Mastering Their Human

by Ivy Barrett

  Her sarcastic reply turned to ashes in her mouth as she glared into his eyes. He was serious. This wasn’t a game. Fear skittered down her spine and she said, “I apologize.”

  Her easy acquiescence seemed to please him. He stepped back and folded his arms over his chest, his stance wide, head held high. “I am Kellan Felix, Overlord of the United Territories. So there is no misunderstanding, that means all seventeen black zones, the Five Points Coalition, Racina, Littleton, and the Foothills Co-op.” They stared at each other, his expression expectant, hers cautious. His gaze bore into hers, searching, waiting. Finally, his stance relaxed and a slow smile parted his lips. “You have no idea what any of that means, do you?”

  “Sorry. I’m not from around here.” She lowered her gaze to her hands and released her breath in a slow exhale. She knew exactly what it meant. She’d been kidnapped by Attila the Hun!

  “Come.” He turned and left the room, obviously expecting her to follow.

  A shiver sped down her spine. He was used to issuing commands and being obeyed. He was an overlord, a king of kings, a warlord’s warlord. She was in serious trouble.

  Scrambling off her knees, she rushed after him. “Where are we going?” She didn’t use his name, suspected the informality would offend him. Still, it made her feel more secure to finally know his name. Kellan. Kell? No, Kellan. He was too damn big for a pet name.

  Without explanation, he led her up a wide staircase and across the gallery that looked out over the entry hall. Even stripped of its finery, the house was impressive. Sculpted ceilings and etched skylights had miraculously survived the ravages of time.

  He opened one side of the double doors leading into a massive bedroom then waited for her to enter. It was obviously the master bedroom.

  Reality paused and Brianna tensed. She had dreaded this day since she was kidnapped the first time. She’d spent endless hours trying to prepare herself, hoping to survive with her spirit unbroken. Yet faced with the actual crossroads, she wasn’t sure what she should do. If she didn’t submit to him willingly, would he take her by force? He’d said he wouldn’t, but that had been before he revealed his identity.

  “Do I have a choice?”

  His gaze narrowed and wicked amusement flickered within his dark eyes. “No. You’re going to take a bath whether you want to or not.”

  Relief rushed through her, making her toes tingle. But her chest felt heavy and her core ached. Surely she wasn’t disappointed that he didn’t intend to… One problem at a time. “Isn’t this your room?”

  “It is.”

  “Are there no other working bathrooms in this building?”

  “There are several.”

  “Then why do I need to use this one?”

  He chuckled. “Do you really want me to list the reasons you need to bathe? That’s rather indelicate.”

  She glared at him, wishing she didn’t find him attractive. Wishing she were more like her sister. Lorelle would have kicked his ass by now, taught him not to mess with San Carlos women. Even on Earth the worst she could have done was sue him, and right now her knowledge of Earth’s judicial system was pretty damn useless!

  Lorelle. Her heart sank into the pit of her stomach and she quickly averted her eyes. Was her sister really all right, or had Sean been manipulating her like everyone else? She couldn’t think about Lorelle right now. She’d start crying and shatter the illusion of strength she was trying so hard to convey.

  Squaring her shoulders, she met his gaze and asked, “Am I still your prisoner?”

  “For the moment. As soon as Ceddrik confirms the information you gave me, I’ll send a message to Fane and ask if your sister is actually in the Underground.”

  Her heart leapt and she fought back a smile. She didn’t want him to know how thrilled she was by the prospect. “I appreciate your generosity. May I please have my own bedroom?”

  “No.”

  “May I ask why?”

  His momentary amusement evaporated. He caught a fistful of her tunic and dragged her into the bedroom, kicking the door shut with the heel of his boot. “I don’t explain myself to anyone. People abide by my dictates or suffer the consequences.”

  The wise thing would have been to apologize and go take a bath, but no one had ever accused San Carlos women of being wise. They were rebels, feisty, passionate, crusaders—but never anything as mundane as wise.

  “I’m not trying to anger you… Should I call you ‘sir’?” She didn’t resist his hold, even pressed into the heat of his knuckles.

  His grip released, yet his hand remained against her chest, touching without caressing her breasts. “Only if you’re ready to submit to my authority.”

  “Submission requires trust, and I don’t know you.”

  “Then call me Kellan. I detest hypocrisy.”

  “All right, Kellan. I’ll try not to debate your reasons for doing things, but I respond better if I understand what they are. ‘Why’ can be a manipulation, but it can also be an honest request for more information.”

  He paused, his dark gaze moving over her face. She didn’t think he would answer. It was clear a response would countermine one of his precepts. Then his gaze focused on her mouth and he said, “There are sixty-three men stationed at this compound, nineteen of whom are housed in this building. I won’t force myself on you, no matter how lustfully you look at me. I’m not as certain about some of my men.” She gasped and twisted away. His fingers caught in the tunic again, dragging the material off one shoulder. “Do you deny that your eyes have been devouring me ever since I walked into the interrogation room?”

  “Yes!” She tossed over her shoulder, refusing to look at him. “My libido didn’t start misbehaving until after you took off your shirt.”

  Apparently, he hadn’t expected honesty. He let go of her tunic and started laughing, the sound rich and wonderful. Levity transformed his features, smoothing the harsher lines while leaving the distinguished angles. For just a moment she imagined him cleaned up and tamed, dressed in a business suit or an elegant tuxedo, ready to entertain in his fabulous domicile.

  He ran a careless hand through his hair and his muscles rippled, shattering the illusion. He was a commander to the marrow of his bones. People abide by my dictates or suffer the consequences. That pretty much said it all. She better adjust to his way of thinking, not expect him to conform to hers.

  “I truly hope you aren’t Fane’s spy.” His gaze was warm and caressing, but the bow-before-me tilt had returned to his head.

  “And why is that?”

  “You’re fond of that question.” He grinned and took a step toward her. “If you’re a spy, I have no choice but to kill you. But if you’re a victim, as you claim, the possibilities are limited only by our combined imagination and your willingness to explore your capacity for pleasure.”

  Faster than lightning his hands sneaked under the tunic and found her bare hips, pulling her lower body against his. His knee nudged her legs apart and his erection pressed against her belly. Liquid want flowed and curled, leaving smoldering heat in its wake.

  He leaned down and brushed his lips against her temple as one of his hands sneaked back to squeeze her ass. “Let’s go take a bath.”

  * * *

  Sean flew across the lab and slammed Allen Lansky into the wall behind him, ready to rip out his throat.

  “Don’t!” Sarah grabbed his arm and stopped him from striking, though nothing could have gentled his grip. “He’s the only one who can fix this. If you kill him, there’s no hope for me.”

  “What was in the injection?” Sean loosened his fingers enough to allow Allen to speak.

  To his credit Allen didn’t struggle. He stood statue still, calmly assessing the situation, analyzing each element. His gaze shifted to Sarah and his eyes nearly bugged out of his face, his expression a potent mix of shock and wonder. No lab rat was that good an actor.

  “I don’t understand.” Allen pushe
d Sean’s hand away from his throat, his gaze glued to Sarah. Sean crossed Allen’s shoulders with his forearm and angled his body, allowing the scientist an unobstructed view.

  “What is this about, Sean? What’s going on?”

  Reality expanded beyond Sean’s fury as Cassie’s voice penetrated the ringing in his ears. He had shouldered her aside as he grabbed Allen. Thank the gods he hadn’t hurt her. Cassie was Fane’s mate and Fane ruled the Underground.

  “Look at her,” Allen whispered. “There’s no trace of mutation. Her features are completely restored.”

  Sean pushed off the wall and let Allen go. Beating him to a bloody pulp might be cathartic, but it would also be counterproductive. Sarah was right. Allen had to fix this thing.

  Allen grabbed a scanner off the shelf above his workstation and slowly circled Sarah. She glanced at him, tears welling in her eyes. He saw the hint of her misery for half an instant then she stubbornly blinked the tears away.

  “What was in the injections?” Sean persisted. He moved past Cassie and addressed Allen directly. Cassie and Allen had been working on the project together, but Allen was primarily responsible for programming the nanites. The treatments were supposed to have curtailed Sarah’s deterioration, not reversed her mutation. “Why did it do this to her?”

  Allen looked up from the scanner, his lower lip caught between his teeth. “This makes no sense. It wasn’t supposed to happen. The new parameters should have prevented anything resembling mutation.” He adjusted the settings and scanned some more.

  “Other than confused as hell and angry,” Cassie began with a cautious smile, “how do you feel? Do you have a headache? Is there any pain?”

  Sarah glared at her. “I want my headache back. This is not what I agreed to.”

  Cassie gaped, clearly shocked by the vehemence in Sarah’s tone. “Your mutation was killing you. If we hadn’t arrested the deterioration, you would likely be dead by now.”

  Don’t even say it. Sean sent the thought to his sister, carefully targeted for her mind alone. I know you might believe it right now, but you would not be better off dead. She didn’t respond and her mutinous expression didn’t change. Sarah?

  Nothing.

  Sean’s stomach cramped. Why couldn’t she hear his thoughts? Even as children they had—

  I can still hear you, asshole, Sarah assured. I’m ignoring you.

  Ignore me all you like as long as you know how much this asshole loves you.

  She glanced at him and the corners of her mouth turned up with the hint of a smile.

  “You did a little more than arrest the deterioration,” Sarah muttered.

  “Cassie, can you get me an extractor? I need a sample of Sarah’s blood, so I can figure out what happened.”

  Without comment, Cassie handed Allen the extractor and stepped back out of his way. Sarah pushed up her sleeve and he took the sample.

  Cassie tugged on Sean’s sleeve, the gesture so unexpected and disarming he almost smiled.

  “May I speak with you in the hallway?”

  “Why?”

  “I’d rather not upset Sarah any more than necessary.”

  “Then don’t upset her.”

  “Sean.” Though spoken in a calm, conversational tone it would have been impossible to miss the warning in that one word. Sean glanced over his shoulder and found Fane standing in the doorway. Figured. Fane sensed everything that happened in the Underground.

  You all right, sprite?

  I’m fine. Just peachy.

  Her sarcasm was more comforting than she realized. When Sarah was passive and cooperative, that was when he started to worry.

  Sean strode into the hallway, Fane and Cassie trailing behind him. He waited until they were out of earshot of the doorway before he turned around. “You had no right!” he sneered right into Cassie’s face, not caring whose mate she was. No one hurt Sarah. No one!

  “This wasn’t intentional,” she assured.

  Fane pushed Sean backward with his mind, his expression warning that the next push would be far more violent. “Has anyone else regressed?” he asked Cassie.

  “I don’t think so. I’ll examine everyone immediately.” She seemed genuinely upset. After a short pause, she looked at Sean and said, “I have no idea how this happened, but I don’t understand your reaction. If anything the result is… better than we expected. Why are you so angry?”

  Clenching his fists to keep from shaking some sense into her, Sean turned to Fane. “Would you please explain the situation to your mate? I don’t have the patience for Protarian elitism right now.”

  Fane’s gaze narrowed in warning, but he obliged. “Sarah’s visions are invaluable to us. She has saved countless lives and—”

  “I understand that. But she was dying. The mutation that allowed her to access these visions was killing her quickly. Is a dead seer really more valuable than a live woman without psychic powers?”

  “The debate is moot,” Sean snapped. “The damage is done.”

  “The damage is repaired.”

  Fane held up his hand, silencing them both. After a tense moment, he asked Sean, “Why are you here?”

  “To ask my sister for assistance.” He watched their expressions register the implication and heaved a weary sigh.

  “You lost Brianna’s trail?” The anxiety in Fane’s gaze made it obvious he knew the answer.

  “Not that there was much of a trail to lose. Brianna didn’t panic and run off into the night. She was taken while I fought Howyn’s guards. There is no doubt about it. One of the warlords has her.”

  “Oh, gods,” Cassie whispered behind her hand. “What can we do?”

  “We can’t do anything,” he snapped. “I can prostrate myself before the most ruthless bastard I’ve ever known and hope he doesn’t kill me before I have a chance to explain why I’m there.”

  “Kellan?” Fane shook his head. “There has to be another way. I do not want to end up owing that son of a bitch.”

  “I thought there was another way, but Allen Lansky just took it from me.” He raked his hair with both hands, torn between fury and dread. “I’m open to ideas. I sure as hell don’t like my own.”

  “It’s been, what, eleven years? Will he even recognize you?”

  “I’m pretty sure he’ll recognize me. I’m more concerned with how he’ll react when he does. We didn’t part on the best of terms.”

  “How do you know Kellan Felix?” Cassie asked.

  “I was born in one of the black zones. Everyone is expected to serve their garrison in one capacity or another. If you don’t fight, you don’t eat. It’s an interesting concept of community. If it weren’t for Fane, I’d be there still. Or I’d have died fighting for the overlord.”

  “Kellan is really our only option.” Fane sounded anything but enthusiastic.

  “Nothing happens in the zones without Kellan knowing about it. He won’t help me out of the goodness of his heart. I’ll have to think of something I can offer him in exchange.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that.” Fane folded his arms across his chest and scowled.

  “If I were an attractive woman, you’d have reason to worry.” Sean waved away his concern. “Kellan is all about power.”

  “You’re a specter. That’s all the incentive he needs. I don’t want to exchange one prisoner for another.”

  “He can’t force me to do anything. He sure as hell can’t keep me there against my will. I’m in a lot better position to negotiate than Brianna. Besides, we’ve run out of options.” Sean heaved another sigh and rolled his shoulders. “Try to keep Sarah from killing Lansky while I’m gone. Don’t let her stillness fool you. She’s even angrier than I am.”

  * * *

  “Let’s go take a bath?” Brianna echoed in a soft, breathless voice that sent lust spiraling through Kellan’s body. “As in you and me together?”

  She sounded so scandalized he almost laughed.
Gods above, she was adorable. “I’ve already seen you naked, princess, and you’re not leaving my sight until Ceddrik reports back in.” He gave her tender ass another provoking squeeze and leaned in to nip her earlobe. “I’m in the room guarding you or in the tub with you. Those are your only two options.”

  Disentangling his hands from beneath the tunic, she frantically wiggled out of his light hold. Her ass still felt nice and warm and he wanted to see its rosy color.

  “Either way you watch me bathe?” she asked.

  He needed her unsure and off balance, not soft and malleable. If she didn’t resist, at least a little, the only way he would be able to keep from fucking her was to stay the hell away. And he couldn’t do that right now. He had to distract her with pleasure, keep her emotions turbulent and wild, which meant he had to remain detached and in control.

  “Your shape is pleasing, but your stench offends me.” He squared his shoulders and placed his fists on his hips. “I presume your condition is not your fault, but failing to correct the situation is not an option.”

  She covered her face with her hand as a bright red flush crept across her skin. “Where’s the bathroom?”

  Intentional cruelty was not his usual strategy. He took a step toward her before he realized the futility of the gesture. He couldn’t comfort her yet. This farce was far from over. Steeling himself for more of the same, he checked his expression then said, “Leave the tunic here.”

  Another moment passed as she struggled with her emotions. Rebellion still simmered in her eyes when she raised her gaze. “As you wish.” She took the oversized shirt by the hem and drew it off over her head. Her chin raised a notch as she held it out, waiting for him to react to her nudity.

  He swept her from head to foot with one slow, assessing stare then took the tunic from her extended hand. Without changing his expression, he said, “Pull off my boots.”

  Her nostrils flared and her hands clenched into tight little fists. He wasn’t sure if she would claw out his eyes or stomp her bare foot in exasperation. It would be fun to see how much it took to make her lose her temper.