Chapter Three

Daisy hurried across the room to where the downed man lay on the floor. Crouching beside him, she reached out and trailed a finger down his throat. The wound was almost healed, and his pulse was steady.

She glanced up at Rico accusingly. “You shot him.”

“I wouldn’t have had to if you’d taken him down like you were supposed to.”

“I tried. But shit, he was strong.” She frowned. “Hey, didn’t he once take you down? If I remember, the captain had to save your ass.”

Rico grinned. “Good point. But we needed him alive, and I was trying not to kill him at the time.”

“You won’t kill him now?” She stroked over the skin of his cheek; he was so warm to touch. She had fond memories of Fergal Cain. Even if the bastard hadn’t recognized her. They’d once shared a torrid encounter in a very small shuttle. Though she supposed it had been less than a year for her, while it had been over twenty for him. And while he hadn’t changed—presumably his not aging had something to do with the treatment he’d taken at Cybercom—she did look a little bit different than she had back then. Definitely less green. Even so…it was hardly flattering.

He was dressed in the uniform of a prison guard. Which meant nothing. More likely, he was undercover again. After all, that was how they had first come across him.

The alarm was still ringing. Rico had gone to peer down the way they had come, and now he returned to stare at Fergal while he considered her question.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “I’m not even sure shooting him would kill him.”

“He was strong,” she said. Inhumanly strong. “And he tasted…ugh!”

Finally, the alarm went quiet. “Come on, we need to get out of here.”

“We’re aborting?” she asked.

“Well, I think it would be wise, don’t you?”

“But we’re so close. I hate to leave Jon here a moment longer.”

“I know, but we’ll be back.” He pursed his lips and studied the unconscious man a moment longer. “We’ll take lover boy with us. He might be of some use.”

Fergal’s lids flickered open, and he glared up at them. “Leave me the fuck here.”

Rico rolled his eyes and blasted him again. “No.”

“Did you have to?” Daisy cast him a look of reproach.

“Hey. It’s only on stun. He’ll live.” Leaning down, he grabbed Fergal by the upper arms and hefted him over his shoulder. “Dios, he’s heavy. Lead the way.”

As Daisy headed to the corridor they’d entered by, running figures appeared around the corner, firing as soon as they saw her. Heat singed her arm, and she whirled and raced back the way she’d come, Rico close behind.

Well, that had gone well. Not.

The breakout should have been easy. Rico had let her do the takedown because it was unlikely she’d get such an easy chance to test out her new abilities again. It was supposed to prove that she could do it without giving way to the ever-present blood hunger. Well, she’d screwed up there. God, but he’d tasted disgusting. Sort of harsh and metallic. While he still looked human, he was obviously changed somehow.

She paused as she came to a choice of left or right.

“Left,” Rico yelled from behind her, and she ran on.

She couldn’t hear any sound of pursuit. They’d left them far behind. Sometimes she wasn’t sure about the changes she’d gone through, the hunger could be a pain, but she loved the superhuman strength and the speed.

Up ahead she spotted a metal double door. The scent of fresh air teased her nostrils, and without slowing, she pulled her laser pistol and blew the lock. The alarm sounded again, harsh in her ears, but she ignored it, kicking the doors open, and she was out into the cool air. She loved the night, and she breathed in deeply, clearing her lungs of the obscene prison smell as she made her way around the outer perimeter before taking a right angle and heading into the forest.

A shot blasted from behind them, and a tree burst into flame.

But they were nearly there.

“Mierda,” Rico said from behind her.

He’d been hit but was still moving, so she didn’t slow until she was running up the ramp and onto the shuttle. “Open,” she shouted, and the double doors slid apart. She threw herself into the pilot’s seat before Rico was even inside, strapping on the harness. “Engines to emergency takeoff mode.”

The seat vibrated beneath her as the shuttle flared into life. She cast a glance over her shoulder as Rico lowered the still unconscious Fergal onto the floor and took the seat next to her. “Go!”

“Take off,” she said, and the sudden force thrust her down into the seat. She loved this moment, all the power of the ship at her command. “Back to The Blood Hunter,” she told the shuttle, and they left the planet behind.

Yes!

Exhilaration filled her as they shot into the sky.

The adrenaline rush quickly faded.

We failed, and it was my fault.

If she couldn’t get control of herself, she was always going to be a liability.

Of course they would try again. They wouldn’t give up. Couldn’t give up. Tannis would never leave a member of the crew behind—it was one of the unspoken laws on The Blood Hunter. Probably the only law. They weren’t much into rules.

“Well, that was a load of crap,” Rico said. “No thanks to your boyfriend down there.”

“He’s not my boyfriend. Bastard didn’t even recognize me.”

“Well, sweetheart, that’s not entirely his fault. You were a little greener last time he saw you.”

“Yeah.”

It was weird, but she hadn’t realized until she lost it how much being green had been part of her. Like a badge of honor, revealing what she was to the world, and she’d been proud of it. Now, only her eyes remained green—presumably their actual color.

Fergal Cain hadn’t minded her being green. He’d seemed to quite like it.

She swiveled her chair around so she could study him where he lay unconscious, taking up most of the floor space in the small shuttle. She found it hard to believe they’d ever actually had sex. Though it was less than a year ago for her, it seemed like another life. They’d kidnapped Fergal that time as well, and her skin flushed at the memory. They’d needed intel for another prison break, and Fergal was the only source they could find. He’d been a reporter, specializing in going undercover and exposing corruption wherever he could find it, and he’d spent some time in the Collective’s maximum-security prison on Trakis One. The Collective hadn’t been too happy about the piece and had pulled it from the comms, so talking to Fergal in person had been the only reliable source of information regarding the internal security of the prison.

When they’d caught up with him, he’d been undercover again. This time at a company called Cybercom. Apparently, he’d cut off his own arm in order to get entry into the company. He’d been fitted with a cybernetic arm and at the same time gotten himself inducted into the company’s more secretive and far less legal program. She didn’t know what they’d done to him there, but something extreme—she’d felt his inhuman strength when she’d attacked him.

He was stunning, with a narrow bony face and well-shaped lips that had kissed her so passionately. His dark blond hair had been shoulder length the last time she’d seen him, but was now cropped short. He had a long, lean body, broad at the shoulder, narrow at the waist and the biggest… Her gaze shifted to his groin, and heat coalesced low down in her belly.

“You’re drooling,” Rico murmured from beside her. She glanced up to see the lazy smile on his face and looked away. She shouldn’t be having such thoughts with Rico next to her. He was almost like a father to her now—it was improper. Her lips curled at the thought of Rico in a fatherly role. It definitely didn’t suit him. Though he had made her. Turned her into a vampire to save her life. Of course, he had also been responsible for her life needing saving, but that got complicated, so she avoided thinking about it too much.

She’d had a crush on Rico ever since she’d woken from cryo and found herself on the old Blood Hunter. They’d discovered her escape pod floating aimlessly in deep space. It had been damaged when she’d fled from the massacre that had killed her family. Something else she tried not to think about. Her parents had been good people and hadn’t deserved to die.

Tannis, the captain, had taken her in, and Daisy loved her for it. But she’d been fascinated by Rico. He was gorgeous, with his black hair, golden skin, and dark eyes. He was also different than anyone she had ever met—he was the first vampire she had ever laid eyes on. Rico was also a pilot, and Daisy had dreamed of flying for as long as she could remember.

She’d sort of had these fantasies about him biting her and doing a whole load more, but she’d known they were nothing more than fantasies. Rico wouldn’t touch any of the crew—he’d promised the captain, and anyway, now he had Skylar.

Strangely though, since he’d turned her into a vampire, she’d ceased to think about him like that. Apparently, vampires didn’t tend to get up close and personal to each other.

“He is pretty,” she said, turning her attention back to Fergal. “But his blood was disgusting.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

Her gaze flew to Rico’s face; his expression was bland. “You fed from him?”

“No, just got some on my knuckles during that little fight we had.”

“Is it the cyborg thing?”

“Must be. I’ve never tasted anything like it.” He considered her for a moment, his head cocked on one side.

“What?”

“You know we talked about sex.”

“Yeah.” Rico knew she’d been having problems controlling her hunger. Sometimes it was like a pain inside her, a deep, dark need that threatened to consume her. Much of the time, she could pretend she was the same person as before, but in those darker moments, she knew there was very little of Daisy the green girl left. Rico had told her that the best way to subdue the darkness was sex. So far, she hadn’t tried it. She didn’t dare. If she relaxed and lost control, bit someone, she could drain them dry before she could stop.

“Well,” Rico continued, “it occurs to me that our friend here”—he nudged Fergal with his toe—“might be the perfect candidate for you.”

“How do you work that out?”

“You said it yourself. He tastes like shit. You lose it and bite him by mistake, you’re not going to take more than a mouthful.”

Her brows drew together. “That’s a strange reason to go after someone—they taste horrible.”

Rico rolled his eyes. “Sweetheart, we’re not talking relationships here, we’re talking fucking.”

Fucking with Fergal. There was a little twinge in her nether regions.

“Like that idea, don’t you?”

The amusement was clear in Rico’s voice, but she didn’t try to deny it. He knew her too well. There was a connection between them now.

“It doesn’t matter. He’s hardly likely to want me. This is the second time we’ve kidnapped him.”

“Then perhaps you don’t give him a choice.”

“You’re not suggesting I force him, are you? I’d have to tie him up—he’s stronger than I am.”

Rico rolled his eyes. “Use your feminine wiles.”

“I’m not actually sure I have any. I haven’t exactly been drowning in offers, you know. Even before the whole big teeth thing.”

“You just haven’t made an effort yet.” He was studying her again. “You could have just about any man if you put your mind to it.”

“I could?”

“The green was a little distracting, but now it’s gone, and you are really quite beautiful.”

Wow.

“Of course, you’re also pretty terrifying, but some men get off on that.”

Great.

Somehow, she doubted Fergal was much into terror—probably impervious to it. Tannis had reckoned he had balls of steel to chop off his own arm just for a story, so she couldn’t rely on that to attract him.

Green makeup? He’d liked her green. But a little messy.

Maybe she’d tie him up after all.

Fergal was moving, so at least he was alive. Unfortunately, he was not moving under his own steam. Instead, he was hoisted over someone’s shoulder with his head hanging down. Nausea roiled in his stomach, and he had to swallow before it was safe to speak.

“Put me the fuck down,” he growled.

They stopped moving, and he was tossed to the floor. He landed on his ass with a jolt, which did nothing to improve his mood.

He sat for a moment, patting his pocket to ensure he still had the bottle with his last remaining antidote pills, doing an internal check. When he found no damage, he pushed himself to his feet and looked around.

He was on the bridge of a space cruiser—easily the biggest bridge he’d ever seen. Screens lined the walls, showing the views from external monitors, so he had a 360-degree panorama of space. From the look of it, they were in a high orbit above Trakis Four. At least they hadn’t left yet.

A man and a woman stood in front of him, both in identical positions, legs braced, arms folded across their chests. He recognized them from the prison, though their most distinguishing features—those impressive teeth—were hidden now. The man he also recognized from over two decades ago; Ricardo Sanchez, pilot of The Blood Hunter. Like Fergal, he hadn’t aged a day. No doubt a vampire thing.

“Fucking asshole. You fucking kidnapped me. Again.”

Rico’s lips curled into the semblance of a smile. “You remember me. How sweet.”

“Yeah, I fucking remember you, and as I said last time—take me the fuck back.”

“And as I said last time…maybe.” Rico flung himself into a chair. Stretching out his long, booted legs, he regarded Fergal through narrowed eyes. The woman took the chair next to him and did the same. There was something familiar about her, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. A sound from behind distracted him, and he turned.

A second woman stood in the doorway. He recognized her. Skylar, who’d also been present last time. She was tall, athletic, with blond hair cut military short and the inhuman violet eyes of the Collective.

“That’s not Jon.” She waved a hand in his direction. “What happened?”

“He did,” Rico replied, pointing a finger at Fergal. Rising to his feet, he strode over to the woman and kissed her. For a long time. Fergal looked away and caught the other woman’s gaze. She was slumped low in her chair, a scowl on her face.

“Get used to it,” she muttered.

He had no intention of getting used to anything. At least not anything on this ship. What he needed to do was find out if his cover was blown. If it wasn’t, then he had to get back to the prison. If it was blown…he was royally fucked.

When he looked back, the two were still kissing. He cleared his throat loudly, and at last, the woman pulled away.

“Welcome back,” she said to Rico.

“You can welcome me properly when we have this mess sorted out.”

Fergal frowned. Was he the mess? And how did they plan to sort him out? And what was he doing here, anyway? And where was here? Because it definitely wasn’t the same ship as last time.

“So you didn’t find Jon?” Skylar asked.

“We didn’t get a chance. Mr. Undercover Reporter over there interrupted us and set off the alarm.”

“Only after she”—Fergal waved a hand at the woman still seated behind him—“nearly ripped my throat out.”

Skylar turned to her. “Did you?”

She nodded, her expression rueful. “I lost it a little.”

“Undercover reporter?” Skylar turned to study him. After a second, she laughed. “Hey, it’s Fergal, come to pay us another visit.”

“Yeah, right. Because I had so much fun here last time.” Actually, it hadn’t been so bad. There was the sweetest little green girl he’d ever come across. Well, the only green girl, but she’d definitely been sweet. Was she still around? Daisy—he remembered now. “Anyway, why don’t you drop me back where you found me and we’ll call it quits?”

“Not going to happen,” Rico said.

“And why the fuck’s that?” He clenched his fists at his side. Could he take them all? Skylar’s hand was resting on the butt of her laser pistol, and it looked very at home there.

“Don’t try it,” Rico said. “Unless you’re looking for another laser blast. She’s good.”

Fergal rolled his neck, stretching his back muscles to ease the tension. One way or another, he needed to persuade them to take him back. And why wouldn’t they? Unless they were after the bounty—there was a price on anyone who’d been involved in Cybercom. Glancing around, he chose a seat, sat down, and surveyed his captors. “Well?”

Rico raised an eyebrow and gave a small shrug. “We need to break someone out from the prison. At least we hope he’s there.” He returned to his own seat, studied Fergal for a moment. “You know all the prisoners?”

“Not all, but I do know the ones in the maximum-security section.”

“He’d definitely be in maximum.” He was silent for a moment as if trying to decide whether to trust Fergal with more information. He gave a quick nod. “His name’s Jonathon Decker.”

Fergal frowned. He knew the name, but then, he did have almost perfect recall. Even before the enhancements, he’d been good. Now his mind was like a computer. “The guy who assassinated Aiden Ross? The one who was broken out of the maximum-security”—ah, something came together in his mind—“prison on Trakis One by you guys. But that was twenty years ago.”

“For you, maybe,” Rico replied.

What the hell did that mean? He filed it away to ask later. “I’ll tell you what I know, and you take me back.”

“Maybe. If he’s there, we’re going in again, probably tomorrow—they won’t expect another attempt so soon. We might consider taking you with us.”

That was probably the best he was going to get. He’d decide later if it was enough. “There’s nobody listed by that name, but that means nothing—the political prisoners don’t keep their names. They get numbers. What does your friend look like?”

“Probably angry.”

“A little more might be useful.” But his mind flashed back to the tall, dark-haired man pacing his cell. Yeah, “angry” described him.

Skylar answered. “Six-four, big, dark hair, golden eyes.”

The description fit perfectly. Should he tell them, or would it work better in his favor if they didn’t know? If they took him back tomorrow, his cover would most likely already be blown. It would be better if they took him back now. He could say they’d knocked him out and he’d come around outside the prison walls. He might even be believed.

“Spit it out, Cain,” Rico said. “I can see your mind working. Which means you think you have options. You don’t.”

“There are always options.”

“Yeah, and yours are tell us what you know now, or tell us in ten minutes after I’ve persuaded you.”

“You’d torture me?” He was curious as to the answer.

“Hell, yeah. Or I’d let Daisy do it. I don’t think she’s feeling too happy with you right now.”

Fergal latched onto the name, and a smile tugged at his lips. “Daisy? She’s on board?”

Amusement quirked in Rico’s eyes. “You could say that.”

Again—what the hell did that mean? God, the guy could be irritating. “Are you going to explain that?”

Rico shrugged. “Daisy, do you want to try and explain? Preferably in words with one syllable.”

Fergal frowned then turned his head to see whom the vampire was speaking to. The blonde from the prison. She’d slumped even lower in her seat, the scowl still on her face, one hand tugging at her long ponytail. “No,” she replied.

Normally, he wasn’t this slow. He studied her, the shape of her face, the sweet curve of her lips, down to the swell of her breasts above a tiny waist.

She was the right size. The right shape. But totally the wrong color. He raised his gaze back to her face. Except the eyes. They were deep, dark green and narrowed on him. She also looked no older than the girl he’d met all those years ago—this was doing his fucking head in.

“Daisy?”

“Hardly complimentary, Fergal,” Rico said, amusement clear in his voice.

Daisy had been a good thing in his life. Something he remembered when times got hard or painful. At one point he’d considered trying to find her, but by the time he was in any shape to leave Cybercom, he was a fugitive and in hiding.

Besides, he was a loner. Always had been.

He shook his head and looked some more. Yes, he could see it now. The green had sort of overshadowed everything else. And those rather large and scary fangs hadn’t been there—he would have noticed.

When they’d met before, he’d thought her pretty. She was in fact extraordinarily beautiful, even with that scowl on her face.

“Actually,” Skylar said, “I think it’s an understandable mistake.”

That was kind of her, but he wasn’t sure Daisy agreed. He rubbed his forehead. The pain reminded him it was time for his medication, and however sweet this reunion was, he had a job to do—find Stefan—or he was dead.

“So,” Rico said, “can we get back to our friend? We need to contact the others. Tell them it’s off for the day, but I’d prefer it if we could give them some good news at the same time.”

Fergal scrubbed a hand over his chin. He was sure he could withstand torture, and part of him was curious to discover if they would actually do it. But what the hell, this was probably his best bet. He nodded. “There are two political prisoners. I think your friend is one of them.”

“Good. That didn’t hurt at all, did it?”

“So we go in tomorrow?” Daisy asked.

Fergal turned to look at her. She was leaning forward in her seat, eager.

“As soon as it’s dark,” Rico said. “But maybe you should stay behind this time.”

“No, I want to come. I can control it.”

Control what?

“Hmm.” Rico studied her then turned to Skylar. “Is Devlin back?”

“Yeah,” she answered. “Arrived an hour ago and went straight to bed.”

“Not alone, I presume.” Rico pursed his lips and gave an abrupt nod. “Okay,” he said to Daisy. “But you feed before we go. You almost lost it today. And we take Skylar and Devlin with us in case we have to fight our way out. We’re not leaving without Jon a second time.”

“That will leave just Saffira on the ship. Can she cope?” Skylar asked.

“Yeah. She can handle her. In fact, we should get her and Devlin out of bed and down here. They need to be in on this. They can sleep—or whatever it is they’re doing—when we have a plan.” He pressed the comm unit on his wrist. “Devlin, you’re both required on the bridge now.” His lips twitched as he listened to the answer. “Hey, if I can wait, so can you.”

Rico got up and paced the room. Pausing, he leaned down and pulled a bottle from below one of the seats. After taking a swallow, he handed it to Fergal.

Fergal took the bottle and lifted it to his lips with caution. He had a vague memory of accepting a drink from the vampire last time. It had nearly blown his head off. Taking a sip, the liquid burned down his throat and heated his belly. Deciding it wasn’t going to kill him, he took a gulp and almost choked.

Everyone was watching him. Was it a test? He caught Daisy’s gaze and held it while he took another swallow. This time he felt it in his brain, like a warm buzz. He walked over and handed her the bottle. She didn’t look away as she raised it to her mouth—her lips red against the whiteness of her skin.

An image flashed in his head of those red lips wrapped around his dick, causing a jerk in his pants. It had been a long time since he’d experienced desire. He’d worried that was a side effect of the cybernetics, or the medication, or some of the weird shit that was happening in his body right now. But it appeared everything was working. Nice. But did he really want those fangs anywhere near his dick?

She swallowed and handed the bottle back. Their fingers touched and a jolt of electricity shot through him. Her eyes narrowed as she sat back in her seat and wiped her hand down the side of her pants. Fergal looked away to find Rico watching him, cool speculation in his eyes. The vampire opened his mouth, no doubt to make some wiseass comment, but at that moment the doors slid open and a couple appeared. The man was tall, with streaky black and gold hair loose on his shoulders. He had the violet eyes of the Collective and a scar that ran down his right cheek from his eye to his lip, lifting his mouth in a perpetual sneer. Devlin Starke. Fergal recognized him from the files. The head of the Rebel Coalition and once the most wanted man on the Collective’s most-wanted-dead list; it looked like now he had become one of them. He’d disappeared over twenty years ago. Where the hell had he been?

Fergal turned his attention to the woman. At last, someone he didn’t know. Medium height, with long, dark red hair, but the same violet eyes. She had an air of…difference about her, even more than usual with the Collective.

“So what’s happening? You didn’t find him? And who’s this?” Starke’s gaze locked with Fergal’s and his eyes narrowed as he took in the prison guard’s uniform.

“This is an old…friend, Fergal Cain, who interrupted us but is now about to redeem himself by giving us the lowdown on the security system. Jon’s in there, and we’re going back tomorrow night. You and Skylar will be coming this time. We’re getting him out if we have to pull the place down and kill everyone in it.”

Fergal presumed he was serious.

“Oh, and are you okay for Daisy?” Rico asked Starke. “I don’t want her hungry going in.”

Starke tossed a look at Daisy, who squirmed a little, but he nodded abruptly. “Of course.”

“Good.” Rico turned back to Fergal. “And this is Devlin and Saffira,” he completed the introductions.

“Devlin Starke.” Fergal stepped forward and held out his hand.

Starke’s eyes narrowed on it for a moment, then he took it briefly. “Yeah. So?”

“Everyone presumed you were dead.”

“Well, obviously everyone was wrong.”

“And weren’t you committed to taking down the Collective?” He waved a hand in the general direction of Starke’s violet eyes. “After you took down the Church, of course.”

Starke turned to Rico. “Is he always this nosy?”

“He’s a reporter. He can’t help himself.”

Fergal hadn’t actually been a reporter for years, but he’d keep quiet about that. If they believed he was undercover trying to get a story, they were unlikely to probe his real reasons for being at the prison.

“Well, try,” Starke suggested.