The Lionman Kidnapping

by Eve Langlais

  “No worries.” She snorted. “Ain’t no one going to wipe your ass. About time you took responsibility for yourself.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning it’s time you took an interest in yourself, kitty. Help us to help you.”

  That drew a snort. “That’s priceless. You want me to participate in my own destruction.”

  “Or you could see it as redemption. A second chance.”

  “A second chance to do what?”

  She headed for the door, round ass captivating as she tossed over her shoulder, “Anything you want.”

  What if he wanted her?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Despite an urge begging her to stay, Jayda left Marcus, returning later that day only to drop off a tablet with his file. She didn’t stay long, choosing instead to give him space. The silence he claimed to crave.

  It didn’t take him long to realize she’d given him a treasure with the tablet. He read what she gave him. Read it over and over. His own file, with all the information they’d gathered. Plus, images.

  From the screen in her suite, she watched Marcus, his fascination with the pictures of himself before everything happened. Then the footage of him in bed in the regular hospital. Tubes running into his mouth and arms. A bandage wrapped around his head, his eyes closed, and his body small, shrunken, weak.

  Pictures that looked nothing like the now. There were a couple for him to browse, and he did so, staring at himself, even enlarging the image at times and shaking his head.

  As if he didn’t believe, he sought proof. The tablet had a camera, which meant he could see himself. A man he didn’t recognize, given how he touched his face, running fingers over his brow and cheek. He lifted his hair even, pulled at the golden strands, and frowned at it.

  When he was done studying his file, Jayda ensured more files appeared for him to study. Successes and failures. Fascinating stuff. Especially seeing how some didn’t get off as lucky, their bodies irrevocably changed as they lost the fight to stay human. The lake had more than a few that couldn’t survive on land anymore. Becky, their first true aquatic success, had to spend time every few days submerged. In a sense, she and Marcus were the lucky ones. They could at least pass as human.

  For now.

  Would the beast within end up consuming Marcus? Too soon to tell. What she could test was his supposed return to sanity. She stayed away for three days.

  Three days of not being in the same room. Not talking. Nothing. All she could do was spy. By the third day, she noticed him beginning to grow very restless, agitated. Pacing with barely controlled energy. His body thicker than previously. His expression sullen.

  Out of curiosity, she sent a woman in, a pretty Filipino with limited English to clean his room. He bared his teeth at her and retreated to a corner. Not attacking. Not paying her any mind at all, despite the fact the woman bent over more than once.

  But one woman wasn’t a true test. She sent in a nurse next, an attractive blonde who simply asked Marcus if she could get a urine sample. He threw the plastic bottle at her and chased her from the room. Unharmed.

  The guard, on the other hand, got roared at and barely missed getting his head popped off like a dandelion.

  Jayda walked in as Marcus gripped Brady—the guard who’d volunteered for a thousand bucks—by the cheeks and said simply, “Let him go.”

  Eyes glowing green and wild, Marcus listened, dropping the guard, who ran from the room muttering, “That deserves double the payment.”

  She shut the door before saying, “Hello, kitty. Did you miss me?”

  He stared at her, a hulking man with a glower.

  “Uh-oh, someone is pouting,” she taunted.

  “Grawr.” He’d reverted to nonsensical roaring, and she shivered as the beast in him floated even closer to the surface.

  “Don’t mope. It’s not attractive.”

  He didn’t reply but turned his back on her.

  “Is someone miffed I left him alone for a few days?” She approached and placed a hand on his back. The muscles tensed, yet he didn’t move or speak.

  “Did you enjoy the peace and quiet? You said you missed the silence.”

  Nothing.

  “Sorry about the food. No me means no yummy shit.”

  That got her a harrumph.

  “Yeah, I can see you might not be liking a balanced diet. They definitely do not serve enough meat around here.”

  Another sound from him that might have been mirth.

  “How did you like the reading material I sent?”

  That drew his glance to the tablet before he pointed to himself. “Broken.”

  “Not anymore. The damage from the car accident was fixed.”

  Her claim drew his gaze back to her finally. “Different broken.”

  A little less beast in those last words. He was starting to respond, her mere presence drawing him out.

  Me and me alone. A heady feeling. But why? She’d had her pheromones tested. Given blood, hair, and tissue. Used a different shampoo and soap before visiting him today. If it wasn’t physical, why did he revive with her?

  She stepped toward Marcus, who didn’t move a muscle. Not even to look down at her as she stood in front of him.

  The size of him might have intimidated another. She placed her hand on his chest then raised her gaze. “Yes, you are different, but you’re not broken. I’d compare you more to a cyborg, except instead of fixing you with metal parts, the doctors used specific parts of animal genomes. And now you’ve got to learn how to coexist with those new parts. First you crawl, then you walk and run.”

  “And bite.” He bared his teeth.

  “If you bite without cause, then, yes, you are an animal,” she snapped at his stubborn insistence. “An ill-trained dog that should have been taught better.”

  “I’m a cat. We don’t listen well.” His well-phrased rebuttal, laced with humor.

  It lessened her irritation. “Even cats can learn, though. Those Vegas fellows have been training big kitties for years.”

  “Didn’t one of them attack its trainer?”

  “Yes. You going to attack me?” she asked, pacing his room. Always aware of him, even when she gave him her back.

  “No.” A word sighed with irritation. “But I should. You’re playing with me.”

  “If I were playing with you, you’d be wearing less clothes and moaning my name.” An idea that did more to cream her than the last guy she took to bed.

  “What do you call what you’re doing?” he asked.

  “Studying.” She cocked her head. “I want to see what makes you tick.” Apart from her presence. Was she some kind of cure to the feral ones?

  It didn’t seem likely, given the ones she’d helped hunt in the past never stopped trying to bite her face long enough to have a conversation.

  “Pretty piss-poor observation, given I’m in a room with fuck all to do.”

  “I gave you reading material, and I saw you working out.” Which didn’t surprise, despite information in his file that indicated his only exercise used to be walking two blocks to the subway or the pizza joint a few streets over from his place. Something about the treatment made working out almost an imperative. The body needed to expend excess energy.

  “Yeah. Fun times. Guess what I’m doing later. And tomorrow. Although I am thinking of changing shit up by throwing in a nap.”

  The sarcasm brought a lilt to her lips “Is kitty whining he’s bored?”

  “I’m declaring it. I’m at the point I’m almost ready to ask for some treatments because even the wracking chills and vivid delusions would provide a break from the shitty monotony of my life.”

  He’d gone past verbose into downright dark poet. A nerd in a hunky body. It didn’t help dispel her attraction to him.

  “Well, given you’re ready for a change of scenery, you’ll be excited to hear we’re going on a field trip.”

  “Going to take me out back and put me down like Old Yeller? Poke
around my insides to see what makes me tick?” He arched a brow. “Sounds like fun.” He held out his wrists, big enough she doubted she could wrap her fingers around them. All of him was thick.

  Her gaze dipped, just for a second, but when she looked at his face again, he smoldered. Like literally. His eyes were a smoky green fire, his lips parted, and his expression utterly hungry.

  He almost got shoved onto that bed for a different kind of study.

  Maybe later.

  First, she had a question to answer, and she wanted him around when she tested it.

  “Usually, boys don’t ask me for cuffs until at least our second date,” she teased. “And let’s be honest, do you really think we have a portable restraint that can hold you? Instead of saddling you with useless crap, we’re going on the honor system.”

  His brow understandably wrinkled. “Excuse me?”

  “Honor system. You know, where you promise you’ll not attack or try to eat anybody.”

  “Why would I promise that?”

  “For one, it gets you out of here.” She cast a disparaging glance around. “Two”—she fixed him with a stare—“it shows you can be reasoned with.”

  “I still have yet to see how it really benefits me.”

  “Because if you can be rational, like you are now, then there is no need for a cage.”

  At that dangled treat, he shut down. His face literally shuttered.

  “Actually, I do need to be locked up. You’ve seen what I’m capable of. I’m a killer.”

  “And? Everyone needs a hobby.” She whirled and headed for the door. Holding it open, she cast him a glance. “Coming?”

  “Any guards who see me out and about will probably shoot first, ask questions later.”

  Her grin might have been a little feral when she said, “Anyone who lays a hand on you, or turns you into a tranquilized porcupine, will answer to me.”

  “What does it say about me that I kind of want to watch?”

  “That you have great taste. Now come on. Let’s go.” She added a bit more wiggle to her walk than needed, knowing he watched. He also followed.

  She didn’t head for the elevators but rather the most secure part of section six. The lowermost floor of the building. Only the most trusted were allowed down here because this was where they kept most of the oopses.

  The problem with experimental science was not every attempt turned out right.

  There was a number who died. A lower number than you’d expect, especially given most who came were extremely ill, terribly injured, or simply unable to achieve full function of their body. The treatment healed, made them whole again, and—in some cases—better than whole.

  But there were drawbacks.

  Those who couldn’t handle the side effects were kept on level six.

  The wing she took him to wasn’t as nice as his. This was the dirty secret of the clinic. The Aisle of Lost Souls they’d nicknamed it, where they kept those that had no need of amenities or extra space.

  The monsters.

  She didn’t have to look to know Marcus bristled at her back as they approached the door to that most disturbing of wings.

  “You’re locking me up in there?” The way he said it meant he’d heard of the special prison.

  “No, but we’re visiting it.”

  Even though she half expected it, she still gasped in surprise as he rushed into her, whirling and pressing her against the wall by the door.

  He snarled at her. “I’d rather you kill me than put me in there with the monsters.”

  “Stop being stupid and listen to me. I am not,” she enunciated distinctly, “leaving you in there. Unless you keep insisting on being a moron.”

  “Swear.”

  “I swear, kitty. So long as you keep talking to me like this, you’ll never be put in those cages.” She wondered if he believed her. He certainly stared hard enough.

  Knowing the cameras watched, she worried that, at any moment, her father would ignore her demands and send guards flooding the place.

  But there was no stomp of boots, and Marcus did nothing more than stare—hard enough to bore a hole—before turning to glance at the door.

  “Let’s see if your word is as good as mine.” He released her and stepped away.

  “My word is gold.” And to keep it that way, she rarely made promises. Made it easier not to break them.

  “Why are we going in there?” he asked as she pressed her hand against the scanner. It lit up, and the door released with an audible click.

  “To see if it’s only you that gets smarter when I’m around.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Stepping in, she glanced at the long hall, concrete for the most part, trimmed in metal. Signs labelling the sections overhead. The grate in the floor, stained a darker color, a reminder that those in this place didn’t usually have a happy ending.

  The despair hung thick in the air, but denser still, a skin-prickling awareness. Marcus stepped past her, his body stiff, his head turning side to side as he scented the air.

  “Bad.” The word growled from him.

  She didn’t know if he meant the place itself and its purpose or those it kept imprisoned. Maybe both. “This is where we keep those that can’t be let loose.” Because the spilled blood was messy to clean.

  “You should go.” He whirled suddenly. “Bad for you.” He shoved at her, but she stood her ground.

  “Don’t worry, kitty. I can handle it. After all, I took you down.” She winked and stepped past him, aiming for the second-to-last door. A perfect test subject.

  Recently arrived from level five when he went nuts. Not too large of a patient, so easy to handle. She entered the code she’d memorized, and the door hissed as the seal loosened and the bolts slid free.

  The occupant didn’t rush to see her. He huddled in a corner, head tucked.

  “Oh, Harold,” she cajoled, stepping into the cell.

  “What are you doing?” Marcus asked. “Get out of there.”

  “Testing a theory. My dad seems to think my presence makes you more cooperative. I wanted to call him a liar, but…” She cast him a glance. “I think we both know the truth.”

  “Maybe I don’t talk to anyone else because they’re boring.”

  “If you say so, kitty. Let’s see if Harold feels the same.” She stepped closer, and finally a head lifted, the cranium of it bereft of all but a tuft of hair. The skin displayed a grayish overtone. The enlarged ears possessed a pointed tip and the eyes that watched her were pure black.

  It wasn’t a blanket wrapped around Harold’s body but arms with a membrane that hung down. Only as Harold stood could she see they were wings. Harold had changed since his last picture.

  “Hello, Harold,” she said. “I’m Jayda. Do you have an urge to talk?”

  “This is dumb,” Marcus hissed.

  “Feeling a little like your old self?” she continued, noting how Harold never once blinked.

  She stepped closer, and Marcus growled.

  The noise didn’t draw Harold’s attention. The creepy man didn’t cease his impressive starting.

  Intent on bringing back his focus, Jayda snapped fingers in front of his face. “Yoo-hoo. Anyone home?”

  She got her wish. The bat-man focused on Jayda, a dark, non-blinking stare. Then he lunged for her!

  Chapter Sixteen

  The disaster was evident the moment they entered that hall.

  Jayda obviously had some point to make. Or perhaps a threat. See where you’ll be living next if you don’t get a grip.

  Either way, they were in this place that smelled wrong. And she was determined to antagonize a bat-looking dude, which meant Marcus stepped in.

  More like threw himself between the monster and Jayda. The bat thing hit him, and they tumbled to the floor, twisting and grappling, the vampire snapping its teeth while Marcus just struggled to keep those incisors from connecting.

  It o
ccurred to him he could easily kill the guy. It might even be a blessing, yet did he deserve such a punishment just for being unlucky in his reaction to the Chimera treatment?

  Jayda dropped to her knees beside them and jabbed a giant needle into bat guy. It didn’t take long before he went still.

  And snored.

  Marcus stood and glared at Jayda. “What the hell were you thinking? You knew it would attack.”

  “I thought it might, but I wanted to see for sure.”

  “That was dumb.”

  “Please. I knew you could handle him for a second while I grabbed the syringe.”

  “Whatever game you’re playing, we’re done.” He moved out of the room, only to find himself stopped by her hand on his arm.

  “It’s not a game. Not to me. Don’t you see? I had to know.”

  “Know what?”

  She stepped closer. “If it was a pheromone thing that everyone reacts to, or just you.” She glanced up at him.

  “Meaning I’m the only idiot.” He snorted the words.

  “I don’t think you’re dumb.” She stroked a hand down his cheek.

  He caught it, held it pressed to his flesh, the touch the most intimate thing he’d felt in a long time.

  “Is this another test?” he asked as she stepped closer, cupping his face.

  She stood on tiptoe and whispered over his lips. “Yes. I want to see if my lips catch on fire, too.”

  What did she mean by “too”?

  A query lost as her mouth touched his. Not just touched.

  Kissed.

  She kissed him, her lips slanting over his with slow and sensual decadence. Caressing and tugging, demanding more.

  He grasped her around the waist, lifting her to ease the strain of her stretch, opening his mouth and tasting her, the wet slide of her tongue shiver worthy.

  It wasn’t the lights going out that first announced something awry—he had his eyes closed. But when the electricity cut out, so did the constant hum that meant the recirculating fans were working.

  That shot his eyes open, and he cursed. “Power failure.”