Chapter Five

Ky blinked into darkness, vision blurry. They’d detonated the collar and separated him from Vivi. Why, he had no clue. How long ago had that been?

His skull ached like someone had whacked him in the center of his forehead with a two-by-four. A slight roll to the left revealed him to be back in a cell, lying on a bench. His arms and legs were free, but the neck collar was still in place. The familiar wooziness meant they’d drugged him again.

He glanced down his body. It appeared thinner. How long ago since Vivi left? This weight loss hadn’t happened overnight.

Deep breath. Do it again. Long breath out. His soaring heart rate dropped. But the severe piercing pain mid-forehead didn’t let up.

No skylight. Meant he’d been moved. Maybe within the same facility or perhaps to a new one.

“Vivi?” he whispered.

No answer.

He pushed up to his elbows to squint into the shadows of the small room. No one else was in here. His body felt heavy as he fell back-first onto the hard bench.

He kind of liked her. Okay, he liked her a hell of a lot more than kind of.

Complex women like her were a no way in his book. The last time he forayed into that territory and got attached to the point the L-word had been bandied about, she’d been executed by those who’d cursed him. Gianna might’ve been a witch, but she’d only dabbled on the lighter side of magic. She hadn’t been a threat to anyone. After a few weeks, he’d been careless enough to draw the Crown’s attention to her via his handler, who blabbed to the monarch.

Turns out the monarch didn’t like them being “distracted.” The brothers didn’t deserve happiness, according to the royal, simply because of what they were. The Crown considered relationships unacceptable. They didn’t care about one-time hookups. It was repeats that got their attention.

Gianna’s brother had dragged her into a plot to harness dark energy to summon spirits back to life—a form of necromancy—out of desperation to see his daughter who had died too young. Ky held a high level of suspicion her brother had been compelled by someone associated with the Crown to rope her into helping.

They—the Crown’s Wolves—were ordered to assassinate the threats: Gianna and her brother, even though the two of them weren’t terrorists or much of a threat to anyone but themselves. Ky had fought the order. He’d argued her innocence. The curse had hurt him, almost killed him for disobeying. When he and his brothers were at the brink of death from the curse’s torture for Ky’s disobedience and their unwillingness to step in, their handler hired an assassin to finish the job. Ky hadn’t been able to protect her, something he’d regret to his dying breath. Her murder had been wrong, but it had been a warning.

Did this rumination on the past mean he considered Vivi relationship material? He didn’t even know her. But she was lycan…

Vivi could die in here just as easily as outside. Given she’d been stuck here for years made it a lot less likely the humans planned to get rid of her. He, however, might be expendable.

How long had he been in here? The drug left huge blank gaps in his mind. Now he understood how time could disappear. What had they done to her over the years?

Hell, what had they done to him?

How long he’d been out remained a hazy mush in his head. He pushed his brain to remember. Come on. Something. Anything.

Flash. Memory of the short German man laughing while Ky was locked onto a medical table. Flash. Intense pain in his side. Flash. Caged into the back of a transport vehicle. Memory of someone saying, “He’s resistant to mind control.” And then Ky laughing as he answered, “I’m cursed to serve only one master.”

What did all that mean? He pressed fingers into the corners of his forehead to alleviate the throbbing. As he tried to remember how someone attempted mind control on him—hypnosis, drugs, or magic—his right eye’s vision became blurry from escalating pain. With a gasp, he gave up and held his head, thankful nausea wasn’t a factor this time.

Take the memory recall slowly.

What had been done to his side? He lifted his scrub top and probed with his fingers. No scar. No pain. Whatever it had been, he’d already healed. The jumble of time in his head suggested a few days, maybe longer.

This was a new room. No skylights here. The cell had different construction, being concrete blocks rather than smooth walls. There was also a potent lemony chemical disinfectant odor that burned his nostrils, which were more sensitive than a human’s.

He buried his face in his hands and rolled to the side opposite the head pain. Manually massaging his temple helped.

A hissing and thunk.

Dinner arrived.

His limbs fought fatigue when he tried to rise to a seated position. How could he feel like total shit after a few days or weeks while she remained in shape after being here for years? He knew she had from that moment her tight body pressed against him. Maybe she recovered from the drug faster than he did and did push-ups and squats in her cell? Maybe they fed her more than liquid green crap.

What liquid green crap? This memory-loss issue irritated him. He stared at the small chute. At the end, through a clear plastic window, was a thermos. Somehow, he remembered this was food. You have to drink to survive.

He retrieved the container, clicked open the sippy top, and smelled. He rotated the cap and stared at the thick green liquid that had to be some sort of vitamin concoction. One sip and he gagged.

This was why he’d lost weight. He couldn’t thrive off a liquid diet. He set down the thermos and fell back onto the bench.

Had he already been incarcerated for years? He couldn’t believe that without it making him crazy.

…

Vivi landed on her knees when one of the guards threw her into a new room. One sniff inside the dark cell, and adrenaline surged a rejuvenating jolt through her. Warmth radiated everywhere inside her.

Ky was here. And breathing. Not dead, thank God.

She shouldn’t care. But somehow, he’d become a light in the darkness. He was the only person she could commiserate with. He was the only person she minimally trusted.

“That you, Vivi?” he asked. His voice was low, deep, and sexy. Like a male’s should be.

That’s moon madness talking. Keep it together. Never give in to what the humans want.

“Looks like we get a third full-moon rendezvous.” Her retinas acclimated to the low light. When she got a good look at him, she died a little bit on the inside. He’d lost weight, and although his body was still solid, his cheekbones had hollowed out above the beard now in place. Had they stopped feeding him? Or had he stopped eating?

“A third? I don’t remember a second.” He gripped his head and cursed. “I can’t remember a lot of things… Did we…? Tell me we didn’t.”

“No. We resisted last time. They were super pissed at us for not doing what they wanted.”

“Here, you take the bench. I’ll sit on the floor.” He was careful when he got up off the only bench in the room, leaning on the wall, as if unsure of his balance.

“I’m fine to take the floor,” she said, going unexpectedly teary over his chivalry. “You stay. You look like you need to remain seated.”

“I insist.” He settled on the floor opposite the solitary bench with his back against the wall. “I’m doing okay.” The words were a lie. There was dried blood on his scrub top, and she could smell it.

Deep shadows dug into the skin beneath his eyes. If he didn’t get better sustenance soon, it was game over for him. Their kind could die, but they were more resilient to body stressors like torture and starvation than humans.

Her vision clouded, but she refused to cry.

He said, “I’m here. I’ll do all I can to make sure you’re safe.”

The words were so simple. So beautiful. It was the same thing he’d said to her last time, the last full moon that he seemed to have forgotten. Coming from him, they meant more than she was comfortable admitting. Truly, they were what got her through the bleak weeks since she last saw him. She heard them in her head when she slept. They were the first thing she thought of when she awoke. They comforted her.

With him, she did feel safe. She trusted him not to attack, no matter how much instinct drove both of them to get naked. He’d proven, even weak, he’d fight to protect her against himself and against any humans who came into the cell. He fought them the last time when they came in to take her away. He’d advised them to let her go. Then they’d had to zap him with the collar at the highest level. They’d warned him when the lower levels didn’t stop him. He’d put serious hurt on both humans who’d been tasked to remove her before he’d passed out. No one had gone away from the incident blood-free.

As they stared at each other across the divide, there was a vulnerability in his eyes, which hadn’t been there before. Maybe it was just her feeling exposed and projecting. They shared their dreadful existence, each silently commiserating over the tortures they’d shared since their last meeting. She was susceptible to his allure in this moment after weeks of hoping to see him again. She liked his calm assurance they’d escape, but at this point, it was no more than a fantasy she clung to in order to survive.

“I’m glad you’re in here, even if it’s only for tonight,” he said softly. “I’ll worry less.”

Did that just mush her up inside to think of him barely surviving his own hell but worried about hers? The ache in her chest spread. This was just about having someone familiar in her life. Someone who gave her a smidgen of hope that she wasn’t alone and that they might have a chance to get out. The idea of freedom kept her optimistic, even though a life outside was too far from their current reality to dwell on.

He said, “Can’t stand the thought of them throwing some other guy in with you again. That you might have to defend yourself from some young, crazed moron who can’t handle himself on full-moon night.” He rocked his head back and forth. “Makes me crazy thinking about it. You deserve better.”

“Thanks. Last full moon was easier for us to get through. Wasn’t like the first time.”

“I don’t remember last time.”

“I’m sorry.” She understood his confusion. “A day, a week…a year… It all blends together.”

“What happened last time? I feel like there was a close call.” He dropped his head and pressed on his temples as if forcing his brain to work. “Something happened.”

“Nothing like you’re thinking.” Not much in the romance department. She’d been punished for not enticing Ky into sex. As in decreased rations and more time in the experiment room. A memory of them injecting her with different things to see what venom worked on her slithered through her brain. She shuddered, despising the memories that came in fragmented bursts.

This kind of memory flash wasn’t new. At first, it’d been disturbing, but now she accepted the glimpses mixed with blackouts inside her brain as normal.

It’s not normal. But it was her reality.

She needed out of this place.

“Are you back?” he asked. “Lost you there for a minute.

“Just a couple of bad memories. They come back in scattered bits.”

“Of last full-moon night? I’m sorry if I was an asshole.” He raked his hand through his long blond hair, staring above her head as if afraid to look directly at her. “It’s because you drive me nuts, not that it’s an excuse to be an ass. I swear this isn’t usually me.” He held his head in his hands. “I’ll do better tonight. Promise.” His voice broke on the last word.

“You weren’t an ass last time.” The fact that he was struggling—over her—made something constrict inside her chest. “What do you mean I drive you nuts? That can’t even be possible. You were about as cool as they come. I tried everything to get you riled up to a fight when I was pissed about the world, but you wouldn’t take the bait. It was annoying.” She leaned her head against the wall and looked up at the ceiling. “You’re the one who drives me crazy.”

When her words were met with silence, she turned her focus back on him. His lips cracked with a hint of a smile. “I must’ve been in better shape to be able to resist you. Believe me, beautiful, I may be exhausted as hell, but I’m still aware of everything about you.” His hot gaze wandered south over her body. “Everything.”

A tremor of lust jolted straight to her core. She wanted him. That hadn’t changed.

He stared at her dead-on, serious, for a moment before he pulled his hair back with both hands as if pretending to secure it behind his head. He rested his head on the wall with eyelids shut again. “Being in here brings out the worst in me. I think they tried some experiments on me. Something about mind control. You know anything about that?”

“I get flashes, but I can’t…” She gripped her head. “Ahh, hurts. I can’t remember everything.”

“What’s wrong?” His hand was on her knee where he knelt in front of her. The touch was respectful and reassuring.

She wanted him to pull her in against him. In the past, she’d never been the girl who needed a man to take care of her, but she craved safe, warm contact with another living being. Okay, that was a crap lie. She wanted to feel the hardness of him, the reassurance only he could give her despite the fact it’d be an illusion. The moment would be worth the fantasy.

“Hurts to try to remember.” She glanced up, her nerves fired up as terror washed through her when she pushed her mind to remember but found only a blank space. “You think they’ve been doing something to manipulate my mind?”

“Maybe. You’ve been here a long time. They seem to keep you in a lot better shape than me somehow. You appear bathed and well fed. I don’t think they can control me enough for them to trust me with something like a bath. I think they just hose me down every now and then.”

Oh God. They used mind control to make her do things like eat and wash? That was creepy.

She whispered, “I don’t want to have blanks in my memory anymore. The thought they messed with my head scares me. I don’t want to forget, especially in here.” She massaged her temples against the prickle of pain. “I want to eat real food again and remember it.” She gripped his knee tightly. “I want to choose what I do.”

In Gaelic, she asked, “How do we get out of here?”

He responded in kind: “I have a plan. We’ll try in a bit.” He moved away to rest his back against the wall across the room and switched back to English. “Once out, I could cook for you. I took it up a while ago.”

“You cook?” she asked skeptically. She couldn’t see him slaving over a stove or measuring herbs.

“I’m good. Really good.” His lips tweaked up at the corners. “I miss patatas bravas. It’s a spicy Spanish potato dish.”

“Do you have a cuisine you specialize in?”

“I’ve learned many. I’m better at savory than baking, but I can hold my own with a tart or cake. Pies still elude me, though.”

She dissolved into giggles. “You cook tarts but not pies? Even I can turn out a decent pie. I can’t see you in a kitchen, wearing an apron. You’re messing with me, right?”

“I’m passable at cakes, but pies…” He blew out a long sigh. “I’ll get them one day. It’s all about the crust, which is a bitch to get evenly cooked and perfectly vented without burning it. Latticework, crimping, fluting…” He shook his head.

She laughed harder and wiped at her eyes. The image of him frustrated over latticework on a pie… “Do you even like pie?”

“It’s a favorite.”

“What type do you like best?” She pushed some hair behind an ear and found herself leaning forward for his answer.

“Traditionalist here. Apple.”

“Me too.” She grinned. “Sounds like we’re pie buddies.”

With a pinch in his brow, he grumbled, “No, we’re not.”

“Why not? Don’t you want to be pie buddies? Why are you getting grumpy on me?”

He threw his head back to rest against the wall and stared at the ceiling. “We can’t be pie buddies. Don’t make me like you more, Vivi. It’s dangerous.”

She sat up straighter, working hard to suppress her grin. “Okay, pie buddy, do you have a girlfriend or mate?” Maybe it was why he resisted her so easily.

“Relationships aren’t for me.”

“Why? Because of that?” She pointed at his left wrist. “I’m pretty sure it’s a curse band.”

“Yeah.” He massaged his wrist around the band. “Outside, I’m imprisoned in a different way. I have more free choice in my personal decisions than in here, but I must answer to someone who dictates my life. I’m not allowed to get attached, but when you meet someone genuine, it’s hard not to form an attachment.”

His eyes darted her way and silently communicated: I’m talking about you.

The thrill his stare gave her was dangerous. She needed to resist his allure, but it was so difficult when he looked at her with his eyes soft, not their usual hardness.

She said, “If I could, I’d undo that magic for you, but even from across the room I can feel it’s something wicked.”

“It is what it is.”

“What do your curse masters make you do?”

“I’m sent on missions with my brothers to kill inhuman terrorists. We’re very good at what we do. As in we never fail. Failure means death. Since I’m still alive, I haven’t failed yet.”

Now the protective tattoos made sense.

“You’re a paranormal assassin?” It should scare her to confirm him a killer, but the mash-up of killer assassin who cooked tarts and was frustrated by latticework on a piecrust almost had her dissolving into giggles again. “Who cooks.”

…

Hours later, the instinct to be with Vivi overwhelmed him to the point of compulsion. Yet his conscience prickled deep enough to keep him in his place on the floor. He fantasized drawing her nipples into his mouth. He imagined running his hands over her breasts and down her stomach where he’d marvel at all her divots and curves. She was so much smaller than him, but he’d felt how toned her muscles were. He loved that strength. He wanted to put his mouth on her center and draw her out until she released with pleasure.

He wanted her like crazy. To the point he felt dizzy from denying himself.

His precise hearing picked up the muffled beep-beep of a security door being unlocked up the hall. There were light footsteps. One set of shoes. For endless minutes, he listened. No others moving about. Skeleton staff. Now was his moment. All he needed was to get to a computer. Get the information on what went on here, get this collar off, and leave. Simple.

He wondered if he’d tried to escape this way before but forgotten. It bothered him, but he had no choice but to try. Even if he had done it before, maybe this time he’d get farther. Maybe even to freedom, at least to a computer.

He stretched his legs and stood. The few steps to the door didn’t rock his equilibrium. He flashed her a get-ready-for-it smile.

Time to use telekinesis. The evil spirit that tried to occupy his mind may have been forced out, but while there, it opened up segments of his brain that allowed him to do things like move objects with his mind. His brothers knew he had this capability, but they’d kept it secret from his handler and the monarch. The less they knew about them, the less likely they were to capitalize on their abilities for some use the brothers didn’t want.

Hand near but not on the door, he used his mind to slide the deadbolts. With two clicks, the door was unlocked. This felt familiar. An eerie sense of foreboding flooded him, as if he’d tried this before and failed miserably. “Is the door alarmed?”

Déjà vu aside, he had to try. Quitting wasn’t in his DNA.

She shook her head. “Not usually. But this is a new place. I don’t know.”

He focused to turn the knob and open it without touching. Then used the bottle that dinner came in to quickly push it open farther. Nothing rushed to attack them. His collar didn’t detonate.

He had a strong feeling this hadn’t happened before. He had never made it this far.

Moment of truth. Either the collar was set to fry him like a toaster tossed in water as he passed through the doorway, or it activated only if he actually touched the door. Two deep breaths, one bare foot through. Nothing.

Weird. He’d think the whole doorway would activate it. He also thought someone would be charged with watching them like a hawk during full-moon night. This might be a trap.

With a finger over his lips, he signaled for Vivi to follow. He peeked into the window of several other prison doors, careful not to touch the doors, but found no one else. At the end of the hall, he paused before the last door. Agony smacked him like an almost palpable force. Lycans had been tortured and died in there. He sensed their pain and smelled their deaths. No window on this one.

“I pick it up, too,” she said next to him. “This is one of the rooms they do those experiments on us. Let me try the door. This time I’ll take the chance of my collar activating.”

“No, wait.”

Too late. She reached out and turned the handle, the door coming open a smidge. She gripped her throat and fell to her knees, head hanging and shoulders trembling.

“Vivi! Fuck.”

She froze, still on her knees One glance up. She was laughing. “Gotcha.”

He scowled. “That wasn’t funny.”

“Kinda was. Your face…” She doubled over, still laughing as she took his hand to stand. “That look when I went down was worth it.”

“Are you always this annoying?”

“Yep. Come on.” She yanked open the door.

Inside, three large screens had been mounted on the wall. Cabinets full of medical instruments lined the walls. In the center was an operating table. Chills slithered down his back. Bingo on alien-abduction-type scenario. A solitary laptop sat atop a metal stand in the corner.

She ran to the computer and typed. “Looking for my sister. She must be in this place or at another facility.” She searched the entire computer for the name “Nova.”

One came up on a list. Looked like a file of captured lycans. He saw his name on the list. There were at least thirty others, none that he recognized.

She clicked on “Nova.” A picture floated into view of a woman he didn’t recognize.

When the file opened, there was no information other than the delineation: “Terminated by Crown’s Wolves.”

Well… Shit.

Vivi couldn’t find out who he was. That he was one of the Crown’s Wolves.

Her termination must’ve been carried out by his brothers while he’d been in here.

A blinking light in the upper corner caught his attention. One of the doors they’d gone through was alarmed.

Noises outside the room up the hall. Many boots. Only seconds. He hip-nudged her out of the way and clicked the online icon. Rapidly, he typed a code into the internet search box that would send an encrypted SOS to his brother. He’d never used it before, but Flynn said he could trace it. He needed backup to get out of this hell.

Quickly, he closed the internet icon and slammed the laptop shut.

Lightning zinged through him from his collar and dropped him to the floor.