by Lynn Hagen
Mason watched as the men worked in silent fervor.
The truck roared to life.
The three men jumped in.
Breed Hunters poured outside.
Mason watched it all, his mind taking everything in, waiting to see if one of his very own needed help. If he could laugh in cat form, he would have. Rick, Sasha, and Freedman were gone before the Breed Hunters had a clue of what was going on.
It took them a moment to understand that their truck had been stolen from them.
Idiots.
His group had set up a meeting point prior to coming to this town. Mason knew they would be waiting for him no matter what happened. But if things became too hairy, then they had a plan B.
Mason didn’t want to chance plan B because it would keep him away from Ian for too long.
He had been extremely perplexed when first laying eyes on Ian. Mason couldn’t understand his feelings toward the human. He feared that Ian would take him under and shred his world apart. Never before had Mason had such a strong and unrelenting attraction toward someone like he had for Ian.
But Mason began to understand what that need was.
He had spent hours tossing those emotions around in his mind. They were complex on the deepest level, yet so simple Mason wondered how he hadn’t seen it before.
Mason wanted Ian as his mate.
But Mason’s jaguar still reacted to the scent of Ian’s blood in a violent way. If his changeling beast didn’t agree with Mason on the subject of wanting Ian, then there would be nothing Mason could do to keep the man.
He just couldn’t understand why his beast was so reluctant. It wasn’t like he could kick his beast out and keep Ian. He and his jaguar had to be as one when it came to Ian. If not, there was no way Mason could mate the man. His jaguar would try to eat Ian before he could claim him.
That was not something Mason wanted to happen.
Ian had grown to mean too much to Mason, and he was going to figure out a way to mate Ian without his jaguar attacking the man. There had to be a reason for his beast reacting the way he did to Ian’s blood and Mason was determined to find out.
Making his way through the forest, Mason ran for two miles before he spotted the Suburban. It looked as though they already had it loaded and were just waiting on him.
Rick pointed to a small pile of clothes on the ground. Mason shifted and grabbed the items, quickly dressing. “Where’s Ian?”
“In the truck,” Rick replied. “We had to clean out the crap the Breed Hunters had in there and came across some very interesting things. In my opinion, the owner of this truck was a very important man.”
“Why do you say that?” Mason shoved his feet into his boots and squatted down to tie them.
Rick held up the man’s wallet. “His driver’s license states his name is Samuel Formente. But his other ID states he is a professor at a college we recently fled from.”
Mason slowly stood, grabbing the wallet from Rick’s hand and dug inside, finding the ID. “I know that name. If I’m not mistaken, he was the professor and head guy of the bioengineering lab.”
“Now why would a man who taught bioengineering lead a unit of Breed Hunters?” Rick asked, but Mason could tell the alpha had already thought long and hard about his answer.
“Because,” Mason replied as the answer formed, “he wants live changelings for the experiments at the detention centers.”
“That would be my guess.” Rick nodded.
“He’s hunting guinea pigs?” Sasha asked through a clenched jaw.
“That’s the only plausible explanation I can think of for a professor of bioengineering to turn to a life of hunting changelings down.” Rick gave a shrug. “Unless you can think of another reason.
“I think he had something to do with the bombing,” Mason said as he continued to dig through the wallet. “Your ex-employee is with him and was at the school. I think the whole thing with my father agreeing to rebuild the school was a cover-up for something bigger.”
“What was in the section of the school that was destroyed?” Freedman asked as he shut the back of the truck.
Mason narrowed his eyes at Freedman, his thoughts beginning to work overtime. “Labs.”
“Just hear me out,” Rick said as he held up a hand. “What if the whole wanting you dead thing was just an excuse? What if your father was funding whatever they were working on in those labs and possibly blew it up when it went bad?”
Mason folded the wallet and handed it back to Rick. “Anything is possible. I think the only way we are going to get any definitive answers is to pay Sellers Pharmaceuticals a visit. We already know he was funding the Calvary Home of Salvation.”
Rick leaned over, placing his hands on his knees, and then bent down to squat. “If your father’s company is funding some bioengineering project, what in the fuck was he funding Garrett for? I mean, I know the kids were experimented on, but bioengineering? What the fuck is he up to?”
“I’m not sure.” Mason knew his father was an asshole, but remembering that the man had experimented on changeling kids—the juveniles being the most precious things to the changeling community—was making him sick all over again.
Not wanting to be discovered as a changeling and lose everything was one thing. But his father was intentionally harming changelings for whatever it was he was doing in those labs. Mason wasn’t sure he could walk away and leave his father unharmed when he finally confronted the man.
“Do you know what happened to Francis and Anthony Oswego at the Calvary Home of Salvation? Did the werejackals kill them?” Freedman asked.
“Logan didn’t say,” Rick replied. “The alpha just said that they rescued six toddlers and burned the place to the ground.”
“It would have been an easier route to question those two about the experiments,” Mason replied.
“Right now we need to find a place to lie low and then we can figure out our next move.” Rick waved toward the truck.
“We’ll figure it out,” Sasha replied as Mason crawled into the truck, pushing next to Ian who was staring out of the side window, looking lost as hell.
“You all right?” Mason asked as he reached up and gave a light tug at Ian’s hair.
Ian blinked a few times and then turned to look at Mason. The circles under his eyes were deepening, letting Mason know the man was sleep deprived. He could scent Ian’s weariness as well.
Ian nodded, but Mason could see how unfocused his eyes were. “I’m fine.”
Mason noticed Ian’s withdrawals weren’t as bad as Bryson had predicted—although the few times he did flip out were scary as fuck. He had never dealt with a drug addict before and wondered if that was normal. He was going to have to talk to Bryson when others weren’t around.
Resting his arm on the back of the seat, Mason settled back as Rick drove from the service road they had been on and headed away from town.
Mason was worried about Ian. The man looked like he was going to fall asleep any minute. Reaching over, Mason pulled Ian into his lap. The man looked stunned, but didn’t say a word.
He didn’t lie back and relax either. Ian sat there, still staring out of the window.
“Lie back, Ian.” Mason realized that when he commanded Ian to do something, the man obeyed. He knew Ian was terrified to fall asleep, and Mason was torn about what to do. But it was killing him to see Ian in such a fatigued state. He began to run his knuckles down Ian’s back in a soothing gesture, giving the man comfort all changelings craved.
Mason knew Ian was human, but he also knew, changeling or human, everyone craved touch.
Chapter Sixteen
Ian was fighting the drowsy feeling running rampant through his body, but his eyelids kept drifting closed. The lull of the truck and the darkness outside weren’t helping his plight to stay awake—and neither were Mason’s hands running gently over his back.
The man’s warm body made Ian feel safe, but unfortunately, it was so cozy that it wasn’t helpi
ng his plight to stay awake. He wanted nothing more than to let sleep take him.
He was so tired that all he wanted to do was close his eyes. His head was pounding and his eyes were burning so badly that they felt like they were on fire.
Voices began to whisper all around Ian, but when he looked up, no one was talking. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He had to stay awake—even if all he wanted to do was close his eyes and get some rest.
As he stared out of the window, trying to take his mind off of sleeping, he noticed that the shapes in the darkness began to take form, mocking Ian, laughing at him as the truck drove by. Oh, god. He needed sleep so desperately. Ian slammed his eyes closed and then quickly opened them, only to see more shapes along the back road.
He was going insane.
He needed sleep.
Even though Ian had been falling asleep, rest hadn’t been the thing he had experienced. How could he rest when Newman met him in his dreams? He was sleep deprived in the worst way, and Ian would give anything to fall asleep and just sleep, no dreams, no Newman, nothing but uninterrupted knocked-out-from-the-world sleep.
But Ian knew Newman was waiting for him. There was no way the vampire would miss the opportunity to torture him. Newman seemed to thrive on pain…Ian’s pain. The man was as sadistic as they came, and had proven it time and again with Ian.
There were some things the man had made Ian do that Ian would take to the grave. He could honestly say there were no limits a junkie wouldn’t go to in order to get his fix.
And Ian had no limits when he was at the bottom of that rotten, death-filled barrel. When he was going through his worst cravings, Ian would have sold his own mother to get another bite, and the shame of that knowledge would forever haunt him.
Mason shifted around slightly and Ian found himself leaning into the guy’s chest. The feeling was warm, strong, and so damn comforting.
“Have you brought me what I asked for?” Newman asked as soon as Ian opened his eyes.
Oh, god no! Ian had fallen asleep. He stood there with his hands tied above his head, his body completely still. The quick rise and fall of his chest couldn’t be helped, but Ian struggled not to make it too noticeable.
The whip cracked and Ian slammed his eyes closed, feeling his skin breaking open and blood slowly dripping down his back.
“I asked you a question, human.”
Ian didn’t want to tell on the people he was with. They had shown him nothing but kindness. Dorian was with them as well, and Ian wasn’t going to do anything to jeopardize his brother’s safety. He finally had his brother back, and Ian was not going to ruin what they were starting to rebuild.
And he couldn’t let Newman get his hands on Mason.
Mason quickly moved Ian off his lap, pushing as far as he could to the other side of the seat and into Freedman. “Rick, pull over. Ian’s bleeding.”
Rick hurriedly pulled to the side of the road and then turned in his seat. “How? You gave him our next destination, right?”
Mason nodded as his eyes raked over Ian’s limp body, the scent of his blood flooding the truck’s interior. “I told him we were headed to South Carolina because we wanted to get as close to the White House as we could.”
“He’s not giving us up,” Dorian whispered from the front passenger’s seat, his eyes filled with sorrow and pain. “He’s protecting us.”
“Damn it!” Mason growled as he pushed at Freedman until the human opened the door and slid out. “He’s not supposed to do that.”
“Too late now,” Rick said in a hushed tone. “All we can do is be here for him when he wakes up and take care of his wounds.”
Mason quickly climbed out of the truck, pacing the road. He couldn’t understand his reaction to Ian’s bleeding. Now that he knew he wanted the man as his mate, there should be no craving to lick the guy’s wounds and then bite him.
But there was.
Mason knew Rick and Sasha would stop the others from going anywhere near Ian. Dorian and Freedman would help as well.
But it shouldn’t be others who protected Ian.
It should be Mason.
Why in the fuck wasn’t Ian telling the vampire what he wanted to know? Why was he suffering for people he hardly knew? Not even the fact that Dorian was with them should prevent Ian from telling.
He walked to Bryson’s car that had stopped behind them. Bryson rolled his window down.
“Ian’s bleeding.”
“He fell asleep?”
Mason nodded as the werewolf medic climbed from his car, not saying a word as he crawled into the back of the truck. Mason wanted to shout his disgust at the way he was reacting.
Ian needed him and Mason had to run.
“You will tell me what I want to know.” Newman slid the metal flogger over Ian’s back. The cold, hard metal made Ian’s knees shake, but at this point, he was beyond caring. He wished Newman would just get it over with so he could wake up.
It seemed even in his sleep he found no rest. Ian’s body was falling apart, making him imagine things and hear things because he was so sleep deprived.
But he hadn’t told anyone. They would only force him to sleep, and Ian couldn’t tell them why he had to stay awake.
But here he stood, so his plan hadn’t worked out so well after all.
“Maybe I’m going about this the wrong way,” Newman said right before he struck, his fangs sinking deep into Ian’s neck. Ian shouted, trying to pull away, but Newman’s fangs were embedded in his skin.
Ian whimpered when Newman pulled free and he felt the effects of the vampire’s saliva immediately.
But Newman didn’t stop there. He struck three more times, flooding Ian’s body with the aphrodisiac.
And then Ian felt his heart stop.
“He’s crashing!” Bryson shouted.
Mason ran back toward the truck when he heard those bone-chilling words. He stood by the door and watched in horror as Bryson began CPR on Ian’s frail form.
Rick had to pull Dorian from the truck. The man was going ballistic, screaming and yelling and struggling to get to his brother. Benito and Miguel climbed out of Bryson’s car and hurried over, but there was nothing they could do but stand there and watch, just as Mason was doing.
Just watching—and feeling so fucking helpless that Mason wanted to kill the entire race of vampires.
“I got him. I got him,” Bryson said twice, and both times his voice shook with relief and fear. “His pulse is weak, but I got him.” The man sounded as if he was trying to reassure himself. “I got him.” The last statement was whispered as Bryson leaned back and they all waited.
“You can’t escape me that easily, human.”
Ian was floating. His body was weightless as Newman’s voice came to him in bursts.
“Now, tell me where they are going.”
Ian reached out, trying to grab at the ray of colors all around him. The blue slipped by him, the green whooshed under him, but it was the red that wrapped Ian in a suffocating blanket. The wisp of color became heavy. The soft texture that had been brushing him turned to liquid, and Ian soon realized that he was drowning in a sea of blood, the skies an angry crawling black.
“Tell me, Ian, or you will drown.”
Ian tried to grab on to something to stay afloat, but there was nothing but angry waves of crimson splashing around him, pulling him under and then pushing him back to the surface, only to repeat the nightmarish process all over again.
He spat the blood out that he swallowed, but more soon replaced it, sliding down his throat, filling his stomach to full capacity.
“Tell me.”
Ian pushed himself hard, and then found himself standing in a rock quarry, the skies burnt red.
He felt someone standing behind him.
“Tell me.”
Ian tried to run. He tried hard to climb the large rocks and boulders surrounding him, but it seemed the higher he climbed, the closer he was to the ground, and Newman. It was as i
f his feet were moving, but his body wasn’t going anywhere.
“Tell me.”
Ian leapt, trying to make it to the top, and landed back in the sea of raging, dark crimson blood.
“No!” he shouted, but it pulled him under, trying to drown him.
“Then drown, you pathetic fool.”
Something wrapped around Ian’s ankles. The tentacles were slimy, but the hold was tight. It was tugging, taking him deeper into the depths of the blood-red sea.
He struggled to get loose, but then Ian felt a hand grab his, pulling him further down.
He broke the surface, although he wasn’t sure how. But he knew the next time he was pulled under, he wasn’t coming back up. “Carolina,” he cried, wanting to die for betraying the Rebellion group he was with. “South Carolina.”
Everyone was silent, not a word was spoken as Ian murmured what he thought was their next location in a shattered whisper.
He had broken.
Bryson was frantically trying to stop the bleeding. It seemed Ian’s entire body had been sliced open. His blood was everywhere.
And oddly, Mason wasn’t reacting to it.
Not when Ian was lying there in a comatose state.
Fragmented.
Bloody.
Defeated.
And Mason’s heart just about broke in half.
Rick had pulled Dorian into his arms as his mate softly cried.
Benito and Miguel stared at Ian as if they had never seen him before.
Omar leaned over the backseat, staring down at what Bryson was doing.
Freedman and Sasha just stood there, their expressions inscrutable.
No one moved except the medic.
It was too surreal.
It was too damn terrifying to know that a vampire could get to them in their dreams. The night seemed to close in on Mason. He was numb as he watched.
