by K H Lemoyne
“Some protein mix. Keeps the body functioning.”
Nothing appeared touched on the tray. “You didn’t eat it.”
“I try not to, might be laced with drugs. I’d rather maintain control.”
“Not that I blame you. However, you can’t hold out indefinitely.” These circumstances were so far beyond the help of any defense class. She would have to sign up for survival training to keep up with him. She fished around in her backpack and dug out a chicken sandwich and held it out to him.
He didn’t move.
The expression in his eyes was indiscernible. She took it for doubt. He wasn’t sure he could trust her? In annoyance she glanced away. The tray full of lumps caught her eye and her anger evaporated. He was beaten, tired, and hungry. Maybe, in his shoes, she’d be reluctant to trust, too.
Mia opened the baggie, took a bite, and slid it across the slab to his hand. With a jangle of chains, he picked up the bag and gave it a cautious sniff.
“Chicken,” she said and tried to swallow the lump of sandwich past the dryness in her throat.
He gave a brief nod. “Would seem. Why did you do this?”
“I wasn’t raised in a barn.” The sarcasm didn’t cover her insecurity, but she refused to explain the compulsion she had to help him. She’d packed supplies in spite of her nerves over the influence he exerted on her. Locating an old backpack in the garage, she’d added water bottles, something for the man to eat, antiseptic, and bandages. His bloody wounds, impossible to ignore, bothered her most of her waking moments. She’d noticed those wounds on him twice and suspected they were probably a fraction of what he experienced here.
Her efforts hardly amounted to a staged breakout. She had no knowledge of how to accomplish such a feat without getting them both killed. That didn’t mean she could stand back and do nothing. Nothing was tantamount to joining the other side. Commitment dictated her choice.
Besides, sins of omission lodged too heavily with guilt, and with life as risky as it had been the past few days, she couldn’t afford to waffle. He’d saved her—several times. He deserved some help in return.
She waited while he ate. The speed with which he finished brought tears to her eyes. When he was done, she rolled an energy drink across the slab.
“Thank you for your charity,” he said.
“I don’t consider it charity to bring a meal to a man who’s being tortured and has saved my ass on several occasions. Considerate maybe, humanitarian perhaps, definitely not charity.”
“At least your ass is quicker in response to the threats.”
He didn’t openly laugh, but she was relieved to hear the humor return to his voice.
He finished the drink, stuffed the baggie inside the bottle, and then rolled it back to her. “So now I owe you in kind?”
“No. I’m still not even for all the times you’ve saved me.” She waved the empty bottle in her hand.
“I don’t do no, Mia. Either tell me what I can offer or bring nothing next time.”
A harsh response, which under other circumstances Mia might take as an accusation. Instead she interpreted the words coming from a man discouraged but strong, beaten but still resolute, and perhaps tired beyond his endurance. “Okay, you can answer some questions.”
“Perhaps.”
She bit back a laugh. “Ah, repayment in kind has limits.”
“Everything has limits.”
“I need to know more about why you’re here.” A fair request, she hoped. Open-ended enough to let him control the subject.
He was silent for one minute, then two. She decided he’d chosen to renege when he finally spoke. “Let’s set some ground rules first.”
She frowned. Rules didn’t signal an open-ended exchange of info.
“For whatever reason, you can come and go. Do you have any control over that ability?”
She opened her mouth and then closed it, the snarky response curbed in favor of a more considerate answer. “I show up after I fall asleep. I don’t control it. I’m trying to pay more attention to how it happens.”
“Smart. I have little ability to keep you from harm here. I have no ability to stop your presence.” He paused. “Since you appear in such close proximity to me, you need to work on the process. Work to control it, work to block it. Any effort you expend to master the process could save your life.”
“Okay. So that’s rule one?”
“Rule one, you learn control. Listen to your body, be aware of what is happening, and recognize the signs.”
She mulled for a minute, and then nodded. “Okay.”
“Pay close attention to what happens when you arrive and leave. Mimic it to the best of your ability.”
“I gather this isn’t because you want to see more of me?” she asked wryly.
“Second. When you’re here, be alert. Stay as inconspicuous as possible. Your efforts have worked so far, but you need to exercise more care. Camouflage your clothes—no perfume, no deodorants, no scented soaps. I can recognize your scent without sight. I’m hoping no one else can. No electronics either. Nothing to alert others you’re here.”
She opened her mouth to ask, but he cut her off. “There’s an energy field here that blocks electronic function. I can feel its vibration; probably you can, too, if you work at it. You are traceable if you use a device such as a cell phone, so it gives you no advantage here. Don’t bother.”
“Quite detailed instructions.” She crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall. Evidently, her survival training started now. A lot of payback for one sandwich.
He ignored her again. “You may fold again, like you did today, to a place more visible, more dangerous than this cell or the hallway. Don’t go for heroics. Blend in. Hide when you can. You’re petite. Your curves obviously announce you as female. Yet with dark, baggy clothes and a hat, you could endure brief scrutiny as a guard. Keep your face averted, don’t make eye contact, and stay focused. Your goals don’t involve me. They are to survive and escape, in that order.”
She swallowed hard. The reality of life outside the cell door pressed in a constriction of her chest and lungs as she listened to his demands. Demands meant to make the difference between her life and death. She considered all the locations where she’d surfaced within this prison. None she wanted to tackle again without this man at her side. He could list all the proactive rules he wanted to, but she’d only survived her past appearances because he’d drawn the guards’ attention.
“I don’t think I could take any of these men down.”
“You can train. You must train.” He rubbed his face and sighed. “I will help you.”
Shit. “All right. More?”
“One last rule. Don’t ever discuss what we talk about here with anyone. Not casually, not online, don’t let anyone know you have information I’ve given you.”
“This isn’t just about Xavier and Rasheer.”
“My people would take your knowledge of the details of our lives as a threat. We are too vulnerable to let humans know about us. You have no champion to keep you safe from their justice.”
She knew with absolute certainty he would defend her. Unfortunately, trapped here, he couldn’t help. His words hinted he wouldn’t stand up for her against his own people, yet his past acts spoke louder than the words he wanted her to hear. She understood he wanted her to feel the threat. She could play that game. “Okay.”
“I need your word, Mia. I trust your word.”
“You have my word,” she whispered.
He sat silent for a long while. She waited and gave him time. This was his story. Her probes into his life stemmed from her need to decipher this connection between them. Having his life ripped open for the cause was unfair. The good news—tying pieces together was a job she did well, so she waited.
“Isa found someone to help her get in contact with Rasheer and set up the meeting. I never had a chance to find out who the person was.”
Conflicting emotions ran through Mia. She
felt voyeuristic, and a cramp of unease rippled in her stomach. She wrapped her arms tighter across her middle and tried to force detachment as she listened. Her feelings didn’t count here.
“Why was she so desperate for you to be her mate?”
“Mates have been a rare commodity for my people in the last…in a long time. Isa grew frustrated with waiting. She wanted to skim over what she perceived as formalities and just pick one of us and have children. I was the object of her obsession.”
Mia frowned. “So mating is like marriage?”
“We bond until death.”
She swallowed hard. “Very permanent, I got it.”
Turen didn’t laugh at her joke. He stared at her over his templed fingers for a moment. “Each of my people has only one mate. One unique person matched in passion, personality, spirit, and mental acumen. We live indefinitely until we mate, and then our lifetimes become shorter, almost normal once we conceive children.”
Mia swallowed. “As opposed to living forever?”
“Once we reach maturity, we don’t age until we find our mate and have children, or are killed.”
Mia’s mind spun through the line of questions that popped up from his details. “Aside from the concept of living forever, which I’d like to come back to, why not mate with Isa? I mean, arranged marriages aren’t typical now, but they’ve worked in the past.”
“I possessed no passionate feelings for her—protectiveness and friendship, nothing else.”
“Couldn’t this work out of sequence? Have kids first, adopt and find the mate later, or is that a serious taboo for your people?”
“Taboo isn’t the point. Physically we can only conceive children with our mates. There’s a physiological compatibility for procreation.”
“Your people are physically different?”
Turen laughed and tried to scrutinize the wide eyes and worry on Mia’s face. God, he wished he could see her face clearly but he could imagine the pictures running through her mind. “All our parts and functions are identical to human beings, yet conception doesn’t occur except in mated couples.”
“Wouldn’t Isa have known this?”
“A tragedy hit my people during my childhood. It destroyed everyone over the age of eighteen. The children of my generation survived in quarantine. Isabella was only months old at the time. She had no memory of the past, no siblings in the Sanctum, no vision of how life should be. She was impatient. A mate and children were what she wanted, and she assumed, like humans, she could just select one and make it happen.”
At Mia’s flinch, he wished he could show compassion instead of the cold delivery of his words. He suspected she held sympathy for Isa’s persistence. He wasn’t quite sure why her view bothered him, or why it was so critical she comprehend his dilemma, but it was.
“Finding a mate without trying it on for size seems a little rough,” she persisted. “I mean, love at first sight is a bit unrealistic. Other things come into play that take time—personality, commitment, lust versus familiarity, trust.”
She’d returned to clutching her backpack and radiated unease with the conversation, but he couldn’t pinpoint what was bothering her. “I wasn’t going to ‘try it on’ and have sex with her to prove there was nothing there. Believe me, while she was beautiful, she stirred no desire in me.”
Her eyes widened. “So you have sex with other people?”
Hardly able to hold in the laughter, he recognized the squint of her eyes and the angle of her head and stopped. “Yes, I have a sexual history. I’m no saint. I can’t speak for the others of my people, though I suspect they’ve had their casual experiences.” He leaned forward to recapture her attention, but her bowed head hid any expression from him. “We are no different from humans with respect to needs. Once we find our mates, everything changes. The intensity of our feelings and the structure of our lives are different.”
She glanced up and met his gaze, a scowl planted on her features.
“I couldn’t offer Isa my commitment any more than I could give her children. I couldn’t live that lie. We each deserved more.” He folded his arms over his chest and glanced away, trying to figure out a way to explain the difference.
“I remember my parents, my friends’ parents, and their mated siblings. The bond is unique, loving and deeply spiritual, unbreakable. Since the quarantine, there has been only one mating for my generation. Perhaps too many died to allow us the option. With the exception of Xavier’s child, there have been no pregnancies. My people have not aged past early adulthood.”
“How did the rest of your people feel about Isa’s pursuit?”
“Isa garnered the support of our current leader. Salvatore encouraged me to consider her proposition. He needed her as his assistant, and he expected me to placate her. The others remained quiet on the matter. Whether they agreed or not, I wasn’t taking a vote. It would have hurt Isa’s feelings had others been vocal.”
“It sounds like forcing you into slavery.”
He nodded; finally satisfied he had made headway with Mia. “I cared for Isa like a sister.” He leaned back against the stone and closed his eyes. “We live so long that we need a strong tie and compelling reason to commit. Once established, only death can break our bond. I won’t devalue such a gift. I won’t make promises I don’t believe in. It’s the only part of my legacy I have left.”
“Couldn’t she have had artificial insemination or adopted?”
Her embarrassment hung in the air. She probably considered them an alien species, though she had to have been aware of all his parts when they’d hidden from the hybrid. He’d certainly been aware of every inch of her delicate frame.
“We conceive and give birth to our children in the same way as humans, though our physiology adapts for conception and we conceive only two children. Maybe it’s intended as containment of our species, to prevent the urge for domination, who knows. Even with artificial means, Isa wouldn’t have been able to produce a child. Our own healer confirmed that for her. The risk of human exposure to our people ruled out adoption.”
He watched Mia’s mouth twist with a comment she was trying too hard to frame in an acceptable manner. He would rather she just spit it out.
“She was very intent on her pursuit of you in spite of your rejection. Why not another man?”
Turen focused on the unasked question in her words with sudden clarity. The mild accusation implied Isa’s responses had somehow been a result of his actions. Mia’s suspicion of men had translated Isa’s actions, so he was now the culprit.
“I don’t know the reason Isa selected me. I didn’t encourage her attentions. I would not have led her on or given her false hopes.”
She let out a heavy breath. “How would she get Xavier’s attention?”
“I have no details. There would be little he’d want, with the exception of proof to back his claims of his wife’s and child’s murders. Even mention of the past would have been a red flag waved at him.” He shook his head. “I’m certain Isabella had no idea of the dangers of her plan. Tracking a path in through his drug trade wasn’t something she would understand, which means she made contacts or her contact already had them.”
“Was she really that naïve?”
“Don’t hold back, Mia, jump right into the personal shit.” He pushed with humor, with hopes of loosening the tight grip she had on that poor backpack and bring her back from her deep absorption.
She hesitated for a moment and exhaled with a shrug. “Guess I’m being a little uptight. Sorry.”
“I don’t fault you.” He paused a second to make certain she believed him. “Your questions are personal, but you’ve appeared here each night, for which we have no explanation. If there’s a connection here, I’m more than willing to give you the freedom to delve. It’s not as if the same thoughts haven’t plagued me night and day. Hell, I’ve mulled over some of these issues for years. It’s a relief to have this conversation take place outside my head for a change.”
“You ask rational, logical questions about my life. I relish the perspective.” He gave her a smile. “Do we get the same approach with yours?”
She stiffened, her unease flooding back, or was it pain she was pushing down? A man birthed this response in her. Of that he was certain. For the briefest second, he wanted retaliation for her pain, a cold hard need to strike out in defense of her. Odd. Just as suddenly, the compulsion disappeared.
“What would someone gain by Isabella’s death?”
“I know Xavier wouldn’t profit by it, or ever harm a woman, so that rules him out. I have a hard time understanding what anyone else would gain.”
“Except you.”
His mouth dropped open and then snapped shut at her suggestion. The woman didn’t even have the good grace to be embarrassed. “Yes. Well, I didn’t kill her. I would never have raised a hand against her. I would never kill anyone without life-threatening provocation.”
The lie stuck in his throat, because hadn’t he just considered violence to whoever had hurt Mia? “Rasheer confirmed she was still alive when he left the meeting with me.”
She waved her hand at him and laughed. “I didn’t mean you, specifically. What benefit would there be for someone else to make people think you killed her? She died after you left, and you’ve disappeared, right? So you make a good scapegoat.”
He frowned. “That indicates she knew or did something worth dying for.”
“What do you really know about her murder?”
“It happened after I arrived here. She arranged the meeting in a border town in Arizona.” He shook his head, reluctant to proceed. “I wouldn’t have known of her death if not for Rasheer.” He barely spoke the last words, because he could still hear the inflection of Rasheer’s voice and remember the bliss on the man’s face as he’d spoken of subjecting Isa to his fantasies.
“You can’t blame yourself.”
He glanced up, surprised at her tone, to find her eyes narrowed, her arms crossed over her chest and anger permeating her expression. Anger with him?
