Therian Prisoner

by Cyndi Friberg

  “So Esmah’s daughter was raised believing she was an ordinary Therian.”

  “Yes.”

  “And none of her daughters or their daughters were extraordinary?”

  “We all thought Herbert had won. The power of the Omni Prime was suppressed until Maggie came along.”

  “How did Maggie realize she was an Omni Prime?”

  “She didn’t. Not really. Everyone presumed Maggie’s power came from her unusual definition.”

  Devon chuckled. “Even among Therians having three mates is unusual.”

  “It was not just that she had three mates. All three of her mates participated in her definition. She instinctively reenacted the Omni Prime ritual without realizing what she was doing.”

  “She also caused a lot of confusion,” Devon mused. “People began to associate definition with the mating bond and they are two separate things.”

  “Very true.”

  “Who first suspected that Maggie was an Omni Prime?”

  “Your grandmother. Though the Omni Prime was lost back in the dark ages, the Historian’s line remained unbroken. She had studied the journals and recognized the signs.”

  “She only had access to the journals because you protected the legend of the Omni Prime.”

  “Too little, too late, but I suppose you’re right.”

  She touched his face, drawing his gaze to hers. “And now the story has come full circle. If I’m not mistaken you participated in the definition of our new Omni Prime.”

  His smile was still tinged with sadness. “I’m glad that the Omni Prime has been restored, but that doesn’t keep me from mourning Esmah.”

  “Was she the first woman you ever loved?”

  “No.” He nipped the heel of her hand then stood up. “She was just the last.”

  Devon felt as if he’d punched her. He hadn’t allowed himself to love since… Did that mean he didn’t love her? They hadn’t spoken of love, but she’d felt the intensity of his feelings when they were in bed together.

  “Don’t look so devastated.” He caught her wrist and pulled her to her feet. “I should have said she was the last woman I loved until now.”

  She eased her hand out of his and started clearing the table. A profession of love didn’t count when it was prompted by a devastated expression. “You don’t have to—”

  He wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her back against him. “You’ve been able to sense my feelings ever since I anchored the link. Do you need to hear the words?”

  “Every woman needs to hear the words, but I don’t want you to say them because you hurt my feelings.” Another fact pushed through her disappointment and she twisted so she could see him. “If you participated in Carissa’s definition, will she be able to shift into a dragon?”

  Ian laughed. He was glad for the distraction, but he wanted to fix his blunder. He’d known he loved Devon the first time he kissed her, but he hadn’t wanted to pressure her. Now she was obviously ready for a stronger commitment and he shoved his foot in his mouth.

  “It doesn’t usually work that way,” he explained. “Females aren’t strong enough to manifest a dragon.”

  “But she’s an Omni Prime.”

  “Which is why I said usually.”

  “Are all Therian raptors dragon-shifters?”

  “No. That’s part of being Guardian of the Ancients. My bloodline was chosen, just like yours.”

  “Does anyone you define inherit your abilities?” She sounded way too hopeful.

  “Now that Dr. Garran has given you a clean bill of health, you have several options.”

  “And they are?”

  He smiled. He should have known she wouldn’t let it slide without a full explanation. “You could be defined with my blood, which would make you a Therian raptor. A few of my Guardian abilities might be transmitted, but there is no chance you would manifest a dragon.”

  “And if I wanted to manifest a dragon?” She was clearly fascinated by the possibility.

  “It takes dragon blood to create a dragon-shifter. Guardians aren’t born, they’re created.”

  “All right. Now I’m completely confused.” She set the dishes in the sink then offered him her undivided attention.

  “I was born a Therian raptor with a common set of raptor abilities. When I was eighteen I underwent a ritual not unlike female definition. A few drops of the ancient blood was used to empower me with my Guardian abilities.”

  “Ancient dragon’s blood?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s why you’ve lived so long.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have a bottle of dragon’s blood stashed away somewhere?”

  He just smiled at her.

  “You do. That’s why you locked the cabin even though it’s in the middle of nowhere.” Her expression was so animated that it made him smile. “And no one knows about this, not even my mother?”

  “The secret can only be shared with one other and I chose Payne long before I knew your mother.”

  She silently processed the facts for a second before she asked her next question. “Are you breaking the rules by telling me?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  The shimmer in her gaze told him she’d already figured it out, but apparently, she needed to hear the words. “Because you’re my mate.”

  * * * * *

  Zophiel screamed in pleasure as Roberto pounded away between her thighs. Each time she took him, he grew more savage and more demanding, which only heightened her pleasure. He snarled and she spotted his fangs. Damn. She didn’t have much longer with this one. She used demonic energy to form slave bonds and the longer the link was in place, the more demonic her slaves became. She’d hoped Roberto would last longer than this. He’d showed so much promise.

  Her distraction robbed her of her final orgasm, but Roberto’s entire body shook as he came. She waited until he stopped convulsing then shoved him over onto his back.

  “Which formula did you give the wolf cub?” She infused the question with compulsion, forcing his mind to provide accurate information.

  He blinked then rubbed his eyes and groaned. “Three. Gen three.”

  “But gen three is specifically formulated for undefined females. Why give it to a male?”

  “Wanted to make sure it wouldn’t kill his sister.” He sat up and reached for her breast.

  She slapped his hand away and sat as well. “What sister? Why was she targeted?”

  “Heather Fitzroy. Like the Lashtons, the Fitzroys have been alphas for generations. Very strong bloodline.”

  A yellowish green light burst within his gaze and he growled low in his throat. He reached for her again, so she shoved him over and said, “Go to sleep.” Immediately he obeyed.

  She needed to think, needed to determine her next step. Roberto was burning out faster than she’d expected. Even the backers had noticed his odd behavior and put a tail on him. She’d snapped the shadow’s neck and tossed the body in a dumpster, knowing the backers would eventually hear about it.

  Roberto moaned, drawing her wandering mind back to the present. Devon had seen Roberto. He’d escorted her to the Wyoming lab. If Zophiel used him as a mask, the Therians would blame her actions on the backers. Which would give her time to plan her next attack. But could she control him well enough to pull off one last mission?

  It was worth the risk. She’d been spinning her wheels long enough.

  She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood looking around for her bathrobe.

  Nehema had been sullen all day. Zophiel wasn’t sure if guilt had rushed in on the heels of Nehema’s fury or if she was quietly searching for another avenue for her anger. Hopefully it was the latter. Vicious Nehema was much more fun than the worn-out old woman she’d become these past few weeks.

  After slipping into her bathrobe, Zophiel walked down the hall and tapped on her sister’s door. It was barely nine o’clock. Surely she hadn’t gone to be
d already.

  “Come in,” Nehema called.

  Zophiel glanced around the overtly feminine room and wrinkled her nose. Nehema hadn’t chosen the decor, but she’d selected the room. The house was a furnished rental. Like so many others, the owners had opted for leasing the property when they’d been unable to sell it. Knowing her sister wasn’t responsible for the hideously pink ensemble did little to soothe Zophiel’s restlessness.

  Nehema was propped up in bed. A fringed shawl was wrapped around her shoulders and an open book rested on her lap. She looked so much like a sweet grandmother who baked cookies and sent handwritten invitations to bridge parties that Zophiel wanted to gag.

  “I’ve thought of a way to rescue Devon without drawing Therian attention.” Subtleties were a waste of time and Zophiel refused to stand on ceremony with her sister. Either Nehema would help her or she wouldn’t. It was as simple as that.

  “Are you sure Devon wants to be rescued?”

  Now that was a frustrating question. The mindset of the “victim” had never bothered Nehema before. According to Nehema, Therian females were brainwashed from birth. They didn’t know what they wanted, which only made them more tragic and more in need of rescuing.

  “We cannot allow them to create another Omni Prime. You heard what Carly said. Devon can continue to absorb animal natures until she’s given the counteragent.” She watched Nehema’s eyes, waiting for a spark of determination or hatred. “They’ll fill her with demonic spirits, one after another, until she is devoured by the evil.”

  Nehema cocked her head and challenge erupted in her gaze. “You don’t believe Therians are evil. Why do you really want Devon?”

  Now was not the time for Nehema to be rational. “I need a way into the new compound. The backers’ security is unbelievable.” That much was true, but Nehema didn’t need to know that Zophiel was planning a coup, not a rescue. Learning the details of the backers’ operation from Carly had ignited a fire in Zophiel’s blood. It was obvious they were too powerful to obliterate, so Zophiel would take control of them instead.

  “What about Roberto? He comes and goes as he pleases.”

  “I’m losing control over him. His mind was not as strong as I’d hoped.” She stuck to the truth as much as possible. Lies were always most believable when they were twisted around the truth.

  “You want to rescue Devon from her family only to turn around and give her back to the backers?” Nehema shook her head. “She’s better off where she is.”

  “You’re not seeing the big picture. Devon is a keycard, nothing more. I’ll use her to gain access to the backers and then we can destroy their operation once and for all.” Zophiel tucked her hair behind her ears, preparing for the performance of a lifetime. “The things Carly described gave me nightmares. I knew the backers were ruthless, but intentionally breeding an army of Therians is so… I can’t even think of a word profane enough to describe what they’re doing.”

  Nehema closed her book and set it aside. “What’s your plan? After you’ve used Devon to gain access to the hospital, how are you going to dismantle a global network?”

  Clenching her hands until her nails dug into her palms, Zophiel scrambled for a rational explanation. Usually a few comments about the degradation of children was enough to work Nehema into an irrational fit. Why was she being so cautious, so methodical?

  “The backers have made one vital mistake. They’ve gathered the majority of their eggs into one basket.”

  “Have you been able to confirm that fact?”

  Screw the facts. It was time for some creative manipulation. “The hospital was meant to be a central hub, a headquarters from which the backers could operate all their other facilities.” She had no idea if that was true or not, but it sounded believable. “The success of Therian attacks, combined with your aggression, have forced the backers to consolidate. They’ve circled the wagons, so to speak. So we need to strike hard and strike now, before they regain their footing.”

  “We’re powerful, but not that powerful.”

  “I agree. That’s why I need a few of your Abolitionist soldiers.” Nehema didn’t immediately reject the idea, so Zophiel hurried on. “We take Devon tomorrow night and offer her to the backers. They’ll think they’ve won, that we’re desperate enough to cooperate. That will buy us enough time to recruit a larger army. Even your soldiers aren’t enough for what I have planned. Once we have a large enough strike force we’ll rescue all the captives, make the backers pay for their crimes, then burn the place to the ground.”

  Silence descended and Zophiel held her breath. Had it been enough? It would be harder than hell to take Devon without Nehema’s help.

  Zophiel was about to give up and devise another plan when a slow, cruel smile parted Nehema’s lips.

  “I’m in.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Ian pressed his warm palm against the side of Devon’s face and her heart fluttered like a caged bird. “Why me? Why now?” she whispered, half afraid of the answers. Mating bonds were permanent. If they did this, there would be no turning back.

  “When I failed Esmah so miserably, I thought my punishment was to never feel love again.” He moved his other hand to her face as well, surrounding her with warmth and affection. “I think that’s why I fought my feelings for you so hard and for so long. I couldn’t believe that I’d been given a second chance. I didn’t think I deserved one.”

  She slid her hands up his chest and circled his neck. “Everyone deserves a second chance.”

  His hand shifted and he traced her lower lip with his thumb. “I come with centuries of baggage, but I’ll love you until the day I die.”

  Joy rolled through her like a summer wave and happy tears gathered behind her lashes. “I love you too. I think I always have.”

  She tilted her head back and parted her lips as he leaned down and kissed her mouth. The past was forgotten and the future blurred. Whatever challenges awaited them, they would face together, united by an unbreakable bond.

  His tongue circled her lips, teasing, encouraging her response. She touched her tongue tip to his then eased into his mouth, memorizing each shape and texture. He was warm, his taste familiar and exciting. She slid her tongue across his, bolder now, wanting more. His tongue curled around hers then guided the kiss into her mouth.

  Without warning, he scooped her up and carried her toward the bed. Passing through the archway required some maneuvering, but he managed it without separating their mouths. She clung to him, secure in his arms, lost in their kiss.

  He sat down on the side of the bed with her still cradled in his arms. The kiss went on and on, neither willing to lose the sweet intimacy. She touched his face and neck, addicted to the heat of his skin. He tugged her tank top upward and she raised her arms, their mouths separating just long enough for the shirt to pass between them.

  His hand covered her breast and she moaned into his open mouth. His image had hovered in the back of her mind all day, keeping her body smoldering, aching for more of what they’d shared that morning.

  She tugged his t-shirt free from his jeans, but he turned and laid her back across the bed before she could finish undressing him. He pulled off her socks and his boots then stood as he shed his t-shirt and jeans. He never wore underwear, a fact that thrilled and aroused her.

  He placed his knee on the bed, obviously meaning to join her, but she held out her hand and said, “Stop. Let me look at you.” She’d seen him without a shirt countless times, but the rest of his body was still new and amazing.

  “Take off your pants, so we can enjoy each other,” he countered.

  A gentle smile curved her lips and she pushed her pants and panties down together. She raised her hips and he pulled her garments off, his gaze never leaving her face.

  Unwilling to deprive herself a moment longer, she let her gaze wander at will. She was well acquainted with his handsome face and the dramatic tapering of his chest that naturally led her to his sculpted abs. She w
anted to touch him, to trace each pronounced ridge with her fingers and then her tongue. But this was about looking, savoring the aesthetic perfection of his physical form.

  His hips were lean and narrow. She skimmed over his groin and examined his long, muscular legs. Then her gaze drifted back up and focused on his sex. Long and thick, his shaft arched out from his flat belly, his balls already tight below. She reached for him, ready to explore with more than her appreciative gaze.

  He caught her wrist and shook his head. “I wasn’t finished. Part your thighs.”

  The command sent desire zinging through her body and her core clenched so hard she fought back a moan. She moved her legs apart and bent her knees, opening herself for him, offering her body for his pleasure, for their pleasure.

  He licked his lips and crawled onto the bed, his intention obvious. “Why don’t we ‘enjoy each other’?”

  She just smiled and scooted down, making room for his legs above her head. Why would she object to something she craved? Several things she craved, actually. She dreamed about having him over her, covering her, holding her. The patient stroke of his tongue and lips against her sex aroused her faster, and built the fires hotter, than anything else. And then there was his cock. She loved the feel of his shaft sliding against her lips and the plush softness of its tip against her tongue.

  He carefully swung his leg over her, straddling her head. She reached up and grasped his hips as he arched over her body. Her legs were already parted, but he spread them even wider then lowered his head between her thighs.

  The first brush of his tongue made her shiver and she answered by sucking his flared head into her mouth. Tingling desire flowed through her entire body, making her restless and hot. He circled her clit and she swirled her tongue around him. His hips began a slow rocking motion that moved his shaft in and out of her mouth. She maintained a firm grip with her lips, enjoying the sensual slide.

  Their link vibrated and scalding heat flowed into her mind. She wasn’t sure if he’d activated the connection or if their combined desire had triggered the bond, but she welcomed the new level of intimacy.