“But why?” Zoey shook her head. “You were just babies.”
“Sons of the House of Judgment have certain gifts that make us dangerous to other Immortals. Most pregnancies are terminated, and the few boys who are born are sent to dwell with the other forbidden sons in the dark dimensions on the other side of the Gates. The babies are taken within hours of their births.”
A shudder passed through Zoey’s frame and Aron waited for realization to dawn, for her to hate him. She shook her head and took a step back. “The monsters? The Triscani? You said they live on the other side of the Gates. That’s what you are? That’s why they wanted to kill your mother? You’re one of them?”
“Not yet.” Aron rose to stand before her in silence and schooled his face to give nothing away. He didn’t want Zoey to know she already had the power to hurt him, that her rejection and fear made his throat tight and his heart heavy. Her opinion should not matter. He couldn’t allow it to matter, not when he could do nothing to change his destiny.
“What the hell do you mean, ‘not yet’?” Her cheeks flared red and her eyes flashed fire at him.
“It is inevitable, Zoey.” Aron stepped forward and raised his hand to touch her cheek, but stopped. “I have already killed five Triscani, absorbed their evil into myself. Their darkness eats at me. Eventually, I will not be able to fight it. It is inevitable. That is why I was not meant to be born. That is why the Queen hunted my mother, why the Queen’s House and the entire First Circle will hunt me as soon as they realize I’m here.”
Zoey’s eyes narrowed. “They can’t just kill you. That’s not right.”
George leaned back in his chair and waved her statement away like a pesky fly around his head. “We’ll get to that later. Now, you. Zoey. Go ahead. Tell me what happened and why there’s an injured, half-naked man in chains eating at your kitchen table.”
Aron listened intently for her answer after he sat back down. His hands continued to feed his body automatically. Why had this woman been on the side of that mountain tonight? The question had plagued him the entire ride in her truck. How had she known about the house? Those men were dangerous to her. They would’ve killed her if she’d been caught spying. The thought sent a chill through his blood that had nothing to do with the Triscani souls he carried.
She sat opposite him and stared at her hands, neatly folded on the light wood table. “I followed Sykes. I know you told me not to, but I just had a hunch.” George snorted but didn’t interrupt. “I followed him out of town, up deep into the mountains and south, close to Florence. There was a house there, built into the side of the mountain. It was crawling with soldiers and equipment. I was taking some pictures for the blog, trying to get closer when I saw Aron headed for the house. Two of the Dark Ones followed him.”
George looked him over with a critical eye, but reprimanded Zoey. “Two of them? What the hell were you thinking, girl? You should be dead.”
Frankly, Aron agreed with the elder. “You took an unacceptable risk.”
A shocked gasp escaped Zoey’s gorgeous little mouth and she narrowed her eyes at him. “I got you out of there, didn’t I?” Zoey removed her hat at long last and threw it onto the table. A tumble of dark blonde curls fell past her shoulders in a wild mess as she shoved her hands through them in obvious irritation.
Aron held his breath, afraid if he moved he’d leap across the table and bury his face in the gold-and-brown tumble of those silken strands. She was like a tiger with different colored stripes. Fascinating. Dangerous.
Zoey’s demanding gaze cleared his head and Aron nodded at her question, but couldn’t let it go, not when her safety obviously meant so little to her. “Yes, but I would have managed on my own. You could not. You are weak and frail. If the Trisani Hunters hadn’t sucked your soul dry, the human soldiers could have killed you. Your presence on the mountain was both dangerous and foolish for a mortal female.”
She shoved her chair back from the table and stood in a burst of movement. “Oh, so sorry, your highness. If you weren’t bleeding and pathetic right now, I’d…” She stormed to the sink to bang some of the items around in obvious frustration. “Look, George, can you get those manacles off him or not?”
George placed his hand palm up on the table and motioned for Aron to place one of his manacled wrists in his hold. Aron complied and watched the old man study the bolt and thickness of the metal. “What’s this made of, son?”
“Liquid aluminum alloy and the will of the one who forged it.”
George looked up at Aron from beneath a brow forested with wild white hair. The gleam in his eye said he loved a good challenge. He looked half crazed with glee at the thought. “All right. When you’re finished eating, we’ll head over to my place.”
Aron looked up, searching for Zoey’s reaction to this command from the old man. She stood with her arms crossed beneath her luscious breasts and one lean hip pressed against the cupboards next to her. She had dirt smeared across her delicate skin, a few red scrapes from running through the brush and trees looked angry and raised on her left cheek, and she had deep lines of exhaustion around her eyes.
She caught his inspection and a delightful shade of pink infused her cheeks with color as she walked to stand next to George. Her soft hands moved along his forearm and wrist and George surrendered the limb to her inspection. She rotated his hand and tried to insert her fingers between his flesh and the metal. The shock of her touch was like a magnetic current zig-zagging through his body. He never wanted her to let go. “Okay, George. I don’t know how you’re going to cut through that without burning him. I can’t even get one finger between his skin and the metal.” She sighed, a deep, tired sound. “And he’s already beat to hell.”
Her concern confused him, but it was unnecessary. He had the odd urge to stand and take her in his arms and whisper to her that all would be well. “I will heal. I would ask for your help locating a human doctor. Then I will go. I do not wish to bring the Hunters to your door.”
She looked sad. “It’s too late for that.” She broke eye contact and let go of his hand. He immediately missed her touch, but she turned her head and noted his now empty plate. “Let’s go.”
George whistled low and pushed against the table to stand. “All right, kids. Let’s get it done.”
Chapter 4
Zoey bit her lip and gave herself a stern mental lecture. She absolutely would not look at his chest one more time. She wouldn’t stare at his thick shoulders or the back of his neck, wouldn’t think about running her fingers through the silky strands of his gorgeous black hair. Without a doubt, she must stop looking at his lips. And his eyes. His tight ass in those weird black pants. His hands.
Dear God, his hands made her hot. Strong and lean, with long fingers and masculine lines that wove a tapestry of history written in flesh. Hands turned her on, always had, and his were amazing.
Get a grip, girlfriend. She’d paced for what felt like hours now—paced, chewed on the inside of her cheeks, crossed and uncrossed her arms because no matter where she put them, she couldn’t relax, not when Aron was in pain.
Oh, he didn’t show it. And George had done an amazing job, wedging a couple thin pieces of wood under the metal to protect Aron’s skin from the welding torch. But still. It had to burn. Didn’t it? Even after it was cut through and George helped wedge the tip of a crowbar through them, the manacles’ sharp edges had still cut and ripped at Aron’s skin when he’d forced his limbs free of them.
And the whole time, through every cut and burn and drop of blood, he hadn’t even flinched. No moans of pain. No watering eyes. Not even a grunt or burst of air leaving his lungs. The man was a damn robot or something.
Aron of Itara, First Circle, Forbidden Son…
What the hell? She’d chased rumors for months now, but never heard the word Itara before today. So, that was the name of his world. And he wasn’t just any alien. First Circle? Forbidden Son? He wasn’t supposed to be born? What bullshit. As far as sh
e was concerned, his Queen and the whole House of Judgment was patently unfair. How could they be so cold, so cruel to sentence a baby to die just because he had the wrong mother?
If she were pregnant with an unborn Triscani monster, would she be able to terminate the pregnancy? If she were pregnant with Aron’s son? No. She’d fight like hell to keep the baby safe.
The thought should have disturbed her more than it did. She refused to believe there was no way to save him or the others born like him. He said he’d become one of the monsters, that it was inevitable. She refused to accept that. She watched him with George, cautious and curious. He was no monster. He was just a little lost in her world.
She’d called him “your highness” because he’d been acting like a chauvinistic and ungrateful ass, not because she’d actually thought he was some kind of royalty. But what if he was a hunted prince from some other planet?
God, she was itching to pull out her smartphone and Google it, but didn’t dare. Not Google. And never on her cell. Not from her house. First chance she had she’d grab her black web laptop and head for public wi-fi in a coffee shop or library. She had a camera full of photos to load on her blog, too.
And a hundred more questions than she’d left home with earlier. This morning she wouldn’t have believed that possible. Of course, this morning she would have laughed at the idea of lusting after a bleeding stranger, too.
“That oughta do it, Aron.” George tossed the final piece of metal on top of the rest with a loud clang. The collar. She’d had to turn away when George put the torch at Aron’s throat. Aron’s head wouldn’t squeeze around it, so George had to cut it in two places to get it off.
“My thanks.” Aron rubbed his wrists and actually grinned. She couldn’t move, feet rooted to the concrete garage floor, undone by the sight of his smile. He was gorgeous.
George stood and fiddled, putting away his equipment and shutting everything down. She glanced at her cell phone. Nearly four in the morning. “Thank you, George.” She walked over and gave her friend a hug. “What would I do without you?”
“Learn to weld?” He grinned at her, his happiest grin. “Make sure you take that metal with you when you go. It doesn’t feel right to me.”
“Of course.” She’d take it back to her place. The metal was creeping her out as well, but she was pretty sure it was because she knew where it had been up until a few moments ago.
George was old, his wife gone for a decade and his only son lost during a military op soon after. He’d pretty much adopted her and her sister when they’d moved into this house five years ago. They’d adopted him right back. She loved him like a father. He was the only thing that had kept her sane after the Dark Ones killed her baby sister, Jiselle.
Zoey fought the surge of pain that accompanied her sister’s name, but gave in and let the tears gather like a storm behind her eyelids. Jiselle was sunshine and light, giggles and hugs and a reason for Zoey to get up in the morning after their parents died. Zoey’s aunt in California had offered to take her high-school-aged sister off her hands, but Zoey refused. At twenty she’d become both sister and mother to Jiselle. She’d given up her career in freelance journalism and thrown her passport in a drawer. Two weeks later Zoey had a job teaching journalism at the local community college and the taxi-driver lifestyle of a mother with a teenage daughter. Dance class, cheerleading practice, and gymnastics. Birthday parties and weekends at the mall.
Then the monsters followed sweet Jiselle home from the mall and turned her to ash in the driveway while Zoey watched in horror from the living room window. One of them had turned to look at her, and that was when things went from bad to worse. It got inside her head somehow. It changed her. Now she could see things. Hear things. Feel energy. She could sense when they were near, and it terrified her every time, just like that nasty creature had wanted.
No one believed her. No one else had witnessed her sister’s death. The cops filed a runaway report, patted Zoey on the head like she needed a straightjacket and told her not to sit by the phone. But Zoey knew her sister was never coming home again. The monsters killed Jiselle, and Zoey had spent every day since trying to figure out why.
The monsters had a name now. Triscani. Aron called them Triscani Hunters. He knew what they were. He’d killed two of them with his bare hands. She should interview him. Get it on camera and post it on the blog. If there was a way to kill those evil creatures, people needed to know. It was her duty to find out how and to share it with the world.
Somebody had to do it. And the freaking government was too busy doing God only knew what with them. Studying them? Copying their technology? Selling out their people for weapons? Or were they trying to figure out how to kill the creatures quietly, without causing a public panic? She had no idea which side of the line the military would come down on. No one did because they wouldn’t even admit that the aliens were on Earth in the first place.
Secrets. Lies. She hated both almost as much as she hated the Triscani that took her sister. After Jiselle’s death, she’d devoted herself to exposing the truth. She’d started the blog and begun her hunt for answers.
Now she had Aron of Itara. First Circle. Forbidden Son. He would know. He would know everything.
She’d hit the jackpot. Now all she had to do was get him to talk. She squeezed George a bit too tight, but he just squeezed right back. “Be careful, Zoey. Be very careful with this.”
Zoey pulled back and smiled. “I will. I promise.” She turned to find Aron standing two steps behind her.
“My thanks, George.” Aron held out his hand and George released her to shake it.
“Happy to help. You just make sure you don’t get Zoey into any trouble. You get what you need and get out of here before those things follow you here to…”
Zoey opened her mouth to protest but George froze midsentence and stared at Aron, eyes glazed over like no one was home.
Aron stood still as a marble statue.
“What are you doing?” She shoved at Aron’s shoulder, trying to get him to release George’s hand. “Don’t hurt him.”
Aron turned those dark eyes on her and what she saw behind them paralyzed her. Nothing human stared back at her from those eyes. No soul. He looked like a machine, an empty computer downloading data.
She tensed to punch him when George coughed and staggered back. “Whoa, there, son. That was interesting.”
Aron stepped forward and caught the old man when his knees started to buckle. “You should rest, you old geezer.”
George laughed out loud and allowed Aron to help him into his house. “We friends now, boy?”
Zoey shook her head and followed them inside through the short hallway to George’s bedroom where his wife’s handmade doilies still hung on the walls and her quilt still covered the bed. What the hell just happened? Had Aron just called him an old geezer?
“Yes, sir. We most definitely are friends.” Aron helped George lie down and placed a quilt over him. She stood propped in the doorway, trying to figure out what was happening here. Sir and a tuck in? Aron turned to her and she raised an eyebrow.
“What is going on? What did you do to him?”
“Don’t worry, Zoey. He’s fine. I didn’t hurt him.”
George piped up from the bed. “I’m fine. Go on home now and let me sleep.”
Zoey looked at Aron and didn’t move a muscle. “What did you do to him?”
Aron crossed to the door and stood before her, so close that the heated air exiting her lungs flowed off his massive chest and warmed the skin on her face. “Let’s go. I want to take a shower and grab a bite to eat. I need to use your laptop, Google a few people and print some maps. Then I’ll get out of your hair.”
Zoey craned her neck back and looked up into Aron’s face. Since when did he start talking like a modern asshole instead of a prehistoric one? “I want to interview you and post it on my blog.”
He met her gaze and lifted one hand to lightly skim up and down the side of
her face. “Okay. But audio only, no video. I know you’re careful, Zoey, but I can’t have the Triads looking for either one of us. You’ll have to use a voice scrambler and make sure they can’t track you through your web host or credit card.”
What the hell happened to the guy who’d never seen a truck before? Now he was talking about the Triads like they were an accepted fact? The Triads were more mysterious and legendary than the Illuminati, the Masons, and the darkest secrets of the C.I.A. combined. Rumors of their existence filtered through the web like shadows and mist. The Triads were reported by a rare handful to be powerful aliens who lived on Earth, walked among us and ran everything from top to bottom. World governments, organized crime, large corporations, banks and every military organization on the planet supposedly answered to a Triad.
Trouble was, no one really knew what they were. Did Triad mean three aliens? Three branches of wacked-out alien government? Three laws? Three different alien species? Either no one knew, or no one was talking.
Zoey suspected any human who did discover the truth died soon after.
But not Aron. He knew. He spoke of them as matter-of-fact.
Zoey blinked away her surprise and led him outside, through the shadowed yard to her house. She showed him to her sister’s suite and told him to shower first. He didn’t ask how to use anything and she didn’t offer to show him. When she heard the water turn off she spent a few minutes writing down questions and trying to wrap her head around everything Aron. She had a pretty decent list, but wasted two-thirds of her time staring at her king-sized bed and wondering how small it would feel with him in it. She couldn’t discipline her brain, couldn’t stop thinking about making love to a complete stranger. Except it wouldn’t be love, just sex. Hot sex. Hot alien sex. With someone she’d only known a few hours.
Alphas Unleashed Page 27
