Deceiving the Protector (5 page)

Not that he wasn’t aware of every movement she made or the movements around her. Water lapped and splashed when she finally deigned to move, small droplets creating distracting tinkling noises he didn’t want to hear. His mind tried to map the parts of her body making each little sound, but he wouldn’t let it. The last thing he needed was to distract himself with thoughts of the naked woman at his back. He forced his attention forward, listening only for sounds of struggle.

Bit by bit, the woods returned to life. The questioning hoot of an owl. A tentative croak from a frog. The wind blew lightly, brushing the leaves and the grass like a whisper, as if even that was returning back to normal in careful steps. He held his body loose, watching the tree line in front of them. Instincts said the threat was still there, but he couldn’t pinpoint it. Could only wait for it. Be ready.

In the meantime, he couldn’t wait to give his stubborn little stray a grilling like she’d never seen about running away from him. She was under his protection and it was time she learned exactly what that meant.

Something small chose that moment to crack him on the back of the head.

He turned, finding the small woman in her oversized flannel shirt with her ever-present scarf looped over her neck, the rest of her clothes balled in her arms. Bare legs, still curvy if too damn thin, glistened just like the wet skin of her face. The face with the far-too-pleased expression turning the full shape of her lips into a smug grin. She looked him up and down, as if he were the one who was at a disadvantage somehow, then turned and headed back toward their camp.

He wasn’t sure what stung worse, the dismissal or the back of his head.

No. Definitely the worst sting came from the fact that he had no choice but to follow her like an obedient pup.

“Next time you throw something at me, Sunshine, I’m tanning your tail.”

Her step faltered, but her spine didn’t weaken at all. She just kept walking.

Reason told him to be grateful she didn’t give him any lip.

Instinct still screamed about the threat. He just wasn’t sure where the biggest danger lay. Somewhere in the trees…or in the woman he couldn’t take his eyes off of?

The girl gasped, her own rasping breath echoing too loudly in her ears. Her vision blurred as she opened her eyes, but she didn’t know if it was from pain or from the drugs they kept injecting into her. Sweat matted her hair to her face, then dripped from her cheeks to her chin. The stone room seemed to hold no other purpose than to house the deep metal chair that bound her by her head, neck, waist, wrists and ankles. A few feet ahead, a nearly wall-sized mirror reflected her naked body and the monstrosity that clamped her down. She couldn’t turn her head, only able to avoid the sight by letting her lids fall shut again.

She hurt. Hurt down into her bones. Hurt so much, the pain so loud, it nearly drowned out the Instinct in her mind. Instinct that demanded she fight her way free—claw, bite, gnaw through her own arm if need be. It had no comprehension that her body wasn’t her own anymore. Her skin rippled as if insects crawled beneath it. Muscles cramped, unable to stretch, unable to respond to her need to escape. Worse, the flaming burn on her neck, where the flesh met her shoulder, seethed, pulsing, as if it were poison on her skin.

They’d
done this to her. Over and over and over again. First the shot…then the pain…then the shifts.

Shifting wasn’t supposed to hurt.

Wasn’t supposed to feel as though acid ran through her veins instead of blood. Wasn’t supposed to change her in sections, a ripple that yanked at bones and sinew and ground them together like pieces that were never meant to fit.

This was the third time she’d come through the haze—or was it the fourth?—her body inflamed in agony, burning with fever. A loud bang echoed through the room. She didn’t respond to it, had grown used to the shockwave of it because it pounded through even the unrelenting pain of shifting against her will. The pounding came again and again, faster each time. Finally, she opened her eyes and wondered if the mirror seemed to ripple because of the drugs…or because someone was hitting it from the other side.

A different sound assaulted her now, one that had her eyes squeezing shut in dread. A door opening. The whoosh of air as a person entered the room. No, she realized, her ears pricking, more than one.

The scientist, the man in the blue paper gown and the matching paper mask and hat, she recognized. She whimpered, though she had no idea she could make that sound of pain anymore, knowing he was bringing in another shot. Her entire body quaked, suddenly cold in the artificial air currents. She clamped chattering teeth together, her hands fisting tight so they wouldn’t see she was too tired—too
afraid
—to unleash her claws.

The other followed after the scientist’s papery shuffle, the solid clicks of his heeled shoes on the stone floor inexplicably more terrifying. She could feel him coming closer, the sweat-slicked hair on her body rising in response to an energy she couldn’t identify. Malevolence, maybe. No…

Hatred.

The footsteps stopped directly in front of her. Waited. She could feel their eyes on her body, measuring her.

Face them.

The Instinct whispered this time. It was weak in her, but not broken.

Face
them.
Remember
them.

She opened her eyes, forcing herself to focus on the men. The scientist on the left, a man in a suit to the right. The scientist wore protective goggles, there was nothing there to remember. But the man…black hair, dusted at the temples with silver. Not white. Silver. If unvarnished disgust hadn’t filled his dark brown gaze, she would have believed the lines around his eyes were made from laughter. Dimples that had turned into deep lines bracketed his mouth, one that twisted down at the corners.

Remember him.

She focused harder, trying to ingrain those features into her fuzzy brain. High cheekbones. No shadow beneath the skin where his beard should be, lean in his expensive gray suit. He’d be handsome if it weren’t for the underlying pleasure he seemed to take in her situation.

Behind him, the mirror rippled, the pounding thunder growing faster and faster. Desperate.

“Get someone to shut him up,” the man said, his deep voice cultured, not even turning his head to the scientist. His gaze stayed on her, inspecting her while the scientist hurried to do as ordered. Why did he seem so familiar? She couldn’t put the pieces together. “It won’t do you any good to memorize me, I’m assured you’ll have no memories of this. And of course, you’ll have far greater things to concern yourself with once you leave this room.
If
you leave this room.”

She swallowed, the parched muscles in her throat scraping against each other like sandpaper. It took so much effort to keep her eyes trained on him, his image losing focus, doubling, then re-forming into a single man. An unsmiling, dangerous man.

“What’s…that noise?” The words felt strangled on their way out of her throat. Hoarse. Had she been screaming? She didn’t know.

“That?” He blinked, so casual as he moved to look back at the mirror. As if their attention had been some kind of signal, the pounding stopped, the sudden silence as ominous as his smile when he looked back at her. “That was your mate.”

Blinking, she tried to make sense out of that. “Not mated.”

The door behind her opened again, the shuffled paper sounds hurrying closer. Too soon, the burning injection stung her arm again, the needle digging through her flesh like an arrow.

“You are now.” She didn’t miss the cruel pleasure he took in relaying that information. “You’ve taught us quite a bit about the animal nature of bonding. Opened the door, if you will, to an entirely new brand of research. We have some very special plans, thanks to you. Just let the doctors do their work and you’ll have nothing to worry about.”

Mesmerized, she could only stare at him. He never moved, his oddly intense perusal unconcerned by the writhing of her muscles losing control.

Remember your enemy. Remember him. Vengeance will come.

Black and silver hair. Dark eyes. Black like a snake. Cold voice. Cold voice…

The light in the room began to bend, her heart thumping wildly. Unevenly. The pain, the torture, was starting again and she was helpless to stop it.

“You’ll be extremely valuable to us if you survive the training.”

“T-to who?” she asked, failing to gnash down a wail as the first, excruciating wave crashed over her.

The man’s smile, his voice, followed her into the abyss.

“Humanity.”

Lia awoke in a burst of awareness, every one of her senses reaching outward for any trace of threat. Sight, smell, that tingle of danger at the side of her neck that rang so hard it stung whenever Asher was near. In a split second, her body relaxed, but not because she sensed she was alone.

The complete opposite, really.

Flinty gray eyes stared at her, the gaze locked on her face so intently she knew he’d been watching her while she slept. He sat on a large rock, pooled in sunlight, one long leg sprawled out while his elbow balanced on his bent knee. Afternoon sunlight, given the lack of moisture in the air. God, how long had she slept? It didn’t matter. The peril was in waking up to this brooder on the rock.

He stared at her while his hand moved slowly over something she couldn’t see. Something else spilled down between his cupped hands, swinging slightly as it gained length. She tried to focus on it, her vision blurring at the edges. Exhausted, she closed her eyes, the lids sliding like gravel over the delicate tissue of her eyes. A scent she couldn’t place was flooding her, probably whatever it was he was peeling…

She tried to lick her lips. Too late, she realized her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth and her limbs felt like lead. Worse, her belly felt hollowed out, the emptiness of it sending streaks of pain to every limb. Her blood felt like sludge, barely moving through her veins, which explained why her mind felt fuzzy, her thoughts disjointed.

Healing sleep.

It hit all shifters hard, making them sleep like the dead while their bodies worked at larger wounds and bruises. The more extensive the damage, the deeper the sleep. She should have been able to heal the bruises on her throat with normal sleep, but her body was empty, had been for too many days. It had nothing left to give.

Cool moisture touched her lips, her lids flying upward in shock. Tate knelt next to her, the hard muscle of his thigh pressing against her ribs. He wasn’t watching her eyes anymore, instead staring at her mouth. Where he held a piece of naked fruit.

Rearing back into the thin cushion of her pallet, she tried to escape, but her body couldn’t follow her command. The best she could manage was to turn her head, but after a muttered curse from the man leaning over her, that failed too. His hand, warm enough to penetrate the cold in her skin, caught her chin, pulling her back into position for the waiting fruit.

“You’ve been fighting me off for hours but you’ve got nothing left, Sunshine.” The apple touched her lips again, the tart aroma of it inhaled with each breath. Hunger ate at her stomach in greedy response. Oh God, how she wanted it.

“Eat,” he coaxed, a warm whisper that curled in her ears like a lure. The melted sensation in her limbs wasn’t so bad all of a sudden. “It’ll help.”

Her brain triggered a flash of Javak, the big man leading a few others to the Underground. He hadn’t taken no for an answer either, when he’d come across her on the road.
“We know where there’s some food waiting. Come on, girl, we just want to help…”

Until Asher exacted his punishment, it would help. No, not this time. She clamped her lips together, trying to twist free.

Tate’s eyes went stormy, his mouth hardening into a frown. “Eat, goddamn it.”

So much for melting…
All sweet and charming until he didn’t get what he wanted. If she opened her mouth to tell him so, he’d shove that fruit in, she just knew it. He’d probably smirk while doing it.

“Eat or the next time you close those pretty eyes, you die.”

She glared at him, but there was no threat in his eyes. Just cold, distant facts. He wasn’t wrong, she could feel that in her bones. In its need to heal her, her body would keep drawing on reserves she didn’t have, shutting down parts of her body one after another until there wasn’t anything left. She wouldn’t even be able to fight it, the sleep drawing her into a coma before eating her alive.

Who will save Laurel then?

The question rebalanced the scales the way nothing else would have. Closing her eyes again, she opened her mouth. The cold fruit invaded instantly, sweet and crisp where it dragged across the edge of her teeth.

“Open your eyes, Lia. Keep them on me.”

She chewed slowly, savoring the flavor, trying not to moan in relief. The next bite was waiting for her, another after that. She lifted her lids from time to time, just to prove she wasn’t falling under, but otherwise ignored him completely. He stayed quiet, feeding her without grumble or command, until she wasn’t sure how much time had passed. The fruit kept coming, loosening the heavy tightness in her muscles until the aches faded completely.

This was a side of him she could get used to, she decided, hoping the grin in her mind wasn’t on her face. Silent and beautiful would make him just about perfect…

“What the fuck is this?”

Her hand came up to push at the fingers pulling down the edges of her scarf to expose her throat. She didn’t have much strength, but she could move well enough to lift the scarf back into place. To turn away from him.

“Who did this to you? No more games.” A firm hand pulled on her shoulder, flattening her to the pallet.

He could roll her all he liked, be as angry as he wanted, but he was alive and she had every intention of keeping him that way. If by some miracle Asher could let Tate live for touching her like this, he absolutely wouldn’t allow anyone to know about him and survive.

“Stop!” she snapped, her voice coming out a graveled mess.

Was it her imagination or did Tate pale at the sound of it? It didn’t matter, because her hands were no match for his now that he’d sniffed out an injury. Tugs at the scarf had her pushing harder at him. Angry, desperate, she felt the acid burn in her fingertips as her claws extended, dragging a shredded scream from her as she slashed at his face.

In a blur, he was gone, backed away, but the agony of the small shift had her cradling her palm to her chest, gasping for breath.

“What the hell happened to you?”

Eyes closed against the waves of pain still radiating from her hand, from the concern in his tone, she knew he meant more than the bruises on her neck. She didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. It was one thing when he looked at her as if she were insane, occasionally as if she were food. She couldn’t stand for him to look at her as if she were a freak.

Even if she was.

“Leave me alone.” The words moved like blades through her throat. All that sleep had done nothing to heal what Asher had damaged in warning. He’d crushed her throat, done it remorselessly, just to prove he could have ripped it out if he wanted to.

“I can protect you, Lia,” Tate said softly. “It’s what I’m here for. I’ll keep you safe. All you need to do is trust me.”

She squeezed her eyes tighter at the solemnity of that promise.

He couldn’t protect her. No one could. She was all that stood between him and certain death. But there was nothing she could say to make him understand that. Nothing he’d believe, anyway. He hadn’t trusted a single word she’d said since they met. To him, lies of omission were no better than lies in general. She lifted her face to stare at him, wondering if he could see how soulless she’d become to stay alive.

Or was he blinded by the shadows where his own soul was supposed to be?

She lifted her chin, holding her arm closer to her chest. “Why should I?”

His mouth hardened into a flat line, his eyes little more than glittering slits of gray. Finally, he stomped over to his bag, dragging out a shirt tied into a knot at one end, bulging with fruit in the middle. He tossed her the makeshift sack. “Eat those. I’ll be back.”

“Where are you going?” She was apprehensive to let him out of her sight but in no shape to stop him. Next, he yanked out what looked like a leather belt, the swishing whip of it sliding out of the pack loud enough to make her cringe.

“Hunting,” he growled. “I have an irresistible urge to kill something. I’d rather it not be you. I’ll be back in an hour, maybe two. If you go anywhere this time, I’ll find you—and let me tell you, Lia, it won’t be pretty when I do.”

Those last words were tossed over his shoulder as he brushed past the bushes to the trees beyond, leaving her alone in their small camp.

Lia watched the spot where he disappeared for long minutes before reaching into the sack with her good hand. The deep, sizzling tingle in her neck began to burn, providing an ironic security to her mind. Asher was here. Watching her. She ate slowly, knowing every bite was being counted. Resented.
Tallied.

It didn’t matter. The need outweighed the risk.

For now, she could only restore her body and wait for Tate’s return.

Hunting in Wolf form had its benefits. For a few brief hours, he could forget all about the matters of being a man, of civility, and let savage needs have their way with him. He could claw, chase, run something to the ground without remorse. And he did. Over and over again. The latest rabbit in his jaws pushed its feet against the ground in one last bid for escape before he ended the hunt with a hard jerk of his muzzle. The satisfaction of a good run should have been pumping through him, but instead, aggravation sizzled through his blood.

Why should I?

Just the memory of Lia asking that question made his gut churn.

Panting around the furry package he bore back toward the tree where he’d hidden his clothes and the small brace of rabbits, he didn’t feel all that much better than he had when he’d come out here.

Why should I?

It wasn’t even her voice he was hearing every time it replayed.

Vayere-Scarlet, a name he didn’t like to think about and a memory he’d give anything to change.
She
had been beautiful. Lush and sensual, from the top of her golden head to the tips of her satin shoes. Haughty, too, with her red, red lips and skin so pale and fine a cream that a mutt like him should never have touched it. But he had touched her. Young and cocky, he’d dared to touch a Sibile his family considered a rare friend. To taste her and let her special magic go straight to his head. Seducing her rated among the greatest mistakes in his life, but he’d been drawn to her like a bear to honey, never once expecting to get stung.

She was as different from Lia as water to a stone.

But they’d both asked him the same damn question…with the same look on their faces. Disdain.

The rabbit did little to stifle the menacing snarl that escaped him.

Vayere’s lack of trust had hurt because he was young and stupid and in love with someone who could never give him what he needed. Hell, she couldn’t give herself what she needed. As a Sibile, she was part of a society that ruled absolutely. They made no allowances for love, for desire. For choice. Vayere’s life had been planned, her children already plotted out with a mate who’d been chosen for her from the best her people had to offer. Giving in to her hunger for him had been as far as the Sibile was prepared to go, but he hadn’t known that. Their affair had been going on for months when she made it clear she was never going to trust him enough to leave her people behind. He’d understood his own reaction then.

He didn’t understand anything right now. Not why he was here, why he’d watched over Lia when he realized she’d dropped into a healing sleep, or why the hell he cared whether she disdained him or not. She didn’t know him. Didn’t like him. Didn’t have any reason to trust him. He couldn’t take it personally.

Except every time he felt the inexplicable rage start to come down beneath cool reason, he saw the black bruises around her neck, deep red streaks of blood vessels having snapped because someone had damn near strangled the life out of her.

And he hadn’t been there to stop them.

Tate dropped the rabbit next to the others, then, stretching his neck, he enacted the change in himself. A tingling sensation washed over him like cool water down his spine. His vision changed from the sharp blacks and grays of the Wolf to the vivid color spectrum of humanity. It was always its most clear, most breathtaking, right after a change. His favorite part about the shift, really, and he was too pissed off to enjoy it, which just pissed him off more.

How had someone gotten so close to her? Why hadn’t he scented them? And why wouldn’t she tell him what the hell was going on?

Why should I?

Tate tightened the belt too hard on the game before tossing them back down against the tree root. He dragged his clothes back on, yanking the fabric roughly before shoving his hat down on his head. He was going to get back to her and force her to eat the damn meat even if she had to choke it down. Then they needed to move. If he had to walk her step by step through the rest of the Underground to make sure she ate and stayed on her feet, he would. Because he was not going to let another woman in his care die. And if Lia had a problem with that, she was going to damn well just suck it up.

He made no effort to lighten his steps as he headed back to their camp, probably sounding like a wounded elephant stomping through the trees, but he didn’t care. Better she know he was coming than her lying in wait with whatever sharp instrument of death she’d be using if he snuck up on her.

She was sitting exactly as she’d been when he left, legs folded in front of her, another apple in her hand. It better damn well be another apple, anyway. Her eyes followed him as he crossed the small clearing and tossed down the brace at her feet.

“You know how to clean those?”

She looked down at the gray fur, then back up to his face, one brow rising in question.

“I’ll make the fire, you clean the meat. I’ve got a travel pan with me, not much for spices, but good enough to eat. We can pack up and be out of here in an hour and a half.” When she made no move to touch the game, he stifled a sigh. “Tell me you’re not one of those creepy Wolves who like to eat it raw.”

If a person could give the finger with just a look, Lia had it down pat, but she still made no move to pick up the rabbits.

“This ain’t no charity, lady. You pull your own weight on this trip. Right now, you need the protein so you don’t die, and I need it so I don’t kill you. Now, you got a knife or do you need me to give you one?”