“It’s time for Belle’s energy to rejoin with yours.”
Her mother’s words silenced Krysta and stunned her with their finality. “But…”
“What I did to you was unnatural. You were never meant to be twins. It’s time.”
Krystabel looked at Charlotte and smiled. “We will have the reunion we deserve. We both know we will, but today isn’t that day. Can you bind Seth’s ability to access other energy sources? Don’t try to do more. I’m not sure what the result would be for either of you.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
Krystabel took a deep, shuddering breath and shifted her gaze back to her daughter. “Are you ready?”
“No,” Krysta cried. “I don’t want this. I—”
“You will understand in time.”
The sweet scent of wildflowers wafted around Krysta in an intoxicating swirl. She shook her head, fighting the lethargy, the tingling tranquility. She wanted to be angry. She needed her rage! Fury made her strong. Anger kept her safe. Peace washed over her, a tingling river of energy.
Gentleness.
Krysta fought against it, determined to resist, but the salve tenderly seeped into her being, healing long-neglected wounds.
Control.
Gradually, her defenses surrendered to the balmy tide. Krysta waited for the vulnerability, the dreaded weakness. How could she exist without the protection of her emotional barricade?
Balance.
She felt the missing pieces of her soul fit back into place—and wept at the beauty it created.
Epilogue
Trey shifted the squirming bundle from the crook of one arm to the other and felt his heart swell with tenderness. For the past three weeks Seth had completely disrupted his orderly life. Demanding and energetic, the baby asserted his desires quite vocally whenever the need arose. Trey smiled. Despite the lack of sleep and the never-ending cycle of activity, he and Krysta had never been happier.
Knowing the Conservatory was incompatible with an infant, Vee had approached Krysta with the idea of keeping Seth at the villa. Trey had agreed to the arrangement, sensing that his soul’s mate needed this tangible connection to the sister she had lost.
Krysta would quickly correct him if she heard him use that phrase. Belle wasn’t lost. Their energy had been rejoined. He knew it was true, but he also saw the flickers of sadness in Krysta’s eyes when she thought no one was looking. Regardless of the completeness Krysta now felt, she would miss her twin.
“I can’t believe how strong he is,” Trey said. The baby wrapped his chubby fingers around Trey’s thumb and dragged it down to his mouth. “I think he’s hungry—again.”
Krysta laughed, her turquoise-marbled purple eyes shining. “Where does he put it?”
The changes in Krysta since her rejoining with Belle had been remarkable. Her eyes were the most obvious but not the most important. Her basic personality remained unchanged. She was vivacious and passionate but now a subtlety softened her highs and lows.
Seth closed his greedy mouth around the captive thumb and Trey shook his head. He may have agreed to the arrangement out of love for his soul’s mate, but this little stinker had wiggled his way firmly into Trey’s heart.
He stood endlessly at the side of the railed sleeping station watching the baby. Each sound Seth made, each expression, each new movement fascinated Trey. He had even found it easier to be nice to Vee. As if summoned by the thought, the distinct rumble of a transport conduit vibrated the floor. Vee glided from the vortex, his robes fanned out behind him.
“Greetings.” He inclined his regal head and held out his arms for his son.
Trey passed the baby to Vee. Tenderness and pride shone brightly in the Mystic’s emerald gaze. His long fingers stroked Seth’s chubby cheek reverently, his face reflecting soul-deep devotion.
Nodding toward the door, Krysta took her husband by the hand and led him from the nursery. “I always feel intrusive.”
“I feel jealous as hell.” He chuckled. “Me—jealous of a Mystic. How did that happen?”
Krysta smiled, squeezing his hand affectionately. “There’s a simple cure for your jealousy, you realize?”
“Oh, do tell.” He followed her down the hallway, his amber gaze warm and caressing.
“We could have a child of our own.”
He paused at the top of the stairs. “It wouldn’t be too much, caring for two?”
Smiling, she traced his jaw with her fingertips. “I could always ask Dro Tar to help out.”
He laughed. “Dro Tar—a nanny?”
The idea was rather funny. Krysta could almost picture the unconventional strategies Dro Tar would apply to child rearing. Multiple stimuli, tons of fun, abundant affection—and nothing resembling order or discipline.
“Okay, how about Bekka and Lorrisa? We’ve still got four empty bedrooms and they adore Seth already.”
They went to the front salon and Trey sat in their favorite chair, pulling her down onto his lap. Krysta cuddled against his chest. The City of Tears spread out before them, spectacular and imposing. Very much like the man holding her. Swelling with warmth and gratitude, her heart cried out to his. She was so blessed.
“If you’re serious about wanting a child, I’m more than agreeable.”
“I’m being greedy,” she admitted. “Our lives are so full of love and happiness, I should probably just enjoy it.”
“It has turned out rather well.”
He nuzzled her neck, his moist breath making her tingle. “We could just keep practicing,” she whispered. “Until Seth’s a little older.”
“Practice caring for a baby?” He nipped her gently. “Or practice making one?”
“Both.”
He pressed her body to his, surrounding her with his heat. Their mouths met and melded, the kiss deep and evocative. His lips brushed against hers as he whispered, “I love the way you think.”
Read on for a preview of
Cyndi Friberg’s
Beyond Ontariese 3
CITY OF TEARS
Commander Lyrik cet Barrel must determine if the genetically engineered, cybernetically enhanced woman is too dangerous to live. His immediate and passionate attraction to the subject of his study isn’t making his assignment any easier. She might be the biggest threat Ontariese has ever faced or an invaluable ally in the conflict awaiting them.
Saebin is battling for control over the neuro-stimulators and munitions implants that have changed her into a ruthless assassin. She has never known kindness and doesn’t trust the virile male she encounters as she awakens from stasis. He stirs desires she doesn’t understand and longings she can’t ignore. He insists she’s been rescued not captured by an enemy. But Saebin has never known anything but captivity.
Chapter One
Saebin, can you hear me? It’s time to wake up.
Relentless pounding compressed Saebin’s skull, making the voice almost impossible to discern. She struggled within the darkness, twisting uselessly. Muddled. Numb. Why did she feel so strange?
Concentrate! I haven’t much time. The portal’s about to close.
Focusing on the voice decreased the pain. Who are you? How do you know my name? No, that wasn’t right. She knew this voice but Krystabel was dead.
You must listen carefully. I’ve released the full scope of your Mystic power, but you must not let them figure out what I’ve done. Hide within the suit. Do not let them realize you’re in control. Do you understand?
Fragmented images flashed within her mind. The Center consumed by flames, Dr. Hydran’s lifeless eyes and D-159—the emotionless assassin into which she’d been transformed.
Am I dead?
No, but they’re only keeping you alive so they can figure out how your implants work. The intoxicating smell of flowers teased her nose and curled through her head. You must escape before they— The scent grew stronger, cloying and sweet. I have…to go.
Blazing pain sliced into Saebin’s brain and shot down he
r spine. She screamed, jerking away from the source of the agony.
“You told me she was in stasis!” A deep male voice intensified the pain.
“She is in stasis. I tried to disengage her main sensor ring. It triggered some sort of discharge.”
Dread doused the fire sizzling across Saebin’s nerve endings. Why was her handler here? The Center had been liberated. Dr. Hydran was dead.
Saebin forced her body to relax. Assess the situation; inventory your surroundings. The rhythmic beeping of sensors cut through the roaring in her ears. She was restrained face down on a flat surface, likely a treatment table.
“Is she conscious or not?” the man snapped.
“Her brain waves have intensified but she’s had mental spikes before. It was a sensor anomaly, nothing more.” Her handler had been at Hydran’s side as Saebin was tortured and trained, methodically subdued until only D-159 remained. “Damn it. Something is going on. Her heartbeat is erratic.”
Saebin concentrated on her breathing and stabilized her pulse. In, out, slow and steady. All thoughts receded except one. Escape. She must escape.
“If she’s stockpiled enough energy to bring herself out of stasis, we need Lyrik now.”
“Are you sure?” Her handler moved closer to the table, her voice hushed and urgent. “You’ve only seen a hint of her true potential. Do you want your son exposed to—”
“He’s immune to Mystic energy and all the abilities it generates.” He paused. Saebin detected a soft click then three staccato beeps. “Lyrik, report to Lab A in Detention Center Three. And move your ass, boy—this is important.” Three slightly lower beeps ended the transmission. “Besides, the Rodytes arrive tomorrow. We need Lyrik otherwise occupied.”
“I’ll have a medical team monitor her stats until your son arrives. She can’t be allowed to see me. There’s no telling how she’d react.”
“Are you going to decrease the sedative or just wait and see what happens?”
“The levels I’ve been pumping into her would have killed any normal person. I can’t believe she’d just wake up on her own.”
Ignoring the pain ricocheting through her body, Saebin opened her eyes. Her handler was not going to slink away into the shadows. And neither was this man. She gathered Mystic energy, visualizing her next move as the pressure built. Her skin tingled. Her heartbeat raced.
“Get out!” her handler screamed.
Saebin launched an energy pulse and pushed to her hands and knees. Her stiff muscles protested with violent spasms. Her handler was half a step behind the man as they bolted for the door. No! Closing her hand into a tight fist, Saebin discharged an energy stream. It fell short, sizzling against the floor in a useless shower of sparks.
Alarms shrilled and lights flashed. Saebin leapt down from the table, groaning as her knees buckled. Why was she so weak? How long had she been in stasis?
A flurry of activity drew her attention to the transparent panels across the lab. Five armed guards rushed down the corridor. Pushing back to her feet, she rolled her shoulders and flexed her hands. Her knuckle conduits had been capped. No wonder the shot missed her handler. Aiming at the floor, she forced energy out through the thin tube implanted in her middle knuckle. The stream was tiny at first. Then pressure gathered behind the blockage and pushed it out, drilling a hole in the floor.
After clearing her other knuckle, she turned her attention to the doorway. What sort of leader ran for cover while his men rushed forward to fight? The man spoke with authority yet his actions revealed his cowardice.
The doors parted and two men advanced, one crouching as the other aimed his weapon over the first man’s head. Nice formation. Saebin dropped them both with a pulse of energy.
“Shit!”
She heard the curse from somewhere beyond the doorway as the unconscious guards were dragged out of the way. Her vision blurred and static hissed along her sensory inputs. Widening her stance, she dragged air into her burning lungs. A couple knuckle shots and two blackout bursts shouldn’t have drained her this badly.
The guards tried a new formation. One man crouched while two stood behind him. Not very creative, but it would have been effective on an ordinary enemy. She shook her head and they fell into an untidy heap, only one getting off a shot.
“You’re making quite a mess.”
A tall, blond man stepped over the fallen soldiers and joined her in the lab. She aimed her right hand at the middle of his chest, her eyes narrowed and assessing. Supple, dark brown pants hugged his lean hips before disappearing into black boots. A bright green shirt perfectly matched the emerald flash of his eyes. She swallowed hard as her gaze moved over his striking features. Her breathing hitched and her nipples hardened before her armor sent a calming pulse to counteract his effect on her anatomy.
You are D-159, an emotionless warrior. You cannot notice the breadth of his shoulders or the intensity of his gaze.
This had to be Lyrik. Only someone immune to Mystic energy would possess such a swagger. He’d just watched five of his comrades fall! If she weren’t so depleted, she’d test the strength of his immunity. Instead she raised her other hand and widened her eyes as if she’d just sent a pulse his way.
“State your objective.” She kept her voice even and mechanical.
“I’m not the one attacking people, sweetheart. What has you so pissed off?” She wasn’t fooled by his nonchalance. He was stalking her, his gaze ever watchful.
Her energy level was building slowly. She could feel strength returning to her legs. Still, she needed time and information before she made her next move. Reinforcing her role with a deep breath, she looked into his eyes. “What is my objective?”
Careful to keep his exasperation from showing, Lyrik groaned inwardly. “Your objective is to answer my questions.”
“That is not a proper objective. You are not a proper handler.”
Ding, ding, ding, give the woman a prize!
She stood stiff and defiant, her fist pointed at the middle of his chest. Her long, tawny hair had been cut in dramatic layers, concealing the neurostimulators implanted beneath her scalp. The unusual hairstyle accented the delicate purity of her face. Wide blue eyes dominated her other features, the color gently swirling with a mixture of hues. How could someone so lethal appear so innocent? Matte-black body armor encased every curve and hollow of her tall, long-limbed form. Eight similar suits had been brought back from Earth after the destruction of Operation Hydra, but she wore the only suit still functioning.
He crossed his arms over his chest. She’d been in stasis for over a cycle. He had no idea why the medical team had chosen today to bring her out. His briefing had been rudimentary at best. She was out of control. He was to get her into one of the interrogation rooms. Security was to monitor them closely and destroy her at the first sign of aggression. Apparently the mysteries of her implants were no longer enough to protect her life.
“Do you know where you are?” He tried to sound casual, as if she weren’t pointing a lethal weapon at his heart.
“My location is irrelevant until I understand my objective.” She narrowed her gaze and pressed her lips into a grim line.
All of the other inhabitants of ward D were dead. Their implants had malfunctioned or they had gone mad and taken their own lives. Could she sense their absence? All of the women they’d brought back from Earth were telepathic to some extent.
Enough speculation. He had to get her out of this lab. “What are proper objectives for…” Shit, he’d forgotten her numerical name. “State your designation.” He hardened his voice, using the tone he reserved for insubordinate ensigns.
“My designation is D-159.”
“What is a proper objective for D-159?”
“Search and destroy, search and rescue or assassination.”
Charming resume. Shame rolled in on the heels of his smart-ass thought. She hadn’t done this to herself. She’d never had a choice in any of it. He sighed, a knot forming in the pit of his s
tomach. Saebin. Her name was Saebin. She was a victim just like all the other occupants of The Center—and victims needed to be rescued.
“Your objective is search and rescue.”
“Objective accepted.” A vacant look came into her eyes. The rotation slowed, allowing him to distinguish each individual color—cerulean, vibrant azure and sparkling silver. He’d never seen eyes so cold yet beautiful. That sort of summed up the whole package. “Routine launched. Provide data.”
Okay, Commander, start providing data. This was as close as they’d come to a conversation and her life depended on his creativity.
“Initiate an internal scan and report your energy levels.” Her Mystic fit had to have taken its toll.
“D-159 is in need of sustenance.”
“You will come with me.” He turned toward the open doorway, releasing a ragged sigh when she lowered her hand. As soon as she stepped into the corridor, she shot out the surveillance panel. He marched her down the corridor. She blasted each panel they passed. Pausing outside the interrogation room, he scowled at her. “You will not disable the surveillance in this room.”
“The primary objective supersedes all others. A real handler would know that.”
“What is the primary objective?”
“Survival.”
How could he argue with that?
They moved into the small, austere room and she shot out three of the transmitters. She missed the camera hidden behind the recessed light fixture, but that feed only led to the control booth—until security tapped into it.
“Feel better?” He shook his head and ignored the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Despite her dislike for surveillance, she hadn’t threatened him in any way. “Sit down. You will conserve your energy for the coming assignment. There will be no more outbursts. Do you understand?”
Operation Hydra (Beyond Ontariese 2) Page 26
