When Roman arrived back at the lab it was four in the morning, and everyone was asleep. Having missed the evening meal, his stomach growled in protest. He checked the fridge and grinned. On the top shelf, he found a tumbler bearing his name. He removed the tumbler, jabbed a straw through the slotted lid and finished his drink in two gulps.
He moved to the lounge and fiddled with the radio until he found a soothing classical music station to help him relax. Stripping down to his underwear, he eased himself into his recliner, and drew a fleece blanket around his shoulders.
In the background, Seth and Alex snored. Gabriel stirred. Anxious to get to sleep, Roman pulled the blanket over his face and finally dozed off.
He woke with a start. The blinds, usually kept closed to darken the room, were wide open, letting in unwanted sunshine. Cursing the light streaming inside, he covered his burning eyes with his forearm to block out the sun and waited for his eyes to adjust to the light. A few seconds later, he slowly uncovered his eyes.
Crawford stood before them and cleared his throat. “A serious matter has come to our attention. Your test results….” He glanced at Doc. “We’ve discovered a problem with the program.”
His men exchanged uneasy glances.
Grace! A sick feeling settled in the pit of Roman’s stomach. “What kind of problem? The formula’s working, right?”
Crawford winced. “It’s working, but not quite as expected.”
Gabriel flew to his feet. “Stop the bullshit and get to the point.”
Four sets of eyes grew dark, then turned blood-red.
Crawford wiped sweat from his brow and slipped his trembling hands into his lab coat pockets. He swallowed hard. “You’re becoming mortal. But there’s a slight problem.”
“A slight problem?” Roman’s gut churned as he awaited the bad news. From the silent tension that sucked the air out of the room, he knew his men expected to hear the same fate.
“As you’re all aware, the project was the first of its kind anywhere in the world. There was no precedent. We ventured into unfamiliar territory…” his voice drifted off, as if considering the gravity of the unfolding tragedy.
“Don’t stop now. Spit it out,” Roman shouted.
Crawford’s right eye twitched. “Instead of aging gradually as humans, your aging process is accelerating. It’s nothing that can be seen by the human eye. The changes are taking place internally—beyond our control.”
“Explain accelerating,” Gabriel demanded.
“Explain beyond our control,” Alex shouted.
Doc Peters stepped forward. “It means the program will be terminated much sooner than anticipated,” he answered in a low, apologetic voice.
Terminated? Dread crashed down on Roman. “Terminated how?”
“Since we’ve encountered a problem with the formula, we need to run more tests and monitor each of you more carefully. In order to expeditiously treat any possible discomfort or further adverse effects, we ask that you limit your time away from the institute.” Crawford uneasy gaze swept from his assistant to Roman. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” Gabriel roared. “You’re sorry? We trusted you.” He lifted the end table next to his recliner and hurled it across the room. It flew into the wall, knocking down pictures, sending glass shards bouncing up from the tile floor.
Roman had always reined in the impulsive, hot-headed Gabriel, but today he didn’t give a damn. He let Gabe go—gave him free rein. Perhaps, the doctors needed a glimpse of his most deadly and frightening warrior.
The doctors paled and stared at Gabriel in wide-eyed terror.
Roman smelled fear. It was delicious and it terrified him. Primal urges resurfaced. He wanted to kill. He craved Crawford’s blood. Now the hunger, the need to feed became overpowering. He averted his gaze to avoid focusing on the pulsating jugular in the doctor’s neck. Some people just needed to die.
Alex jumped up. His eyes turned black. “Give me one good reason why you think you deserve to live!”
“What went wrong?” Seth asked, worry sounding in his voice.
Perspiration ran down Crawford’s temples and cheeks. “Perhaps changes to the formula.” He offered a tentative shrug. “Not being monitored closely enough. We’re not sure.”
“We thought you knew what the hell you were doing!” Gabriel bellowed.
Fear radiated from Crawford and hovered over the room like a storm cloud. “Gabriel, please try to understand,” he pleaded, his palms together in a praying position. “My staff is working diligently to correct the problem. Unfortunately, at this time, we’re not very optimistic.”
Doc stepped forward. “Be assured everyone involved with the project is doing everything within our means to resolve the situation. Right now, we’re going to gradually introduce real blood into your diet while we continue to test the formula. During this time, we will make each of you as comfortable as possible.”
Veins stood out in Gabriel’s neck. “Comfortable? What the hell is that supposed to mean? Comfortable until we die?”
Roman realized his nights of seeing, holding, and loving Grace were coming to an end. “How much time do we have?” he asked, his voice breaking.
“A few weeks perhaps,” Crawford answered, barely above a whisper.
Rage caused Gabriel’s fangs to drop. He pushed aside carts and coffee tables to get at the doctor. Grabbing Crawford by his lapels, he pinned him against the wall. “That’s a hell of a lot longer than you’ll have after I tear you limb from limb and feast on your miserable, fucking blood.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Anyone else getting hungry?”
Color drained from Crawford’s face. “Please. Please Gabriel, try to calm down. We understand your anger. Roman?” His voice jerked up an octave and his wide-open eyes searched the room. “Do something. Stop him.”
Before Gabriel’s anger spun completely out of control, Roman stood. “Stop!”
With blood-red eyes, Gabriel glanced at him. He snarled and dropped Crawford to the floor in a quaking heap. “You don’t understand shit. If you really understood my anger, you’d know better than to piss me off.”
The doctor picked himself up, slowly backed away, and straightened his lab coat. “You need to believe me; every effort is being made to save you. Don’t interpret it as a death sentence.”
“Maybe they’ll find a cure,” Seth said, hope showing in his eyes.
Gabriel zipped in front of Seth; he shoved him back in his recliner and leaned over him. “What the hell’s your problem? Can’t you tell we’re screwed?”
Gabriel was right. They were indeed fucked. But instead of directing his anger at Crawford—where it belonged—he took it out on Seth, who not only feared Gabriel, but worshipped him.
“That’s enough,” Roman bellowed. “Leave him alone.”
Attention shifted to Roman. A powerful silence followed. “Seth isn’t to blame for this fucking debacle.”
Looking remorseful, Gabriel shook his head. “Roman’s right. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” He reached for Seth’s hand and pulled him up. “I’m sorry, man.”
“We’re going to make sure you get through this setback unscathed. The entire staff is at your disposal twenty-four seven. If there’s anything you need. Anything. You only need to ask,” Doc added.
A beeping sound halted further discussion. Crawford glanced at his watch. “I need to go. I have a meeting.” He hurried toward the door.
Gabriel gave chase. “You’re not going anywhere.” He lifted Crawford by his lapels, again. “If you take one step out of that damn door, the only meeting you’ll be having is with an undertaker.”
“Let him go, Gabe,” Roman shouted. “Killing him won’t solve anything.”
“Maybe not, but it’ll sure make me feel a whole lot better,” he answered with a growl.
The program’s failure hit Roman’s hope for mortality like a tornado spinning out of control. He raked his fingers through his hair. “I need to call the Elder Council to let them know we’re done. The program failed.”
“Can you hold off making that call? Give us a little more time to test a new formula,” Crawford begged.
“How long?” Roman asked, hoping to hear an answer that would satisfy not only the Elder Council, but his team, as well.
“A week or two.”
“Wrong answer.” Gabriel lunged at Crawford.
From behind, Roman grabbed his warrior’s shoulders. “No.”
Gabriel struggled to free himself from Roman’s hold, but failed. “Let me at him.”
“I can’t let you do it. How about we take a walk? Get out of here. Clear our heads and come up with a plan.”
“Screw you.” Gabriel jerked his shoulders away and balled his hands into tight fists. “This isn’t over, Crawford. And don’t think for one fucking minute it is.” Instead of hitting Crawford, he punched the white, tiled wall. The impact shattered four tiles, sending porcelain splinters to the floor. Gabriel studied his bloodied knuckles and stormed out of the lounge. Seth followed.
He shouldn’t have stopped Gabriel from beating the bloody bark off Crawford. Hell, he wanted to do the deed himself. He stared at the door, listening to heavy footsteps echoing in the hallway.
“Roman?” Crawford cleared his throat.
He shook his head and held up his hand. “Whatever you’re going to say, I don’t want to hear it.” If Crawford uttered one more word, Roman feared he would rip the man’s head right off his shoulders. He clenched his jaw. “Didn’t you mention you had a meeting? I suggest you hurry before unseen circumstances prevent you from keeping that appointment.”
Crawford locked gazes with Roman. His eyes grew wide and he backed away. Exercising great caution, he opened the door and looked both ways before leaving the room.
Following a long, uncomfortable silence, Alex strode to the opposite side of the room and started cleaning up Gabriel’s damage, picking up and dropping broken glass into a trash can.
Roman collapsed on his recliner and ran his hand over his face. How could he tell Grace he was dying?
Doc
Doc was about to leave the lounge, until he noticed the miserable expression on Roman’s face. Suspecting more than the failed formula was responsible for his gloom, Doc hoped to get his friend to open up about what truly weighed so heavy on his mind.
He retrieved a stool from the lab, rolled it into the lounge and sat next to Roman’s recliner. “Want to talk?”
Without verbally acknowledging him, Romance shot him a sideways glance.
“It’s Grace, isn’t it?” he asked compassionately.
Roman jerked his head at Doc. “How’d you—?”
“The fairer sex is usually the cause of our misery. They mess with a man’s mind…and, although I hate to admit it…I’m not immune to their charms.” He grinned.
Roman closed his eyes.
Clearly, he was hurting and Doc hated twisting the knife in deeper. But he had no choice. Roman needed to hear the truth. “In the past, you’ve said how long you’ve waited for someone as special as Grace. For her sake as well as yours it’s best to end your relationship. And the sooner, the better. To pursue a relationship is unwise…considering problems with the formula.”
Roman’s eyes snapped open.
He threw Doc a stare that chilled his blood. His heart flew to his throat and choked off the courage to continue.
“Hey, Rome.” Alex had finished cleaning up the mess Gabriel had created during his tirade. He crouched next to his cousin. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
He clapped Roman on the shoulder. “Think I’d better go see what Gabe’s up to. You never know what chaos he and Seth will drum up. Call if you need me.”
“I will,” Roman said.
“Good. Catch you later.” Alex rose to his feet, wound strands of his long hair behind his ears on his way to the coat rack. He retrieved his leather jacket, pushed open the door, and disappeared into the hallway.
Doc envied the close friendship between Roman and his cousin. He was lucky to have someone as supportive and level-headed Alex in his corner.
When they were alone, Doc hoped Roman would open up to him, share his pain. “Tell me about her,” Doc said. “About Grace.”
Roman’s body heaved as he ran his hands over his face. “I don’t want to talk about her. And right now, I’d prefer to be alone.”
Doc got the message. It wasn’t his nature to force himself on anyone. He patted Roman’s arm. “In that case, I’ll leave you to your thoughts. Remember, my door is always open.”