Blood Mate: The Project Rebellion, Book 2

by Mina Carter

  Did she see him as an animal?

  “You are so beautiful,” he whispered. “Stubborn, but beautiful.”

  He caressed the delicate curve of her face, content for the moment to just know she was there. His body raged for more. To tear apart the bars between them to hold her in his arms and kiss her until they didn’t know where he ended and she began. His soul, his heart—his cock—ached to make her his in every sense of the word. Even with lust and the power of his wolf charging his blood, he couldn’t do anything about the cage. The Project had made them, and knew how to hold them.

  “Who says the two have to be mutually exclusive?”

  Her voice soft, she nuzzled his rough palm. The instinctive movement stole a little bit more of his heart. Her eyes were the color of midnight, but they weren’t the soulless pits he’d once thought a Blood’s eyes to be. Instead they sparkled with humor and intelligence.

  For a moment he felt a pang, deep in the center of his chest, mourning the fact he’d not seen her eyes when she was human. What color had they been? Blue, brown…green? Then he realized it didn’t matter. She wasn’t human. He couldn’t keep ascribing human norms and values to either of them.

  “They don’t have to be exclusive.” His lips quirked in a smile. “You got both in spades. But you have to go, sweetheart. Get out of here. Out of the base if you can.”

  Urgency sharpened his voice and he tightened his fingers a little on the back of her neck, trying to convey by touch how important it was to him that she got to safety.

  “Head into the hills and look for my squ…my pack. Speak to Jack. That’s Captain Harper. Tell him what’s going on in here. He’ll help.”

  She lifted an eyebrow and looked at him like he’d sprouted another head.

  “Let me get this straight. You want me, a Blood, to leave the base and head out alone to find a Lycan pack. Because, yeah, like that’s going to end well.”

  He opened his mouth to tell her not to be stupid, to tell her that she was his mate and none of the pack would do anything to hurt her. He paused, frowned. He didn’t know that for sure. Yeah, it had been the case with Lilly…but Lilly had been human, not Blood and the enmity between them and Lycans ran deep and vicious.

  “No…Jack would scent me on you.” Darce was sure he would, along with the same subtle smell of a wolf-mate that Lilly carried. Once recognized it was unmistakable. “If you can get to him—”

  His plea was cut off by boos from the crowd, taser fire, snarling and yelps. The sound of scuffles and approaching boots warned him they were about to get company.

  “Go. Now.” The edge of a growl in his voice, he pushed her into the shadows. “Get yourself out of here.”

  But she fought him, crowding against the bars for a second to reach in and brush her fingers over his cheek. “I’ll be back. Stay alive. Or I’ll bring you back as an RA just so I can kick your ass.”

  He grinned, but it faded as she disappeared back into the shadows. Frowning for a second, he tried to track her but it was like looking for a black cat in a coal cellar. Even the vaguest hint of her slender figure eluded him. How the hell did she do that? Normally he could see Bloods, even when they pulled the freaking still-as-a-statue shit. Disappearing was a new one on him, unless she’d gone down the Dracula route and turned into a flock of bats. He shook his head. No. That would be too fantastical even for his weird-as-shit life.

  “Come on handsome, you’re up next.”

  A taser sparked behind him and he turned, lip curled. The blue-white glow lit up the guard’s face like a kid with a flashlight under his chin. Behind him stood two more, their fingers on the triggers of their own tasers. He wouldn’t be able to take all three of them down in time. Not in the fucked up reality of the Project. He could shrug off a hail of bullets, unless they were silver, but a mere electrical device took him down like a kick to the balls.

  “No need for that, guys. I’m not going to fuck with you.”

  He walked to the front of the cage and pushed his hands between two of the bars as indicated. The guard in front gave him a look and slapped heavy-duty cuffs over Darce’s wrists. The bite of silver had his breath escaping in a hiss.

  “Yeah, right. That’s what they all say. Out you come.”

  The cage clanged open and Darce stepped out, straightening to look down at the three guards. Compared to the rest of the pack, his height and build weren’t anything to write home about. Among “normal” people…yeah. Little piggies needed to lose the tasers and then they’d see what the big bad wolf could do.

  “Move it along, dog.” The guard behind him grunted and sparked the taser in his hand.

  Darce shot him a glare but moved anyway, his indolent motion arrogant but still swift enough to avoid the guy using the thing on him. Pain didn’t bother him—his wolf would eat it all up and spit fire back—but the damn things fucked with his nervous system. Hard to rip the head off your enemy when your muscles had you doing the funky chicken on the floor.

  They marched him around the back of the raised seating area and toward the cage. No spare seats around the cage now, the faces of the audience lit up by the splash-back of the lights around the ring. He gritted his teeth, feeling the muscle in the corner of his jaw jump as he studied their expressions. Twisted, full of hatred and eager for blood, they catcalled and bayed at the action in the cage.

  And the humans called him an animal.

  A scream drew his attention and he looked toward the ring. Cameras sped around it, looking for the best shot. Darce frowned, narrowing his eyes. This time there weren’t just two opponents in the ring. At least three people were on the floor, scrambling at something…heads close in, like dogs eating at a bowl.

  He dug his heels in, brain and nostrils trying to make sense of it all. Blood was thick in the air, coating the inside of his lungs when he breathed. Three men were on the floor of the cage, eating…no, tearing at the abdomen of another while he thrashed and screamed in agony. The victim struck out, throwing one of his attackers off him with the sort of strength only a Lycan was capable of. The other guy spiraled backward onto the sand, then snapped his head upward and looked at Darce.

  A Reanimate.

  One with intelligence and awareness clear in his eyes as he snarled and launched himself back into the fray.

  “Fuck!”

  Darce blinked, dumbstruck, not reacting when the guards shoved him roughly forward. He stumbled, hands tethered in front of him, and went down. Even the pain of his knees hitting the concrete didn’t register as the scene in front of him unfolded. The screams died down to whimpers of misery and a rattling breath that faded to nothing.

  Darce dropped his head back and closed his eyes, sadness weeping through every cell of his body. Don’t let them eat me alive. Now he understood what his first opponent had meant and how sick and twisted the Project was. They fought and died, or fought and lost to become chow for another of the Project’s pets.

  “Awww look at ’im. Do the zombies scare you shitless, little doggie?”

  Darce opened his eyes at the mocking comment, looking up into the darkness above his head. Movement caught his eye and the shadows resolved into a vague figure. Female. Toni. Had she seen this? Did she know what they’d done to the RAs? He’d never seen one with any form of intelligence…

  Shit. The memory of her talking to an RA outside the hospital surfaced. He hadn’t known, but she had, hadn’t she? That’s why she’d shot the RA, and burnt the body. She knew something was going on.

  Get out. Get to Jack. Tell someone, he urged mentally. But telepathy wasn’t part of the skill-set the Project had gifted him with. He dropped his head back down and leveled a hard glare at the guard. The human paled, backing up half a step.

  “I’m going to rip your spine out,” Darce growled, his voice deep with promise as they dragged him to his feet.

  They dragged him around to the cage door while the ring was cleared. The wire link hummed, charged as a tunnel was shunted and locked into p
lace around the single opening to the ring. Snarls erupted from the RAs’ throats while the guards yelled and postured from outside, then they dragged their prize down the wire tunnel with them.

  Darce shivered. RAs working together? It was unnatural. RAs thinking at all was bad enough, but these were near human. And with what looked like a taste for live flesh. The shiver became a full on body shudder. Darce wasn’t religious, but he hoped like fuck that there was a hell for the people who had developed the viruses. They deserved it, many times over.

  The tunnel was locked off the moment the RAs disappeared, then it was unhooked and whisked away.

  “In you go, mutt.”

  A taser grazed the small of his back, and the muscle-clenching pain made him yelp and tumble forward into the ring. The gate slamming shut behind him, he rolled and came back to his feet.

  He was on his own, but that wasn’t going to last long. Loud music flooded the room to drown out the crowd. A heavy repetitive beat he recognized as the intro to a rock song.

  Oh fuck.

  He’d seen enough wrestling and MMA to recognize the entrance of a favored fighter. The music would build to a crescendo, the spots would snap on the champion when he entered the room to the jubilant roars of the crowd before facing whatever hapless sap destined to fall before him.

  Darce’s lip curled back. He didn’t do hapless or sap well. Adrenaline flooded his system. He moved away from the cage walls, rolling his neck and shoulders to limber up. Although he might act it with the pack, Darce wasn’t dumb. Whatever was coming for him had to be worse than the intelligent RAs the guards had just herded out. They’d been the freak show but this—with the build-up and the air of anticipation in the room—would be the finale.

  Opening the door deep within himself, he touched his wolf, silent communication passing between the two halves of his nature. He needed the creature working with him, not against—needed every advantage he could get. The creature snarled but yielded control, not fighting him when he widened the door and merged man and beast.

  Power racing through his body like a lover’s caress, he held the change under his skin. All the small cuts and bruises disappeared as the impending shift healed them. He felt strong, fast…invincible. He wanted to throw back his head and howl with the glory of being alive, of being Lycan, but he held it back. He had one shot at this and the element of surprise was all he had going for him.

  He hoped it was enough. If not, he’d be RA chow.

  The music crashed to an end and the spots snapped on. The crowd drew its breath in a collective gasp and the cameras sped forward to capture images of the man outlined in the doorway.

  Like Darce, he was manacled, but that was where the similarities ended. He strode forward of his own free will, confidence in every step. The guards skittered out of his way. Darce didn’t blame them. Violence and danger clung to the newcomer like a second skin. He had no doubt if one was too slow in getting out of the way, that guard would end up in a world of hurt or dead.

  Darce danced lightly on the sands, waiting for the door to open and the champion to duck in. The guy was taller and heavier, moving with the sort of lethal grace all Lycans had. But his scent was odd, not quite Lycan. What the fuck…

  Determination surged through Darce’s veins. This was going to be a tough fight. It would hurt. A lot. Possibly kill him.

  Bring it on.

  His opponent straightened, dark eyes zeroing in on him from across the sand. Then he grinned, flashing Blood fangs.

  “Hello, Loverboy.”

  Oh shit, this was going to hurt…

  “Weeeeeelcome to the Jungle!”

  Oh my fucking God. Hidden high in the rafters of the underground bunker, Toni widened her eyes in shock and recognition when the new opponent dropped his head back and roared for the crowd.

  Oh. My. God. How stupid could she have been? All the clues clicked into place with a resounding thud. The deep voice had a new edge to it but she recognized it and the tall, dark-haired man facing down Darce in the center of the ring.

  Major Dean Steele.

  True patriot and shit hot soldier.

  He’d been on base before she’d arrived herself and before the place went to hell in a hand basket. She’d heard the stories about him. How he’d volunteered for the program…back in the days when they were interested in developing medications to help soldiers. Regenerative boosters to heal minor wounds and get troops back on their feet. Heavier duty medications for IED victims to heal deep flesh wounds, or reconnect severed nerves. High tech super glue and shots to put blown up soldiers back together.

  A noble aim.

  A darker reality.

  When they’d realized they’d made a weapon, all trace of altruism had disappeared and the Project had gone Dark Side. Seriously Dark Side. Not even the Force would be of any help with this one and if some tiny green dude turned up talking weird, she was so headed the other way.

  She crawled forward, the space between the struts barely enough for her to squeeze into, only a couple inches of space separating her back and the steel above. Enclosed in the darkness, she watched the scene unfold below.

  Even though Steele had volunteered for the program and been infected, it didn’t work for some reason. Every other subject in the test group had been infected with the Blood virus, but despite three injections, Steele’s just hadn’t taken.

  He’d been monitored for a delayed reaction and his blood analyzed. Some antibody or something had been found, leading to the development of the vaccines now used for the base personnel to prevent infection. She’d cursed it at one time. If she’d arrived a few months later, she’d have been taking the vaccine and wouldn’t have been infected. She’d also have been dead, but in the first days of her infection—in fact, right up to meeting Foster—she hadn’t thought that would be a bad thing.

  Now? She was glad she hadn’t been taking them. She wouldn’t have been turned into a Blood, no, but she also wouldn’t have met Darce.

  The thought froze her. She’d always hated her new nature, railed against it, looked for a way out of what she considered to be a miserable existence. But, despite all that, despite the fact that Darce was a Lycan, the link between them was undeniable. Precious. She barely knew him, but somehow when she looked into his eyes, everything was all right. In those eyes she saw hope, and a future.

  If they survived the present.

  In the ring, the two circled each other, facing off like a couple of rabid dogs. Snaps and snarls rose from the combatants, the audience holding its collective breath in tension and anticipation.

  She couldn’t help wriggling forward for a better view. Steele hadn’t been infected despite what they did to him and then he’d been killed in a group suppressing a Lycan fight in one of the pens. Or so they’d been told. Because the guy she was looking at was certainly not dead. Had the Lycan infection taken when the Blood hadn’t? Was it possible that some people could only be turned one way or the other?

  It wasn’t until she was over them that the scents rising from the ring hit her. The deep, earth scent redolent of the forest and the outdoors that was Darce, and another equally wild scent. But where Darce smelled of life and vitality, the other scent was different. Still deep and feral, but the scent of the woods in the winter, when almost everything was dead or sleeping, with a thread of something else. Something more familiar. Something she smelled everyday…

  Darce attacked low and fast, claws flashing out to rake over Steele’s side. The bigger man howled, throwing his head back as his hands sprouted claws faster than should be possible. Shock slammed into her, stealing her breath when she saw his open mouth. At the heavy fangs top and bottom. Longer than any Lycan ever had.

  Shit, he wasn’t just a Lycan, he was Blood too.

  A full-on Hybrid.

  Fuck. The stories had been true. All those months the rumors of a Hybrid on base had been correct. Had he been down here all that time? Forced to do this? Shit. She’d be surprised if he was
even sane anymore.

  The roar became one of rage and Steele attacked. Panic wrapped its claws around her as she watched the smaller man dodge and block like a maniac while Steele chipped away at him. Her near-dead heart clenched, her chest, back and neck aching with the need to drop from the rafters and slice her way into the cage to help Darce. She fought the feeling, forcing herself to remain where she was. Blood filled her mouth, her gums lacerated by the fangs that burst free in response to the danger to the man she lo—

  She clamped down on the thought before it formed. She didn’t…wasn’t going to use the L-word. A couple of kisses and a fuck-load of danger didn’t amount to that. Besides, even though Darce was a ferocious fighter, he was no match for Steele. Hell, even against her he’d be pushing it, but Steele was something else. She’d seen him fight when he was human, and with both viruses running through his veins…he was lethal.

  He’d kill Darce, no question about it.

  And she had to stop him.

  Chapter Twelve

  Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

  The words ran an endless litany in Toni’s head as she clambered and slid down from her perch high above the ring with far less grace and finesse than when she’d climbed up there. It didn’t matter. No amount of noise she made would matter. The audience below was too fixated on the action in the ring, their hoots and hollers loud enough to cover her slipping and sliding down between the metal rafters.

  The recording equipment set up around the ring amplified the sound of fists hitting flesh and grunts of pain, sounds punctuated by the scent of fresh blood on the air. Darce’s blood. Anger ripped through her, the urge to drop into the crowd and carve a swathe of carnage and destruction almost overwhelming.

  She gritted her teeth around the snarl trying to escape her throat and dropped the last ten feet to the floor. The guards that were supposed to be on the doors were in with the crowd, sick excitement on their faces while they watched the men in the ring try and beat each other to death.