by Paige Tyler
When she’d come out here with him to the far end of the camp where the firewood supply was stacked up as tall as she was, it had been with the idea of getting Tanner alone for a serious conversation. Regardless of whether anyone could overhear or not, she still would have preferred it to be somewhere more private, but Tanner was worried about getting too far from the camp in case those jerks with the guns came back.
It wasn’t a perfect place, but it would do.
She’d come here intending to follow Lillie’s advice and ask him why he wouldn’t consider taking the antiserum. If that conversation went well, maybe they could talk openly about how they felt about one another, too. But instead of talking, Zarina had spent more time gazing at him like she was now. She tried to tell herself it was to make sure the injuries he’d gotten yesterday in the fight with the hybrids had healed properly, but in truth, she was ogling him because he was so damn hot. It was almost embarrassing to be so discombobulated at the sight of his bare chest that she couldn’t think straight, but she was powerless. It was like his body had been designed specifically to enthrall her.
Some of her reticence also had to do with the fact that Tanner wasn’t simply against the idea of taking the antiserum. He seemed to completely hate the idea that it was even out here in the woods with him. When she had pulled out the case, he’d looked at her like he thought she was going to yank it out and jab the syringe in his neck when he wasn’t looking.
Although, if she was being honest, the biggest reason she hadn’t brought up the subject of the antiserum—or the fact that she loved him—was because she was a big chicken and not nearly as bold as Lillie apparently was.
Sighing, she popped open the plastic protective case around the vial and studied the auto-injector nestled inside. She sagged with relief. The case for the serum was rugged and well built, but her pack had been jostled around a lot over the past couple of days, so she’d been a little worried. The antiserum had taken her a year and a half to create. To say it was valuable was an understatement.
Thankfully, the auto-injector was fine. She’d been worried it might have been accidentally triggered or started to leak. Not that either of those things was likely, but then again, she hadn’t exactly planned to carry the thing around with her for so long. She thought she’d administer it to Tanner the moment she found him. She had multiple degrees in everything from genetics to medicine, and she still didn’t understand the male half of the species.
“Shouldn’t that thing be kept in a refrigerator?” Tanner asked as he wedged the ax head out of a gnarled log that didn’t seem to want to let the blade go.
He asked the question so casually, she’d almost think he didn’t care about the answer one way or the other, but the look in his eyes made her think he was more concerned about the drug than he let on.
“No, because it’s not a live vaccine,” she explained patiently. “It isn’t protein based at all, for that matter. I constructed it using catalytic RNA molecules so it would be stable for longer periods of time at ambient temperatures. It’s less likely to break down in your body as well.”
“I don’t really know what any of that means,” he murmured. “But it doesn’t matter. I’m still not taking it.”
She bit her tongue to keep from saying something she’d regret and put the case back in her pack. She wanted to ask Tanner what the hell his problem was, but that would only play into his hand. If the conversation became combative, she’d lose the battle before it got started.
So instead, she took a deep breath and attempted to see this situation from his perspective, trying to understand why he was turning his back on something like this. She thought yesterday’s fight with the other hybrids had demonstrated better than anything why he couldn’t keep acting like he could hide from the animal inside.
Some of his reluctance probably had to do with the fact that he didn’t want to get his hopes up only to have them dashed if the antidote didn’t work. She could understand that. She’d be the first to admit she’d been working on this cure for a long time without success. But if that was the reason, why couldn’t he simply tell her that? Then she could discuss all the medical possibilities and probabilities. She might not understand men, but science? That she got.
“Have you tested it on anyone else?” Tanner asked suddenly. “Any other hybrid, I mean? Like Minka or Diaz?”
Zarina was so surprised by the question that all she could do was stare at him. A minute ago, he’d told her he wasn’t interested in the antidote. Now, he wanted to know if she’d tested it on the feline hybrid, Minka Pajari, and the Special Forces soldier, Carlos Diaz.
“No. I haven’t tested the antiserum on anyone else,” she said after a moment. “I designed it specifically for the first-generation hybrids Stutmeir made, like you. It wouldn’t work on Minka, because she’s a third-generation hybrid made from Ivy’s DNA, and it wouldn’t work on Diaz, because he’s a natural-born shifter.”
Tanner did a double take. “Diaz is a shifter? I thought he turned into a hybrid because he’d been bitten by one.”
Zarina frowned. Had Tanner forgotten the last time he’d seen Diaz? It had been the night the hybrids had attacked the DCO complex. Tanner had completely lost control and nearly killed the Special Forces soldier. Diaz had survived, but only because he was a shifter. Tanner had almost certainly smelled Diaz and recognized him for what he was.
Then again, maybe his hybrid episodes were like an alcoholic having a blackout when almost all the memories were lost. Zarina wasn’t sure which would be worse, knowing you’d lost control and having no memory of it, or losing control and remembering every horrible detail.
She opened her mouth to ask what he remembered of that night but then thought better of it. He’d obviously remembered enough to force him to go on the run. There was no reason to make him relive events he’d likely prefer to forget.
“I told Diaz a dozen times it wasn’t possible for a person to become a hybrid from a bite, so I have no idea why he insisted he was one,” she said instead. “He’s a coyote shifter. A late bloomer, but still a full shifter.”
“A late bloomer?” Tanner grunted. “I know he’s a small guy, but I had no idea he was still waiting to go through puberty.”
“Very funny.” She made a face. “That’s not the kind of late bloomer I’m talking about. It’s something I’ve learned since you left. It turns out that being a shifter is a bit more complex than we originally thought. There are a lot more people in the world with shifter DNA in their system than we ever imagined, maybe as much as one percent of the population. For most people, that DNA stays in a dormant state for their entire lives, but for a very small number, the chemicals released into the body during puberty activate the dormant gene and turn them into shifters. In Diaz’s case, for some reason, the change occurred really, really late in his male growth cycle instead of early on in the process.”
“Huh.” Tanner shook his head. “Diaz must be disappointed. He was all in on the theory that the bite was what changed him.”
“You have no idea,” she muttered. “As much as he wants to blame the hybrid bite for changing him, in reality, it was pure coincidence that his body decided to go through the change at that point.”
Tanner muttered something under his breath she didn’t quite catch. “I don’t know what he’s complaining about. Better to have shifter DNA in your blood than hybrid. God knows I’d rather be a shifter.”
Zarina chewed on her lip. “Actually, in a way, you are.”
He slammed the blade of the ax into the top of the next log and turned to look at her, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean by that?”
“That’s something else I learned after you left,” she told him. “It also explains why some people made it through the various hybrid experiments while others didn’t. It turns out having dormant shifter DNA in your blood is essential to surviving the hybrid serum.”
“You mean…” His voice trailed off.
She nodded. “Yes, you have shifter DNA. So do Minka and Sage. Not enough to start the change on its own, but enough that you all survived the hybrid serum when the drug killed so many others.”
That suddenly made Zarina wonder about Spencer and the other hybrids at the prepper camp. None of them had possessed a discernible pulse when they’d been dragged out of the lodge. But the more she thought about it, the less surprised she was that their bodies had somehow revived themselves. If certain people were already genetically predisposed to surviving the hybrid process, was it that crazy to believe they’d be able to put themselves into some kind of coma-like stasis to help them live through the worst of the changes? It was an interesting hypothesis for sure, and one she’d love to study.
Zarina’s big reveal seemed to have put Tanner into a thoughtful mood, because he went back to splitting logs, his expression showing he was struggling with something. She let him think for a while but then stood up and moved closer. He stopped what he was doing, lowering the ax to let it hang down at his side.
“Sage is thinking about taking the antiserum,” she said softly.
Maybe if he knew another hybrid—a friend—would take it, he might be willing to do the same.
Tanner looked at her in surprise. “I thought you said it would only work on me?”
Zarina shook her head. “I said it would only work on first-generation hybrids like you. Technically, Sage is third generation like Minka, but the serum that created her was developed a few months after you were turned. It might have shifter DNA in it instead of an animal’s, but it’s very similar to what they used on you. In some ways, she has more in common with you than Minka. I’ll still have to tweak the formulation a bit, but it shouldn’t take me too long.”
Tanner didn’t say anything for a long time, his eyes filling with pain. “The relaxation and visualization techniques I taught Sage were finally starting to help. I never thought about her having a setback after I left.”
“Actually, she’s doing okay,” Zarina said. “Landon was able to get Derek Mickens transferred to the DCO from Special Forces temporarily.”
Derek had been the one who’d rescued Sage from the hellhole where she’d been captive all those months ago, and they’d developed a connection. He was the only one who could seem to calm her inner hybrid when she lost control.
Tanner looked confused. “If she’s doing well, why take the antiserum?”
“Because Sage doesn’t want to live her entire life in a locked room on the DCO complex. She’s come to the realization that she might be able to have the life she used to have before all this happened. If she takes the drug I’m offering.”
That seemed to take him aback. “When is she going to do it?”
“Not right away,” Zarina said. “She still wants to see if she can learn to control her feline side on her own. I’ll also need time to modify the structure of the drug to perfectly match her hybrid breed and DNA.”
Tanner stared out into the surrounding forest, his expression thoughtful.
Zarina moved around in front of him, trying to catch his eye. “Look, I’m not saying you should take the antidote because Sage might.” Actually, that’s exactly what she’d been trying to do. “It’s just that I’ve learned a lot about shifters and hybrids since you left. Rebecca Brannon is extremely interested in supporting my research and has given me a nearly unlimited budget. Between the money and the countless hours I spent in my lab for the past two months, I’ve pushed the science of shifter and hybrid DNA miles beyond where it was. All so I could come up with an antidote for you. And I’ve done it. The drug I developed is designed to counteract the effects of the hybrid serum used on you. I swear it will work, Tanner. With everything in me, I swear it will work.”
She knew now was the time to mention the less-than-thrilling side effects of the antiserum, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Those details could wait until later, when Tanner let the idea of taking it seep in a little.
He turned to gaze at her intently, and for a moment, she thought he might actually agree, but then he shook his head. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Zarina, I really do. But I’m not going to take the drug.”
It was all Zarina could do not to scream in frustration. What the hell was wrong with him? She’d never wanted to smack someone so much in her life. But it wasn’t in her to hurt anyone, especially Tanner. So instead, she yanked the ax out of the log with both hands and swung it at the piece of wood in an awkward attempt that took a lot more effort than she would have thought. It didn’t land with nearly enough force to split the log and ended up getting stuck. It took her a few seconds to get it out, which only frustrated her more. But once she had the blade out, she attacked the wood again, swinging even harder this time. It still didn’t split, but it did get a crack in it. That was a start.
It took her five minutes to finally get the log split, and by the time she did, her arms were numb with fatigue. Crap. Tanner had made it look so easy. But even as tough as it was, it felt good to do something physical and take her pent-up frustrations out on an inanimate object.
She’d just shifted her focus to the next log in the line when she realized Tanner was standing there, his muscular arms crossed over his chest, an amused expression on his face.
“What?” she demanded. If he made a crack about her swinging the heavy ax like a girl, she was going to throw it at him.
Tanner shrugged. “Nothing. It’s just while I’ve always thought of you as a city girl, it never struck me until now how completely out of your element you are here in the wilderness. This outdoor living thing really isn’t for you, is it?”
She knew Tanner was likely trying to distract her from the previous topic of conversation. While it was irritating as crap, there wasn’t much she could do about it. But just because he wasn’t ready to deal with the subject didn’t mean she had to give up. One way or the other, she was going to figure out what was going on in Tanner’s head.
“Ha! Shows what you know,” she said as she got lined up to aim the ax at the second log. “I grew up on a farm. It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything like this. It takes a little while to get back into the swing of things.”
As if to emphasize her point, she swung the ax, trying her best to bring it straight down into the center of the wood. The result was a very pleasing-sounding thud as the blade bit in deep and the log split cleanly in half. She was so excited, she almost started dancing.
“See?” She gave him a smile. “Like that.”
Tanner stared at her, a dumbfounded look on his face. “Wait. What? You grew up on a farm?”
She winced as she realized she’d never told him about that part of her life. “So, I guess I never mentioned that?”
“No, you didn’t. In fact, in all the time we’ve known each other, I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned your family. I got the feeling it was a touchy subject, so I stayed away from it.”
“I’m kind of private when it comes to my family.” She shook her head. “It’s complicated.”
He shrugged. “Family usually is.”
She silently agreed as she lined up another log. But instead of taking a swing at it, she stared down at the big piece of wood thoughtfully.
“I grew up in a rural area about three hundred kilometers south of Moscow near the Ukrainian border,” she said quietly. “During the day, my dad worked in a factory building trucks and tractors, then in the evening, he helped my mom and me on our five-acre farm. We grew mostly potatoes, along with some other vegetables when the season was right. I helped with all the planting and harvesting when I was younger, but that trailed off when I started secondary school, which is when I began to get serious about my science classes.” She rested the ax against the log and walked over to Tanner, shoving her hands in the pockets of her coat. “My pa
rents didn’t understand most of the stuff I was learning and used to joke that maybe I’d been switched at birth, since neither of them had ever been good at academics. But they recognized that a career in science would be a way for me to get out of the hard life they’d grown up living, so they made sure I dedicated my time to studying instead of helping out on the farm. I felt bad about that, but it was what they wanted. They didn’t even complain when I went off to the university in Moscow right after I finished school.”
“Huh,” Tanner said. “You seriously grew up on a potato farm? I did not see that coming. I had visions of you sitting around with your parents at breakfast discussing the periodic table and the theory of relativity. I can’t believe you never mentioned the farm thing to me.”
She gave him a sheepish look. “This is going to sound horrible, but I spent a lot of years feeling embarrassed about where I came from. Most of the other students I studied with at the Lomonosov University in Moscow were more sophisticated than I was. I grew up a potato farmer with parents who never made it beyond the ninth grade. I guess I got used to not talking about my family even after I got away from that world.”
“Hey,” he said softly, reaching out to brush some hair that had come loose from its ponytail back from her face. “It’s nothing to beat yourself up about. You wouldn’t be the first person to hide your parents’ background from your friends. The important thing is you love them, and they know it. Do you get to see them very often?”
She smiled. Sometimes, Tanner could say stuff so perfect, it was hard to believe that other times, he could be such a pain in the butt. “I used to see them all the time, but not as much over the past few years. My work back in Moscow consumed all my time in the months before Stutmeir’s goons grabbed me. I was so bad about calling my parents that they never even realized I’d been kidnapped. And when I did call after coming to the DCO, they simply assumed I’d moved to the United States to further my genetic research. I send them money all the time, trying to make things easier on them, but I know they’d rather I come home for a visit.”
