “That’s, ah, part of what I’d like to discuss with you. Tomorrow.” If he didn’t hear from Garrett or Logan by noon, he was telling Promise everything.

  She drew back her hand, and her eyes cleared completely. “You know, certain high frequencies can cause piercing headaches. A raging headache can affect the body to the point of convulsions. And when the central nervous system overloads, so to speak, unconsciousness follows.”

  Fuck, she was adorable. Look at her trying to find a rational explanation for everything. He levered himself up on his elbow to see her better in the darkness. “What about the cut above my eye?”

  “And your broken arm.” She pressed her fingers against his already healed skin.

  Pain ticked into him, and he winced.

  “Hmm.” She pulled away. “Not broken any longer, but apparently bruised. That’s impossible.”

  “Apparently not.” He sent healing cells through his body to take care of the bruises in case she did it again. “What causes that kind of fast healing?” He really wanted to know where her mind would go with the problem. Smart women had always done it for him, and this gorgeous, curvy creature in his bed was beyond brilliant. “What’s your hypothesis, Professor?”

  She shook her head, her dark hair catching on the pillow. “I don’t know. My guess is that your brain trust, the one giving millions for grants, has been doing so for a while. I do know that scientists have been working on the MG53 protein, which the human body naturally creates to help repair injuries.” She pursed her lips, obviously thinking. “The study I read about involved using a cytokine protein that also heals wounds but does so too quickly. Combining those into a way that inhibits the cytokine while promoting the MG53 protein could lead to compelling results.”

  “Like healing a broken bone in a manner of hours?” He wanted her hands back on him. Now.

  “Yes,” she said. “If the science has developed to the point of human trials, which apparently it has, then you owe the world the data. You can’t keep this kind of discovery to yourselves.”

  His chest filled with warmth. She’d figured out rational reasons for almost everything by using science and logic. Maybe when she knew all the facts and all the possibilities in the universe, she’d be able to get him back to Quade. He had to save his brother. “Interesting.”

  “Even so, none of that makes you the good guys.” Her dark brows drew down, making her look like a grumpy math professor. “All I know is that somebody rang my doorbell last night and then you threw us off a cliff, claiming the enemy had arrived.” She blinked several times and then pinned him with that soft brown gaze. “Am I free to leave this apartment, or are you keeping me a prisoner?”

  * * * *

  Promise asked the question and waited for an answer, wondering if Ivar would tell the truth. The bed was comfortable and the man very nice to look at. Her fingers still tingled from her exploration of his hard face. Logic proved that if he wished to harm her, he wouldn’t have wrapped himself around her and taken the brunt of the fall from the cliff. He also wouldn’t have somehow used one damaged arm to carry her safely into a helicopter.

  But what was going on? Why did they need her specifically? “Ivar? I’d appreciate an answer.”

  “I’m trying to think of an answer you’d like, Missy,” he said, his breath minty with a hint of Scotch.

  Oh, he didn’t get to use her nickname, one she’d always wanted, to charm her. He still smelled lightly of the ocean, salty and woodsy mixed together. She inhaled his scent. “Do you know why my head hurts when those people are in close proximity to me?” she asked.

  “Yes. We think we’ve figured it out.” He brushed her hair back from her face again, watching his fingers play with a spiral. The rain pattered against the window, lending a sense of safe intimacy to the room. “Of all the disciplines you could’ve studied, why did you focus on dark matter, the cosmology of extra dimensions, and cosmological inflation?”

  “Those subjects were of interest to me,” she said calmly. If he wasn’t going to share, neither was she. Her crazy childhood dreams of traveling to other worlds were better left back with the Easter bunny. Not that she’d been allowed to believe in any mythology. “Now answer my question. Am I free to leave or not?”

  He exhaled and dropped his hand away from her hair. “No.”

  That’s what she’d concluded. “Your attempt at kidnapping is finally successful.”

  He grinned. “Took me several tries and a helicopter, but hey.”

  She was not amused. Yet, she did like the sense of safety, and the conflicting feelings were bewildering. She tried to drum up some anger, but her energy levels were depleted. “I have to teach tomorrow.” It had to be Sunday morning by now. Nobody would know she was missing all of Sunday until she didn’t show for her freshman seminar particle physics class Monday morning. “So the kidnapping must end by nine tomorrow morning.” Logic would have to rule since she couldn’t find anger.

  “Can anybody cover your class for you?” he asked.

  “No. It’s my last lecture before their first test, which causes a great deal of angst. I need to teach that class.” She gave him her sternest expression. So far, he’d at least listened to her.

  He nodded. “All right. We’ll figure something out.”

  “Good.” A sense rose in her, a surprising one, that she wanted to out-maneuver him, and it had nothing to do with safety. How odd.

  He glanced aroun
d the bedroom, tension rolling from him. The rather heated kind. “For now, we’re in bed. Didn’t we have plans?”

  “I don’t have my pocket rocket,” she snapped, feeling the walls close in.

  “You won’t need it,” he returned, his jaw tightening just enough to show he also had a temper.

  Her breath caught in the same way it had earlier. She was having a physical reaction to his show of—what was that? Blatant masculinity? She’d read about that phenomenon in a magazine at the dentist’s office. There was a connection between bravado and female sexual response, based on years of biology and the necessity of survival as a species. Even so, butterflies swarmed throughout her abdomen. However, she refused to engage in sex with him until she solved the mysteries suddenly surrounding her. “We no longer have a plan,” she said, gritting her teeth together.

  “I assumed as much, but it never hurts to ask.” He rolled off the bed, leaving a chill around her. “Faith and Ronan are in an apartment down the way, but the rest of the building is vacant. We bought the entire thing, and Mercy hasn’t had time to squeeze money out of it yet.”

  So she only had to get by him. “Where did everyone else go?”

  “Different safe houses,” he returned. “This one is temporary. I don’t like being in the middle of town like this, and we’ll move after dawn, when the sun is high and bright. Or at least up there shining down enough to illuminate the earth somewhat.”

  What an odd thing to say. She enjoyed being confused even less than being shielded from the truth. Though she didn’t believe she was in danger from Ivar and his friends, the secrets they kept appeared substantial. They’d said the physics grant was to study the ability to move through dimensions to other points of existence. Was that just a ruse? If so, why did they need her? If not, then…why keep her here? “I don’t like unsolved puzzles,” she muttered.

  “Yeah, I get that.” Ivar loped toward the door. “I have hearing like a bat, so don’t think about leaving. Plus, this door locks.” He added the last almost cheerfully, shutting the door and loudly engaging said lock.

  She breathed deeply for several moments, listening to the rain against the windows. Her hand fumbled when she reached over to twist on the table lamp. Then she stood, making sure her legs held her. No residual weakness remained. Good. First she checked the window, which didn’t open. Then she moved to the door and examined the lock.

  A deadbolt secured the door above the doorknob. Well, she didn’t have three PhDs for nothing. Tiptoeing as quietly as she could, she went into the bathroom and rummaged through the cosmetic bag for two bobby pins, pulling one wide open to make a feeler pick.

  Most people didn’t know how to pick a lock. It was just a matter of mechanics, really.

  She slightly widened the middle of the other pin to create a tension wrench and then bent down by the lock. She inserted it, twisting slightly before adding the end of the first pick, scrubbing over the pins from outside to inside. She did this for several moments.

  Nothing happened. Cripes.

  She removed both picks and then started over, putting her ear to the door. It took nearly an hour and a multitude of tries, but finally, the pins set. Using a barely there tension, she twisted to the right, slowly forcing the bolt to retreat.

  Triumph filled her as if she’d solved a truly problematic formula.

  Yes, there was also something exciting about putting one over on Ivar. The man was just so male and strong, and it turned out he apparently had a decent intelligence quota too. She opened the door, very slowly, peering out to the darkened living area.

  “You know, that took you about fifteen minutes longer than I expected,” Ivar said, his big body sprawled across the lone sofa in the room.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ivar kept his gaze on the woman straightening to her full and not very impressive height. Not many women knew how to pick a deadbolt, but she wasn’t just an ordinary woman, now was she? What would she do now? He’d lay odds she’d confront him instead of slamming the door and going back to bed.

  Her shoulders went back, and she stepped toward him.

  Yep. She was complex, but he was slowly getting to know her. Each new facet of her personality, of her intelligence, of her cluelessness with males—just intrigued him more.

  “You know,” he murmured, “most people are afraid of me. At least a little.” Of course, they’d seen him at his batshit craziest. Even so, many humans instinctively avoided him, even on his best day.

  “Well.” She moved closer, bringing that enticing heather scent with her. She perched on the far end of the sofa by his feet, looking unbelievably young and fragile and human in the Snoopy shirt. “I can understand that. In a physical altercation with you, my only recourse would be to render you unconscious swiftly before you could retaliate.” She bit her bottom lip. “I am uncertain how to accomplish that.”

  With her mind, she’d figure it out quickly. He’d have to protect his temples if she ever got her hands on a golf club. Of course, if she swung one, that’d give him an excuse to put his hands on her again. Something he desperately wanted to do. Yet, he had to be fair. “You don’t want to try it, sweetheart. You wouldn’t like the result.”

  She rolled her eyes in such a feminine move he could only watch, fascinated by her. Passion and humor lurked beneath her uberlogical facade, and he wasn’t sure even she realized how much. Could he unleash that passion? Just for him? Or would she be repulsed by his natural violence and brutality when it came to his enemies? He lived in a world she couldn’t comprehend.

  She smoothed her hands down her yoga pants. “You don’t sleep, do you?”

  “Not much. Nightmares,” he said, giving her the full truth.

  She patted his ankle. “I understand. There was a time in my youth when I had terrible night terrors—I thought I was traveling to other worlds. Some scary ones and some nice. Even convinced myself that part of my body had gone during the night. But I saw a professional, learned the difference between imagination and reality, and soon healed.”

  Imagination and reality. His shoulders perked up. “Tell me about your imagination.”

  “I—” She paused and looked toward the wall of windows where a light cut down. “What is that?”

  He jumped up, rushing to the window. A helicopter flew above, shining its lights down. “Fuckers.”

  She stood. “What’s happening?”

  He lowered his head, thinking rapidly. “If I were the Kurjans, I’d conduct a grid search for the helicopter that picked us up on the beach. Looking for places on the outskirts of town to hide a helicopter.” Which they’d probably been doing for hours. He’d figured they’d regroup before searching. “When that didn’t work, I’d do a cursory check downtown for a helicopter.” He was talking to himself at this point.

  “You mean the one on top of this building?” she asked.

  He’d thought they were safe. That his people were so well known for living in mountains and underground that the Kurjans would never really search a populated area. A high-rise was so out of character for the Seven, for the entire Realm really, that it seemed like a safe place for one night. “Shit.”

  “Ivar?” she asked.

  He ducked away from the window and reached her in a second. “The sun should be up soon. Maybe thirty minutes?”

  “So?” Her voice emerged breathy, and her arm tensed beneath his hand.

  The light cut out, and the helicopter high above banked and angled away. Had they seen the sun coming up? Ivar grabbed his gun off the coffee table and tucked it into the back of his jeans.

  She gulped. “Are you sure we’re being chased? That could’ve just been a medical helicopter or something.”

  Not with the searchlight flashing down through the buildings. But the approach of daylight might’ve scared the Kurjans off. Without a doubt, they’d return as soon as darkness fell. “I�
��m sure.” He needed to tell her the entire truth so she’d understand the danger. They had to be ready to run as soon as the sun appeared. “I think we’re okay now.”

  He’d no sooner gotten the words out than lights slashed down from the north and east walls of windows. Soldiers on ropes swung in, crashing glass in every direction.

  Promise partially ducked, covering her head, and screamed high and loud.

  * * * *

  Promise struggled through the panic, opening her eyes to gauge the level of threat. The two men who’d jumped through the windows quickly released their ropes, which flew back out into the storm. She blinked. Once and twice. The men had frighteningly pale skin and horribly bloodshot eyes. In fact, their eyes appeared red through the dim light. Both men were bald, save for one strip of stark white hair down the middle of their heads that ended in long braids.

  She took a step back. Her stomach clenched, and the hair pricked up along her arms.

  Ivar pivoted, putting his body between her and the ghoulish men. “Only two of you?” he asked, his back one long line of vibrating threat.

  “More breaching the hallway,” the first guy said, his substantial jaw barely moving as his bloodred lips curved. “Though we won’t need backup.”

  Who were these people? Rain splashed inside, covering black outfits that looked like they included bulletproof vests, only partially hidden beneath their dark jackets. Promise shivered, looking toward the door to the hallway. Were more of these weird-looking soldiers coming?

  The second guy settled his stance, his boots crunching glass. “We don’t want you right now, Viking. Give us the professor, and we’ll let you live.”