Spike reached for her, but she put out a hand to stay him. “Wait.” She cut her eyes at me. “Have you been watching? Are you getting turned on yet, tiger?” She wrapped her hand around Spike’s cock, pumping slowly. Her gaze drifted to my groin, but there was sure as hell nothing going on down there. She pouted and stood, whirling back to Spike. “Sit there.” She pointed at a chair opposite mine.
Dutifully he shuffled across to it, his pants hanging open.
Facing me, Tina hitched her dress up around her waist and straddled his lap. Reached beneath herself to position his cock at the entrance to her pussy. “Would you like to be doing this to me, tiger?” she breathed.
“Becka, give it to me,” Spike groaned behind her.
Gods, as if it wasn’t perverted enough being forced to watch them, he had to call for my dead girlfriend?
Tina grasped his cock in a chokehold, her lips parted in a gasp as she stroked the head along her glistening slit. “Oh, yeah, tiger. Come on. Get into it. I want to feel you fuck me.” She sank an inch, letting Spike slide into her.
“I will, Becka, I will.” Spike jerked his hips up, trying to penetrate her further.
Annoyance flashed across Tina’s face and she twisted to glare at him. “I need a cat to fuck a baby into me, and you’ve proved you’re a no-good junkie. But this one,” she turned back to me, her fingers sliding across her clit, stimulating herself as she watched me, “This one I’m not going to screw up by giving moodar and shit. You’ll do me because you want to, right, tiger? Without those drugs, you’re going to pump a baby right into me.”
“Yeah, Becka, we can do it again,” Spike gasped, his fingers digging into her waist as he surged beneath her.
“For god’s sakes, not you!” She snarled. “You’re damn useless. No kind of a man.”
His thrusting stilled, his eyes briefly focused, though his forehead creased in puzzlement. “That’s not true. I’ll put another baby in you. I can.” His roving gaze caught me. “Khal? What’re you doing here, man? Tell her I can do it.”
I shook my head. I’d known him most my life, and he’d never had a long-term relationship, never mind a kid. He just didn’t work that way. Though, in light of his betrayal, how well did I really know him? “Get a grip, dude. She’s using you.”
Spike struggled up. “No. She loves me. Not you. Me.” As he stood, displacing Tina from his lap, she stumbled and he darted a hand out, catching her. She whirled furiously on him, and he staggered back, confusion written across his face. “Becka?”
“Goddamn junkie,” Tina snarled. “That fix wears off faster and faster.”
He swung back to me, shaking his head. “What’s going on? Where’s Becka?”
Hells, he was wrecked. The damned Opivana had fried him. Yet I couldn’t prevent my surge of sympathy; even off his face, his love for Becka never faltered. I’d been an idiot not to see how deep it ran. He should have been the one with her, they would— suddenly his words made a horrible kind of sense, a sick feeling twisted at my gut.
Becka had been trying to break up with me, even though she carried our child. Which had never been logical, except… “Becka’s gone, dude. Remember?”
His amber eyes turned glassy, but it was the sheen of tears, not opiates. He shook his head slowly. “No, she’s not gone, bro. She’s breaking up with you. Not gone. Not from me. I’m sorry, man, I wanted to tell you. Should have told you before it went too far. But Becka and me—we’re gonna be a family.”
Tina had crossed swiftly to the cabinet, taking the small bottle out again. As she moved back to Spike, powdering her finger, he frowned. “What the hell?”
I recognized his moment of clarity, the sweet spot between when the narcotic effects of the drug had cleared, and when he’d desperately need another fix. “Spike, listen to me. Remember where we are? Becka’s gone. We’re on Glia. The team, Spike, remember?”
“Enough,” Tina snarled, offering her finger to him.
He snatched at her wrist, holding her away, frowning between us. “Tina.” He looked relieved. “I remember. You’re my woman.”
“Like hells,” she spat, trying to wrench her fist free.
“Spike, she’s with the Regime. With Smithton.” Damn it, I needed to shift, get us all out of here while the guards were absent.
Spike’s gaze roved the room until it fell on the too-still form lying on the table. “Lyrie. Your bondmate, right?”
I could see the pieces slowly falling into place, though he still looked dazed. “She is. Spike, you have to—”
Tina tried to stretch her finger toward him again. “Here, lover, take another fix. You know you want it. And you want me, right?”
He smiled, starting to nod, then seemed to notice his pants still hanging open and Tina’s dress rucked up around her waist. “What the hell? Why are we—?”
“It’s part of the program, Spike,” I tried to keep my voice low, not wanting to alert the guards, but dammit, if Tina got that finger any closer to his mouth, we were done for. “The forced breeding program. She wants me to impregnate her.”
He shook his head, his eyes suddenly clear. “No!” He released Tina’s wrist. “You can’t. He’s bonded to Lyrie.”
As he said her name, Lyrie moaned, shifting her legs restlessly on the metal stretcher, and my heart clenched. Better she stay quiet and not draw this mad woman’s attention.
Tina lifted one narrow shoulder. “Why should I care about your inbred notions?”
“You’ll kill him,” Spike said.
She paused. “Before he’s finished fucking me?”
Spike shook his head, and his chin hit his chest as though he was suddenly exhausted and couldn’t hold it up anymore. “Broken heart. Slow.”
Crossing to the med lab bench, Tina snorted. “Well, providing he’s done his job, it’ll be much better for me with all of you gone.”
About to scoff at Spike’s melodramatic choice of words, I realized he was talking about himself. Fuck. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to find words. “Becka. She was yours, wasn’t she, bro?”
Spike nodded, the anguish of years in his eyes. “When we realized, it was too late. We got carried away, she got pregnant, and we couldn’t work out how to tell you. She said she’d rather die than hurt you. But she didn’t mean it. She couldn’t leave me, anymore than I could leave her.”
Rather die.
Becka had grabbed the skimmer control, wrenching it sideways. But she hadn’t meant to die, hadn’t meant to kill her baby. Spike’s baby.
Spike raked both hands through his hair. “I blamed you, man. I know it was wrong, but it hurt so bad, I blamed you.”
Tina stepped forward, handing Spike the Opivana bottle. A dose one hundredth of that size would be lethal. “Do yourself a favor.”
He stared at it dumbly.
Lyrie mumbled something, turning to face Tina. Her eyes slightly open, she frowned.
Tina glanced at her, then strode across to me, wielding a syringe.
“What are you doing?” Spike had the bottle unscrewed, but didn’t seem to realize he’d done it.
“Well, you seem to have rather spoiled the mood, and I think you’ve screwed up any chance for me and your friend to have a meaningful relationship, now. So, I’ll just be taking what I need,” Tina said. “I’d rather have had a good fuck, but I’ll settle for extracting his semen and using a turgurken baster. Less fun, but easier than listening to the pair of you reminisce.” She jerked her head at the bottle he clutched. “Soon as I’m done, I suggest you split that with your comrade. I can assure you, it’ll be a much nicer way to go than what Hartlin will do once I tell him neither of you are needed.”
As she held the syringe poised like a dagger, ready to plunge into my groin, Spike surged into action. “Don’t touch him, you bitch!”
Tina whirled toward him, her reaction instinctive as he grabbed for her. The long, sharp needle plunged into his chest.
Into his lungs.
Spike cras
hed to the ground, landing on his knees alongside me. He stared in stupefied surprise at the bright crimson blossom staining the rags of his shirt.
“Stop the bleeding. He’ll regenerate,” I snapped at Tina.
“Why bother? More Opivana for you, this way.”
Spike’s teeth stained red, he grit them together, his words jerky and disconnected. “Khal. Man. I’m sorry. It was never your fault.” Blood bubbled and foamed from his mouth, and he took a ragged breath.
“Spike, hang in there!” Unable to move to help him, I leaned as close as I could.
“I didn’t tell them, bro,” he gasped out. “I didn’t tell them…” The hazel light was fading from his eyes, but he clutched the front of my shirt.
“Tell them what?” Gods, he was dying, he was dying right before my eyes, and I couldn’t move a damn muscle.
“That she’s a…griffin.”
Lyrie slowly pushed herself up on one elbow, but I shook my head, signaling with my eyes for her to remain still. Tina didn’t seem to notice, turning to the med table and pulling her dress into place as Spike’s gasp rattled around the room and he slumped to the floor at my feet. “One down, three to go.”
Three?
She fiddled among the equipment on her table, selecting a syringe and a long, curved surgical knife, and moved across to Lyrie. “Question is, do I deal with both of these issues now, or just the one?”
As I growled, Lyrie moaned, and Tina laughed. “Oh, I suppose it’d be far too obvious if I disposed of your woman, wouldn’t it? But I will take care of my immediate competition. I can provide everything the Regime wants, they don’t need that spawn she hides in her belly.”
Pregnant. Tina had lied. Lyrie was pregnant.
As Tina held the syringe over Lyrie’s unprotected abdomen—over our baby—the shift ripped through me, more painful than it’d ever been. The nylonium binding my wrists and ankles exploded apart, the chair splintering as I surged up and kicked it across the room. The claws gouged from my fingers, my muscles screaming as my bones broke and reformed.
One bound took me over my fallen comrade, across the room and to Lyrie’s side. Crouched over my mates’ wide-eyed form, I snarled at Tina.
She staggered back a pace, but her glance moved beyond me, alarm flaring.
Spike clambered to his feet. With determination solidifying in his expression, he leapt toward Tina, taking her down to the floor with a crash.
Chapter Fifteen
Lyrie
S pike rolled off Tina’s still form, onto his back. He stared toward the ceiling, and a cough erupted from deep in his throat, along with rich, red blood.
Too much blood.
Tina did not rouse, and when I dragged myself up to sit on the side of the stretcher, I could see why. She’d hit her head badly when she fell.
Her eyes stared toward eternity, unblinking, and her chest would never again rise and fall.
Dead.
Good.
Otherwise, I would’ve had to do it myself. She’d been about to kill my baby.
While I’d been fighting off the drugs she’d given me—my griffin’s superior form aiding in my body’s excretion of the sedative—I’d heard enough to know that I was pregnant and that Tina had intended to kill Khal and my child.
Spike gurgled, and Khal changed back and rushed over, falling to his knees beside his friend.
“Gotta make this right, bro,” Spike hissed out. He coughed again, spewing more blood.
Khal reached for the enormous needle embedded in Spike’s chest. “Let me take this out. You’ll heal.”
Physically, but was his soul already broken?
Spike’s hand encircled Khal’s, bringing the action to a halt. “Don’t.” His breath wheezed and a cloudy appearance began to take over his hazel eyes. “We need Neer. The taller guard.”
One of the few who hadn’t tried to rape me. Maybe he just hadn’t found his chance.
I slid off the table and then had to grab on to the side or I’d fall. My head spun, and blackness crowded out my vision. Slumping back onto the stretcher, I struggled to maintain control of my limbs.
“What are you doing, Spike?” Khal said, desperation and pain filling his voice. “We can fix this. You’ll regenerate and—”
“No,” Spike gurgled out. “There’s no fixing this.” He clenched his hand over his chest, as if he worried his insides would spew out when he spoke, and raised his voice, “Neer, get in here!”
A guard poked his head in the door, and his eyes bugged as he took in Tina lying dead and Spike bleeding out beside her on the floor. “Hells, what’s happening here?”
“Shut the door…Get over here,” Spike whispered, his strength nearly gone.
Surprisingly, Neer didn’t pull his weapon or call for assistance. He did exactly what Spike asked and dropped down on the other side of Khal, staring at Spike. “What do you need, dude?”
“You owe me,” Spike said hoarsely.
Neer nodded.
“Get Lyrie…Khal.” Spike gasped and clutched his chest. “Damn, that hurts. Bitch hit something vital.” He fisted the front of Neer’s uniform and yanked him near, spitting out, “Get them out of the compound.”
“Crap,” Neer said, gaping up at the closed door. “Hartlin’ll rip my innards out and make me eat them.”
“Get out of here yourself,” Spike said, urgency leaking into this voice, as if he worried he wouldn’t say all he should before he was no longer able. “There’s nothing for you here.”
Neer frowned and shrugged. “I’ll do it, but I’ll come back for you.”
“Don’t…”
“Please,” Khal said. “Let me pull it out. You’ll live. We can escape together and—”
“S’okay,” Spike said. His chest shuddered, and he seemed to struggle to suck in air. His gaze drifted to the ceiling. “I miss Becka.”
Despite what this man had done to me—to Khal—my heart ached with sympathy for him. To think he’d brought about his lover’s death. That would just about kill anyone. His bondmate. How had he gone on without her?
“Maybe…” Spike pointed up. “Up there…I’ll see Becka again.” He groaned and light started to fade from his eyes, making them milky. “And maybe…I’ll finally get to hold my baby in my arms.”
“I hope you do,” Khal said, his knuckles blanching as he closed his hand over Spike’s shoulder.
Spike’s head slumped to the side, and his hand released its grip on Neer’s shirt and flopped onto the hard floor.
Neer closed his eyes and tipped his head back. A long sigh slid from his lungs, before he rose slowly to his feet. With shuffling steps, he walked to the door and cracked it open. “Hey,” he said to the guard in the hall. He gulped and swallowed, and his back stiffened. “Tina needs you to go down to the caves and clean out their stuff. Bring everything up to the prison cell where they’ve been holding the shifter and his bitch.”
So much for my burst of sympathy. But maybe he needed to maintain his ruse of being a full part of the Regime.
Stomping boots faded as the guard left.
Neer shut the door, turned, and slumped on the back. He rubbed his face, before his gaze met mine. “Let’s get you two out of here.”
Khal crossed the room and the two men clasped arms briefly.
“Thanks,” Khal said.
“Not doing it for you,” Neer said. “Though I never agreed with this plan and what they’ve been doing to you and her to achieve it. But I owe Spike. He…” Neer’s eyes lowered, and his shoulders fell. “Anyway. I owed Spike, and I’ll do him this one last favor.”
What had Spike done to deserve such loyalty from Neer? I might never know. “Wait. The other women. There are other prisoners here. I can’t go without them.”
Neer allowed a small smile, almost sad. “Most are already clear. My woman included. Spike traded Opivana with one of the other guards, got them all out a few days ago. Damn, the dude crashed so hard without his fix, he was beating his
own head against the walls. The women are provisioned and headed to the Resistance. I’ll get the others out while there’s a distraction after you’ve gone. Hells, maybe I’ll come with them myself.” He turned back to the door. “Let’s go,” He opened it and peered into the hall. “All clear, but it won’t be for long.”
We crept down the hall and darted into a men’s locker room, where Neer handed us military clothing. “Wear the hat, too,” he said to me, handing one over.
We’d need the disguise if we hoped for even a slight chance of escaping.
After dressing and tugging the hat down low over my face, we followed Neer silently down multiple halls until we reached a back entrance of the prison block. They’d repaired some of the building after the bombing, but there were still many rooms in need of work before the building would be fully functional again.
Gods willing, I’d be able to keep that from ever happening.
My anger rose like a raging beast inside me, and, in my mind, my griffin roared. She felt trapped and was eager to get out.
This place needed to be destroyed so it could never be used for evil again, and she wanted to do it.
One day soon, I’d unleash her.
We followed Neer out the back door and I stood, leaning against the sirdar wall for a moment, drinking in the early morning sunshine. I closed my eyes only long enough to bask in the warmth on my face.
Khal came over to stand in front of me. His scent—spicy and all male—filled my senses. He stroked the short strands of my hair sticking out from below my hat, then my face. And kissed me quickly, probably taking reassurance from me, like I took it from him.
Would this work? Or would we be captured before taking ten steps away from the prison?
My pulse pounded in my throat at the thought of being so close to freedom, only to have it snatched away abruptly.
“Gotta go,” Neer said from beside us.
I unwrapped my arms from around Khal’s neck, letting them trail down his chest to link up with his hands.
He squeezed my fingers before releasing them. “Stay close.”
CAT SHIFTERS OF AAIDAR: ENSNARE: (A Sci-fi Alien Romance, Book 3) Page 16
