Dark Swan

by Gena Showalter

  Wake . . . wake . . . she had to stay awake. . . .

  Her mind raced back to another time she'd ended up like this: drugged with predators around her. The time she'd attempted to kill Dr. Walsh. He'd survived, but his coworkers had feared for their lives, as she'd suspected they would, and locked him away, ensuring he remained comatose. She'd wondered why they hadn't just killed him themselves, but they'd known something she hadn't. Not until eight years later, when Walsh woke up and slit his own throat--and then, because her compulsion was so strong, he had risen from the grave to pick off his coworkers one by one. Even those who no longer worked at IOT.

  A horror movie come to life.

  She had no idea where he was now or what he was doing. She'd lost track of him.

  And because the lab was top-secret, independent of any other affiliation and operating completely in the black zone with zero paper trails, no one had shown up asking questions or demanding answers.

  Walsh's actions had marked the end of her torturous existence and the beginning of her fresh start.

  Suddenly the lab had been devoid of employees, and with no one there to drug Lilica and Jade, they'd soon begun to operate at full capacity. For the first time in their lives, they'd had complete access to the computers and recordings . . . and antidotes. . . .

  The antidote to sedation! Hidden in the sole of her shoe as a "just in case."

  She tried to reach it, but her arm was far too heavy. And so were her eyelids. They closed so tightly she couldn't pry them open. All too soon, darkness swallowed her whole.

  3

  Dallas reeled as a thousand and one thoughts rolled through his head. This woman . . . she was the one he'd seen in his first waking vision. The naked intruder who'd reclined in his chair, drunk his single malt, changed color like a chameleon, and asked oh, so seductively to play a game of pretend.

  With her sharp angles and even sharper tongue, she wasn't even close to his type, but . . . he wanted her in his bed at his earliest convenience. Or now. Yes, now would do.

  After she'd been nailed with Devyn's drug, she'd changed colors again and again, even silver like the bars around her. When finally she'd fallen, she'd remained black from head to toe, perhaps his favorite. But really, color didn't matter. Alien or human didn't matter. Only the heart within. Problem was, he had no idea what type of person he was dealing with here.

  And okay. He couldn't stop looking at her, and he was totally contradicting himself about only the heart within mattering. She was just so damn beautiful. She was tall and slender with a glorious ebony mane of braids. At her temples, the braids were twined with a string of blood-red rubies. A perfect match for her lips. Blood-red today, but always heart-shaped. Provocative and provoking.

  Up close and personal, he realized her eyes weren't simply catlike; they had the allure of a Teran's. Before her eyes had closed for the final time, her irises had been deep, an endless span of ocean crowned by the darkest night.

  Every time she'd looked at him, he'd been set adrift in that ocean, lost and drowning. The worst part? He'd had no desire to be saved.

  He took in the rest of her. She had pointy ears--too damn adorable--and those prominent cheekbones. In contrast, she had a delicate nose. The diamonds forming her eyebrows glittered with otherworldly radiance.

  When she'd attacked Devyn, Dallas had caught a glimpse of the emerald green butterfly wings etched into the corners of her eyes and the strands of ivy etched across her forehead. The markings weren't tattoos, exactly. They couldn't be. At certain angles, they appeared iridescent, as much a part of her skin as a freckle or birthmark. He'd only ever seen those markings twice before. Once on the woman in his vision and once . . . on . . . what race? He couldn't remember the name, could only remember the people had been experimented on before total extinction.

  The extinction had happened before his time. But when he was a plucky AIR trainee, he'd spent most of his free time studying different human-alien battles, as well as the strengths and weakness of the creatures who'd lived and died so that he could better defeat the ones still in existence.

  A feminine moan pulled him out of his head and into a haze of lust he struggled to control.

  The prisoner moaned, nothing more, and he shot hard as a rock?

  Not exactly the greatest start to their relationship. And they would have a relationship. His visions had never lied.

  The rest of her skin glittered as if it had been dipped in fairy dust, not quite as vibrant as her marks, but still gorgeous, as well as an effect he'd only ever seen on Targons. But she wasn't a Targon. Devyn recognized his own, and he would have pegged her at moment one.

  Those sharp cheekbones and pointy ears lent a shocking wildness to an otherwise serene beauty. Even better, she had a voice like sex. A voice that was sex. The raspy pitch had stroked over him, making him think of a feather at the end of a flogger.

  The scent of roses and a campfire ablaze with aged wood was stronger here, and most assuredly wafted from her. It only made him want her more. Must taste. . . .

  She wasn't a sweetheart with a ready smile, the kind of woman a lawman like him should want. This girl had a mouth on her. Hold me back! Her mouth. Over and over again his attention had returned to it. So lush and red . . . decadence made flesh.

  She was exotic, unique, and that had to be the draw. But honestly, he thought he would have wanted her even if he were blindfolded. That scent . . . that screw me and screw me hard voice . . .

  He motioned to the cage with a jerk of his chin. "Open it."

  Devyn sighed. "If you tell me your conscience is bothering you . . ."

  He simply lifted a brow.

  With another sigh, Devyn opened the cage. Dallas stalked inside, crouched beside the exotic beauty, and gently rolled her to her back. As he touched her, her skin turned the same olive color as his own.

  She was a chameleon.

  Despite the blood, dirt, and grime caked on her, she still managed to shimmer.

  A suspicion about her had danced at the periphery of his mind since the moment he'd laid eyes on her, and now solidified. "She's related to Trinity."

  "Hell, no." Devyn crouched beside him. "I would have noticed a resemblance."

  "They have a similar bone structure. Same oval face. Same prominent cheekbones that gracefully taper to a strong chin."

  " 'Gracefully taper'? Did you acquire a degree in hideous poetry in the past hour?" His friend's tone was as dry as the air in No Man's Land. Then he cursed. "My boy, I think you're right."

  Perhaps the two females were cousins. Maybe even half sisters. Either way, he could use Lilica to draw Trinity out of hiding.

  "She isn't diseased, is she?" he asked, seeking reassurance even though his friend had already provided the answer.

  "She's definitely clean. I had tests done before I brought her here."

  She wasn't Schon, then. But what was she? The power she radiated . . . he felt as if he'd been hit by shrapnel, with too many bits and pieces to identify a single source. His Arcadian side had reacted oddly to it, buzzing with a need to escape her and to draw her closer. He thought he understood the latter, though. Once, when she'd glanced in his direction, his Arcadian side had hinted at a very dark future--she planned to kill him.

  Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. . . .

  Devyn had mentioned Dallas's pop-a-cap vision.

  Was that the reason Lilica now wanted him dead?

  Whatever the reason, she would fail.

  But he would not. He would use her as bait. Which meant, he would have to spend time with her. Could he resist her potent allure, or would he willingly risk his life in an attempt to seduce her?

  Her in his chair, drinking his whiskey . . . Yeah. He'd risk it.

  Desire wasn't always a weakness; sometimes it could be a weapon.

  "I may not survive my association with her," he admitted. But what a way to go.

  Devyn stiffened. "Well, then. She dies today."

  To th
e Targon, all threats to Dallas were to be eliminated immediately, no questions asked. No investigation.

  "Your bromantic gestures always warm my heart, but I'm asking you to stand down just this once." Dallas traced a fingertip along Lilica's jaw. Softer than silk. "I'm taking her with me."

  "Like hell. She's not diseased--she's worse. My people once warred with hers. The Falle."

  Falle. Yes! The exterminated--well, the nearly exterminated race. Predators to the core. Chameleons able to vanish at will. Wily, even deceitful, with off-the-charts possessive instincts.

  "For the first time in my reign, we almost lost a battle." Devyn held up his arm, revealing the five finger-long wounds that hadn't yet regenerated. "This one amplifies."

  "And that's bad because . . . ?"

  "With a single touch, she can make you stronger. Too strong."

  Again he said, "And that's bad because . . . ?"

  "Think of it this way. Right now you are able to run faster than the human eye can track. But after contact with her, you would be able to break the sound barrier, and you wouldn't be able to stop yourself. You would run until you died. If your body could contain that kind of power for any real length of time."

  Was that her plan, then? Kill him with his own alien abilities? "You have a way to neutralize her, I'm assuming."

  "Of course," Devyn replied without missing a beat. "I'll cut off her hands."

  Of course. "There's no other less . . . damaging way?"

  His friend pursed his lips. "You're losing your edge, and it's embarrassing."

  "Just tell me what you know."

  "Fine. My people have indeed developed a poison that neutralizes the abilities of otherworlders, but the effects wear off quickly, lasting no longer than twenty-four hours. And the drug can be easily counteracted by a shot of doctored adrenaline."

  "I'll keep her away from extreme sports," Dallas replied drily.

  "I said doctored adrenaline. There's a difference."

  "Give me two weeks' worth of doses for her." Surely he could spread the word of her capture and draw Trinity out of hiding within that time frame.

  Let's do this. He straightened to his full six-foot-three height, and her skin returned to that luscious black. "Also, I'm going to need a few hours to get my shit together. Do not--I repeat, do not--hurt her while I'm gone. You do, and I will be highly displeased."

  There were cuts and bruises on her neck, arms, and legs, and probably more under her clothes. Dallas wasn't against the use of torture whenever warranted--he believed in equal opportunity and all that garbage. But he didn't like the thought of Lilica's lovely face twisted with pain or her voice screaming with torment rather than moaning with pleasure.

  The protective instincts could be linked to his desire for her, but the intensity of that desire baffled him--until he remembered the pheromone Trinity released. He'd assumed it came from the Schon, but perhaps it came from a shared familial line.

  Devyn scowled at him. "What the hell is this?"

  "What the hell is what?"

  "This look." A finger zigzagged in front of his face. "Are you fantasizing about our bait?"

  Bait. The guy had already deduced Dallas's plan. Shocker. "Now you're the one being ridiculous. She isn't my type." The absolute truth. And yet . . .

  She tried to amph and kill my friend, and I got a hard-on for her.

  Well, another hard-on for her.

  Devyn's scowl only deepened. "Do yourself a favor and remain detached with her."

  Something in his tone hinted at a deeper meaning. "You're going to use her to amplify your powers, aren't you?" Dallas demanded. "You think you're going to stop her before she goes too far."

  "Think is incorrect. I will use her, and I will stop her before she goes too far."

  Power-hungry Devyn. Nothing new there.

  "There was another girl at the institute," Devyn added. "I sensed her but couldn't find her. I've had an agent watching the place since I left with Lilica."

  "Which agent?"

  "John No Last Name."

  John, who'd been little more than a feral animal the last time Dallas had seen him. Poor guy had only recently been found and freed after months of torture--his skin flayed from his body over and over again.

  "Perhaps the other girl will help convince Lilica I'm the lesser of two evils," Devyn concluded.

  Dallas couldn't come up with a valid reason to argue over the matter. Lilica meant nothing to him. Proof: the slight prick of irritation in his chest stemmed from a sense of urgency to find Trinity, not a desire to protect Lilica.

  "I meant what I said. Don't touch her while I'm gone, or you and I are going to have a problem." He didn't want her skin to match his friend's. Only his. And when it changed again and again, he wanted the sight to belong to his eyes and no one else's. "The only contact she's to have is with the needle you use to dose her."

  Devyn studied him for a long, silent moment. Understandable. Dallas had never spoken to his friend so harshly. To everyone but his enemies, Dallas was a happy-go-lucky bachelor without a care. In this, he blamed Lilica and her mystical appeal.

  "All right," Devyn said with a nod. "Consider it done. I just hope you know what you're doing."

  "I don't, but that's not going to stop me."

  Bang, bang.

  Lilica dreamed of taking over IOT . . . of the day she finally uncovered the truth about herself and her sisters. Turned out they were a mix of twenty-three alien races, plus the human race, and each girl exhibited different dominant qualities found within the different species.

  Jade took after the Maleahdolla, a warrior race feared throughout the galaxies. Their ability to read the minds of others gave them an edge in combat, technological advances, medicine, and even relationships.

  Lilica took after the Falle, a corrupt race AIR had tried to exterminate during the human-alien war. And AIR wasn't the first to try! Centuries ago, the Falle had nearly been obliterated by the Maleahdolla. The survivors were enslaved and used to amph their masters. But the Falle--insidious creatures who strengthened themselves by killing others--had bonded their lives to the lives of their captors, ensuring one race could not survive without the other.

  Her voice voodoo came from the vampires. A specific vampire, actually, someone identified only as "the bride."

  Trinity took after the Forforn, a seductive race lovely beyond compare, with saliva as addictive as any drug. They'd once been hunted and used as sex slaves, but were now nearing extinction.

  Something else they'd learned? Years ago, the staff at IOT had decided to use Trinity's beauty and abilities to their advantage by sending her on a dangerous mission. Of course, they'd threatened to kill her sisters if she failed to return. Her objective: Find the king of the Schon and, through any means necessary, obtain a sample of his DNA.

  She'd obtained a sample of his DNA, all right. Inside her veins! She'd absorbed his alien life force--a parasite--and in the ensuing weeks, the infection had spread through both her mind and her body, completely taking over.

  Telepathic conversations with her had ceased, their bond to their eldest sister broken. Sweet, shy Trinity had then seduced her way out of the lab, infecting several doctors and guards. Doctors and guards who'd soon sickened. They were contained, studied, and eventually rotted to death inside their cells.

  Once Lilica and Jade gained their own freedom, they'd left the lab for the first time in their lives, hoping to find and save their sister. But the crowds had been more than Jade could withstand, the onslaught of thoughts and possible futures . . . of evil . . . making her crazed. For Lilica, the stares had been disconcerting. In a world filled with humans and otherworlders of every kind, she and Jade were still freaks. Dejected and ill prepared, they'd returned to the lab.

  Bang! Bang!

  Lilica awoke with a jolt and jerked upright. A flood of dizziness sent her crashing back onto the mattress. A soft mattress, not like her hard cot at the institute, or the cold concrete floor in her new cell.


  The cell . . .

  Memories swamped her, and anger sparked.

  Devyn . . . Dallas. That stupid dart.

  When the dizziness subsided, she sat up slowly, gingerly, and catalogued her surroundings. A spacious room with four white walls and a closed metal door. The only piece of furniture was the mattress she rested upon. A stack of clothes and a basket of toiletries perched at its foot.

  There was no sign of her captors.

  Nausea churned in her stomach as she stood to shaky legs. Deep breath in . . . out . . . Cool air kissed her bare skin. Bare? Heart hammering, she looked down. Her filthy scrubs had been removed, but her plain white bra and panties were still firmly in place.

  Which man had stripped her?

  Did it really matter? When cameras recorded every aspect of your life from birth to adulthood, a panel of men and women watching from the other side of a two-way mirror, you never developed a sense of modesty. Of course, as soon as she'd learned to control her ability to camouflage, no one had been able to watch her do anything. They'd had to track her through a metal wrist cuff she'd been unable to remove until taking over the lab.

  Her balance steadied as she searched the basket. No razor, only soaps and lotions. Great for beautification, useless for defense.

  Bang, bang, bang.

  Once again, she jumped. The sound came from beyond the door.

  She ignored the clothes. Countless times, her jumpsuits at the institute had been washed with chemicals meant to alter her state of mind. She quietly padded across the room and tested the doorknob. Unlocked. The Targon and the Arcadian were suspicious bastards; they wouldn't trust her with a button, much less give her free rein here, wherever here was.

  If they'd wanted the door locked, it would have been locked. Neither was the type to make such a critical mistake. So. This had to be a trap of some sort. She used a stream of power she couldn't afford to lose to force a thought out of her head and into Jade's.

  --I've been transferred to a new location. Don't know where I am, or what's planned, but I've found the arctic-eyed man.--

  Unlike every time before, the power fizzled before leaving her, and she frowned. She tried again . . . with the same results. She waited one minute . . . two . . . breathing deeply, hoping for a reply, but only silence greeted her. Her hands curled into fists. What had Dallas and Devyn done to her?