***
Sasha knew something was different this time when Jaron returned to the cage and the bars swung closed. The guards left and he stayed in the farthest corner, butt to the cold floor and head bowed between his bent knees. His lack of clothing triggered her concern as well. The rest of them never got anything to cover themselves, but Jaron had.
She gripped the bars and studied his tense posture. “Jaron?”
Nothing. Usually he gifted her with the brightness of his smiles. Some days, pain clearly racked his body, but he always faced her and grinned. The single sign of reassurance became a signal between them. One she cherished.
Thinking about it brought to mind the time he’d returned from one of the sessions shuddering. He’d slumped against the bars, but met her eyes across the expanse. His mouth curved in humor, eyes lit with laughter seconds before he’d passed out.
This silence worried her. It didn’t take long to realize he challenged Dr. Kirkem whenever his turn came. It was too late for the previous prisoners, but the rest of them still lived because The Collector wanted the secrets in Jaron’s head.
Beneath her gaze, he raked his hands through his hair, the sound of his harsh breathing beating against her senses. Remembering her times with The Collector, Sasha slid down to her knees and extended her arm as far as possible, knowing she wouldn’t reach the corner of the cage where he sat.
“Jaron, come back.”
He jerked, going rigid, but didn’t answer.
Argorans were family oriented, yet Sasha had ruthlessly suppressed her cat’s craving for familial structure and affection. Until Jaron. Before being captured, her loner existence never bothered her and then this Jutak warrior talked to her. Stroked her hair, appealing to her inner cat without trying. She wanted to give him back a fraction of what he gave her.
Nibbling her lip, Sasha thought long and hard about what to say to get his attention. Being a Bounty Retriever didn’t offer any guidance. Her job required single minded dedication which worked with the personality she’d developed to protect herself from hurt and Orland’s actions proved even a peer couldn’t be trusted. Since she didn’t have a family and pretty much raised herself, the dynamics about caring for people didn’t come naturally to her.
What did others do for the people they cared for? She cursed, wishing for the ability to be friendly. Jaron’s natural exuberance made it seem easy. Sasha wasn’t the only one who responded to the bright light of his personality. The other prisoners felt it too.
Giving up on knowing what to do intuitively, she only had one weapon at her disposal. Something she hoped would get him to turn in her direction. “Jaron, I need you.”
He faced her right away, responding to her words with an upward curl of his lips. “Don’t lie. You don’t need anyone, kitten.”
Beneath the façade, his eyes were filled with fury. Jaron stood and strode toward where their bars met. His scent washed over her in a wave causing a primal reaction.
Her mind categorized every smell. Arousal. Desire. Release. Claws sprung from her fingertips and a low rumbling growl rolled from deep in her chest. Protective instincts reared and her fangs lengthened.
Mine, mine, mine. The claim burst from deep in her chest. Then she scented the other emotions.
Hurt. Shame.
Someone hurt her Jaron. Hearing increased, vision sharpened as she fought against the overwhelming urge to shift. Still, she gritted out, “What did he do to you?”
Chapter 10
Warning growls and snarls startled Jaron enough to shake off the experience with The Collector. Sasha’s green eyes glowed, their luminescence at odds with their dark cell area. Her upper lip peeled back to reveal deadly fangs as she voiced her demand.
“What did he do to you?”
His gaze dropped to the grooves her claws gouged into the solid floor of his cage. As much as he wanted to dwell and evaluate what Dr. Kirkem and the Marenian female did to him, Sasha looked seconds away from losing control.
“Tell me, Jaron.” More snarls accompanied the command as she pounded at the ground with a tight fist.
Her spine hunched and she raked her back legs. Considering all the work he put into keeping attention off of her, Jaron hastened to her side of the cell and dropped to his knees. Seated next to her, Jaron observed the changes including how she vibrated all over. Tiny white hairs sprouted from her skin.
“I’m fine, Sasha.” He gripped her wrists and thumbed the rapidly beating pulse. Slow and steady he rubbed back and forth, waiting for her to settle.
He slid his one hand up past her elbow, stroking all the way and curled an arm around her shoulder while retaining his hold on her other wrist to track her pulse. Minute by minute, she eased and her sharp claws retracted on a mournful whimper.
Grooves remained where her animal side had ripped at the floor. Soft curls brushed his chin as she tilted her head over and nuzzled the curve of his shoulder and throat.
She disarmed him with the telling gesture. “No, you’re not.”
Purrs tumbled forth and wrapped around his heart, banishing the last of Jaron’s anger. Words failed, emotions surging as their closeness soothed both of them. Trusting she was back in control, he let go of her wrist and cupped her face to turn it toward him. Green eyes flickered from the reminder of her cat’s presence.
She rolled to her knees and mimicked his posture. “Jaron.”
“Shh.” Her lips parted in confusion as he pressed his face directly against the bars and kissed her.
Sasha gasped then clutched him to her on a growl, but the rough sound was softer and nothing like the earlier grumbles. He deepened the kiss, hands caressing her shoulders to hold her steady. Feminine moans joined his groans, desperation adding its own unique flavor to their first kiss. She palmed the back of his head, twisting about, her bare breasts and pointed nipples bumping his chest.
Long used to their enforced nudity, he didn’t expect the erection springing up. Arousal and desire beat at him, her tongue teasing with sure strokes. It wasn’t enough. Jaron wished he could get closer as he ran his hands down Sasha’s back, feeling the softness, the womanly curves. All of it familiar after their nights of practically sleeping together.
He sought to pull back from the passion igniting between them unsure if it was the drug, but Sasha’s hold firmed in denial. “More.”
Not complying wasn’t an option. Refusal never entered his mind. Cold metal and solid bars frustrated. Jaron eased his hands to loosely enclose her neck, thumbs rubbing up the slender column. Another trigger point for Argorans which she didn’t resist. Sasha allowed the telling hold, her acceptance acting as a balm to his emotional wounds.
The hair on her nape was softer than the rest and he toyed with the curls. She lowered her lids, the gesture implying a level of trust that struck Jaron anew.
Lust lashed at him, his body hot and wanting. Every slide of her breasts, nipples stabbing sent zings of pleasure through him. Jaron blew out a breath and muttered, “You’re a danger to my piece of mind, Sasha.”
And then he heard it again. The trill of Sasha’s melodious purr. His arms tightened reflexively as she shifted about. The pads of her fingers pushed and prodded at his shoulders, kneading him like the cat she was.
“No more than you are to me.” Her husky whisper brushed along his jaw. Jaron tipped his head to the side as she nipped and kissed her way toward his ear. Soft flicks from her tongue left him trembling. When she worked her way down his throat, Jaron groaned.
Sasha’s hands dragged down the outside of his arms, the light scrape of her claws sensitizing his skin. He nudged her face back up, wanting the touch of her mouth back on his. The bars pressed at his temple. Sasha bit his bottom lip and licked away the sting. Blood rushed to his extremities. They twisted about both fighting, needing to be closer.
Then one of Sasha’s hands trailed down his thigh and gripped his shaft firmly. Instantly Jaron was transported back into the room with the female Marenian as she pu
shed him toward a climax he didn’t want. Jaron shoved Sasha aside and jumped to his feet. He moved far away. As far as the limited space in their cages allowed. Back pressed to the bars, he sought to calm down.
Instead his anger bounced and flowed in an uncontrollable surge. “Fuuuck!”
“Careful,” Sasha murmured.
Panting, Jaron spared a glance to the side. He glimpsed her crouched where he’d left her. The same spot where they’d tried to climb onto one another. Delicate brows creased to form a V, the mouth he’d kissed wet and dewy. Fisting his hands, he banged his head on the bars behind him. “Fuck! Fuck!”
Sasha stood in one lithe move, drawing his gaze to her body. At least her time here hadn’t wasted her away. She suffered a loss of muscle tone but still moved with sinuous grace and her figure maintained its lush curves. It took conscious effort, but slow and even breaths helped Jaron gain control.
“Talk about it or ignore?” she asked.
The same question he’d asked her. It seemed so long ago. In the beginning, before he managed to draw Dr. Kirkem’s attention on him, Jaron had held her as much as possible and rubbed her hair after her sessions. The one thing he’d learned during this time was how much she enjoyed being petted. A quirk she hated for him to discover if her blush at the time was any indication.
“Talk about it.”
No matter what he wanted, what Jaron had to impart couldn’t be ignored. He exhaled and straightened. Just thinking about sharing what happened to him made Jaron nauseas. Quick steps brought him back to her side. “Dr. Kirkem injected me with something new. He talked about Argoran muata.”
Sasha flinched, then placed a hand on his chest. “Are you certain?”
The tender touch distracted. Typically, Jaron initiated touch. For Sasha to do it warmed the cold places left by his experience. Focusing on her question, he thought long and hard if he was mistaken. The conclusion was obvious. No doubt in his mind the arousal and subsequent orgasm were induced by a chemical reaction to whatever the good doctor stuffed in his blood stream. “Yes.”
“He’s trying to recreate the mating heat of my people.”
For what purpose was the big question? Arak never suffered muata to Jaron’s recollection since he was half-Enotian. “The heat is for the males of your race only, if my memory serves.”
“This is true. At first, I think he wanted to stimulate the same response in a female. He kept taking my blood, testing, changing. Then on one occasion he knocked over a shelf full of vials and samples then ranted about needing it to work.”
Rage erupted, bringing back Jaron’s heated hatred. Because The Collector wanted Sasha to be the one driven to lust. Would he have asked the male guard to stimulate her beyond control? Imagining Sasha experiencing the same torture appalled Jaron and he slammed his fists into the bars, uncaring of the subsequent spasm of pain and scrape to his knuckles.
Now that he’d reached some form of success with Jaron, he’d be more motivated. If Dr. Kirkem kept up at this pace he’d escalate and turn the drugs on her and the others.
Terror whipped through him. “I think he may have figured it out. Or an approximation of whatever he’s been working toward.”
***
Sasha shivered. Jaron’s last statement let her know all she needed. The Collector had used her blood to recreate a drug to stimulate arousal. He must have used it to force a response from Jaron. Killing the doctor was too good. She wanted to bathe in his blood and rip out his innards. Her cat agreed.
She rubbed her hand one last time on Jaron’s chest then reluctantly dropped it. He seemed calmer. “Everything I’ve heard about him is proving true.”
“The Collector is very, very bad. I have to find a way to stop what he’s trying to do.”
On that they were of a like mind. “Agreed.”
Time was of the essence. This last session with Jaron had to have been intense. All of them were starting to show it. At some point things would blow up and not in a pretty way. It made Sasha worry. She hoped Orland rotted somewhere right now. Nothing she imagined would be good enough for how she wanted him to suffer after her experience. Had he known what The Collector would do to her? How could he have consigned a former lover to a fate of continuous torture?
“We’ll get through this.”
Sasha tried to shake off the eerie feeling Jaron’s words caused. She liked his use of we too much. After all they’d been through, she knew how awful Dr. Kirkem was.
“Count me in for whatever plan you come up with.”
His face lost some of the heat their conversation brought about. “Trust me that much?”
Sasha didn’t need to think. “Yes, Jaron.” She narrowed her eyes and added, “Don’t ever make me regret it.”
The intensity of her demand darkened his eyes. No way could she handle another betrayal. Not one from this man who pierced through the armor she used to keep others away.
“I won’t. I promise.”
Although she shouldn’t, Sasha hoarded his promises in the recesses of her heart. Against her will, she stepped back from the bars, needing the distance.
Chapter 11
Sweat dripped down Jaron’s face, arms and shoulders burning as he reached the count of two hundred. He needed to maintain his strength if they were to survive.
“This is taking too long. I think we need to come up with an escape plan.”
Jaron stopped in the middle of his work out routine. Body hovering over the rough floor during his push-ups, he cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?”
Low growls emitting from Sasha’s chest as she paced, her steps erratic. The quiet rumbles always found a way to endear him though he’d never share that.
“We can’t keep waiting for your team to find us.”
Her vehement declaration worried Jaron. He had expected Torkel and the others to find him by now. It left only one conclusion—his tracker was disabled. The fact they hadn’t come yet bothered him, but he didn’t plan to act rashly. He’d done that once already and ended up here. He braced one arm behind his back and continued doing his push ups one handed, but lowered his voice. “Don’t do anything crazy, kitten.”
Black curls bounced about her head as she walked. The loose strands had grown enough to hang about her ears and face obscuring part of her delicate features. Sasha smoothed a section back and tucked it behind her ears. The pointed lobes twitched. “When the guard comes for one of us, we need a distraction. Something to lower their focus.”
He missed the rest of what she mumbled under her breath. Finishing his reps, he rolled over and began doing his sit-ups. The light work out kept his mind clear and allowed him the only physical exertions. If his team did come, Jaron wanted to be in shape enough to keep up. He had no idea where he was or what the terrain would be like.
With his hands cupping the back of his head, he watched Sasha do another lap around her cell. She worked out as well. Perhaps not to the extent he did, but her muscles hadn’t lost much toning.
“I should do it,” she announced suddenly, coming to an abrupt halt at the center.
Jaron paused, abs quivering as he held position in the half-crunch. He didn’t care if she heard the wary note in his voice. “Do what?”
She planted her hands on her hips. “They’ll more than likely come for you. It’s been a while.”
Several days at the least.
Dr. Kirkem hadn’t come for any of them since Jaron’s last visit. Each time the door opened for their morning and evening meal, everyone tensed, but so far no new experiments. That could mean anything. Maybe the doctor wanted to perfect his sex drug or worse maybe he already had and waited to see how to dispose of the rest of them.
Shifting to his haunches, elbows to his knees, Jaron allowed his breathing to regulate. “What’s your plan?”
Mischief lit her gaze. “You’ll need to attack the guard they send for you. Drag him to my cage and do the palm and retina scan, letting me out. I’ll help release the others. We
’ll have a limited time to get out of this area before they grow suspicious.”
In terms of spur of the moment plans, it could work. Maybe. His only concern revolved around Sasha’s safety. Coming to his feet on an exhale, Jaron approached her side of their cell. “And then what?”
Her lips drew back in a snarl. “That’s where you come in with your Jutak warrior skills. Top secret training. Elite soldier. Ring a bell?”
Laughter caught him unexpectedly. He slid his arms through the bars. They no longer made an effort to hide how close they’d grown after he’d told her about the vid access The Collector had. “Get over here, kitten.”
Face twisted in annoyance at his humor, she came forward any way. “It’s a good plan.”
“A great plan,” he agreed as soon as she was in reach.
Her palms glided along his arms as she stepped close and leaned in. “I know when I’m being condescended, Jaron.”
“We’ll get out of this.” Even as he pulled her toward him, Jaron understood he was setting himself up for a huge crash holding Sasha like this. Her body nestled into his like the perfect fit except for the bars.
“You realize I’m fully grown, right?” she suddenly asked.
Jaron backtracked to follow the question. Nothing stood out. “What?”
The top of her head bumped his chin. “Kitten. You keep calling me kitten.”
Jaron considered pretending he didn’t recall except it didn’t seem fair to out and out lie when she was in his arms like this, giving of her hard won trust. “Yes.”
“I’m not a harmless child. I’m a fully grown Argoran.”
Jaron didn’t bother explaining. The name fit all the more with her current hissing. But he wouldn’t point that out. He valued his eyes too much.
***
Sasha awoke cradled against Jaron’s chest. During the night, she’d wrapped about him as much as possible due to the bars, the warmth of his body heat pulling her in. This wasn’t her first time finding herself in this position, but he never mentioned it. Carefully she untangled her arms and legs. Once free, she rolled to the side and stood. Stretching unknotted some of the tension she never lost even in sleep. Confinement didn’t sit well with her.
Jaron's Promise (A World Beyond Book 6) Page 9
