by I. T. Lucas
But Amanda’s story was just too out there…
Except, why would they go to all this trouble to deceive him? He was a nobody. What would they gain by messing with him?
“I’m listening…” Michael capitulated, figuring he had nothing to lose by hearing the rest of the story: Incredibly scary guy getting pissed, notwithstanding.
“Good, so here is the dilemma. In order to activate your dormant genes, one of us has to inject you with venom… Yeah, venom. You heard me right.” Kian raised his palm to stop Michael’s what-the-hell?
“The males of our species have fangs that produce venom; in two situations.” Kian lifted his hand, two fingers up. “During sex, or when aggressing on other males. This venom is what facilitates the activation. We know this because that’s how we activate our boys when they reach puberty. We treat it as a right-of-passage ritual. An older boy is chosen to fight the Dormant, who only has to fight well enough to generate the level of aggression needed for the older boy to produce venom and bite him. For a thirteen-year-old, in most cases one time is enough. In an adult male your size, we have no clue. We’ve never done it before. This means that you’ll have to go through gladiator style matches every day until you turn or give up. If you turn, you gain immortality and become one of us. If you don’t, we erase your memory of our existence.”
“So what’s the dilemma?” Michael asked. “It seems you’ve already decided what you want to do with me.”
“First of all, no, it’s up to you. You decide you don’t want to get beaten bloody and pumped with venom every day—we erase your memory now. You choose to stay—I already explained what happens then. The problem is that out there Doomers are waiting to snatch you, either to kill you or somehow use you. You cannot go back to school or to your parents’ home.
“We’ll take care of you, of course; provide resources for relocation, new name, new school, whatever you need. Plant new memories in your mind, giving you some plausible explanation for the whole mess. But you need to make up your mind and decide if you’re willing to give it a shot. I will not sugarcoat it for you. I don’t think it will work. Amanda believes there is a chance and I’m willing to give it a try, but I don’t want to give you false hope.”
The room went quiet as Michael took a moment to think it through, which wasn’t easy with Amanda and Kian staring at him. He felt like the poor shmuck on a gameshow, standing on a podium and sweating for the answer as the annoying music played in the background.
Michael suppressed a snort as it crossed his mind that Amanda and her jerk brother were certainly pretty enough to play as hosts on this freaky gameshow from hell.
“I’ll do it.” He broke the silence. “The way I see it, I’m screwed anyway. I can go into your version of a witness protection program now or later, it doesn’t really matter. But on the remote chance that I can gain immortality, I’ll say it’s worth my while to stay here for a few weeks and give you guys a run for your money.”
Kian nodded. “There is one more complication you need to consider. The longer you stay, the more memories we’ll need to replace, and it may mess with your head. Besides the large chunk of missing time you will not be able to account for, you might remember bits and pieces of events, not knowing if you lived through them or dreamt them, and that’s if you got away with no permanent brain damage. I want you to make an informed decision.” Kian watched Michael, waiting for him to acknowledge that he understood.
“Yeah, well… I made up my mind. We’ll need to come up with a good story to tell my parents, though. I don’t want them freaking out when they can’t find me at school.”
“You come up with the story, we’ll help with the details. One last thing; as long as we are running our little experiment, you will have to remain locked up down here. I can’t have you wandering around with the knowledge of our existence and our location. I’m sure you can understand the necessity.”
“I guess,” Michael said in a small voice.
This was the hardest part of the deal for him. He liked being around people. Solitary confinement, even in a sweet dig like this, would be tough.
CHAPTER 16: SYSSI
Syssi stayed in bed long after waking, trapped by the tactile pleasure of the duvet’s soft fabric and the thick fluffy down comforter it covered.
What a night, she sighed.
In her wildest dreams, she had never imagined she could be like that. Wanton, uninhibited, and what’s more, with someone she had just met.
It defied how she defined herself.
Cautious, reserved, shy, risk-averse, was how she thought of herself. Well, she’d have to adopt some new adjectives. Not to replace the old ones, those still applied, but in addition or rather as qualifiers.
She could begin with wanton, though only with Kian… and that was true for uninhibited and a little kinky as well.
Still, it was a good start.
Stretching her arms and toes, she felt good, which considering the vigorous activities of last night was surprising. And it wasn’t just the sense of physical wellbeing and vitality.
She felt content.
Such a simple and unassuming word—content.
Except, before experiencing it, she hadn’t been aware of its lack. It took the absence of the uneasy hum always simmering below the surface of her awareness, for her to realize it had even been there.
Syssi wondered how long this I-am-at-peace-with-the-universe sensation would last. Better not to dwell on it, though, lest she hasten the hum’s return.
There were more pleasant things to contemplate. Like how comfortable she felt letting go with Kian, or how he seemed to enjoy everything about her; her body, her personality, the things she did, the way she yielded to him…
He made her feel secure that way.
Except, was he like this only with her? Or was he making all of his partners feel special?
How many?
The sudden flare of jealousy blew away any remaining vestiges of her peaceful happiness; its shattered pieces lying like boulders on her chest, constricting her ability to draw breath.
She felt queasy imagining the line of gorgeous women coming and going through Kian’s home.
His bed.
With that disturbing thought, Syssi was out of bed and in the bathroom in seconds.
Splashing cold water on her face helped. And as she attacked her teeth with the toothbrush, brushing so vigorously that her gums ached, she made up her mind to find out more about Kian.
The best candidate to pump for information was obviously Amanda. Except, protecting her brother, she might not cooperate. And anyway, it would be too awkward.
Okidu, on the other hand, was a different story. Syssi remembered reading somewhere that it was impossible to keep any secrets from the household staff. And if that was true, the butler must know everything that was going on.
With her mind made up, Syssi headed for the kitchen. She was going to have a little chat with the guy.
“Good morning, mistress,” Okidu greeted her. “May I offer breakfast? I brewed a fresh pot of coffee and kept some of my famous waffles in the warming drawer for you.” He was again smiling that fake looking smile she had noticed before.
“Thank you, I would love some.” Syssi pulled out a stool and sat at the counter.
“Is Kian coming back for breakfast?” She began her casual interrogation.
“No, mistress, he might not be back until lunch. Very busy man, the master. Lots of work to do. Sometimes he even asks me to bring him a sandwich to the office.” Okidu placed the steaming mug of coffee in front of her.
“Is his office in the building?” Syssi sipped on her coffee as she observed the butler, trying to glean more information from his expressions and body language.
Nada. Zip. There was nothing there.
Usually, she was very good at reading people; noting the slight changes in their expressions, the way they held their bodies, what they did with their hands—combining all these clues to form a m
ore complete picture than what their words alone provided.
The butler gave nothing away.
“Yes, indeed it is,” Okidu answered, serving her a plate of divinely smelling waffles, covered with fruit and topped with whipped cream.
“So, I guess he doesn’t get out much; working as hard as he does, and his office being right here in the building.” Feigning nonchalance, Syssi dug into the waffles.
“I would not say that.” The butler turned toward the coffee maker and picked up the carafe to refill her mug.
So, he knows how to be evasive.
Syssi contemplated the best way to phrase her next question to corner him into a yes or no answer. “Do you get to entertain a lot of ladies up here? Besides myself and family members, that is?” She tacked on the last part to close any loopholes. Concentrating on his face, she gave her perception another go. Maybe this time, she’d discern some minute changes in his expression.
“No, mistress, besides you, only family comes up here, and the master begrudges me entertaining even them. They usually come uninvited.”
Smiling his plastic smile, his demeanor revealed nothing. Still, she didn’t think he was lying.
Relieved that Kian had made an exception in her case, the tightness in her chest eased.
She was the only woman he had ever brought home. Well, this home, the butler had said nothing about prior residences.
Still, for some reason it placated her. Even if Kian went out every night and had sex with God only knew how many women, he had treated her differently.
She must’ve meant more to him.
She was special.
CHAPTER 17: DALHU
Dalhu stared at the empty yellow pad in front of him.
What did he really know about the enemy? Most of his information had come from the Brotherhood’s propaganda; admittedly, not the most reliable of sources. And his own experience dealing with the clan had been limited.
To make informed decisions and avoid mistakes, he had to stick to the facts. Things he knew to be true for certain.
That list was frustratingly short.
Starting with what he had learned recently, he filled the first half of the lined page.
First, there couldn’t have been more than a few hundred of them, as they were all the descendants of one female and adhered to the old taboos against mating within the same matrilineal line. Which made them desperate enough to search for Dormants descending from other lines among mortals with special abilities.
Second, there was a concentration of them in Los Angeles, the presence of a Guardian Force indicating that there was someone of vital importance here for them to protect. Maybe even their Matriarch…
And wouldn’t that make him one lucky SOB.
As he imagined the glory of being the one to lead the final battle over the control of humanity and taking down that abominable female, his chest expanded and he straightened, squaring his shoulders.
Unfortunately, her being here was a speculation and not a fact. Sighing, he slumped back in his chair and looked down at the yellow pad.
Thinking back to what he knew for sure, or at least could make an educated guess about, he flipped to a new page and started a second list.
Most of them weren’t fighters; academics, scientists, writers—they didn’t pose much of a physical challenge. And in addition to the males who lacked any kind of combat skills, he could completely dismiss the female half of their small population as well.
The force of Guardians, though, was something to reckon with. These warriors were legendary among the Brotherhood. Part of what had created his impression, that the clan was larger than it actually was, were the myths surrounding them, making them seem like a large and fierce force.
Dalhu wondered how many Guardians the clan actually had. Not that it made a difference, he seethed, even if their numbers were small, they had still decimated almost half of his men with ease.
But then, he had no intentions of seeking out Guardians. He definitely didn’t need any more proof to convince him that he stood no chance against them—not with the inferior fighters at his disposal.
The rest of the clan was up for grabs, though, and he didn’t need to catch a Guardian to lead him to their nest. A civilian would do. He just needed to figure out where the rest of them hung out.
There were things all near-immortals had in common; sharper senses and reflexes, stronger bodies that required only a few hours of sleep, and most notably—one hell of a sex drive. Lacking suitable partners in their community, the clan males, just like Navuh’s troops, had to rely on mortals to satiate their ferocious appetites.
His brethren, himself included, used hookers, and so had the enemy in days past. Stumbling upon a near-immortal in a whorehouse accounted for the few kills the Brotherhood had scored.
But nowadays, living in the West, women were available to them everywhere. The males were probably prowling the nightclubs and bars, looking for hookups. The corrupt, western females, the willing and easy sluts, made themselves available like whores in those places without even asking to be paid for their services.
Dalhu reclined in his chair and smiled as an idea began forming in his head. Nightclubs and bars; that’s where he’d find his targets.
Except, the obvious hitch in his brilliant plan was the fact that there were probably hundreds, if not thousands, of those in a city this size.
CHAPTER 18: KIAN
As Kian walked into his new informal conference room, he was impressed by what he saw. He had to hand it to Ingrid and William. The two had done a spectacular job without his input or interference.
The furniture had clean, contemporary lines and was made from several varieties of highly polished wood. Still-life, black-and-white photographs adorned the walls, their unobtrusive lack of color providing some interest without calling too much attention to themselves. Nice.
A massive desk faced the double glass doors and was already set up with a desktop and a laptop, no doubt hooked up and ready to go. Behind it a credenza, just as massive, was topped by a huge screen that took up half of the wall above it. The screen would be useful for presentations. That way everyone would be able to watch in comfort instead of cramming together around a laptop.
His favorite, though, was the long conference table with a top made from some beautiful, exotic wood. With six large chairs on each side and one at each end, it could accommodate the smaller meetings of either the Guardians or the council members or both.
He wasn’t sure, however, that the fully stocked bar on one side and the serving buffet on the other were such a hot idea. With food and drinks being served, the meetings might drag on forever.
Nonetheless, he liked it.
Sitting behind the desk, Kian smoothed his palms over the glossy surface, contemplating doing his work from down here instead of his home office upstairs.
It was true that he would miss the magnificent view he had from his penthouse, but on the other hand, it would solve the problem of Guardians intruding on his privacy and barging in on him at all hours of the day. And what’s more, with Syssi there, he really didn’t like the idea of the men sniffing around his woman.
No, wait, she wasn’t his… Couldn’t be.
Propping his elbows on the desk, he let his head drop onto his fists. What was he going to do with her? Should he offer her the same deal he’d offered Michael? Somehow that seemed inappropriate. Cruel.
Hey, honey, I’ll be fucking and biting you for the next couple of weeks or months. But if you don’t turn, I’m going to erase that memory and send you on your way…
Except, what other options did he have? To keep thralling her daily was just as cruel—as well as deceitful. And harmful.
The only decent thing to do was to let her go. Yet, he knew he wouldn’t do that.
Couldn’t.
She was too important to the clan…
Hell, who was he kidding? She was too important to him.
But what could he offer her th
at would make it okay? Ease his guilt?
She wasn’t a kid like Michael who could start over anywhere… And what about her family? Did she have any siblings? If she had, then they would be in danger as well.
Sighing, he leaned back in the chair and let his head go lax on the padded headrest behind him. Kian wanted the lie off his chest. But that too was selfish of him, wasn’t it.
On the other hand, he had also believed he had been protecting Lavena when he had concealed who he was from her. And look how well that had turned out…
Fuck! Kian banged his head against the headrest. He had completely forgotten about the addiction. They all had—that little ditty of their fucked-up biology being irrelevant to their revolving-door style of sex partners.
The bloody venom was addictive—ensuring mated couples stayed faithful to each other.
At least in theory.
He hadn’t known that when he had run away to be with Lavena. Enlightened by his mother upon his return, he had learned that in addition to becoming a widow at eighteen, Lavena would also suffer from withdrawal.
Apparently, being repeatedly injected with the venom of the same sexual partner created an addiction in his mate. She would be physically repulsed by the sexual scent of other males and crave only him.
Supposedly, it took a long time for the addiction to set in, and just as long for it to wane.
Annani had laughed at his naive assumption that as a result mated couples in their society must’ve been very faithful to each other.
“To the contrary,” she had said.
To avoid getting addicted to one person, some had made sure to be with several partners. Mixing it up. Being such a lustful species, monogamy hadn’t been at the top of their highly valued morals. More like near the bottom.
The males hadn’t escaped unscathed either; eventually, the addiction had gotten them as well. As the scent of the female had changed with her growing attachment, she had become as irresistible to her mate as he had been to her.
