Double Helix Collection: A Genetic Revolution Thriller

by Jade Kerrion

  Peace was just what they needed at Christmas, what Danyael deserved. He had lived through three years of hell, including brutal torture and the quiet grind of despair. He had survived and become strong.

  And he had not lost the core of compassion that made him, hands down, the most compelling and infuriating person Zara knew. She didn’t think she would ever fully understand him, but love? He made love easy.

  Of course, looking back upon the path their love had traveled, she doubted that even he could call it “easy.”

  As a matter of principle, she didn’t make things easy. Not even on herself.

  Her gaze shuttled between Galahad and Danyael. Other differences were subtle yet more telling. Galahad oozed arrogance and confidence, but Zara had reason to hope that Danyael’s air of guarded vulnerability would fade over time.

  “Excuse me.” Zara turned her back on Galahad and walked into the kitchen. She filled an empty champagne glass with sparkling white grape juice and rejoined the party.

  Danyael glanced up as she approached. He smiled at her.

  Her breath caught.

  The intimacy of their love, tempered by trials, tested by time, infused that smile. For a moment, she could have sworn that bell-like chimes shimmered through a world exploding with color.

  Damn, he was going to make her lose her edge.

  The problem was, just then, she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

  She offered him the glass of grape juice. They both knew he did not touch alcohol or caffeine. He avoided both depressants and stimulants—anything that could jeopardize his flawless emotional control.

  “Thanks.” He accepted it with a nod, no questions asked.

  The conversation flowed, relaxed and easy. Laughter sparkled. Danyael’s grandparents doted upon their apparent great-granddaughter, and Laura thrived under the attention.

  Danyael, who usually stood on the fringes of any gathering, set apart by his psychic shields that repelled attention, was drawn into the circle of affection and surrounded by people who loved him.

  Galahad stood outside, set apart by his perfection.

  ~*~

  Danyael hated the spotlight, but accepted it with equanimity as the inevitable combination of two festive occasions: Christmas and his wedding.

  The platinum ring on his finger was a slight but noticeable weight, one he had never imagined he would carry. A romantic relationship and marriage were beyond the reach of an alpha empath who possessed emotions powerful enough to drive others to suicide; he had resigned himself to loving Zara from afar.

  Yet, in the end, he could not let her go.

  Not when she loved him with such fierce passion. Time and time again, she placed herself between him and his enemies. With every breath, her absolute acceptance of him—all his strengths and weaknesses—flooded him with peace.

  Neither he nor Zara would ever know if he, as an alpha empath, had unconsciously inspired her love by loving her first, but in the end, as Zara had insisted, it didn’t matter.

  It was enough that love united them and filled their home.

  Danyael’s family and Xin separated into smaller clusters, moving freely between the dining room and living room with plates of food. Conversation and laughter bubbled from cozy sitting areas by the French windows and the blazing fireplace.

  As soon as he could break away, he sought out Galahad, who stood alone, browsing Zara’s library where Laura’s alphabet books were nestled alongside Zara’s gun catalogs.

  Galahad looked up as he approached.

  Danyael broke the silence first. “Thank you for saving my life.”

  Galahad’s smile was faint. “I would say we’re even, except we’re not. You saved my life on four occasions that I can recall.”

  Had he? It depended, Danyael supposed, on how one kept track of such things. His three-year acquaintance—friendship was too strong a word—with Galahad was tumultuous and loaded with far more negative than positive memories, and yet, they had both emerged in a better place than where they had started out, even if for him, the path had meandered through three years of hell.

  Bitterness had never been his forte, and it was even less so now that he had Zara by his side. He would be all right; he had to make sure Galahad would be too.

  Danyael turned and beckoned to Zara and Galahad’s daughter. “Laura.”

  The two-year-old child looked up, and a smile beamed across her face. She trotted across the room to wrap her arms around Danyael’s legs. “Daddy!”

  He leaned down to pick her up. Her chubby arm slung around the back of his neck and a mouth, smeared with cranberry sauce, pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Laura, this is Galahad.”

  The toddler grinned. “Daddy brother.”

  “Yes, one of them.”

  Galahad’s gaze flashed to Danyael. His emotions flickered; disbelief overlaid astonishment.

  She twisted around in Danyael’s arms and pointed at Jason. “Dat Daddy brother too.”

  Danyael nodded.

  Galahad glanced across the room. His face tightened as he met Zara’s cool violet eyes. “I take it Zara’s not too happy about my joining the family.”

  The alpha empath shrugged. “I’ve spoken to her. She understands the necessity of emotional connections. She’ll come around.” He glanced at the little girl snuggled in his arms, the precious child who called him Daddy. “When the time is right, when she’s older, we’ll tell her too.”

  A muscle twitched in Galahad’s smooth cheek. “Why are you doing this?”

  Confusion flashed through Galahad’s emotions. Danyael caught the familiar undercurrent of hate and sensed Galahad bracing for the same. He shook his head. “I’ve never hated you. Hate takes too much effort; I have enough trouble getting through each day.” He glanced away briefly before returning his attention to Galahad. “For the past three years, we’ve managed to stay out of each other’s way. Some of it couldn’t be helped,” he said, referring to his fourteen months in a maximum-security prison and his subsequent five-month tenure with the Mutant Assault Group. “The rest of the time I avoided you, not wanting to stir up any more of your hatred. It was wrong. I should have made the effort to reach out to you.”

  Galahad’s brow furrowed. “Why didn’t you?”

  “I was afraid of losing more than I’d already lost.” He inhaled deeply. “I’d like to change that. I think we can help you, Galahad, if you’d let us.”

  “We?”

  “Zara, Laura, and I.”

  “What is it going to cost?”

  Danyael chuckled. “Nothing. We’ve always managed to stay civil, except for the times when Zara’s tried to kill you. Civility’s enough for me.”

  “And what about your emotional connections?”

  Danyael’s grip tightened around the child in his arms. His platinum wedding ring glistened under the pale blue mood lighting that infused the living room. “I have everything I need.”

  “You don’t need much.”

  “Never have.”

  Galahad hesitated. “I’ll consider it. I’d…like to spend time with Laura.”

  “Of course,” Danyael conceded immediately.

  Galahad frowned. “Just like that? Zara wouldn’t give in so easily.”

  Danyael laughed. “Zara complicates things just for the hell of it. I’m not Zara. Here.” He shifted Laura easily and transferred her into Galahad’s arms. “Why don’t you show Uncle Galahad what you like to eat for dinner?”

  Her chubby feet kicked with enthusiasm. “Go dat way!” she ordered, imperiously pointing at the dining room.

  Zara approached Danyael after Galahad carried Laura away to the dining room. “I still don’t like it.”

  At least she had kept her voice low. “He’s her—”

  “You’re her father.”

  “He’s her birth father,” Danyael said quietly. “Nothing can change that fact.” He and Zara had argued that morning; she wanted to change Laura’s last name to Itani-Sabre. Danyael saw n
o need for it. He could not love Laura any more; a longer last name would not have increased her sense of security or self. “Galahad wants her to love him. He’ll be good to her.” And Laura’s uncomplicated, unconditional love will save him from self-destruction the same way she saved me.

  He slipped an arm around Zara’s waist and drew her close.

  “You’re trying to charm me into a good mood,” she accused.

  “I’m an alpha empath, and you have no psychic shields. I wouldn’t even have to try.”

  She laughed, turning her face up for a kiss. Her slender body relaxed, her shoulders sagging with a sigh. “All these happy feelings are going to make me lose my edge.”

  He exploded into laughter. “I’d apologize, but it wouldn’t sound sincere.”

  “I’m not giving up my job.”

  “You want me to give up mine.”

  “Because healing people is wrecking your health. How many times do you need to nearly die before you get the message?” She snorted. “Why won’t you take a research position instead?”

  “I can make a bigger difference in the real world.”

  Her eyes glittered. Her smile was too bright, too sharp. “As can I.” She threw a glance at the front door. “We’ll discuss this later.”

  Only Zara could make so simple a statement sound like a threat.

  He suspected they’d discuss it on and off for the rest of their lives. An assassin and a healer would never find a comfortable professional middle ground, but life with Zara would not be dull. Marriage would not stem her compulsion to create trouble and drag everyone else around her into it. He doubted he’d have the power to veto anything; Zara was notoriously headstrong, but at least marriage gave him the right to hang around and swing the odds in her favor to keep her alive.

  Zara opened the front door and stepped aside to allow three teenagers to enter.

  “Danyael!” a teenaged female voice squealed. Footsteps raced across the oak hardwood floors. Dee launched herself into his arms. “We were so worried. I wanted to come down earlier, but Zara told me to stay on campus since there was nothing I could do.”

  “I’m all right. How’s Princeton?”

  Her smile flashed, bright and full. “I love it!” She shook her shoulder-length brown hair back from her face. “I’m taking classes with some of the most amazing professors, and my classmates are mostly cool. There’s some inevitable butt kissing, but once I tell them that I don’t make the scholarship decisions for the Foundation, they usually back off.”

  Her fraternal twin gently nudged her out of the way and extended his hand to Danyael.

  Danyael shook his hand. “Dum, how are you?”

  The teenager grinned. He still rarely spoke—twelve years of silence was a hard habit to break—but his aura was cheerful, even vibrant. His reputation as a deejay extended far beyond Washington, D.C., and he traveled extensively, using his fledgling empathic powers to spin intoxicating happiness into music.

  A slender, blond teenager peeked from behind Dum’s shoulder and waved a hand at Danyael. Jessica’s tendency to get lost, even with a map in hand, did not align with her reputation as a council-trained alpha telepath and telekinetic, but her indefatigable enthusiasm set her apart from many older alpha mutants who were her peers in power and capability. Her voice whispered through his mind. Hello, Danyael.

  He inclined his head and responded in kind. How are you?

  Good. I…uh… She glanced at Zara. Alex Saunders ordered me to protect Zara’s mind, and—

  Zara doesn’t like anyone inside her head.

  It didn’t sound optional. Anyone who wants you now knows to go after her first. Alex wants to be sure no one can use her to get to you, and that means building up her psychic resistance.

  She doesn’t have psychic shields, but she’s sensitive to psychic pressure. She’ll sense if you try to shield her mind.

  Jessica shrugged. Can’t be helped. You know, most people would be thrilled to have an alpha telepath protecting their minds from psychic attacks.

  She’s not “most people.”

  I know. And she’s killed enough alpha mutants for me not to want to get on her blacklist. Can you talk to her, please? I’m too young to die.

  Danyael inhaled deeply. I’ll talk to her, and I’ll let you know when she comes around.

  Thanks, Danyael. You’re the greatest.

  Hardly that. He was, though, Zara’s weakest link, and she was his. By marrying her, how much more danger had he exposed her to?

  Her emotions rippled, uncertainty flickering over a rush of affection.

  Had her emotions mirrored his?

  He looked up. No, the emotions were hers. She was talking to an elderly man who had just entered their home. The man’s hair was streaked with gray, and his beard was neatly trimmed. Kindly brown eyes peered out from behind a pair of glasses. He looked distinguished, if a touch too formal, in a suit and tie.

  Zara turned and beckoned to Danyael with a smile.

  He excused himself from the company of Dee, Dum, and Jessica, and walked across the hallway to join Zara.

  “Danyael, my father, Bashir Itani.”

  The old man beamed at him and extended his hand. “You are the man who has made my Zara content and restored to me my family. Thank you.”

  “Dr. Itani—”

  “Please. Call me Bashir.” He spared his daughter a sideway glance. “Happiness can be transient, but contentment, the joy that sustains through the most difficult times, is my prayer and hope for your marriage.” His smile gentled. “I hope you will allow me to consider you the son of my heart.”

  Danyael relaxed, his breath easing out of him as he smiled. Bashir’s sincerity and delight were infectious, and the warmth of his easy acceptance offered Danyael the irresistible prospect of family. “I would be honored, Father.” The word “father” came far more easily than he had expected. What startled him though was how the dull pang of his own father’s rejection—so constant that he no longer noticed it—eased subtly with the utterance of that single word. “Let me introduce you to my brother and grandparents.”

  He escorted Bashir to the living room, and made the necessary introductions. Danyael’s grandparents were visibly thrilled to realize that Zara Itani could still make claim to a pleasantly normal father, and drew him into a lively conversation.

  Danyael listened for a moment before allowing his brother to draw him away.

  Jason glanced at the ring on Danyael’s finger and grinned. “So, that’s it, huh? Locked and shackled for life.”

  Danyael returned the smile. “And surrounded by family and friends.” He looked around the room at the faces of people who had come to spend Christmas Eve with Zara and him. It was a far cry from his last Christmas when he had returned alone to his tiny studio apartment after a long day at work at the free clinic, too tired to eat and too hungry to sleep. “I never expected this.” Disbelief and awe slipped past the façade of flawless equilibrium to clog his throat.

  “You never expect much,” Jason retorted, but the admonition was grounded in brotherly affection. He stared at Danyael and nodded. His own throat worked. “But you deserve it, man. I’m glad she’s around to keep an eye on you. You push yourself too hard.”

  “Me?”

  “A bit of constructive laziness wouldn’t hurt. I hope you’re planning to take a break before starting work again.”

  “I’ve been on break since the end of October.”

  “Not the same thing,” Jason disagreed. “You were dying. Wrapping up life’s loose ends isn’t the same thing as a vacation.”

  Danyael shrugged. Either way, he hadn’t been working.

  “Have you decided which job offer to accept? The NIH research position sounds interesting.”

  He frowned at his brother. “Did Zara put you up to this?”

  Jason chuckled. “Of course. She’s a manipulative little witch. She really doesn’t want you to go back to the free clinics.”

  “I can�
�t go back anyway. Lucien threatened to withdraw their funding if they employed me. Anacostia can’t afford to lose its clinic, so I’m out of a job.”

  “I’m not complaining about the outcome, mind you, but I think it’s just crazy that he can do something like that.”

  “He has money, influence, and a willingness to use both to get what he wants.”

  “You don’t sound angry.”

  “For sixteen years, Lucien used his money and influence to protect me. I wouldn’t be alive, let alone sane, without his friendship. Now that he hates me—” Danyael shrugged. “It’s his right to use his money and influence any way he chooses.”

  “And the psychic barriers in his mind…isn’t there any way—?”

  Danyael shook his head. “They’re too tightly locked in. An alpha telepath might be able to break them down but not without significant risk to him. I don’t think anyone is going to take that chance.”

  “It can’t be the only way,” Jason insisted.

  “Death would purge them, but that wouldn’t help Lucien either.”

  “So, that’s it? Goodbye to the friendship that saved your life?”

  “It ended three years ago,” Danyael said quietly. The pang of its loss still resonated through him, but it was a dull ache, its sharp edge worn down by emotional exhaustion and time. “I’ve moved on.”

  “He hasn’t. He hates you. He’s still trying to hurt you.”

  “I know.”

  Jason frowned. “What are you going to do about it?”

  “Nothing. As long as he doesn’t touch Zara or Laura, I can deal with whatever he throws my way.”

  “That’s your plan?” Incredulity rang through Jason’s voice.

  “It’s a philosophy. Calling it a plan would give it more structure and coherence than it really has. One day at a time, Jason. I’ll get through it.”

  Jason grinned and gave Danyael a brotherly slap on his shoulder. “You always have.”

  Danyael glanced up as a flicker of anxiety wafted through the air. “Excuse me.” He stepped away from Jason and followed the unsettled emotion like a scent hound. It led him to the two servers—young women whom he had assumed were employees of the catering company Zara had hired to compensate for the fact that she was a terrible cook.