Unclaimed (The Complex Book 0)

by Candice Gilmer

  Except she should have anticipated it. Fate worked in strange ways, and even though she never expected to see him again, it should not have surprised her. Here was the last place she would have considered stumbling into him.

  But where else would she be surrounded by Humans with no opportunity to escape?

  With everything that happened, she had almost forgotten about bumping into him in the common area. There had been a spark of something.

  He’d felt it too, for he’d stared at her as well as they parted. This though, it was more than just the recognition.

  Sharing memories?

  That was unexpected.

  While he was still in shock, she picked up her sticks and twisted them back into her hair. She wasn’t sure what she should do. Part of her wanted to run, to get away from him as fast as she could. And that side was quite logical, and it would be a good tactical move.

  However, she couldn’t bring herself to leave. After the shared vision, he would likely have questions.

  And he could be her only ally in this.

  But were they questions she wanted to answer?

  As if he‘d read her mind--and perhaps he had--he met her gaze, his eyes bright.

  “What are you?” he asked, his stare pinning her where she stood.

  “A Valkyrie. You know this.” She put her hands on her hips.

  “Wings.” He waved his hand.

  Her shoulders slumped. “They’re gone.”

  “Why?”

  She sighed. “I made a choice.”

  It only took a moment for the remnants of the soldier’s expression to change, and understanding passed over his face.

  “Was I that choice?”

  She opened her mouth to answer when there was a chime.

  Like nothing had happened, he was on his feet, and he took two big steps, crossing to her. His expression hardened.

  “Go over there. Pretend to be tied up.” He pointed to the couch she’d been on before.

  “Wait, what?”

  He leaned in, his voice low and lethal. “Do it. She’ll kill you right here.”

  “Why do you care? Won’t that make things easier?”

  He put his hand on her arm. And like a slap, that connection came back. Suddenly they were in each other’s minds again.

  And she was bombarded with everything that was spinning in his head. All his questions, all his demons, and the hairline trigger all of it was armed with, ready to burst at any given moment. Like she suddenly lived a warrior's life in a blink.

  With all the terror and desperation locked deep inside every man and woman still on the battlefield.

  Even after the battle was over.

  She stumbled and shoved him away. “How did you do that to me?”

  “I didn’t. You did.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, but the door chime went off again.

  “Don’t make me use my override, Cadell!” the voice said from outside.

  The smell of agitation and frustration leaked through the door from the person outside. Two smells that never led to anything good coming.

  Made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

  She met Cadell’s gaze.

  “Later,” he said and gestured to the couch.

  She nodded and took a seat, her hands behind her back, and she hunched over, pretending to be beaten.

  She could pretend.

  But it never meant that she was.

  Usually just the opposite.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Cadell opened the door, and Dumol stormed through the door.

  “What are you--” Her gaze darted around the room, and rested on Mori. “What is that doing here?”

  Morrigan cowered in the corner, her head down, and scooted away from Dumol.

  He wished he’d made Morrigan go in the Waste Disposal or the closet because Dumol looked ready to end her.

  Like now.

  And that was not acceptable.

  Luke stepped between Dumol and Morrigan. He needed to get Dumol out of here and quick. She had that look about her--the one that usually wound up sending Cadell into a suicide mission. “Had to move her.”

  Dumol snorted. “Whatever.” She pulled her segif.

  Luke darted toward her arm, but Dumol got off a shot.

  The blue rays blinded for a second in his apartment as they hit Morrigan, and the Valkyrie went down.

  “What are you doing?” His heartbeat thundered in his ears, adrenaline rushing like mad, and he wanted to check her over, make sure she was okay.

  What the ever’ lovin’ hell is this? Where had these protective feelings for her come from?

  “What? It’s a stupid stunner, Luke,” Dumol said, “I can’t have her hearing this.”

  “Hearing what?” Luke asked.

  Dumol began to pace around the small apartment, away from him. Her agitation was palpable.

  Uh oh. “What’s going on?”

  She stopped and faced him. “Timetable’s changed. You may need to be brought into play. But it’s going to be a few more weeks to be sure.”

  Luke nodded, though he wasn’t happy about it. “What would be my part?”

  “Not sure yet. The First is not being very communicative at the moment.”

  Great… Exactly where he didn’t want to be anymore. Stuck in the shadows, waiting for an order with no explanation.

  He didn’t like this. He’d done enough of those shadow missions before. He wasn’t interested in doing more.

  “And her?” Luke asked.

  “I’m ready for…” Dumol’s words trailed off as she turned to face Morrigan, who laid unconscious on the floor.

  Should have been, anyway.

  And Luke finally got to see what those little Valkyrie sticks did.

  Dumol and Cadell faced Morrigan, or rather, where she’d been lying on the floor, and stepped back.

  The problem was, Morrigan wasn’t lying on the floor anymore.

  Before Dumol could bring her blaster back up, Morrigan’s weapon--an ornate golden club--came around and slammed the Intra officer on the side of the head, sending Dumol sprawling out on the floor.

  Dumol turned and Morrigan hit her again with the club.

  Dumol was still. Morrigan sighed and held out the club. The weapon shrunk in on itself, and became those little ornate hair sticks she wore.

  He noticed she still held the other one aloft--in the shape of a wicked, curved blade. Same golden elaborate coloring as the club had had.

  Whoa, he thought. Now that’s a weapon.

  Morrigan, though, brought his attention back to the moment. “Are you my jailer or my savior?” she asked, holding the knife toward him.

  He didn’t know what to say.

  She didn’t wait for an answer. He’d seen that look before. Many times. She was done. Whatever pause she’d had for him was over. She headed for the door and didn’t stop.

  But he couldn’t have her leaving. Regardless of his agreement with Dumol, this was different.

  She was different, and he had to find out who she was. What she was.

  And why she’d been haunting his dreams for years now.

  Damn, he had to know!

  “Wait,” Luke said. “Please.”

  She stopped for a second. “You didn’t answer me.”

  “We have a lot to discuss,” he said.

  He glanced at Dumol. She was starting to stir. He leaned over, picked up her segif, and shot her.

  Dumol fell flat again, this time, she wouldn’t move for a while.

  He pocketed the gun. “Let’s go.”

  “Where?” Morrigan asked.

  “I know a place.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Mori followed Cadell through the underbelly of the Complex and adjusted her red maintenance cap. She’d never imagined she’d be walking through the rock mixed with metal--nature and technology slammed together in a constant war of dominance. One moment she’d be next to rock. Then metal. Then rock again,
like nature was trying to take back its turf, but the metal wasn’t giving any ground.

  “A battle,” she muttered to herself as she caressed a wall.

  “What?” Cadell asked.

  She shook her head. “Nothing important.”

  He raised his eyebrow, but they headed on. The tension was strong, and she worried, but likely not for the same reason as he did. He’d taken her below the Complex, into the deepest parts of Lorn, dressing them both as maintenance workers, with red uniforms.

  It had given her a moment of joy to be in something that wasn’t white, black or gray. But only a moment.

  They seemed to be walking for miles underneath the ground. A flyer would have been easier, but these tunnels were too low and narrow for even those small, two-person crafts.

  She broke the silence between them after a bit longer. “You’re maintenance,” she said as they entered a slightly quieter area of the tunnel.

  “I’m a farmer,” Cadell said. From his posture, he wasn’t explaining anything else.

  She gritted her teeth.

  They were in this together. The least he could do is be a little forthcoming with her.

  She forced herself to take in the war of rock and metal again. The mechanical underneath was strange looking--rows of pipes leading through rock and metal and all sorts of conduits and bulkheads, the ceiling so uneven that some spots were a dozen feet above her. While there seemed to be a pattern, she couldn’t determine a purpose for what she was looking at.

  The only purpose seemed to be that no one else was down here.

  Mechanical noises got louder and drowned out any more chance to speak. There would be moments of, well, less noise, but not enough for any meaningful conversation.

  Usually enough for one question and one answer. Done.

  She was trying to figure out if Cadell, aka The Butcher, wanted to help her, or was he just going to take her down and kill her.

  Away from everyone where it would be easier to hide the body.

  It was what she would do if she were conducting an assassination.

  Yet here she was, following him blindly. At least she had her sticks back--she would at least be able to defend herself if it went that way.

  Part of her clung to the hope that Cadell was going to assist her, to help stop the attack.

  Rather than take her down here to kill her.

  “What are we doing down here?” she asked, though she didn’t think he could hear her over the rushing of water, coupled with the mechanical noises from above.

  He glanced back at her. “Up ahead,” he said, gesturing forward.

  She nodded, unsure what to think because it wasn’t quite an answer. Frustration started to boil inside her. The whole situation was taking its toll, and part of her wanted to punch something.

  Even Cadell.

  Especially Cadell.

  Right in those nicely shaped shoulders.

  They hadn’t traveled much farther when they came to a door. Or it looked like a door, anyway. He palmed the panel, a small green light appeared, and the door hissed open.

  He stepped inside and gestured for her to join him.

  As soon as she stepped through, the door closed with a loud thud. And most of the external noise faded away as the room pressurized.

  Mori realized they were in another apartment. A food prep unit was on the wall, coupled with a small table and chairs. A sofa in the opposite corner and a bed rounded out the furniture. She saw a Waste Disposal room on the far side.

  But underneath it all was an overlay of the noise and chaos outside. Much more tolerable in here, but still it remained a white noise in the background.

  Or maybe that was her ears still trying to stabilize.

  “What is this place?”

  “Safe house,” Luke said.

  She raised her eyebrow. “Cannot be too safe. You palmed in here,” she said, gesturing to his hand.

  He shrugged. “Might not be my palm,” he said, holding up his right hand, minus its glove.

  There, she could make out four chips, anchored into the fake flesh in the cybernetic hand.

  No wonder he wore gloves all the time.

  She smiled, impressed with his trick. “Very imaginative.”

  “I don’t like being tagged.”

  She wasn’t crazy about it either. However, she had very little recourse, at least for the next couple of years.

  Tagging could be tracked.

  “How do you know Dumol isn’t on her way down here now?”

  “I’m sure she is. But she won’t find us.”

  “You seem confident.”

  He smiled. “I make a point of having a safe room wherever I land.”

  “Too many times found?”

  “Something like that.” He crossed to the food prep, pulled out two water rations, and offered her one.

  She declined, her stomach still amped up. He shrugged and tossed it back in the unit.

  Instead, she took off her hat and started to pace, tossing her hat on the nearby table.

  “We need to talk,” she said. She needed to know what he knew so that she could determine the best course of action.

  And if that course of action involved her disposing of him to protect herself, well that could be done. She might not be a full-strength Valkyrie anymore, but she was certain she could take him out.

  Cyborg or no, he was still a mortal.

  He nodded. “I agree.”

  She stopped and crossed her arms, her gaze running over him. She noticed his posture and his demeanor. He was as on edge as she was.

  And that edge made him look ready to fight.

  Or other things...

  She brought herself back to the moment. “Why are you doing this, Cadell?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Truly, why are you bothering with me,” she repeated. There wasn’t much reason for it, after all, he was a famed warrior. Shouldn’t he have just attempted to kill her already?

  “What are you waiting for? Why don’t you just kill me?” She needed to know what he knew, or what he’d figured out. Anger poured out of her, and he was who she was taking it out on.

  He replied with the same answer. “I don’t know! It just feels like the right thing to do.”

  She hissed. “Like you have a clue what that means.”

  “I have morals!”

  “Did they just shut down during the war, Butcher?” she snapped. This made her snort. “All the lives you took during P-Extinction were the right things to do then, too?”

  “I was following orders.”

  “And now?”

  “I don’t have to follow anyone’s orders anymore.” He took a step toward her.

  She put her hands on her hips. “Are you sure about that? What do you call this?”

  “I’m saving your life.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I can’t stand the idea of Dumol hurting you, all right?” He sighed, ran his hand over his face. “And I have no fucking idea why this bothers me so much.” He met her gaze. “Tell me why this bothers me. Why, in the last two hours, I have felt more emotions than I’ve had in the last four years.”

  She opened her mouth to speak.

  He continued, not giving her time to respond. “I haven’t cared about anyone or anything since the war was over. I didn’t want to.”

  “And why do you now?”

  “You tell me. Why do we see each other’s thoughts when we touch?”

  “I am not certain.” True enough.

  He raised his eyebrow. “You know. You’re Meta. You have to. Isn’t this shit part of your species deal? Messing with Human brains?”

  “Not all Metas manipulate Humans.”

  “So why do we all have to wear chips behind our ears to make sure you Metas don’t convince us all to take a flying leap off the housing balconies?”

  “Why do Metas have to be put under your microscopes to study?”

  Over the course of conversation, Mori
realized they were closing in on each other.

  Now they were inches apart.

  She could feel his body heat. Smell his growing desire. And it fueled hers.

  He had to be able to feel hers.

  “Because Metas cannot--“

  She didn’t let him finish the thought. Frankly, she didn’t care what his stupid excuse was. It was meaningless.

  She needed to kiss him. She put her hand on his neck--fiery emotions radiated off him as soon as they touched, and she took them in, and whether she meant to or not, fed him her desires.

  And they were plenty. Like both of them had a plethora of sensations and emotions each one had been ignoring or repressing for years. Him, since the war.

  Her, since just about the same time.

  It was a long time not to feel anything real.

  Their lips locked, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her hard against him.

  They kissed hard. Lips, tongues, groans, grunts, all the things that made a good kiss even better. Hips ground against hips, whether she was doing it or he was, she didn’t know.

  Didn’t care. She pawed at him, ripping at his uniform if only to feel his skin underneath his coverings.

  Their kisses became more intense. He bit at her neck, making her moan as he pulled open her ill-fitting shirt.

  She didn’t mind. Let him rip it off her.

  He drove her toward the bed in the corner as they kissed. She hit the mattress with a bit of a bounce and he was on top of her. His hips ground into hers, and she scooted herself deeper on the bed and pulled him with her.

  Kissing commenced.

  And she scraped her nails across his shoulder, ripping at his shirt. He paused long enough to yank his off, and while he pulled away, she did too.

  She admired those curves and lines that she’d seen before, and up close they were much more impressive. The tiny flickers of interest she occasionally had when she’d glanced at him before boiled over, and her desire spiked. She couldn’t stop touching him, and caressing his bare skin as they kissed.

  He pulled her shirt open, his lips on her neck as he ravaged her skin. Each touch felt so hot, like he was marking her, branding her as his. It felt amazing.

  Heady.

  Something she desperately craved but had no idea what it was until this moment. This was alive. This was Human. This was Meta.