by Eros, Marata
“Admirable,” I reply, “but what about your life?”
Jac's brows come together. “There is no life for me. I guess there's always human males.” Can't hide the disgust in his voice.
“Sounds like settling to me,” Mollie remarks.
She's back to her normal self, I'm unhappy to note.
Jac narrows his eyes on her. “You know how difficult it is to be different to begin with. Prehistorics are an ancient shifter group. There is no latitude for awkward, woolly mammoth gay males.”
I weave my palm around in the air. “Politics.”
Jac remains silent, studying his clodhopper feet.
Dammit. “Do you have another form?”
His nearly seven foot tall body begins to melt—it's the only description that works. The tusks that gored Mollie become nubs then disappear into the thick blond hair that covers his head. Eyelashes bleed back to a less absurd length. Jac's chin shortens, his height settles in to a couple of inches above my own.
The feet finally become man-sized and shaped.
“Wow—you look wonderful, Jac.”
He shrugs. “Thanks for not hating me.”
Mollie smiles, her new fangs gleaming. Different look. Will take some time to get accustomed to.
“You can't help that the Mutables shoved you,” she says with uncharacteristic charity.
My chin dips as I hide a grin.
“I can toss scent.” Jac's smile is sly. “They thought I was Lycan until this event. Hadn't let my mammoth out.”
I scratch my head. “How did you happen to mammoth-on-the-spot? I'd just pulsed Moll to meet me for our target reacquisition—but you lot show up at that precise moment?”
“We're after the same female,” Jac explains.
My instincts fire off. I cross my arms again, ignoring the grit underneath my flesh, not taking my gaze from his. “Why?”
“Rumored to be First Species. The Mutable would cream their pants to get their hands on a bonafide female with that DNA.” He whistles, trying to put his hands in his pockets and simultaneously pantsing himself.
Mollie unabashedly checks out his equipment.
Jac blushes, jerking up his trousers, which promptly fall again. “God dammit !” he spouts, cinching the belt that leaves a foot long tail. “Hate this shifting shit. Nothing fits.”
Mollie bursts out laughing.
“Hate to break up the fun but the sun is coming.” Dawn presses at me from all sides, my eyeballs bulging with daylight's advance.
“That's limiting,” Jac says offhandedly.
We stare at him.
“I guess it's better than being a gay woolly mammoth.”
Mollie walks over to him and gives him a pat on the back (it's all she can reach). “You're not too bad, for a guy.”
I roll my eyes.
She whips her head in my direction, her gaze lighting off with realization. “Hey—does this mean?”
I nod somewhat happily. “It does. I'm your sire now.”
“That's awful.”
I grin. “You should try being Narah's youngling.”
Mollie shivers. “What? Would she make me clean her belly lint.”
I think about that. “Perhaps not,” I finally reply.
“You sound entirely unsure,” Jac says.
Because I am.
“I think my cover's been blown. But if I can get this female back to the prehistorics....”
I scowl. This is Grace Cline we're talking about. The female I had a connection with. She's not getting picked up by a clumsy prehistoric. “I'm a bounty enforcer. I'm not handing over a female to some other shifter group, friend.”
Jac stares at me. “Alright, what was your grand plan?”
Not letting her go. “She was slotted for a Turner. Nobles wanted her.”
“She's a vamp hybrid?” Jac's voice is saturated with disbelief.
“I know she was,” I correct.
“Sounds like #1231 is more than meets the eye,” Mollie announces sarcastically.
Jac shakes his head. “Prehistoric females can be more than just for one group. And a female who has First Species blood can usually be bred to any group. They're highly coveted.”
Yes, that.
“We have to do our job, Jac,” Mollie looks up at him. “If Final Enforcement has given us a target, we have to see that through. We're the last line of defense.” Her smile is strained. “And our job description just got expanded.” She begins to walk away from Jac, moving toward me.
“I know,” he sighs.
Even vampire speed can't stop what happens next.
Jac pulls two guns from behind his back, and too late I see the crisscrossing flesh-toned straps about his hips.
I leap forward, still too far away to reach him.
He points and shoots simultaneously.
I stagger backward, plucking a needle from my pec. “Pfft!” I snort, plucking the fine gauged needle and pitching it aside.
I make out Mollie sagging to the ground in my periphery.
“You guys are really great, and I feel bad. But if my alpha sees me come back empty-handed because I ran into a couple of enforcers, he'll have my ass.”
My vision warbles like a rain sheeting over glass and I drop to my knees.
The sun breaks over the land, painting the sky a bright white.
Falling forward, I catch myself a nanosecond before my face smacks the pavement.
Jac sinks to his haunches, a tranq gun hanging loosely from his fingers. “It's nothing personal. Just shifter business, Enforcer Murphy.”
I roll over, burning my gaze through him. Tossing thrall like a blanket I say, “Pull us into a the restroom. Don't,” I gasp, eyes beginning to flutter shut, “let us cook.”
“Thrall doesn't work.” He taps my heaving chest with the gun. “Thankfully, Doric would not want the law killed so your wish is my command.”
Looping his fingers around my wrist, he begins to haul me. “Mollie first,” I manage through my squeezed lips.
Jac stops, dumping me where I lie.
He walks over to Mollie and begins dragging her away.
I watch vapor rise from her exposed skin.
Bright sunlight strikes my toe where the shadow of a nearby semi-truck doesn't offer shade.
I try to scream—cannot. The sunlight is liquid agony.
Jac returns. “Oops. Sorry about that.” He bends over, grabs my unresponsive wrist and flops me over his back in a classic fireman's hold.
I burst into flames the instant the shadow of the truck fails and we hit the sidewalk.
“Fuck!” Jac screams as he begins to catch on fire as well.
But the wanker keeps going.
When we're safely inside the restroom he flops me on the tile and I hear my skin sizzle against the cold ceramic like a frying egg and I groan for mercy.
My eyes shut but not before he whispers in my ear, “Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt Grace Cline.”
That's what I'm most afraid of.
Then I succumb to whatever toxic juice the prehistoric gave me.
My last thought is: Never trust a woolly mammoth.
Chapter 7
Grace
Libby and Corine are all smiles when Conrick leads me through a maze of stone corridors that end in a large room that holds a striking resemblance to my old daycare place.
But this place is a palace compared to Little People. A carved ceiling of stone rises seven meters in height. And though there aren't any windows I can see, a cool breeze lifts the hair off my nape.
“How does fresh air get down here?” I wonder out loud.
Just then, Toby rushes forward, wrapping his arms around my legs. “Grace! Look what they have!” He swings around, pointing to unsafe looking handholds that pierce the rock wall in primary colors.
I gnaw at my lip.
I didn't spend all this time protecting Toby to have that torn away with a fall from a cliff. A preventable fall.
“Umm..
.”
“It's safe, Grace,” Libby says nonchalantly.
The steeply ascending rock wall doesn't look safe. It looks like a way for a five-year old to get flattened into a pancake.
Conrick answers my earlier question by sweeping his palm up, indicating circular holes punched at regular intervals along the crease where the roughly sloping wall meets the ceiling before smoothing out.
“Oh—” I turn to face Conrick, dismissing the air portals for now. “Toby's not safe climbing on that!”
His dark eyebrow hikes above his whiskey-colored eye. “Observe, then tell me whether he is or not.”
I force myself to not cover my face with my hands and peek. Instead, I bravely watch my brother's progress.
Toby crawls over the handholds expertly, moving like a well-oiled little monkey.
My mouth gapes.
Little monkey.
I turn back to Conrick. “What does this mean?” My heart starts a stiletto pattern in my chest.
“In simple terms, it means you have a parent that is more than they seem.”
I mentally touch on my absent father. One who was different than Toby's. “My mom,” I say in a hushed voice.
Conrick's whips his head to face me, brows meeting. “Where is your mother?”
A stray tear struggles out of my eye and Conrick catches it with the swipe of a finger. “Is she—has she passed?”
Might as well have. “My mom—she's not a good person, Conrick.” My inhale is exhausted. “She abuses drugs. Didn't take care of me, or Toby.” I think of his faded bruises courtesy of Fred and shiver.
Conrick's eyes narrow on my reactions. “Ah—I see. However, those pursuits might simply be a diversion from her misery.”
She's miserable alright, but I can't help but ask, “What do you mean?”
A squeal of delight draws our attention to Toby. He's at the top of the danger ladder, waving at me.
Oh god. “He'll fall,” I whisper, beginning to move forward.
“No, he won't.” Just as he says it, Toby jumps, slapping an open, tiny hand against a rope that looks like a twisted vine.
I gasp, scrambling forward in my awkward toga get up and almost falling if it weren't for Conrick's strong hand at my elbow.
Toby twirls, spinning down the length of the rope and lands on his feet, looking at me proudly.
I give a weak smile in return, fluttering my fingers in a wave.
“We can send males to retrieve your mother,” Conrick says quietly as we watch Toby.
I jerk my chin back, holding back my shame with an effort. “Don't bother, there's no saving her. Talbot Cline is always high. She screws any guy who sticks around longer than five minutes.”
Conrick gently grips my shoulders, turning me to face him. “She is why you are what you are.” His eyes search mine and I fight not to squirm under his hot gaze. “She uses human drugs to dull her pain. We've seen it time and again.”
I suck in a breath, let it out. “Talbot can't have children, they took out her parts.”
Conrick folds his arms and lifts his chin. “A small complication.”
My mouth drops open. “Last I heard, if you don't have a uterus, you can't have a baby.”
Conrick smiles like he has a secret.
I frown. “We have regenerative capabilities.”
“What?” I ask, suddenly irritated, even if he did make me come my brains out. “You guys are like octopus—chop off a finger and you grow a new one?” I feel my brows scrunch together.
“Not exactly.” Conrick scowls. “I smell your disbelief.” His chin hikes. “However, when it comes to females who possess the blood of our kind, we have ways to heal the wounds they've received during their time away from our people.”
“You won't convince her. And then—there's Fred.” I shiver at the mention of his name.
His muscular arms drop by his sides and his face goes hard. “Who is this Fred?”
Man of the minute. I stare at my feet for a moment as I hear him take an exploratory inhale, letting it out slow, as though he's calming himself.
“Tell me.”
I lift my face, see his compassionate stare and drop my eyes again. “He's just some horrible guy that drinks constantly, manhandles my brother and takes advantage of my mom.” I pause for a sec, “and she lets him.” I cover my face with my hand, semi-despair choking me.
“Grace!” Toby yells again.
I look up and he's wearing an expression I haven't seen before.
Joy.
*
I've bathed and been given new clothes by the girls. But I still feel alone.
Toby sits next to me as we gaze into the communal fire. First Species laugh, mingling and lounging together.
The one thing I notice is there aren't very many kids. And everyone dotes on the few who are here.
“Did you see the girl there,” Toby points across the fire and I grab his finger, bringing it down into our lap.
“Yes. She's very pretty,but don't point, it's rude.” I don't comment on the slightly primate look she has. I feel ashamed, the bigfeet people have their own beauty. And if they want to, they can look as human as the rest of us.
Well, almost.
I give a covert glance toward Conrick, who has kept his distance since our dark interlude.
I gulp and quickly look away as his eyes catch mine.
He's more hot than any guy I've ever seen.
And thinking about the glimpse I got of his huge equipment makes me blush. Not with embarrassment, but more with want. Like some slut.
I've never been a huge dater. Guys were always just looking to get in my pants. The couple guys I did sleep with just stuck me and left. No foreplay—no romance.
Remembering that Conrick took a half hour to feel me up over my clothes—and not touch anything intimate—I can't believe that type of interaction exists. Then when he did finally touch me, I nearly exploded.
Our eyes meet again and I force myself to meet his gaze head on.
Firelight sears the barrier between us as he sits next to a large group of men—or males—as they're called. Conrick widens his legs, letting a hand dangle over a bent knee as he stares at me.
I fight the draw, but in the end, I glance quickly at his crotch. His erection is monster-sized.
Instantly, I flick my eyes to his face.
He grins.
I die. He knows I was looking. Pretty hard to claim being a victim when you're checking out your kidnapper's goods.
“Grace,” Toby says, tugging on the short sleeve of my borrowed cotton t-shirt.
Thankful for the distraction, I turn to him with a flustered smile plastered on my face. “Yeah, baby?” I smooth his dark blond hair back off his sweaty forehead.
“I don't want to go. Kimmie's here and Cenrick.” He puts his thumb in his mouth.
I gently pull the tiny digit out. I gaze at fingers that climbed a wall most grown men couldn't. “Ah—I don't know if we belong.” I try to shut out the image of him climbing the rock wall like a native—can't.
“We do,” he nods solemnly. “Kimmie and Cenrick say I'm like them. First Special.”
I laugh, ruffling his hair. “That's right, you're special.”
He smiles and I don't correct him.
Carefully, I lean back and cross my feet at the ankle, letting the muted noise of these people, soft light and cocoon warmth of the fire carry me away.
When my eyes close I know it'll be for a just a second.
*
I wake up startled, fighting covers that are suffocating me.
A warm leg falls over both of mine, pinning me to the soft surface I rest on.
“What!” I squeak, swimming through the covers.
My eyes sweep the space. Candles are lit in the far corners of the huge space I find myself in.
Conrick sits up on an elbow, obviously half-asleep, but his sharp eyes scan where my eyes just were. “What is wrong?”
My heart is thumping wil
dly and I look around. I can't tell him that a nightmare woke me.
Not a real one, but one where the man with the liquid eyes like ink seeks me out.
It's almost as though he's searching for me. I attempt to shake the feelings of disquiet but the aftereffects cling like a spider's web. “I don't know.”
Then I look at him. “Hey—why am I in here sleeping with you?” He just took me when I fell asleep.
How dare Conrick think that because we had some time together—that suddenly we're just moving in?
I flip the covers back and swing my legs around, hopping out of the soft warm bed.
He sits up and I'm completely distracted by the stomach muscles that bunch with the movement. Conrick draws a deep breath, stretching lazily as though my readiness to bolt is No. Big. Deal.
Fucker!
I begin to walk to the door and faster than my next breath, he is before me, arm barring the way.
I glare. “Get out of my way. You have no right to keep me in your bedroom.” I peg my hands on my hips.
“Female...”
I poke him on the chest, which is eye level. “Let me go. You said you wouldn't force me, so prove it.”
Conrick steps away from the door. “You do not understand our society. While you remain unclaimed, other males are free to woo you.”
I stop, spinning to face him, blanket still clutched around my shoulders. “So what you're telling me is that since the big bad leader had his way with me,” His brows lower and he glowers at me. Whatever. “That now I'm off limits?” I fold my arms.
Conrick draws nearer and I back up against the rough wooden door. “No,” he growls softly, caging me with his heavy arms, “what I'm saying is that if you leave this room, smelling as you are and unmated to me—unclaimed—by me, every male will fight to the death to have you. I have narrowly won the position of alpha of this clan and have first rights. But if you reject me. The other males will then be free to have you.” I take in the small scars that can be seen up close that litter his skin like pale, crescent moons.
“Rape me?” I whisper, clenching the blanket into a knot under my chin.
Conrick makes a noise deep inside his throat. A disgusted one. “First Species do not harm females.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
