Claimed (5 page)

“See that marking on her arm? It’s a claiming brand.”

“Claimed?” Mick growled. “By who?”

“Don’t know,” Creed lied. “But I think you and the doc there had better get gone before whoever put it there shows up.”

Music blasted through the room.

All three men whirled at Chiana’s shout of “Hey, boys!”

She’d discovered a stereo beside the bunks and danced to the pounding beat of a heavy metal anthem. Her hands moved across her body as she swayed, her eyes closed. Creed closed his eyes, took a deep breath and tried to ignore the effect she was having on him as he moved toward her. He had to shut off the music and stop her before all hell broke loose.

Despite his careful steps, Chiana sensed him. Her eyelids fluttered open at his approach. She leaned against him as he tried for the power button, beginning a bump-and-grind. When he jumped back, her eyes locked with his as her hands slid under the waist of her pants. She laughed as she kicked them off and waved her fingers toward him in a come-here gesture.

He fought his body’s response. She was beautiful, sexy, and he was certain she could and would do everything she suggested in a husky voice. He was also absolutely certain she had no idea what she was doing.

“Come on, baby, a little bit closer,” Chiana crooned, reaching for him. Reaching for the zipper of his pants and what it covered. Knowing what she wanted, her seductive voice teasing him, he was rock-hard. Forcing himself to ignore the driving desire she ignited, he grabbed her in a tight hold, her back against his chest, and yanked the stereo cord from the wall.

Chiana kicked and screamed, transforming from siren to harridan, screaming vulgarities at the top of her lungs.

“You want to screw me, you bastard, and you know it!”

She struggled to get away. Creed held her in a solid grip until Wil rushed over and stabbed a needle into her hip. Limp and sweat-soaked, Chiana slid into a heap on the floor, falling into an induced unconsciousness.

A strong hand shoved Wil against the wall.

“What the hell did you do to her?” Mick’s eyes were dark with fury.

“What I had to. What you can’t.”

Creed yanked Mick off the smaller man and shoved him toward the entry door.

With a snarl at Mick to stay where he was, Creed carried Chiana back to her bunk. Although she was coming around, she didn’t protest when he pulled the blanket over her. She simply smiled, closed her eyes and fell asleep.

Creed stalked over to where Mick leaned against the wall, his eyes narrowed. Before a fight could break out, Wil stepped between the men and said, “Please join me at the table.”

Mick grabbed a chair and sat down, glowering at Creed who stood at the other end.

“What?” he demanded.

“We have to fight this,” Wil said.

“Fight what?”

“The…common attraction. The effect Chiana is having on all of us.”

So he hadn’t been the only one to feel the throbbing need, Creed realized.

“I also felt the pull to eliminate the competition,” Wil said. “The urge to get rid of the two of you, no matter what it takes, to have Chiana for myself.”

Mick slammed the table with his fist and walked away, muttering to himself.

“Get out of here now.” Creed kept his voice low as he spoke to Wil. “Take him with you, however you have to do it. If we all stay, we’ll end up killing each other. Who knows what will happen to her then.”

Wil nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

“Try reason first. If that doesn’t work, stun him.” He handed Wil the Taser from his duffel and nodded toward the utility room. “I’ll be in there while you get rid of him.”

Leaving the door open a few inches, Creed leaned against a stack of boxes where he could watch the other men. He logged onto his smart phone loaded with everything Guardian’s techno-wizards could come up with, and accessed his private files. Before he could get into the one he wanted, Mick’s voice, filled with rage and fear, roared through the room. Creed ran, grabbing the agent before he took a swing at Wil. He pushed him into a chair, using the weight of his body to keep him there.

“This is why you’re leaving,” he spat. “You’re too involved. Go with him. When it’s safe, I’ll bring Chiana to you.”

“After you’ve done her every way you can, that’s what you mean.” Mick struggled against Creed, who found it harder and harder to hold him down. “My hearing’s fine. I know what she offered you. You’re going to take her up on it as soon as you get rid of me.”

On the other side of the room, Chiana moaned on her bunk, her body twisting; Creed felt a new tightening in his body. Even though she was thirty feet from him, covered by a blanket, Creed could almost feel her hands on him, her lips touching his, her voice whispering all the naughty things they’d do.

Creed increased his hold as Wil raced past, another syringe in his hand. He heard Chiana’s startled cry then silence. Creed felt the desperate desire leach from him.

Mick straightened and blinked, like a man coming out a trance. As soon as he knew Wil was safe, Creed returned to the cramped storage room. He needed time to collect himself, time to figure out what in the hell he was going to do next.

Chiana floated in her drugged state, aware of the voices and activity around her, yet uncaring. The terrible heat that had possessed her was gone. She was ice cold, shivering beneath the blanket. She wondered how long it took a person to freeze to death. Her thigh ached, and her head hurt, yet she couldn’t remember being in a fight.

Her lips curved into a smile. She was a lover, not a fighter. Images popped into her mind of Mick and her, of Creed and her, wonderfully intense memories of the marvelous things they’d done to each other’s naked bodies—no! She hadn’t done anything. False memories, that’s what they were.

Silent tears dripped from her closed eyes as she surrendered to the confusion inside her. She didn’t know what was real anymore and what she’d dreamed. Something was very, very wrong with her.

Another prick in her thigh, the other leg this time, and she fell back into the welcomed blackness where she didn’t have to think or remember. Where she could hide from the thing that called her, where she would be safe until a champion rescued her.

“You sure you needed to shoot her twice?”

Mick frowned at Wil.

“Do you want a repeat of what happened earlier?”

“Point taken.”

Mick relaxed as the doctor consulted with Creed in the utility room. His thinking no longer clouded by lust, he was able to assess the situation as the trained agent he was. Like it or not, he had to leave. Davies was a free agent, contracted by the agency and allowed to do things his own way, no questions asked.

Mick didn’t have that freedom. He had to walk the straight and narrow, which meant he should be calling in an agency team. Protocol was paramount.

Before he could do it, Wil walked up, bag in hand. Creed followed.

“Time to go,” Wil said.

Mick looked toward the bed where Chiana lay.

“Tell her goodbye if you want, but she may be too far under to hear you,” Creed said.

Mick offered a bitter smile. “I think I’ll keep my distance. Besides, she’ll be back at the end of our two days off, right?”

Creed nodded and said with a conviction he didn’t feel, “Sure. Whole and hearty.”

Mick slung Wil’s backpack over his shoulder while the scientist picked up his laptop. They were almost to the entry door when the floor began to vibrate. The air in the room grew warmer, and on her bunk, Chiana began to hum, an eerie sound that made the hair on Creed’s arms stand on end.

“Any other way out?” he asked Wil.

“There’s a fruit cellar on the other side of the utility room. That far door leads into it, but it hasn’t been used for years.”

“It’s going to be now.”

Creed ran into the office and shoved a high metal shelf out of the way, cans and boxes flying. He kicked the rusted door latch and yanked on the knob. It stuck. He kicked again, repeating the pattern twice more until the door opened with a screech.

“Go!”

Once Mick and Wil scurried into the dark, dank space, Creed slammed the door shut and shoved everything he could against it. He hoped there really was an exit to the world at the end of that fruit cellar. If not, and they died here, that would be their grave.

Chiana’s humming turned into a low keening that put every nerve in Creed’s body on alert. He ran toward her bunk, stopping when he saw the sweat glistening on her body and her feverish face.

She shrieked with excitement when the fortified steel door rattled as if pounded by a huge weight. The long fluorescent light tubes flashed; Creed closed his eyes against their brilliance. A slow cooker on the kitchen counter exploded in a rain of crockery shards. Water gushed from the sink faucets, a sound echoed in the adjacent bathroom.

Creed embraced the adrenaline rushing through him. Whatever happened next, he’d be fighting for his life, and Chiana’s. Whether one creature or a horde, they wouldn’t turn away until they had what—whom—they came for.

The ceiling lights began to shatter, one after another; tubes of glass rained onto the hard concrete floor. On the bunk, Chiana rose to her knees. Her eyes snapped open, and she screamed in a language Creed had never heard before.

The words poured out as she stared toward the entry with unseeing eyes, beautiful phrases he couldn’t understand, filled with longing. She held her hands at arms’ length, palms toward the vibrating door, repeating the same phrase. Desperate, Creed ran over and wrapped his arms around her. He began shouting every repellent he knew, starting with those for demons and ending with spells meant to banish zombies. His shouts and her chants blended, filling the room with a strange music. Chiana clung to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders. His skin burned where they touched, and his voice grew hoarse as he fought to keep the intruders at bay. Then, as abruptly as it began, it was over.

Chiana fainted, her face pale and her body limp and cooling in Creed’s arms. The undamaged emergency light shone again, and the water stopped running.

Creed held her until her breathing changed to sleep once more, and he placed her on the bunk. His throat raw, he slipped away and staggered to a chair.

He’d come here for one more assignment. A few more dollars to be sent and never spent, a few hours or days of atonement. Now he wondered if he’d survive with both his sanity and soul intact.

Chapter Five

Leaning back in the chair, Creed closed his eyes and emptied his mind. He’d learned this trick early on as his way of being able to do what he did day after day, year after year. When he’d banished the events of the past hour to the back of his mind, he opened his eyes and sought his smart phone. Before he logged on, it began to ring. He answered fast, hoping it wasn’t a voice from hell on the other end.

“We’re out.”

Mick. He sounded sullen, tense, pissed at being sent away, but his voice was still welcome. Creed let out the breath caught in his lungs.

“Good,” he said.

“The doc’s on his laptop. Says he needs to talk to you.”

“Tell me something good,” Creed suggested when he heard Wil’s voice. That was the last he spoke for nearly five minutes, listening as the researcher explained he might have a solution that would let both Creed and Chiana leave the safe house alive and intact.

“A Sumerian binding spell, huh?”

Although Creed tried to hide his skepticism, he knew Wil had caught it.

“Didn’t I just say it was a last resort?” Wil asked. “Unless my friend and I are both wrong, things will escalate at a rapid pace. She’s already tried sexual enticement to allow her to take control and set herself free. The next step will be rage.”

“And after that?”

“It doesn’t matter. I doubt even you can survive her anger.”

A sudden silence and Wil was gone. The call had dropped, which was fine with Creed. He didn’t care much for conversation. With a quick glance to make sure Chiana still slept, he returned to the small utility room and logged onto his e-mail.

The message from Wil was already there. They must have pulled off someplace with wireless internet.

He studied the e-mail, memorizing the words. The chant was short, with a rhythmic flow, which made the task easier. Creed hoped he wouldn’t have to use it. He prayed that if he did, it would work.

“Hey.”

He raised his head, killing the e-mail as he did. Chiana stood in the doorway, her pants back on and her shirt pulled down. Normal again, or at least passing for it.

“Have a nice nap?” Creed shut down the computer and headed out of the office as Chiana moved toward the coffee pot.

She shrugged and ignored him as he walked up with his own cup. Attitude was good. It fit the profile of her he’d read.

She sat down at the table, cradling the mug but not drinking.