Tall, Silent and Lethal

by R. L. Mathewson

  Chapter 26

  “Get him off me!”

  “Man the fuck up!” Chris snapped as he tried to pull Christofer off Kale and failed, judging by the way he was suddenly sent flying through the large room.

  “Grab his legs!” Ephraim ordered Caine as he moved to grab Christofer by the arms and-

  Went flying across the room to join Chris, who was just getting to his feet before stumbling and falling back on his ass next to his father. With a muttered, “Should just let him tear the shifter apart,” Caine grabbed Christofer by the legs and yanked him back and-

  Landed on top of Chris and Ephraim with a pained grunt just as the two of them struggled to get back to their feet. Sighing heavily, Danni moved to make an attempt to pull Christofer off Kale, but all three men on the floor yelled, “No!” in unison.

  Sighing in disgust, Danni walked past Christofer and Kale, and picked up the bag of blood that Ephraim had dropped in order to rush to Kale’s aid. With another roll of her eyes and a muttered, “pathetic,” she walked past the trio still struggling to get to their feet, plopped down on the couch and tossed the bag of blood on the coffee table.

  “Fucking hell!” Kale groaned as he shoved Christofer back in order to gain some ground, but within seconds Christofer was back on top of him, beating the shit out of him.

  “Is he in bloodlust?” Chris asked, panting heavily as he shoved Caine off his legs and finally managed to get to his feet.

  “Don’t you ever fucking touch her again!” Christofer snapped, laying punch after punch on Kale’s face and chest as Kale returned the favor, punching Christofer, landing several nasty blows that had Cloe wincing and wondering what she should be doing. Then she remembered that she was supposed to be standing there, bleeding all over the kitchen because the bastard just getting to his feet had lied.

  “Does that answer your question?” Ephraim asked, groaning as he stretched his back, a loud crack accompanying the action.

  “He’s coherent,” Chris said, sounding impressed as he gestured for his father and Caine to get back in there.

  With a snort, Caine stumbled past them and headed to the fridge to grab two bags of blood before returning to the living room section of the large open space. He tossed Ephraim a bag as he joined Danni on the couch. Ephraim watched the fight for a good minute while he drank the blood, at which time Cloe had to force herself to look away before she got sick. Not because the sight of him drinking blood disgusted her, but because her stomach actually growled viciously at the sight.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She tried to focus on the pain in her hand, but the cold water had numbed it by this point. It made it difficult to focus on anything but the tantalizing scents around her. They teased her, making her realize just how hungry she was. She didn’t want to notice how good the air smelled. Even the overly sweet scent coming from Chris was mouthwatering. She’d never considered herself one of those girls with an uncontrollable sweet tooth before.

  As she slowly inhaled, savoring his scent, she had to wonder just how much sugar he had to ingest to end up smelling like pure sugar. She didn’t know much about Sentinels other than they weren’t human, but she couldn’t imagine that ingesting sugar like it was going out of style could be good for him. Turned off by the idea of eating something overly sweet, she moved onto the other scents competing for her attention.

  She scented a heavily metallic odor and immediately wrinkled her nose in distaste. It didn’t take much to figure out that she’d smelled the bagged blood the trio on the couch was drinking. If they thought that she was going to willingly subject herself to that crap then they were out of their-

  An enticing aroma grabbed her attention. Her stomach growled viciously as she breathed in the slightly spicy scent with just a hint of that metallic odor, but this time her stomach didn’t turn in disgust. Instead her stomach rumbled, demanding the delicious treat that she was scenting. Confused, and really hoping that she was smelling a medium rare steak cooking somewhere in the building, she opened her eyes to find her focus already zeroed in on its source.

  And that’s when she finally lost it.

  *-*-*-*

  “Cloe, open the door,” he said, sighing heavily in exasperation as he reached up and wiped away the blood dripping in his eye.

  “Just leave me alone,” she said softly, too soft for the human ear to pick up, but he didn’t have that problem.

  He could hear everything going on in that room, which was how he knew that Cloe, the woman terrified of enclosed spaces, was hiding in a closet. It was enough for him to know just how poorly she was handling this new situation. It also made him feel like more of an asshole for not helping her. She hated him and if she didn’t, she should.

  He’d destroyed her life, attacked her like some sort of animal and would have killed her if she hadn’t decided to fight back and unintentionally taken his blood at just the right time. Turning her had been an accident and one he deeply regretted, more so right now that the poor thing was stuck hiding in closet as she…..

  His brows arched in confusion as he zeroed in on the odd grinding noise coming from the closet. It took him a good minute to figure out what she was doing. Sighing heavily, he shook his head in disgust. He ignored the bleeding bastard leaning against the wall next to him and grabbed the doorknob, twisting it until the lock broke.

  “I want a rematch,” the sore loser growled, looking furious as glowing silver eyes narrowed on him.

  “Anytime, asshole,” Christofer said, looking forward to beating the shit out of the shifter again as he walked into the room and slammed the door shut behind him. He headed straight for the closet where those odd grinding noises were growing increasingly louder.

  He wasn’t exactly surprised to find Cloe hunched down in the closet trying to make a stake from what appeared to be a broken chair leg. Although, he was surprised to discover that she’d already managed to wrap a ripped piece of lavender sheet around her hand, made a large cross by tying two broken chair legs together with what looked like a shoelace from her sneakers in the short time since she’d fled the living room. What he couldn’t figure out was the bathroom trashcan filled to the brim with water. Besides getting him soaked, he rectified a minute later when Cloe spotted him, squealed and grabbed the trash can and sent the cold water flying across the short distance to soak his crotch and legs.

  “Shit! Holy water doesn’t work!” she muttered with alarm, anxiously grabbing her makeshift cross and holding it up like a shield as she got to her feet. “Stay back!” she ordered, giving the cross in her hand a little shake for emphasis that had him biting back a smile that she probably wouldn’t appreciate at the moment.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose, struggling not to laugh. It surprised him that he actually had the urge to laugh after everything that happened.

  “I’m making my escape,” she said firmly, shifting her attention to the closed bedroom door.

  She moved ever so slightly towards the door, homemade cross still firmly raised in his direction. She held the stake with the splintered end in the other hand, probably thinking that it would be enough.

  “I see,” he murmured, reaching out and placing his hand against the cross.

  Her eyes widened in surprise before narrowing with disgust as she tossed the useless item aside and held the stake higher. “I don’t want to have to hurt you, Christofer, but if you don’t let me go I’ll-”

  “Give me a splinter?” he finished for her as he absently reached up and scratched the back of his neck. He nearly cringed when he realized that except for washing up quickly in the hotel sink this morning, he hadn’t showered or shaved in days.

  “I don’t want to have to hurt you, Christofer!” she repeated, licking her lips nervously as she gave the stake a little jab in his direction. She didn’t even come close to his chest, which surprised him considering everything that happened.

  He scented the air around them and frowned. He
didn’t smell anger coming off her. The only thing that he could detect was her anxiety and fear and even that had gone down since he’d opened the closet door. If anything it should have gone up with him in the room. He’d attacked her, destroyed her entire world and instead of attacking him like she had every right in the world to do, he could smell her fear diminishing and her heart rate slowing down to a normal tempo.

  It had to be the fucking blood exchange, he thought with a sigh as he reached back and grabbed the back of his shirt. He yanked it off and tossed it aside.

  “W-what are you doing?” Cloe demanded, shifting anxiously as she moved her gaze from his bare chest to the closed door.

  “Getting out of these dirty clothes so that I can take a shower,” he said, toeing off his shoes as he undid his pants.

  “Well stop!” Cloe said, waving her sad little stick even as her eyes ate up every inch of him.

  “Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” he said around a yawn, wondering if he should try to get her to drink some bagged blood before her bath or just go straight to plan B, and she was definitely taking a bath.

  He needed her relaxed, very relaxed if he was going to convince her to eat. She needed to eat soon or she’d lose control and that would only make things worse for her. There was nothing quite like losing control of your mind, your actions and giving into rage and need. It left you feeling helpless, weak and frightened of doing something, anything that would make it happen again.

  At some point it would happen to Cloe. It was inevitable, but he didn’t want it to happen when she was still struggling to deal with everything else that happened to her. She needed to get strong, learn to control her reactions, learn to feed and learn to hide what she was, especially since their kind apparently held the number one spot on some fucked up wish list.

  He’d planned on leaving her education on her new life in the hands of Ephraim and the ragtag group that had brought them here since they obviously knew more about their world than him, but seriously? Who in their right mind starts off by telling someone that they’d heal from absolutely everything, especially to a woman as pigheaded as Cloe?

  As soon as Ephraim made that little announcement, Cloe, obviously curious and eager to see if it was true, had stopped listening to Ephraim as he’d tried to explain her new abilities and walked over to the kitchen island to see for herself. It had taken everything he had in him to continue sitting there when all he wanted to do was to tackle the woman and kick the shit out of Ephraim.

  He’d also wanted to kick the shit out of Chris for rushing after her and making a grab for the knife, startling Cloe and making the cut a hell of a lot worse than she’d probably intended. At least one good thing came from this experience. Cloe now knew that she wasn’t invincible and that she could still experience pain. It would hopefully stop her from doing something stupid like climbing to the roof and doing a header in an attempt to escape. She’d survive, yes, but by the time she’d hit the ground below she’d be wishing that she hadn’t.

  “Seriously, what are you doing?” Cloe asked, absently waving that stake at him as she ran her eyes, hungry eyes, he noted, down his body.

  He ignored her question as he shoved his pants, along with his boxers, down and stepped out of them. “Come on,” he said, reaching out and taking her empty hand into his. With his other hand, he reached over and gently plucked the stake that was more splinters than anything, out of her hand and tossed it aside.

  “I don’t want a shower,” she protested even as she allowed him to lead her into the bathroom. “I just want to leave.”

  “You don’t think you’ll be noticed dressed like that?” he asked, pointedly looking at her blood stained shirt and pants.

  She frowned down at herself. “But I don’t have anything else to change into,” she murmured, sounding a little lost.

  “Ephraim had our stuff sent here while we were recovering,” he told her, pushing the bathroom door open and flicking on the light, making sure that she followed him inside before he closed the door behind them.

  “He did?” she mumbled with a frown, looking deep in thought and a little confused as she asked, “What do you mean by when ‘we’ were recovering?”

  Deciding that now was not the time to inform her that Ephraim had been forced to shoot him in the back of the head to stop him from killing his son because he’d lost control, he instead gestured towards the shower. When she threw a hesitant glance at the door, he knew that she was worried about the others coming in.

  “They’ve already left,” he gently explained, lying his ass off, but he knew that one of the Pytes in the other room would hear him and take the hint.

  He knew that they were eager to continue explaining things to Cloe, but not tonight. Tonight she needed a break, some time to relax and accept what happened to her. Tomorrow……

  Tomorrow they could finish destroying what was left of her world.

  Chapter 27

  “Tell me that you really didn’t start with the whole, ‘you’ll heal from anything,’ bullshit,” Caine grumbled, rubbing his palms down his face while Danni wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned into him.

  He dropped his arm around his mate’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head as he closed his eyes and savored her touch, welcoming the peace that just being near her gave him. The last couple of days had been grueling and he was starting to feel it. Right after they’d come back from patrol on Monday morning, the asshole, a.k.a. Kale, had barked orders for them to hurry their asses up and get in the van.

  After telling the bastard to go fuck himself and he’d finished explaining exactly where the shifter could shove his orders, he’d taken Danni, who’d been dragging ass by that point, inside. He’d badgered her until she’d finally given in and drank the demon blood the Council supplied her with. Once he’d made sure that she’d consumed enough demon blood and he’d managed to consume five bags of bagged blood, he’d pulled her into his arms and held her while she took what she needed from him.

  It hadn’t been enough, not nearly enough, but Danni, stubborn as always, had been in a rush to get on the road. She’d needed to rest, but she’d refused to listen, promising him instead that she’d sleep on the drive. He hadn’t exactly been surprised when she’d broken her word to him.

  Instead of doing as she’d promised, she’d spent the entire ride going over the files that Izzy had sent to their iPads. He had to admit that he had as well. The files the Nazis had left behind of what those sick fucks had done to Christofer and his sister had turned his stomach and had him seeing red the entire ride. His own captivity and torture was hard enough to deal with, but Christ, he didn’t have shit on what they’d put Christofer through.

  Ephraim hadn’t said anything, but the way his jaw had clenched tightly every few seconds and his eyes had glowed red as he’d read through the file lead him to believe that Christofer’s time spent in the lab had been just as bad as Ephraim’s time spent in the dungeon. The sick fucks had cataloged absolutely everything that they’d done to Christofer and Marta, everything.

  There’d been pictures of doctors smiling while they’d congratulated each other on a job well done as they’d stood over Christofer’s eviscerated body, of them looking at a loss when their experiments had failed, but mostly, there had been pictures cataloguing every humiliating moment that Christofer had endured to keep his sister alive. The worst pictures, the ones that had him wishing that he could hunt every last one of those sick fucks down, were the ones where Christofer had been forced to watch as they’d experimented on his sister.

  The pictures had been bad, but the journals and notes they’d kept……

  There were no words to describe the revulsion he’d experienced when reading over everything that they’d done to Christofer. The way they’d detailed everything from Christofer’s reaction to being dipped in acid to having his balls cut off with a straightedge razor was almost as bad as the pictures. One thing he’d realized early on in the notes, the doctors per
forming the experiments had gotten a kick out of making Christofer react.

  It appeared that a few of them had turned it into a game. They’d wanted to see who could make Christofer lose control the fastest and had even encouraged the guards to torture him. They’d been immensely pleased each and every time Christofer’s eyes had turned red and his fangs had made an appearance. They’d taken the changes as a sign that their experiments were working, that they could sneak past the façade of the perfect blonde haired, blue-eyed male and drag the red-eyed monster to the surface.

  He had to smile when he’d realized that Christofer had figured out their sick game and started to deny them the reaction that they’d craved. They’d perform tests on Christofer, but they’d mutilate what they’d deemed the “monster” inside him. Whenever Christofer eyes shifted and his fangs dropped, the scientist believed that they’d released the monster inside of him and hadn’t held anything back.

  By the end of the first year of Christofer’s captivity in that lab he’d started fighting back by not giving them what they’d wanted. It started off by Christofer managing to briefly put off allowing his eyes to shift and his teeth to descend. At first he’d only been able to hold back the shift for a minute at a time, but slowly he gained control for several minutes, hours, and days until finally, Christofer had stopped reacting at all.