Dying to Live: The Shifter City Complete Series

Home > Other > Dying to Live: The Shifter City Complete Series > Page 30
Dying to Live: The Shifter City Complete Series Page 30

by Liam Kingsley


  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Lives changed that night. In the calm, sacred circle of Sven’s personal meditation room, the children found themselves telling Dr. Snow everything about their lives from the moment they were turned until the moment they arrived at Regis Thyme. Their information helped him find and fill the missing pieces of information on the evolution of shifters. In the hospital, Jacob grew stronger and more stable with each passing moment; in the room beside him, his father figure shimmered from raging beast to whimpering human and back again, quivering endlessly on the edge of oblivion. Just down the hall, a desperate bond was forged in the fires of uncertainty.

  Ripping off the tattered remains of their clothing, Pan and Killian fell together on the hospital bed. The low light and their heightened emotions transformed the clinical space into something erotic and inviting, wrapping them in its glowing embrace. All of Killian’s worries and inhibitions fell away as Pan kissed him, bit his mouth, and cleaved his lips with his searching, demanding tongue. Whatever it may cost him, it was worth it. In this moment, nothing mattered but Pan; his ocean eyes, stormy with desire; his soft, creamy skin, flushed with need; his hands, strong and skilled, touching every starved plane and curve of Killian’s body.

  “We don’t have much time,” Pan whispered in his ear.

  Killian buried his teeth in Pan’s shoulder as he slid, slowly and carefully, into Pan’s newly-arranged opening. The Omega shift complete, Pan was slick and velvety soft, begging for Killian to fill him. Groaning with pleasure and vibrating with the force of his internal walls as they crashed down around the most vulnerable spaces of his consciousness, Killian fell into Pan’s strong embrace. His knot swelled and filled as he thrust deep into Pan, locking them together as they rocketed toward ecstasy. It wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. Killian lifted Pan into his arms and slammed him against the wall as Pan braced his thighs on Killian’s hips, riding him like a wild stallion. Pan’s fingers tangled in Killian’s hair and pulled his head back sharply, forcing him to meet his swirling, darkening eyes.

  “I fucking love you,” Pan said fiercely. “I swear to God, when we survive this, I am not letting you retreat back into your cave.”

  “I’ll hold you to that,” Killian gasped desperately.

  He didn’t want to think about after. He didn’t really believe there was an after. His imagination stopped where the warehouse raid began, and all he wanted was to cleave to Pan for the time they had left. Pan took a breath to speak again, but whatever he would have said was swallowed by a moan as Killian thrust aggressively into him. There was a time for speaking, and this wasn’t it. Kissing him deeply, Killian spun away from the wall to fall backwards onto the bed. Pan took the initiative, slamming down over Killian again and again, forcing him closer to climax with every desperate, bucking thrust. Killian gripped Pan’s hips, rolling him back and forth over his throbbing knot. Pan met his eyes with fierce intensity and fell forward to take his mouth, sucking his tongue, scraping his teeth along Killian’s lower lip. His body writhed over Killian’s, undulating in a horizontal dance, pushing away every thought outside of that bed, that embrace.

  The air sizzled with the heat of their passion, the electricity of their connection. As Pan’s eyes darkened and he began to shudder and quake around Killian, heat pooled like molten bliss between Killian’s hips. His arms locked around Pan’s waist, Pan’s fingers tangled in his hair, they rode the wave together, higher and higher until finally crashing together in simultaneous, earth-shattering climax. As Pan gasped for breath and relaxed his fingers, there came a demanding knock at the door.

  “Leaving in five, dumbasses,” Mariella’s harsh voice informed them. “Don’t waste my fuckin’ time.”

  “Crap,” Killian muttered.

  Pan tried to slide off of him, but they were still locked in coitus. He looked at Killian helplessly, which didn’t help the situation any. Killian closed his eyes and imagined the most repulsive, sexless thing he could in excruciating detail. It took a moment, but soon they were free to move as individual beings. Like every room in the hospital, this one was stocked with fresh clothes. Since these were truly one-size-fits-all by merit of their high-tech nature, the men didn’t have to waste any time finding the proper size. Dressed and smelling of sex and guilt, they raced out of the room. Pan stopped at the glass-walled room they had stayed in, and grabbed his flute from where it sat on his bedside table. With so few shifters needing rooms, Bernadette and Maude had seen fit to leave their possessions as they were in their absence, a fact which Killian was eternally grateful for at that moment.

  “Is she as scary as she sounds?” Pan asked with a hint of panic.

  “Not quite, but close,” Killian told him. “She has no patience for screw-ups.”

  “Good to know,” Pan said with a wince.

  When they reached the parking lot, twelve vans were waiting, all running, with their lights pointed at a crowd of shifters who were decked out in tactical gear. They faced Broderick and Mariella, who were standing with hands on their hips waiting for the two tardy shifters. Mariella was intimidating in spite of her short stature and slight frame. Her raven hair was pulled into a sensible ponytail which had been tucked through the back of her cap, and her caramel-swirl brown eyes blazed like fire beneath her perfectly manicured brows. Her full lips were twisted into a disapproving frown as Killian and Pan reached the group, sweaty and breathless.

  “And that,” she said, loudly enough for the group to hear, “Is the last time anybody steps out of line on this mission. You get me?”

  “Yes ma’am,” the group responded in chorus.

  “Good. Alpha Thyme has a few words to say. Shut up and pay attention.”

  “Shifter Squads. This is the first mission for most of you, and unfortunately it is one which will test your mettle. You will be fighting shifters who have betrayed their own kind, to rescue shifters who will not recognize you as friends. Because of this, it is imperative that you do not use lethal force unless absolutely necessary. Our lab has upgraded the stun bombs; they no longer explode or ignite when touched by sparks or flames. There will be no accepted excuse for wildfires, warehouse fires, or piles of bodies. If that should happen, the responsible party will be punished to the fullest extent of Regis Thyme law. Am I understood?”

  “Yes, Alpha,” the group replied.

  “Good. I want a report on the exact number and general condition of the shifters you bring back. There is a chance you will need to make multiple trips, so be ready for a long night. Upon your return, you will not stop in front of the lab. You will continue to the fenced field behind it. You will not release any shifters until Snow and I are locked inside with you, and then we will remove the shifters one at a time. It will take a while, of course, but it is necessary. I will reiterate once more that use of deadly force will be fully investigated, and out-of-control fires will not be tolerated. You will work this operation by the book, you will follow every command you are given, and any rogue heroes will be disciplined.”

  “That being said,” Broderick continued. “You are all valuable members of this society. Keep yourselves and each other safe. Protect the civilians, protect the victims no matter how mad they may be, because you have one duty above all: to protect our species. A high-profile human died in that warehouse today. You may be walking into a military situation. Use your wits before guns. Repeat that to me.”

  “Wits before guns,” they replied in unison.

  “Good. That is your mantra. Let’s hear it again.”

  “Wits before guns.”

  “Excellent. Godspeed and good luck.”

  Broderick took a step back and Mariella took his place.

  “Load up!” She shouted. “Two soldiers to a van, civilians with me.”

  “Do we really have to ride with her?” Pan whispered.

  “You want to tell her no?” Killian asked dubiously.

  “No.”

  “Then we ride with her. Come on.”

  T
hey followed Mariella, passing soldiers as they went. One tall, curly-haired man was kissing his very pregnant lover goodbye, murmuring promises he might not be able to keep. A lump rose in Killian’s throat as he fully realized something he had known intellectually, but had never fully digested: that these weren’t just soldiers. They were members of the tribe, and they had lives and loves beyond their missions. It was with a somber, pensive mood that he climbed into the van and sat in the back of the cab beside Pan, who was trembling with anxiety and adrenaline.

  “Here,” Mariella said, passing something back to him. “They say you’re the only one who knows how to use this. Keep it safe, the lab wants it when we’re done.”

  It was the electric pulse gun, and Killian felt better with its weight in his palm.

  “Just point and shoot,” he said with a shrug. “Nothing to it, really.”

  “That’s what I thought,” she said, sounding adamantly vindicated. “Keep it anyway. Hail! Hurry up! Sooner we finish this, the sooner you can do…whatever it is you two do.”

  “Pretty obvious what we do, isn’t it?” The curly-haired man said with a wicked grin as he jumped into the van. In the dome light, his curls shone red and the freckles on his face stood out clearly from his pale skin.

  “Gross,” Mariella laughed. “Let’s get this show on the road. Goddamn, did any of you shower after? Smells like a breeding kennel in this bitch.”

  All three men flushed red, and Mariella rolled down the windows. Hail turned around and grinned at them.

  “Don’t mind her, she’s just jealous because she doesn’t get any. I’m Hail, who are you?”

  “Killian,” he said with a grin, extending his hand. Hail reminded him of an eager puppy he’d had as a kid, all sparkles and excitement.

  “Pan,” Pan said, shaking the man’s hand as well.

  “Awesome to meet you,” Hail said. “Are you excited? I’m excited. It’s been a freaking year since I’ve been on the outside, and that was a doozy. Know all the things Broderick was saying about fires, explosions, and piles of bodies? That was Logan’s doing. Logan’s my husband, he’s about ready to pop with our kids. Twins on the first go, can you believe it? God, I’m terrified. Seriously, I’m more scared of that than I am of this mission. I mean, we’ve been to all the parenting classes and everything, but holy hell, twins would scare me if they were just human babies. Shifters, though? I’m looking into bite-proof furniture, I’ll tell you that.”

  Killian and Pan laughed, delighted at Hail’s exuberance. Mariella just grinned and rolled her eyes; she was more than used to Hail’s charming babble by now. He had worked closely with her from the moment she arrived at Regis Thyme, and had earned his place as her second in command.

  “Last time was hunters, though,” Hail continued, more pensively now. “Research facility is where we’re going, right? Who’s running it?”

  “A couple of wildlife biologists,” Killian offered. “Peter Douglas and Maureen O’Conner.”

  “Maureen O’Conner… why is that familiar…oh! Right! That’s the one who was on the news, right? Logan and I got into an argument about her. He was convinced that she was a werewolf, but I didn’t see it. He said her eyes had halos, and I’m usually pretty good at spotting those, but I don’t know. I wasn’t really paying attention, and she never really had her eyes open much when I was looking at her. Is she a shifter? If she’s a shifter, why is she running this whatever warehouse lab thing?”

  “Looking for a cure,” Killian told him. “Among other things. I’m pretty sure she’s trying to weaponize some shifters and cure others, which would explain why Ghost is bulking up and Floyd is falling apart.”

  “Ghost and Floyd? Members of the pack you brought back?”

  “Yeah,” Killian said grimly. “A twelve-year-old boy and a man who adopted four shifter kids.”

  “Wow,” Hail said, raising his eyebrows. “Bitch is cold.”

  “Like ice,” Pan agreed with a shudder. “And fire. A volcano under the tundra, ready to blow. I do not want to go up against her.”

  “Well Broderick tells me you got mad flute skills,” Mariella said. “So I don’t want you fighting at all. I want you pied pipering those crazy shifters into the vans.”

  “Oh! I can do that,” Pan said happily.

  “You better, I ain’t bringing you along for your hair. Speaking of, I’m gonna need some color one of these days. You got enough skill to put red in black, or do your hair skills end with blonde?”

  “I got’chu,” Pan said with a grin. “You hair is magnificent. You thinking cherry red, apple red….”

  “Blood red, baby,” Mariella said, smiling widely in the rearview mirror. “Gotta dress for the job, right?”

  “Right,” Pan laughed, but he sobered quickly. “You think there’s going to be a lot of bloodshed?”

  “Minimal,” Mariella said in a comforting tone. “Which, I mean…is sort of a relative term, isn’t it.”

  “Yeah,” Pan said, not looking comforted in the slightest. “Pied piper.”

  “Yup,” Mariella grinned. “All you gotta do is play. We’ll worry about the wet work. We got your back, honey, don’t you worry.”

  “Easier said than done,” Pan murmured.

  Killian squeezed his hand and smiled into his eyes. He was sick with nerves himself, but he had to focus. One moment at a time. In this singular moment, they were safe.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  They were a mile from the valley when Mariella hit a pendant which hung around her neck.

  “Convoy, pull off,” she said. “Team leaders, meet me at the front.” She pulled over, and Pan listened to the sound of twelve vans crunching on the gravel beside the road as they followed her directions. She turned to them.

  “Stay,” she said. “I’ll need you in a minute.” She hopped out just as eleven soldiers jogged up to her.

  “What was that thing she used?” Pan asked, momentarily distracted from the anxious twist in his belly.

  “Communicator,” Hail said. “They’re really cool. They record a little bit of video and audio, and they’re like radios in that they open a channel to any other communicator that’s turned on, but they’re special because they vibrate when someone touches the button, and you can only hear what she’s saying if you press your button, like a phone call. That way you don’t blow your cover if you’re sneaking around and someone calls over the pendants. Here, I totally forgot, I was supposed to give these to you forever ago.” He handed each of them a necklace with the same pendant. “They record automatically,” he told them. “So you don’t have to worry about that at all. Remember, it’ll vibrate, and if you want to hear what’s going on you press the button and hold it down. As soon as you let it up, it’ll go dead.”

  “Cool,” Pan said appreciatively.

  “What about those weapons?” Killian asked. “Do we get anything, or is it just me and my blaster?”

  “I don’t know,” Hail said apologetically. “That’ll be Mariella’s call. You took the course, right?”

  “A long time ago,” Killian said ruefully.

  “I thought I recognized you. Why didn’t you join?”

  “Had to stay in school,” Killian said with a quirk of amusement. “Didn’t trust anyone to take over for me.”

  “Yeah, I get that. I’m glad you’re so dedicated, frankly. I’ve been thinking about that stuff more these days, I mean, I know it’s early yet but I really want the kids to get a good education even if they can’t use it in the quote-unquote real world, you know? It’s important that they know more than just what they experience, I mean, Regis Thyme is really isolated, and it’s all controlled and everything, it’s like the perfect environment for raising kids, but it worries me that they won’t have to face any challenges. Not that the challenges we’ve had to face are the kind I’d wish on anybody, but I don’t want them growing up soft and unskilled either, that just seems like a recipe for disaster. I want them to be able to handle whatever they face in lif
e, and our lives in particular are so unpredictable that it’s super important that they learn everything they can about everything, and….”

  “Killian,” Mariella interrupted as she opened the door. “And Pan. Both of you, with me. Hail, stay with the convoy and keep your ear on.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Hail said with a grin. “The game is afoot!”

  Mariella rolled her eyes and beckoned the other two out with a twitch of her head. It wasn’t until then that Pan caught a glimpse of the words emblazoned across the front of her hat.

  “Baddest Bitch?” He said teasingly. “Is that your official title?”

  “Better believe it, faux-hawk. Plan is we get up on that ridge and scope it out. Who knows how to get into the warehouse?”

  “There are two ways that we know of,” Pan told her. “The roof, and the garage. The roof is just canvas, thick canvas, but not impervious to claws. The garage is harder to find. The walls are super camouflaged, you have to know exactly what you’re looking for. Then you have to go through the building attached to the warehouse to get to the garage, which opens up into the warehouse.”

  Mariella nodded thoughtfully. “Did you two clear the building before you left?”

  “No,” Killian said. “Two dead, two immobile, and a whole bunch unconscious.”

  “And by a whole bunch, what are we talking?”

  “Fewer than ten,” Killian said hesitantly. “I wasn’t keeping exact count at the time.”

  “Heat of the moment,” she said dismissively. “Less than ten tells me what I need to know. Alright. Run silent. Top of the ridge, observe, wait for instruction.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  Pan stuck close to Killian’s flank as they ran the mile to the top of the ridge. He was unarmed, save for his flute, and it made him terribly nervous. Surviving the first time only made it seem more dangerous, now that he knew exactly what he was walking in to. At the very least, he knew more than he had the first time. The thudding sound began as they approached the ridge, and his stomach turned queasily. Now that he knew what it meant, it made the hairs on his arms stand up and his mouth water dangerously. He swallowed hard to keep the bile where it belonged, and crested the ridge half a step behind Killian. All fourteen of them lay on their bellies and slithered up the last few feet until they were overlooking the valley. If it weren’t for the incessant thudding and the uneven patch of misplaced darkness, the valley would appear to be empty. Not a single emergency vehicle or military presence in sight.

 

‹ Prev