Progenitor

by Cassandra Chandler

  “Don’t worry about it. We didn’t want to disturb either of you.” Dexter set the tray down on the table nearest the door. “We also want to be sure Brock is at full strength for tonight.”

  “Is that code for ‘let him sleep’?” She made a half-hearted attempt at a laugh, but he didn’t join in.

  “That’s our way of saying take a break long enough to eat and drink something. We wouldn’t take this away from him.”

  Dexter stepped closer, way into her comfort zone. She stepped back reflexively. He actually winced as she did.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to—”

  This time, he did laugh. “Hurt our feelings? Don’t worry about it. We deserve that and worse for how we treated you when you arrived.”

  “You were worried about Brock,” she said. “And you were right. When I arrived… I was a threat to him. To you. But I hope we can move past it.”

  Dexter snorted. “Great. We can be besties for…” He looked at his watch, and his smirk faded.

  “How long?”

  “Just under five hours.”

  Meg’s vision blurred, gold light refracting in the tears filling her eyes as a wave of despair hit her. “We should get Brock into the stasis chamber. Isn’t that the plan?”

  “Soon. You should know that we’re not sure how it will affect him. Or us. Vaughn and Eli are running some final tests.”

  She glanced past him into the hallway. “And Porter?”

  “Is with them.”

  “It means a lot to me that you trust me so much,” Meg said.

  “We’re down to the wire, here. The last hours of the Blades of Janus as we know it.”

  A new instinct rose in her, one that called her to reach out to him. She stepped closer this time, gently resting her hand on his arm.

  “You’re going to figure this out,” she said. “Brock will be okay. All of you will.”

  “We appreciate the thought, but no one knows that for sure. Even if Brock survives, even if we aren’t incapacitated from him going into stasis…” Dexter shook his head. “You told us you were sent to find ‘the head of the hydra’. Brock isn’t our head, much as he likes to think so. He’s our heart. Without him to help guide us, to help us be human—”

  She reached up and laid her hand against Dexter’s cheek. His eyes widened and he sucked in a breath.

  “It’s okay to not be human,” she said. “We don’t need to be human to be good people. That’s a choice we all get to make.”

  He smiled at her softly, gripping her wrist much like Brock had done when he’d been borrowing Dexter when they’d first met.

  “Am I interrupting something?” Brock stood in the doorway to the bathroom, glaring at them.

  She tried to move away, but Dexter held on to her hand. He squeezed it tight before letting go and turning toward Brock.

  “As you’re so fond of telling us, don’t be a dick,” Dexter said. “We and Meg were sharing a poignant moment. We’re family, now, after all.”

  Dexter looked back at her, and something in his expression made her wonder about that. There was warmth in his gaze, but it didn’t seem familial. Dexter shook his head briefly, as if he was trying to clear it, then walked to the door.

  “We’ll be outside if you need us,” he said. “Eat something.”

  He closed the door with a soft ‘click’.

  Brock stayed where he was. “That was new.”

  “He didn’t mean anything by it.” Meg grabbed the tray and carried it to the bed, wanting to change the subject. There was one piece of information she had to share first, though.

  No more secrets.

  “Dexter said he and the others are having some trouble blocking you,” she said. “That’s probably all you’re seeing.”

  “They didn’t mention anything to me.”

  “He said they didn’t want to disturb us, which I’m grateful for.” She crawled onto the bed, awkwardly reaching the middle of it before setting down the tray. “He was blushing when he came in.”

  As she’d hoped, Brock laughed.

  “Dexter blushing?” He shook his head. “Damn, I wish I’d seen that.”

  “Well, come eat something with me, and then we can see if we can make enough mental noise to bother the neighbors again.”

  “How can I resist an offer like that?” Brock finally smiled, then strode toward her.

  He was wearing a pair of black pajama bottoms that hugged his hips and showcased the lines of his abdomen that flowed down past his waistband. Everywhere she looked on him, all she saw was muscle, sinew, and all that history carved into his flesh.

  “Meg,” he said. “Your eyes are glowing.”

  She stopped herself from apologizing and said, “Oh,” instead.

  “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to want to wait a while to eat.”

  She smiled, curling up next to the trays. “Then I’ll stare at the food. I’m sure Vaughn has made us something special.”

  It might be Brock’s last meal.

  Pushing aside the thought, she opened the trays.

  The smell hit her first. Blood. Fresh meat, piled high on a plate. She gasped and jerked back.

  “What’s wrong?” Brock asked.

  “I’m not supposed to.” She shook her head hard.

  “Not supposed to what? Eat meat?” He laughed. “You’re a werewolf.”

  “I know, but I was never allowed—”

  He let out a frustrated sigh. “Those bastards. I knew they were starving you.”

  “Omegas aren’t supposed to eat meat,” she said. “Not like this.”

  “How many things did Roy tell you that you now know were lies?”

  Her shoulders slumped. “Everything?”

  Brock picked up a fork and handed it to her, then stretched next to the tray. Her gaze swept over him again, the rise and fall of his broad back, his long legs reaching past the edge of the bed.

  He watched her ogling him, then let out a sigh.

  “Meg,” he said. “Eat.”

  She took a deep breath, then stabbed one of the thin slices of meat and brought it to her lips. It smelled so good. Her mouth was watering. Still, she couldn’t quite bring herself to eat it.

  “What if it changes me?” she said, holding the fork farther away. “What if it triggers something?”

  “Like you putting on a few pounds?” He shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”

  “Brock…”

  He reached out and ran his hand along her arm. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  She felt her eyes widen at the compliment. No one had ever said anything like that to her before.

  “But it’s pretty damn obvious your body is not getting the nourishment it needs,” he said. “And if you’re worried your first bite of steak is going to make you go crazy, well…” He picked up a fork and pointed it at her. “I’m prepared to defend myself.”

  She laughed, shaking her head. “How is it you can make me laugh even when I’m terrified?”

  Brock sat up, dropping his fork back on the tray, then took her free hand in his. “You don’t have to be scared anymore. I know you’d never hurt me.”

  “Never.”

  He laughed again, but it was a darker sound than before. “You know, the stasis chamber’s not a sure thing. Maybe I should let you bite me. Then we could be werewolves together.”

  “Brock, don’t—”

  “I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I keep bringing up things we shouldn’t be thinking about right now. Please. Eat.”

  Her eyes filled with tears again, but she blinked them away. They had less than five hours left. The least she could do was honor this simple request.

  She took a bite, chewing quickly. The taste had barely hit her before she swallowed.

  “Oh my God,” she said. She stabbed another bite and shoved it into her mouth.

  Her nerve endings came alive, gooseflesh spreading over her arms and back. Her s
tomach cramped painfully, making a loud growling sound.

  She gripped her abdomen with her free hand and managed, “Sorry,” around another mouthful. She couldn’t eat fast enough.

  Brock laughed and leaned back, hands in the air. “No worries. Except maybe that you’ll still be hungry after you finish that huge plate. You’re welcome to mine.”

  She glanced at his plate, laden with eggs, biscuits, gravy, and vegetables. A day ago, it would have been a delicious feast to her. Now, it smelled like ashes.

  “No thanks,” she mumbled, finishing the last of the meat.

  He smiled, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he said, “Dexter’s bringing you more.”

  “You could have just called out to him, you know,” she said.

  “Where’s the fun in that? This way, I could give him a hard time about blushing earlier.”

  “You really are an obnoxious older brother, aren’t you?”

  Brock laughed, then shook his head. “I guess I am. How do you feel?”

  She paused, letting the feelings of well-being soak in. Her stomach didn’t hurt. Her muscles didn’t ache. She felt energized, powerful. She hadn’t even been aware of how awful she’d felt before having this to compare it to.

  No wonder Roy had forbidden her from eating meat like the others did. If this was how she could have been feeling all along, she might not have put up with the crap they kept giving her.

  “Meg?” Brock reached over to her, running his hand along her arm.

  Her skin prickled, all the hairs standing on end. Her muscles rippled, sending a shiver through her.

  “Are you all right?” He sat up, obviously concerned.

  “I’m fine. Better than ever, actually.” She laughed, but it didn’t seem to reassure him.

  Dexter knocked on the door again. At least, she guessed it was him.

  “I’ll get it.” She jumped up from the bed…and landed in front of the door. “Whoa.”

  The door opened just as Brock reached her side. Dexter stood in front of them, holding another plate heaped with sliced meat.

  “Everything okay in here?” he said.

  “Fine.” Meg grabbed the plate and started picking up pieces and dropping them into her mouth.

  “Brock?” Dexter said.

  “I think we can tell Vaughn we found her favorite food.” Brock’s voice didn’t match the levity of his words.

  They were both silent as she finished the plate, but they exchanged looks that let her know they were communicating. It didn’t bother her in the slightest, even knowing that they were probably talking—thinking—about her.

  She used the time to think about them, too. To really look at them and see both how different and alike they were.

  Same height, but radically different builds. Dexter looked younger, somehow. It was more than just that he lacked the scars. His body didn’t show the wear and tear that Brock had been through. All of the replicants’ deaths had taken their toll on him.

  She couldn’t even say they had the same eyes. Brock’s glittered in the lamplight. Dexter’s were a flat black, as if they sucked in the light.

  Neither of them said anything as she stared at them. Dexter glanced at Brock suddenly, and Brock shook his head.

  “I know you’ve been talking this whole time,” Meg said.

  Dexter glanced at Brock then looked back to her. “We were just comparing notes.”

  “What kind of notes?” She handed the plate back to him.

  Dexter only smirked. “Go wash your hands.”

  “Excuse me?” she said.

  “It’s Vaughn’s rule.” Dexter crossed to the bed and picked up her other empty plate. “As he says, ‘Not everyone at the ranch is gifted with a dweller’s immune system’.”

  “Come on.” Brock put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around, nudging her toward the bathroom.

  “And make sure he eats, too.” Dexter closed the door, leaving them alone again.

  “What is going on?” Meg asked.

  “Just humor me,” Brock said.

  “I know you guys were talking about me.” She let him steer her to the other room.

  “It was all good.”

  She arched an eyebrow, her instincts telling her that he was keeping something from her.

  “Really?” she said.

  “Okay, almost all.” Brock shrugged. “Dexter has a few concerns.”

  When they were in front of the sink, Brock turned on the water. She went ahead and washed her hands, flicking the excess water away as he handed her a towel.

  As she dried her hands, she said, “What kind of concerns?”

  “Mostly about that.” Brock pointed at the mirror.

  Meg glanced over at it and gasped. “Oh my God.”

  She lifted her arm, just to make sure that the reflection she was looking at was her own.

  The bones that had stuck out from her limbs on the few occasions when she had a chance to see herself in a mirror were hidden beneath layers of muscle. Her cheeks weren’t hollowed out anymore and the dark circles under her eyes were gone.

  “This has to be a trick,” she said.

  Brock shook his head. “I checked in with Dad and Vaughn through Porter and everyone agreed. It’s your dweller physiology finally getting what it needed.”

  She leaned forward to see herself more closely, not that she needed to with how clear everything appeared to her eyes. Even her senses seemed stronger.

  “What is Dexter worried about?” she said.

  “There may be a reason omegas aren’t allowed to eat meat. Dexter and the others are a bit concerned that the changes go deeper than your appearance. Like how you leapt across the room earlier.”

  Brock moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the surprise on your face. Personally, I think your pack starved you just because they were all assholes.”

  “Me, too,” she said. “But Dexter’s right. When the pack turned me, it made me stronger. But this feels different. What if I can’t control it?” Her stomach flooded with icy panic. “What if Roy can link with me now?”

  “We’ll handle it.” Brock nuzzled her ear.

  “I don’t want to put you in danger. Or anyone here.”

  “We’re Blades,” he said. “We’re always in danger. And the thought of losing you is worse than anything Roy can throw at me.”

  “Brock…”

  “I mean it.”

  He pressed a kiss against her neck, then slowly looked up at their reflection. He winced before his gaze locked on to her.

  “I told you, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he said. “You sure you want to be stuck with a guy… A guy who looks like me?”

  She reached up and ran her fingertips along his forehead and cheek, tracing the lines Roy had etched there.

  “Not stuck,” she said. “I get to choose now, remember? And I choose you.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Why had fate brought Meg to Brock now? Whether he was stuck in a stasis pod or dead, the result would be the same for him. And for Meg.

  They only had four hours left. Less, depending on when the others called him down.

  “I can’t believe how much better I feel.” Meg laughed, taking him by the hand and leading him back toward the bed.

  “I can’t believe your pack never fed you what you needed to thrive.”

  Her smile fell and she looked away. “There were a couple of times that they offered, but I refused. They said that was part of what made me a perfect omega.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The meat they offered…” She shivered, hugging herself tight.

  Oh shit.

  After all the years Marcus had been a Blade, and now watching Tessa, Brock had forgotten what most werewolves were like. What they ate.

  “I’ve been out of the field too long,” he said. “I’m sorry to bring up bad memories.”

  “It’s in the
past now. Once we find Roy, it’ll be over for good. Right?”

  “Yeah,” Brock said. “I only wish I could be there to see it.”

  “You might.”

  “I’ve always been honest with you, Meg. I’m not going to start lying now.”

  She reached out to him, sliding her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.

  His chest felt over-full. There was a rightness to them being together that he couldn’t explain.

  “It seems so unfair to have met you now,” he said. “I mean, I’m grateful. And I think it’ll work out for the best for everyone in the long run. I guess I’m being selfish. I want more time with you.”

  “If that’s selfish, then I’m in the club.”

  “I don’t want you to be sad after I go,” he said.

  “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “Okay, I don’t want you to sit outside my stasis chamber, waiting for me to wake up. Dad and the others have no idea what they’re going to do or what will happen afterwards. I know they’ll keep working on a solution, but they may never find one.”

  She leaned back, her eyes glittering as she looked up at him. “Brock—”

  “I don’t want you to waste your life waiting for me.”

  “I will wait for you forever.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” he said. “I want you to be happy, Meg. Tessa said it’s normal for werewolves to bond quickly. If what you’re feeling for me is half as strong as what I feel for you…”

  She reached up to cradle his face in her hands, then pulled him down for a kiss. He pressed her against him, relearning her body as he explored the new curves, wishing he’d be around to see her fully healed and integrated with her pack.

  Her eyes were still closed when he broke off the kiss, staring down at her dark lashes, memorizing her face just in case he was able to dream in stasis.

  “I love you.” He whispered the words without thinking.

  His breath caught, stuck in his chest as he wondered how she would respond.

  Her lips curved into a soft smile. “I love you…” Her eyes opened, glowing gold. “Too.”

  A furrow appeared between her brows. She leaned back, and said, “Too,” again.