Stolen Desire (Outlawed Realm) (2 page)

She glanced over to ask the guy who rescued her who these people were. He’d stopped without her realizing it. She’d been too absorbed by the images, the advanced technology. Even an iStore didn’t have stuff like that.

His attention remained on the hall, the intersection at the end, his head cocked. Listening for the guards’ approach?

Bile stung Paige’s throat. She swallowed hard. A second ticked by. Then another. The only thing she heard was blood rushing in her ears and her ragged breathing.

At last, he looked at her. If he was worried, Paige couldn’t see it.

“Where are the guards?” she whispered. “Where would they be coming from?”

“I don’t know.” He studied the hall behind them. “There are far more rooms than those you see here and more areas to enter than you can possibly imagine. When the ones who were gone return, they could be anywhere inside.”

The ones who were gone?
“That means there are others here now?”

“None that can harm you. I saw to it.”

Paige wasn’t certain whether to feel relief or dread. “Where would the other guards—the ones who were gone—return from? Where had they been?”

“Come.” He pulled her down the hall past other rooms similar to the one she’d been locked in. All of them empty.

Had she been the first one kidnapped and brought here? Or the third? “Who are the man and woman in the hologram?”

“Escaped pleasure slaves.”

“What?”

“I’ll explain later. No more questions now.”

“But—”

The rest of what Paige had meant to say died in her throat as he stopped at the intersection, then quickly led her down another hall to the left. It was similar to where they’d just been except there was a large metal door at the end of it, along with the bodies of three men. Were they unconscious? Dead?

Paige shuddered and stopped, unable to move closer to them.

The guy tightened his grip on her hand and pulled her down the hall. “None of them will harm you.”

They lay sprawled near the door, their necks thick, their short bodies almost too muscular, their features identical. Triplets? Had to be. Each man had curly black hair, a swarthy complexion and features that could have been a mixture of black and Hispanic ancestry. They wore dark pants and tunics, their feet covered in leather boots. Bright red darts, all very small, pierced the skin on their faces and throats.

Paige touched the sore spot on her neck, what now felt like a puncture wound. From one of those darts, the kind she’d seen scientists use on animals in
National Geographic
specials? “Did you tranquilize them?”

“No.” He released her hand. “I couldn’t chance them waking up.”

They
were
dead?

He plucked the darts from them and dropped the things into his front pocket. From a back pocket, he pulled out a square of silvery-blue material, then touched the front of his shirt.

Paige gawked as his mottled brown-and-gold clothing turned the color of the fabric he held, tightening against his powerful body, fitting him as snugly as a wet suit. Even his combat boots morphed until she could see the outline of his large feet and long toes.

She blurted, “How did you do that?”

It had to be a trick. This couldn’t be real.

He released the square of material. It drifted down in front of her, coming to rest near her feet. “Remove your clothing and step on it,” he ordered.

Huh?
Hell no. She pressed her fists to her chest and edged back.

His expression didn’t change, though frustration flared in his eyes. He swung his hand to the metal door. “Do as I say, or you’ll die out there.”

She wanted to throw up. “What’s out there? Where in the hell are we?”

“If I explain now, the other guards may return. If I can’t neutralize them as I have these three, you’ll end up like the pleasure slaves you saw in the hologram or worse. Is that what you want?”

A tear slipped down her cheek. When she’d gone to Rozie’s, she’d only wanted to forget her humiliation and hurt, not end up in this nightmare world. Where could it possibly be? He spoke fluent English, so that meant he was at least familiar with her culture. Maybe he even lived in Seattle after having emigrated from overseas. What he wore must have come from a top-secret government experiment, something right out of the
X-Files
. Clearly, he wasn’t SWAT as she’d first thought, but probably a federal agent. Maybe the CIA.

That kept Paige from losing it, for the moment. She still had a bad case of the shakes as she removed her jacket. It hit the floor with a soft whoosh. Dust puffed up around it. Next, she touched her skirt’s zipper but didn’t lower the fastener.

He turned away, his attention on the dead guards as though he understood her reluctance to strip in front of a stranger.

His consideration made Paige want to cry. A few days ago, she’d never been prouder of her appearance, pleased at the weight she’d dropped for her upcoming wedding, urged on by her fiancé so she’d look really good.

She still wasn’t model slender and never would be. Her curves were womanly, Rubenesque. What heroes in romance novels were supposed to find sexy and enticing.

Didn’t work out that way in real life, where men promised forever and didn’t deliver.

How could she have been such a damn fool, believing her fiancé, buying his endless excuses, letting herself get hurt to the point where she’d ended up here? She winced at her stupidity and the next stab of pain in her head. Grimacing, she pulled off her skirt and blouse, leaving on her underwear. No way was she going to ditch that.

As Mr. Rescuer had instructed, she stepped on the fabric. It was as thin as cellophane…and moving.

She inhaled sharply.

“Stay still,” he ordered.

Gritting her teeth, Paige forced herself to stop squirming. The material—or rather substance—flowed over her feet, then up her ankles, calves and thighs like liquid, molding itself to her flesh. It wasn’t too tight or too loose. Nor was it hot or cold. If anything, it was like wearing her own skin.

The moment it covered her from toe to throat, he pointed to the back of his neck. “You’ll find a seam here.” He turned to show her the one on his garment. “When I tell you to touch it, you’ll do so. Understand?”

Paige didn’t understand any of this. Still, she nodded.

“If you don’t,” he added, “you’ll die out there.”

She regarded the door, then him as he went to one of the guards and lifted the smaller man in his arms. Paige hurried to him and whispered, “What are you doing?”

“We need him to open the door.”

Without further explanation, he wrapped one arm around the guard’s waist and gripped the man’s wrist in his free hand. To the side was a metal panel Paige hadn’t noticed before. He pressed the guard’s fingers against it. There were several clicks, then a whoosh.

He swung the guard to the side and let go. The man’s body fell on top of the others. “Touch the seam now,” he said, doing it with his own.

Paige stared as the fabric—or liquid, or whatever the hell it was—crept up the back and sides of his head, covering it like a helmet. From beneath it, a clear substance that resembled plastic flowed over his face, clinging to his features, creating a barrier.

“Now,” he ordered again.

His lips moved with the word Paige couldn’t hear. The facemask had silenced the sound.

She shivered uncontrollably. How could he breathe with what looked like Saran Wrap covering his face?

His mouth moved. The words were impossible to hear. Paige suspected he’d just muttered an oath. He went to her, taking the decision in his own hands as he touched the seam.

She suppressed a cry of horror as the plastic streamed over her face, blocking her airways. Her chest heaved with her rapid panting. Dizzy, she staggered.

He grabbed her arm to keep her from falling. Even with the material covering him and her, she felt the heat of his skin. His touch was wonderfully firm, the way a man’s should be, his strength the stuff of female fantasies.

Too bad she wasn’t dreaming this.

She choked out her thanks.

“I’ll do all I can to protect you,” he assured her.

This time, she heard his words as though there was a microphone built into their facemasks. He sounded concerned about what she was going through. Or about to go through. Whether she’d make it or not.

God, God, God.

Unable to help herself, she whispered, “Who are you? I’m Paige Ross,” she added quickly. “What’s your name?”

“Zekin.” Offering no more than that, he bent to gather her clothes and opened the door.

Paige gasped at what lay ahead.

Chapter Two

Howling winds tore across the desolate, glacial landscape. There were no buildings, roads, trees or a car for them to escape in, simply an endless expanse of bluish-white within the gloom. It could have been twilight or the time before dawn; it was impossible to tell which. Massive snowdrifts pressed against the squat building Zekin had pulled Paige from. The few spots of the structure that weren’t glazed with ice were pitted and rough. In the murky light they were the color of granite.

Gusts with a faint coppery odor, like coming rain, buffeted her. She had to lean into the gale to keep on her feet. If she fell down, Paige doubted she’d be able to get up. She should have been shivering from the brutal temperature, but wasn’t cold at all. The lightweight material covering her insulated far better than any fur or thermal garment.

Had her government developed it? Or was it from Zekin’s, because he wasn’t from her country? What kind of a name was Zekin anyway? His first? Last? Where in the hell were they? This looked like Alaska or the Arctic Circle. It didn't make sense why anyone, including those guards, would bring her here. Not to mention, how Zekin could have arrived so quickly to rescue her.

Candlelight flickered wildly within the guts of the building. As awful as Paige had found the room, it seemed like home now compared to this hellish expanse of land.

With his hand clasping hers, Zekin made a quick turn to the right, past the opened door. Paige followed at too sharp an angle. Her arm banged the metal. Inhaling sharply at the pain, she stumbled forward until her foot struck something.

Paige stiffened, her shoulders rising to her ears, at a man dressed in thick white furs that covered everything but his face and one hand. His eyes were open. Frost covered his irises, the same as his mouth and nose, turning his dusky complexion a sickening gray. Although it didn’t seem possible, his features were the very same as the other guards. He’d had his hand pressed to an outside panel, identical to the one within the building, when he’d died. A red dart still pierced his cheek.

Had Zekin used him to get inside?

Paige stepped back quickly as the man’s body listed, then toppled over. He hit the frozen ground with a thud she heard clearly, along with the metal clunk of the closing door. Snow swirled around him, followed by snapping sounds as several of his fingers broke off. The digits rolled away from his hand, pushed by the wind.

Horrified, she watched his middle finger come to a stop near the body of another man…and a woman. As white as marble, their features and naked bodies were as perfect as those people she’d seen in the hologram.

Escaped pleasure slaves, Zekin had said.

Beyond them sprawled the body of another female, this one not so perfect, no different from Paige. The woman was ordinary looking, her hips and thighs a bit too meaty. She looked to be in her late twenties, the same as Paige, and possibly from Seattle.

Until someone had brought her to this place, leaving her out here to die.

Too terrified to scream, Paige whimpered.

Zekin plucked the dart from the guard’s face. “Hurry,” he said, pulling her forward.

Obediently, she followed him, having no other option. Although she wasn’t wearing special footgear, her feet didn’t sink up to her knees in the thick layers of snow. Nor did she slip on the ice. The suit seemed to grip it, somehow keeping the gale from blowing her away. All around them, the sounds of shattering ice competed with the shrieking wind. When it died down momentarily, there was a soft whoosh, the sound snow makes when it falls from a rooftop.

She searched for the source of the noise, maybe another building Zekin would bring her to, but didn’t see any.

Thick gray clouds rolled above them, heavy with more snow. A sliver of bluish-white light poured through a gap in the cloud cover, as though the moon were trying to bleed through. Its rays swept across the land, which shimmered in the frail glow, sparkling like thousands of diamonds. The effect lasted only a moment, and then the light receded, with shadows once again taking over the hostile terrain.

As though that worried him, Zekin increased his already fast pace, pausing only once to shove her clothing into a snowdrift, burying it.

Why?

Paige wasn’t able to ask. She struggled to keep up, gulping air. It should have been icy, hurting her throat, but wasn’t. The transparent mask no doubt heated it. How was that possible? Desperate for answers, she cried out, “Where are we going?”