Soul Deep: Dark Souls, Book 2 (21 page)

Regan bit back a chuckle. “I think, somewhere in the world, a pig just sprouted wings.”

His expression grew lethal. “Stop milking it.”

“Don’t be such a killjoy. I haven’t had this much fun in days.”

Awareness bloomed between them, like a tangle of weeds smothering all lingering traces of amusement. A pulse-pounding memory flared to life in her mind—Marcus’s rough hands tracing the curve of her back, his hot breath tickling her cheek, the delicious feel of his weight upon her.

Her mouth went dry, and she swallowed a curse. When had everything gotten so freaking complicated?

“You feel it, too,” he whispered. “The pull. The energy. Every time we touch it’s as if my insides are being wrenched out of me.”

The admission shook her. After all his efforts to avoid her, he was finally acknowledging the strange connection between them.

“Is that such a bad thing?” Her voice grew husky.

“Yes, because it can’t be real. None of this is real, Regan. You have to know that.”

He might as well have slapped her. “That kiss we shared felt pretty darn real to me.”

“Doesn’t it strike you as odd?” He shifted his weight uncomfortably. “In over thirty years we never so much as kissed, and now, all of a sudden, we can’t seem to keep our hands off each other.”

Molten longing slid into anger. It was insane how he had the ability to do that to her—to take her from the heights of desire to the depths of outrage in a matter of seconds. “There was always an attraction between us, Marcus. Don’t pretend there wasn’t.”

“Attraction is one thing, but this intensity, this gut-twisting emotion, it’s just not natural. Not for creatures like us. Someone or something is yanking our chain.”

Why didn’t he just stomp on her heart and get it over with? Shock and pain rendered her speechless.

Oblivious to her inner torment, his eyes widened with insight. “Kyros,” he spat. “Why didn’t I think of it before? He has the ability to latch on to a Hybrid’s lost soul and manipulate it. Maybe that’s what’s going on here. Maybe Kyros knows about Ben and is screwing with our heads to throw us off our game.”

His statement made her cheeks burn. She put the laptop aside and stood, too agitated to sit a minute longer. “You’re some piece of work, you know that?” She turned on him, shaking her head in utter disbelief. “You’d rather convince yourself that someone put some crazy mind spell on you than admit you might actually have feelings for me.”

Tears stung her eyes, surprising her as much as Marcus’s outlandish theory had. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried, wasn’t about to start now. Suddenly, she longed for the numbness again, for that comforting haze that muted her emotions and allowed her to hold on to her rationality. Because there was nothing at all rational about what was going on inside her at the moment.

“I don’t have feelings,” he insisted. “I can’t. I have no soul. You know that better than anyone.”

She turned her back to him, unable to look at his determined, painfully familiar face without feeling her heart fracture. An unfeminine snort punctuated the air. “You know what? For such a smart guy, you can be a real idiot sometimes.”

She felt him jackknife to his feet and bridge the distance between them. Closing her eyes, she braced herself for the prickle of energy that always sprouted in her abdomen whenever he drew near.

“What the hell is your problem?” he growled.

She couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t take the emotions he elicited within her, the longing, the disappointment. “At the moment? You.” The need to flee suddenly blinded her. “I’m going to go check on Ben.”

His gaze burned a hole in her back as she walked away from him. She felt his awkwardness and confusion. A confusion that sprang from his constant, unwavering battle to deny his humanity, even as he mourned its loss.

Despite her better judgment, she halted in her steps and tossed a fleeting glance over her shoulder. “Did you ever stop to consider that maybe you’re not as soulless as you’ve always believed?” She shrugged noncommittally. “Just something to think about when you’re lying alone in bed at night.”

Night finally fell, a dark curtain that served to conceal Kyros from an unsuspecting world. The vultures always came out after the sun set, circling the streets in search of fresh prey. Tonight, he was one of those creatures, only it wasn’t bloodlust that drove him. There was only one thing for which Kyros hungered—the very thing that had defined his father—power.

Thanks to Cal and his Watchers, the Ancients were now nearly extinct. That left him next in line to inherit the world. A world he had every intention of owning. If his project proved successful, he would expand to every corner of the globe. He envisioned his farms everywhere, populated with thousands of souls just waiting to be harvested. But for his vision to materialize, he needed to increase his number of prisoners. Twelve couples weren’t sufficient. Especially when a disgusting percentage of them failed to conceive quickly enough to suit his timetable.

He had high hopes for his embryo program, but it had yet to prove successful. If he could figure out a way to grow fetuses outside the womb, there would be no limit as to the amount of humans he could produce in a given year. He needed more time, state-of-the-art equipment and as many subjects as he could amass without raising a red flag. He’d already selected some random subjects for his extraction program, but more were required each and every day.

Kyros parked his car in what he knew to be a shady part of downtown. Prowling sidewalks that were drenched in the sulfurous glow of streetlights, he did his best to look inconspicuous. Since the angel had cloaked him, he’d grown bolder. No longer did he have to dispatch the most expendable members of his army to hunt for souls. He could perform the enjoyable task himself, without fear of being discovered by the Watchers.

With keen eyes, he examined his surroundings, looking for an acceptable candidate. An aging bum loitered on the corner, shaking a tin can at him, unruly tufts of gray hair spiking from his head. The smell of alcohol mingled with unwashed flesh, turning Kyros’s stomach.

No one would miss this particular human if he went missing, but sadly he wouldn’t do. Not only was the vagrant too old for Kyros’s breeding program, but his essence was far too damaged, making him unsuitable for the extraction chamber as well.

Something akin to awareness chased the fog from the bum’s gaze. “Are you one of them?”

Kyros wanted to ignore the disgusting lump of useless flesh, but curiosity got the better of him. “One of whom?”

“The monsters that took my wife from me.” The insanity returned to cloud his stare again. “They took her soul. They took it. Took it while I watched.” He shook the tin can violently. “Their eyes were just as dead as yours.”

A tingle of unease sprouted at the base of Kyros’s spine. Surely, this broken excuse for a mortal couldn’t see the darkness inside him, the emptiness. “And they let you live?” He shouldn’t have humored the human, but he did so anyway. “Why?”

The man was silent for an exceptionally long time. So long Kyros grew bored and nearly walked away. “Because,” he finally rasped, “when she died, any light there was inside me died with her.”

A revolted smirk twisted Kyros’s features. Strange beings, these humans. Their souls were so powerful and yet so fragile. He understood why the bum had been spared. His life-force was so weak, it barely sputtered against the deepening night.

Gladly leaving the vagrant to his misery, Kyros continued on his hunt. The streets bustled, set aglow by neon lights. Flashing blue, green and red bulbs painted colorful streaks across a velvet black sky. Inebriated humans spilled out of bars and clubs, retching, swaying, groping. Pathetic, all of them, no better than a group of pigs in a pen.

“You look like you could use a little fun.” The breathy words were spoken over his shoulder, and it took a few moments for Kyros to realize they were meant for him.

He turned to find a pretty young blonde, dressed in a skin-tight leather skirt and a halter top, standing behind him. She giggled through blood-red lips and rocked precariously on her feet, dangerously drunk or high.

“Do you have anything particular in mind?” Kyros firmly believed that no opportunity should be allowed to slip by.

“Maybe,” she trilled. “Why don’t we ask my friend over there?” She gestured toward another young woman with knee-high stiletto boots and a fake fur vest. The friend winked at him suggestively. Working girls, no doubt, looking for an easy mark.

Kyros smiled, studying the prostitutes. They were the right age, probably on birth control, but that could be easily rectified. Usually he abducted his victims in pairs—one male and one female. Perhaps it was time to alter his strategy. He had enough studs at his disposal. It was broodmares he lacked.

He flashed a broad smile, convinced the girl was too inebriated to notice that it didn’t reach his eyes. “That, my dear, is an excellent idea.”

She giggled again and wound her arm around his, pressing her tight little body against the length of his side. Dark, conflicting hungers rose to the surface, fighting for dominance. He could so easily break the woman and her reckless friend, fuck them both, then steal the light from their eyes. Or he could use them for a far greater purpose. He found himself at a crossroads, forced to choose between brief, intense bliss and the fulfillment of his vision.

The woman in the fur vest slunk toward them and wrapped herself around him in the most enticing manner. Her fingers fiddled with the buttons on his shirt, prying a few of them loose and letting her hand slide beneath the fabric to stroke his chest. “Is that your Mercedes over there?”

He nodded.

“Then why don’t we take a ride?” She scraped his nipple with her nail, sending a jolt of pure sexual pleasure ripping through him.

Kyros nearly growled. His mind went blank, and the dark primitive needs he’d denied for centuries rose to engulf him. Only a fine thread separated the Kleptopsychs from the Rogues. A thread that required very little effort to snap.

Still, if he could maintain control, there was no harm in having a little fun. His vision could wait another hour or two. He did have eternity on his side, after all.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“There was another attack last night.” Marcus approached the breakfast table, where Regan sat with Ben, and dropped the police report on the polished oak surface. “Feedings are escalating, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.”

She put her coffee mug down and briefly scanned the highly confidential police document. “How’d you get your hands on this?”

“Eddie.”

Her brows slanted upward. “Eddie?”

“He’s a cop. Lives here in the development.” Marcus joined her and Ben at the table, his thoughts a thousand miles away. “He’s set up some kind of computer program that hacks into police and FBI databases, flagging crimes that appear Rogue- or Kleptopsych-related.”

Ben crunched his cereal. “I met Eddie. I like him.”

“Great. So now I’m the only one here who’s out of the loop.” Regan bristled. “Care to fill me in?”

Something told him her disgruntled attitude had less to do with being kept in the dark and more to do with their heated conversation
 
yesterday. Not that he understood why she’d gotten all hot under the collar. The only thing he could be accused of was being honest.

“That’s what I’m trying to do.” He didn’t mean to sound irritated, but the woman had a knack for getting under his skin, which was no small feat given his muted emotions.

Did you ever stop to consider that maybe you’re not as soulless as you’ve always believed?
Those words had harassed him all night, had burrowed deep within him and found purchase within the very soul suddenly up for debate.

He allowed his gaze to sweep over her. The act only spanned a heartbeat, but what he saw in that brief glance spoke volumes. Her features were pale and drawn, and darkened shadows fringed her eyes. She hadn’t gotten much sleep the previous night. He knew because he’d sensed her tossing and turning in the room beside his till dawn. His awareness of her had been so acute, he’d almost gotten up and gone to her. The urge to crawl into bed beside her had been a hot, painful blade twisting low in his abdomen.
 

He cleared his throat, focused his full attention on the matter at hand. “The body was discovered this morning.” Marcus aimed an uncertain look Ben’s way, unsure how much he should reveal in front of the boy.

Regan noted his reluctance. “Looks like you’re just about done with that cereal,” she told Ben. “Why don’t you toss the bowl in the sink and go finish that drawing you’re making for Adrian?”

Excitement lit up the kid’s face. “If I do, can I go over to his house again today?”

She hesitated, her mistrust for Adrian battling with her desire not to disappoint Ben. “We’ll see.” A frown lined her forehead. “What is it about him you like so much?”

The boy hitched his shoulders. “He’s fun, like an older brother or something.”

A defeated sigh escaped her lips. “Can’t argue with that, I guess. Now scoot. Marcus and I have some boring grownup stuff to discuss.” She reached out and tickled him, and Ben fled the kitchen with a loud shriek.