by Devyn Quinn
Thumb on the plunger, Yuan raised the syringe in her hand. She gestured coldly toward Iollan. “Get those cuffs back on him.”
Baring his fangs, Iollan slipped off the bed. “That won’t happen again.” Hands flexing at his sides, he stood straight, naked and magnificent.
Gaze burning, he seemed to be enveloped by a blur. Thick tendrils began to crawl around his body, forming and knitting into clothing. Before an eye blinked he stood, fully dressed—and ready to fight. Eyes flashing dangerous signals, he lifted his chin in a gesture of defiance.
Unable to believe her eyes, Callie took a deep breath. She snapped her lax jaw back into place. She’d seen him shift things before, but never like that. Slick. She loved it.
Roger Reinke drew his weapon. “Nice trick.” Looking grim, more than a little worried, he leveled the gun, pointing it squarely at Iollan Drake’s chest. “Bet I can put a stop to that right away.” He fired.
Iollan’s hand rose to the level of his heart, and he seemed to pluck something out of the air. Slowly he lowered his hand. Clenched fingers uncurled. Still intact, the ampoule rested on his palm.
Lips curling back, he flicked the useless thing aside. “Easy to catch us during daysleep, fill us with your poison.” A mocking brow quirked. “Not so easy when we’re strong and freshly fed.”
“Damn it!” Roger squeezed off another round, and then a third.
Callie closed her eyes, praying. Go, she silently urged Iollan. Get out of here. Her lids fluttered open.
Iollan shifted. A small apparition streaked through the cell at lightning speed, and vanished. Where it went, nobody knew.
Her breath rushed out in relief. The ampoules hit the wall where he’d been standing, thunking hollowly as they exploded. Thank God. He’d gotten away.
Trouble beckoned, though. She was on her own now.
Yuan cursed in disbelief. “He’s gotten out.”
Roger’s jaw tightened. “He won’t get far. This place is sealed tighter than a fucking drum.” He shot a glance at Callie. “Take care of what you have to do with her.”
Callie’s captors pushed her out of the cell. Large hands half-forced her down the hall, past the security station that would take them out of the prisoner’s holding area. Professor Forque was nowhere in sight. She could almost hear the wheels turning in Yuan’s head as they moved along.
An open elevator waited. She was pushed in, and the doors closed with an ominous whisper. The levels whizzed by, uncounted.
Another floor. The lab straight ahead.
An examination room. Sterile, as if for operations. Shelves held beakers, racks, test tubes, microscopes, and other equipment. A slew of white-coated people waited. If anyone thought it unusual to see a naked struggling woman locked between two men, nobody said a word. Considering the heinous experiments taking place here, that was probably a common sight.
An examination table stood in the center of the room. It wasn’t the normal flat kind in most doctors’ offices. A lump rose in Callie’s throat. This was the kind of table made for female examinations—and for birthing.
The hackles on the back of her neck rose. They’d have to kill her to get her up on that table, her legs up in the stirrups. She’d fight tooth and nail.
“Shit.” Her gaze collided with the doctor’s. “What the fuck are you going to do?” She didn’t care if she sounded hysterical. She didn’t feel very reasonable at the moment.
Doctor Yuan looked at her. Her gaze drifted from Callie to the syringe she’d carried into Iollan’s cell. “Originally, Agent Whitten, you were marked for termination, as a jeopardy to our research. I’d felt your involvement with the subject would serve no useful purpose.”
The words struck like a blow to the chest. A violent shiver shook Callie. Stark naked, with two men holding her, her underarms were damp, her fisted hands burning hot. She leveled a disdainful glare at the twitching doctor. “Thanks a whole hell of a lot.”
Yuan snorted. “You should be proud of yourself, Agent Whitten. After seeing you with the subject last night, I changed my mind about your value. Quite by accident, you’ve turned my research to a whole new arena.”
The coils of fear that had been twisting in her bowels turned into shards of glass grinding up her insides. “Hybrids.” She bit out the single word as an obscenity.
Yuan stared pointedly at her belly, then lower, to the space between her legs. “Exactly. Not only will I be able to obtain what I hope are viable sperm samples from your recent sexual activity with the subject, I’m hoping you test positive for pregnancy.”
A body-shaking wave of revulsion swamped Callie’s entire being.
Yuan chuckled. “You’ve saved your life by being a promiscuous tramp. Instead of a corpse, your body will serve as an incubation chamber.” She lifted her syringe, cruelly clucking her tongue. “But that’s all you’ll be. From now on your classification will be EVE-A1, mother of an entirely new race.”
Callie strained against the hands holding her. Panic flashed up and crested. Yuan seemed to be looking forward to turning her into a brainless vegetable. “You’re fucking insane.”
Yuan shrugged. “That’s just the way science works. We have to have test subjects.”
Callie refused to roll over and give up. “I’m not a fucking lab rat.”
Yuan ignored her. “Get her up on the table and strap her down.” Her lips curved in a sick smile.
The ball in Callie’s stomach exploded. Her body went rigid, every tendon locking into place. She shook silently, but wouldn’t let it show.
Swearing, laboring to keep her under control, the agents lugged her toward the table. Curses and vile threats punctuated the men’s efforts. Assistants waited, ready to lift her off her feet, spread her legs into those evil stirrups.
Not going to happen.
She had to do whatever it took to get loose. Her plan was simple. She didn’t have one. But she had to try.
Callie spun between the men, kicking and writhing, surprising them with the fresh intensity of her struggle. She broke free, running. Something tripped her. She sprawled, catching a glimpse of Doctor Yuan, foot sticking out. The bitch.
Rolling over onto her back, ready to kick out, she saw a wraith dart pass her, stop and hover. Seconds later, Iollan’s big body appeared out of nowhere. He positioned his body between her and the men surrounding them. She heard the gears in his head grinding as he shifted into the mind-set of defending them.
“Get ready,” he grated under his breath.
“To what?” No time to be confused. Callie gathered her wits, geared up to act upon his slightest signal. “What the hell are you going to do?”
Iollan glanced back. A smile that rivaled the devil’s for wicked intent turned up one corner of his mouth. “Don’t worry about that. I’m getting us out of here. Both of us.” He was serious.
All at once Iollan frightened, awed, daunted, and fascinated her.
The agents rushed at them, guns drawn.
Everything sped up, almost too fast to visually comprehend.
Before Callie knew what was happening, Iollan struck the first blow. His arm shot up in a defensive stance, palm out, fingers splayed. Raw energy radiated around him.
The agent leading the pack began to quiver violently, twisting in pain as his blood commenced boiling in his veins. He screamed and beat one-handed at his chest, writhing as his internal temperature rose. His eyeballs rolled to the whites, melting in the sockets and running down his face in gruesome tears. Without warning his body burst into flames. His gun dropped from lax fingers, striking the floor.
Chaos ruled. The white-coated assistants shrank away, scattering to safety.
Doctor Yuan ducked behind the examination table. No way she’d leave. Not when her prime specimen stood just a few feet away.
Callie watched Iollan jerk his left hand toward his body. The agent’s gun flew to him, settling securely in his grip. In a smooth counter turn, he whirled on his heel and fired the weapon at the s
econd agent. These guns weren’t loaded with silver. They were loaded with bullets. Deadly to humans.
Struck squarely, the agent dropped to the floor. Grabbing his chest, he screamed in pain.
Callie scrambled sideways, grabbing the pistol that had slid from the agent’s hand. “I didn’t know you could do that.” In less than a minute, two men were felled. The count was going down. We just might get out of this with our asses intact.
Iollan gave her a quick smile. “It’s a power we’re sworn never to use against humans.”
Callie’s grip tightened on her weapon. “There’s an exception for every rule.” She gestured at her own nudity. “Any chance you can help me out here?”
A smart-ass grin. “I prefer you naked.”
Sheesh. Men.
“I’d like to be dressed right now,” Callie grated back. “Not very practical when you’re trying to take names and kick ass.”
Iollan obliged.
A tingle. A tickle. Clothes melting on. T-shirt forming around her shoulders, tight jeans hugging her ass. Boots. Heavy boots. A jacket, leather. Nice.
She glanced down. “Perfect.”
And just in time.
29
The lab doors burst open. Heavily armed security personnel immediately swarmed in. Roger Reinke led the charge.
Callie’s thoughts reversed. Maybe not.
Harsh voices yelled for Iollan to drop his weapon. He ignored them. Instead, he lifted the gun in a mock salute, a move meant to taunt, annoy, and humiliate.
Going up on her knees, Callie grabbed for his arm. Panic thrust chilly spikes through her breast. “You’re pushing it too far,” she warned. “Just get the hell out. I’ll be okay.”
Copper eyes alight with the thrill of the fight, Iollan was the typical Irishman, in his element when buried up to his ass in trouble. He didn’t even stop to consider the fact he might be on the losing side.
The expression in Iollan’s eyes changed subtly as his gaze settled on her. She’d never seen that look before, and it produced a shiver of fear to her core. Mental gears were shifting, a strange look swept over his face. In an unguarded moment, a play of intense emotions colored his features; hatred, and, yes, deep unadulterated fury. Something was going on inside his skull and it wasn’t good. “I won’t leave without you.”
She tried to warn him. “There are too many.”
Too late.
On the move, Iollan swung into action, attacking two of the closest agents. Ducking a slashing fist, he bodily tackled the nearest man.
Sprawled flat, the agent barely had time to react before Iollan crushed his wrist with a knee. Without even looking back, he simultaneously lifted his arm above his head, parrying the attack of the second agent. Iollan viciously responded by bringing his body up, simultaneously striking with a blow of his gun across the man’s leg.
The agent screamed and fell back, but not before Iollan pressed the barrel to his groin and fired. The agent fell away, sprawling flat.
Giving a killer flash of predatory teeth, Iollan savagely brought his heel down on the man’s breastbone. The shattering crack of bone filled the air, crushing the sacs around the man’s heart. Crimson rivulets gushed from the agent’s nose and mouth. He died instantly.
No time to watch her man playing hero. He wasn’t their only target. She considered her options and made a decision. The insanity needed to end. Now. Come hell or high water, there’d be no way she’d be taken alive. If they carried her out of this place in a body bag, so be it. Death was better than what Doctor Yuan had in mind.
Callie took a wild shot at one of the advancing agents. The man yelled and scrambled out of sight, ducking behind one of the counters. The glass-faced cabinet behind him shattered, sending a spray of glass over his hunched body.
A return spray of shots pelted. Ping. Ping. Ping.
A fresh rush of fear spiraled through her. Diving at the floor, Callie lunged for cover, feeling heat sting across her thigh. Clutching her leg, she shot a glance downward. Material split, a hot red tear scorched her skin. Thankfully, the bullet hadn’t penetrated, but just grazed.
Close call. Too damn close for her liking.
Head down, she skittered across the glass-covered floor, feeling sharp pieces bite into her palms. She wanted to stay near Iollan.
Callie scrambled to her feet. The back exit loomed just a few feet away. Her mouth almost watered. Freedom. “Let’s just get the hell out.”
Propelled by the action, Iollan didn’t seem to hear her. Like a demon possessed, he tore his way through the onslaught, challenging every man who stood in his path. The men around him were falling like flies.
Rising like an evil omen through the chaos, Roger Reinke launched forward. Raising his weapon, he screamed. “Drake!” His cry was harsh and fearless. Eyes absolutely flat and cold, he fueled his actions with pure hatred. Profile indurate, his jaw locked with determination, he made his intent frighteningly clear. He had a goal to accomplish. Nothing would get in his way.
Irritation writhed inside her, and Callie’s heart rate simultaneously sped into overdrive. “Iollan, look out! He’s got a gun!”
Fangs bared in menace, Iollan Drake whirled. The move was a fatal one. He turned right into the path of Roger’s aim.
Face twisting cruelly, Roger Reinke fired. Again, and again.
Body coiled spring tight, Callie struggled to think clearly. Do something! Muscles bunching, she launched herself from her position, trying to throw herself in front of Iollan. She didn’t make it, falling a few feet short. The bullets slammed in squarely and solidly, riddling his chest.
The vampire’s body jerked. Struck multiple times, he was slammed against the wall by the force of the bullets. As if in slow motion, he slid to the floor. Eyes wide and glazed with pain, he bled from the wounds. Dark stains spread through his shirt, soaking it.
Lips trembling before she pressed them together, Callie felt sick to her stomach. She was responsible for this. Her senses reeled, but her mind remained amazingly clear in the eye of the storm.
Shock morphed into anger. Her response came automatically. She didn’t stop to consider the consequences.
Callie reared back on her haunches. Aware of the weapon in her hand, she raised the gun, pointing it Roger’s way. Revenge was within her grasp. Adrenaline searing through her veins, she seized it with both hands. She’d been trained for a moment like this, but to use deadly force against her own people would be paramount to treason.
No more thinking. Just do.
Bracing to take the bastard down, Callie slammed her finger into the trigger with vicious force. She didn’t hear the blast, barely felt the recoil.
Firing, she mentally clicked off the shots. One, in passion. Two, in premeditation. Three, death penalty. Four, she didn’t care anymore.
Her aim was true.
Gurgling frantically, flinging his arms out as if to stop the spray of ammo, Roger Reinke staggered. Ten, maybe twenty seconds later, he dropped like a stone. Landing with a dead thud, he shuddered like a fish out of water. His jaw flapped, but no real words came out. Only a low, streaming groan.
The crackle of voices over a walkie-talkie screeched. Answering the call, one of the agents held up his hands. “Cease fire, cease fire,” he commanded. “All agents stand down immediately.”
Guns were lowered. Everything went dead still. Everyone looked dazed.
The ongoing silence pumped up the tension to an unbearable degree. The silence telegraphed how badly everything had gone awry in the space of a few minutes.
The sound of death is silence…a terrible nothingness…
Nostrils flaring, Callie wiped her nose on her sleeve and drew in a ragged breath. The smothering atmosphere reeked with the stench of gunpowder, torn flesh, and blood.
She gagged, panting to keep from passing out. A thick layer of sweat drenched her, trickling down between her breasts, chilling her to the bone. Pulse racing, she exuded the scent of unadulterated fear. Disoriented b
y the carnage surrounding her, she began to tremble uncontrollably, barely capable of understanding the severe trauma overwhelming her senses.
Fighting to keep panic at bay, Callie drew herself up. Though their weapons were drawn, none of the other agents fired. Like her, they seemed stunned, in shock. Even Doctor Yuan stood motionless, surveying the ruin around her like the survivor of a terrible storm.
The chills were subsiding, and strength was returning to her numb limbs. So much had occurred in the space of a few minutes that her bewildered mind barely took in the many separate events.
Only one thought came through loud and clear. Iollan needed help. Fast.
Scrambling to her downed lover, Callie sank to her knees beside him. Putting her weapon aside, she tore open his bloody shirt. Her eyes searched every inch of his chest, zeroing in on the damages. Seven small round holes pierced his pale skin.
Shit. This was bad. Very bad.
Callie swore under her breath. “Christ.” No way he’d survive such a massive dose to his system. She pressed her hands to the wounds, trying to staunch the flow of his life from his body. The muscles in her arms barely worked. Sticky blood covered her hands. His skin was cold, ice cold. His usually bright eyes were dark, alarmingly dulled. She began to shake.
A tear tracked down her cheek, then another. She clutched one of his hands and silently willed her strength into his battered body. “Don’t die, damn you.” Prayers, pleas, and promises tumbled together in her skull. If only he’d live, she’d never leave him.
Iollan’s eyes flickered open. He blinked several times, as if fighting to regain his focus on her face. His dull gaze collided with hers. Icy fingers tightened on hers. “What makes you think I’m going to die, love?”
She flinched, jaw clenching in a tight spasm of surprise. “What?”
Struggling into a sitting position, Iollan closed his eyes, then opened them again, pulling in a deep breath. He lifted a shaking hand to his chest. “The fucker loaded me with lead.” A weak laugh escaped him. He grimaced, fangs retracting back into normal teeth. He actually made a face, winking. “Painful, but survivable.”
