Chapter Twenty-three

Jake sat back at the meeting table and listened as Jared gave the colonel and Chris the lowdown. Not the full picture, such as the fatal virus that had caused the war back home. But, rather, Jared conveyed details about Veckus Densalt, and how their enemy led the Earth conquest on behalf of their greatest enemy—Raedus. How that alien had stolen Jared's kingship and throne, and even now lived in the D'Aravnian palace that had been in Jared's own family for more than a thousand years. The two outsiders listened, wide-eyed, and didn't interrupt with questions. Chris scribbled notes on his pad, and Jake was surprised at that fact, but Jared didn't make a move to stop him.

Maybe his commander really had decided to join forces with the feds. Later, when it was just the two of them, he planned to praise him for that plan.

"So what caused this virus, then, if it wasn't released by your people, as these Antousians claim?" Chris asked, his gray eyes narrowing.

Jared hesitated, staring at his hands. "They were having genetic issues," he answered opaquely. "They decided to use genetic therapy, but it's almost impossible to fix one thing without causing other problems."

"What sort of genetic issues?" Chris persisted, and Jared closed his eyes.

Jake knew exactly what was happening in his best friend's mind. It was the same question that was on all the rest of theirs: how much to tell, what to reveal—and what to keep secret.

After a moment, Jared opened his eyes again. "We will share that knowledge in good time, Agent Harper."

Way to go, Jared, he wanted to cheer. Smart move for now.

The true cause behind the virus—the reason the Antousians had sought genetic therapy in the first place—was much more than the humans needed to know at this point in time. That kind of knowledge could be terribly dangerous in the wrong hands.

Jake was thinking about that fact when, unexpectedly, Chris turned to look him right in the eye. "You were the one on the snowmobile," he announced suddenly. "You're our unsub."

Jake pulled back in his chair, caught off guard. "What makes you say that?"

"You match the description completely—the bright green eyes, the large, bulky build."

Jake glanced at Jared, who gave a nod of approval, then replied, "Yes, I was with your sister on the snowmobile prior to our encounter with the Antousians."

Chris rose up slightly in his chair. "Why in hell did you have Hope out there like that?"

Jake met his former brother-in-law's caustic stare, and never so much as blinked. "There was a good reason. Trust me on that."

Chris shook his head, his face flushing. He was always a man with a quick temper, and Jake couldn't expect this moment to be any exception. "Did you realize she has diabetes? Huh?"

"Agent Harper, let's stow this," the colonel intervened. "We've got bigger fish to fry right now."

Jared turned to the overhead projector, ready to begin flashing slides—images of what they'd known about various Antousian hideouts—when suddenly Thea burst into the room.

"Yes, Lieutenant?" Jared asked her, releasing the handheld projector control.

She was winded, but managed to catch her breath. "I have a line on them," she announced. "Just got incredibly accurate intel."

"From whom?" Jared and Jake asked, practically in unison.

Thea cut her gaze sideways at the two outsiders in their midst, then gestured toward the hallway with her head. Jared turned and, with a polite bow to both men, said simply, "Please, sirs, give us a moment."

Jake followed Thea and Jared into the hallway, wondering what knowledge Thea had possibly managed to lay hold of.

Once the door was closed, she whispered, "It's one of our spies, sir. Managed to get a message through to me. She gave me the exact coordinates of their location."

"Which spy, Thea?" Jared searched her face. "I have no knowledge of any spies among the Antousian ranks."

Thea smiled up at him, looking proud of herself. "Sir, you've always taught me to keep our intel completely compartmentalized on these matters. As your chief intelligence officer, the exact location—and how many spies I have working for me—I've always chosen to keep to myself."

Jared wasn't sure he liked that fact, even as he knew it was the smartest, safest strategy on Thea's part. "Go on," he said at last.

"It's an abandoned warehouse in Montana, an old feed and flour plant, sir. They're alive, and so far they're safe, but the contact says that may not hold for long."

Jared's mind whirled. Could this spy truly be trusted? If not, they'd be walking into a trap.

It was Jake Tierny who piped up next. "How do you know your contact is reliable?" he questioned, glancing back at the closed door.

Thea turned to him, annoyance flashing in her light blue eyes. "Because the previous leads this contact has given me have been completely borne out. That's why."

Jared gave a brisk nod. "So we form a team and go in, but does that include"—he tapped the closed meeting room door—"those men?"

Thea gave him a tentative look of approval. "We joined our forces very well at Warren, don't you think?"

Jared had to admit it was true; still, even having made this step of bringing the feds into their camp was a major leap of trust. If this retrieval job went wrong, the stakes were off the map—he could lose his best friend, and Hope Harper, no less.

"I need to think," he announced, and walked away down the hall.

Hope was surprised when, awakened by one of the soldiers, she was told to get up. "Where are you taking me?" she asked as they tugged her unsteadily to her feet.

"Veckus has a plan. Come." They dragged her along, and she dug her heels into the floor and slid most of the way along the hall, until finally she realized resistance wouldn't help.

"Here she is, Commander," someone announced, shoving her forward into the semidarkness. "All healed up and ready to play."

Glancing about them, Hope could see faint light from overhead, as if maybe the morning was dawning.

Scott called out from beside her, "Don't let them intimidate you." His voice was hoarse and choked, telling her that he'd been placed back in those cruel metal cuffs once again.

"So what's your big plan, Veckus?" She stepped forward into the darkness, praying she wouldn't trip.

"Ah, so you've heard that I have something very fine orchestrated for the two of you."

She waved her arms. "Stop wasting time and tell us what it is."

Veckus walked toward the direction of Scott's voice, and she heard her lover's chain rattle, then the sound of him stumbling to his feet. With a quick order, Veckus commanded that Scott's restraints be removed.

"Scott Dillon, now you will show her your true nature. I think divide and conquer is the order of this particular day. Once she knows, I doubt she'll work so hard to set you free."

"I don't understand," Hope said, but something hard and desperate lodged right in her throat.

"He wants me to Change." Scott turned toward Veckus, who never stopped circling them.

Hope shook her head, unclear. "Change how?"

She heard the sound of his cuffs falling away as they clattered to the ground. For some reason, Veckus wanted Scott to be free. He continued with his vitriolic tirade, aiming it right at Scott.

"She needs to see what you are, Lieutenant, what you truly can be. Once she knows the truth, you'll be a monster in her eyes; these humans have never even seen what you and I truly are. So, yes, Change! Go on, I insist that she see you. If not, this medicine"—he took the freezer bag and dangled it close to the fire that was crackling in a tin drum before them—"will go up in flames."

Scott lunged at the bag. "Stop that! All right, I'll do it … I will do it, but don't destroy her medicine."

Veckus gave him a hissing smile of approval. "Of course, it's not lost on me that she is a blind woman, so this will be about what she can hear and what she can feel. Every ridge and hard plate along your skin."

Scott pressed his eyes shut. Behind him, he heard Hope suck in a slight breath. "A monster, that's all you will ever be," Veckus continued. "You've always thought yourself so superior to the rest of us. Don't you remember what runs in your veins?"

"Yes." It was barely more than a tacit agreement, but Veckus heard it, and his face lit up.

"Ah! This is good indeed!" He clapped, throwing his head back with a jocular laugh, but then his face took on a grim, cruel expression. "So go ahead."

Scott could hardly breathe; it was as if a tight vise had clamped about his chest, as if all the air around them had vanished and he was left gasping at nothing. With a quick glance over his shoulder at Hope, he whispered, "Don't be afraid. I would never hurt you—never. This isn't really me."

"Of course it's you!" Veckus roared, striding toward them both. "Let me explain it to her. Three possible forms, that's what our species possess, and if Dillon's parents hadn't taken hosts, the one you're going to see is the way he would have walked our planet every day. If not in that Antousian form then he would be in the formless state, which I suspect you're already aware of. And obviously, you have sampled his humanized form—but I'm sure he never told you that it's not how all of our people look. He's a hybrid, part human and part … what he will reveal to you now. He will show you our true nature. We are beautiful, magnificent creatures, but in the eyes of humans we will certainly be perceived as horrid!"

Scott panted, feeling his palms sweat, but Hope's soft, encouraging voice said only, "He can never be anything other than beautiful to me. You aren't going to win this one, Veckus."

On her words and with a prayer to All, Scott allowed his core energy to build, and also allowed his Change and transformation to overtake him. His body stretched and molded, pulled and split in two, the Change causing him to scream in overwhelming pain as he fell to his knees. He roared his agony, throwing his head back, unable to stop.  Painfully aware that he sounded like a beast. He worked his jaws, trying to speak, but the slightly distended facial bones were utterly unfamiliar now. He hadn't walked in this form, not once since he was fifteen and morbid curiosity had overtaken him.

He jerked his head first one way, then another, and found Hope staring at him. How much could she see? His overwhelming height, perhaps. He was six feet, eight inches when in this form. A terrifyingly large figure to her fine, compact one, no doubt.

"Don't be afraid," Scott told her in his garbled, hissing voice. He cleared his throat, clutching at it. "Don't, Hope."

"I always knew you were an alien, remember," she reminded him gently. "It's no surprise to me that you are."

He hung his head, the strange shape of his back giving his neck and shoulders a slightly hunched-over feeling. With a roar, he bellowed at Veckus, expressing all the shame and horror he felt at being forced to expose himself to the woman he loved—the very human one—more than any other being in the universe.

"Good. Now go to her." Veckus clapped with glee.

Scott stalked in her direction, his hulking body almost impossible to control; despite his desire to approach her gently, he took giant loping steps that thundered off the concrete. He stopped in front of her, then swung his face sideways and stared at Veckus out of his large eyes. A monster's eyes, ones that would terrify her, if only she could see.

Veckus called the shots. "Kneel."

With a light, roaring snarl, Scott dropped to the ground and hung his head in soul-rending shame. "Hope. I am … sorry." He cursed his garbled, alien voice.

She didn't hesitate, but reached forward and felt him, cupping his perverse face within her hands. Not once did he see rejection or fear in her expression, only curiosity. She worked her hands about the terrain of his body just as she'd done that time in her bed. When she reached his nose—which was long, straight, and covered with plated ridges—she laughed. "This one doesn't have a bump."

"No … bump," he agreed, swallowing his palpable shame.

She continued with her exploration until she reached the top of his head—which was covered with the same hard, ridged plates she felt along his nose. She ran her hands over his bald head, then found the sides of his face, and he closed his eyes, flinching.

"Oh!" she cried as she felt his large, completely shut eyes. "These are really.…"

"Don't even … say … it," he hissed.

"Huge! Man, I need these—do they work well? Can you see everything that I can't?"

He began to laugh, a laughter that bubbled up from deep within his chest in the strange hissing and garbled sound that formed his speech, and this infuriated Veckus.

"Feel his chest!" the warlord insisted. "And next his back! Even, by gods, feel his cock."

Scott flinched, shaking his head from side to side. "Hideous," he choked out. "All wrong."

Hope cupped his face, running her fingertips along his jaw, and whispered, "Never. I've seen our future, remember? I've seen you in my dreams many times."

Veckus stormed close, pointing a weapon at Hope. "Tell her to feel your body."

"Do it, Hope," Scott said, drawing her hands to his chest. His Antousian body had evolved on a planet of harsh extremes, and in response his ancestors had developed plates of natural armor, like the rough hide of some animals. She traced her fingertips over his chest, rubbing at the thick substance of his naked body. The sensation for him was … incredibly tactile. Despite being so impenetrable, his Antousian body was highly suggestive to sensual touch, even at a time like this one.

"Lower," Veckus commanded, and very cautiously Hope trailed her fingers farther along his oversize waist.

His cock was as hard and plated as the rest of him, but not from arousal—because this was the way his kind had evolved. It didn't exactly promise for tender or gentle sex, and he flinched as she ran her hand along the tough length of him. All nine inches of it, permanently stretched and ready to go. He'd always wondered if the original Antousians had trouble with arousal: Why else would their kind have a permanent hard-on?

"So what do you think?" Veckus taunted. "Not so handsome anymore, is he?"

"I think he's gorgeous," she announced, jutting her chin out. "Maybe I think all of your people are beautiful, just highly misguided."

"Perhaps I should Change as well—perhaps the rest of us should, and then how safe would you feel? Do you realize that our species tops off at seven feet? What are you to that but a tiny gnat of a little thing?"

Hope rose to her feet, defiant all the way. "I am strong and vital, and nothing has ever held me back—not my illness or my height, and you won't be an exception to that rule, Veckus. And you can't make me care for Scott any less."

Scott sighed, rubbing the top of his bald head, and although not yet granted permission to do so, abruptly shifted back to his humanized form. He wanted to shout to the heavens; being Antousian had always been his greatest shame, and Veckus certainly knew that. Yet the love of his life cared not a whit. All she wanted was to touch him, whatever form he might take. It was enough to make him rejoice in complete victory.

"I did not order you to Change," Veckus thundered.

"Your game's up." Scott smiled at his captor. "Now stop pissing around and get down to what you really want."

"I want the human to undress now, too."

Scott's throat tightened. "Why?"

"I want to perform a bit of a study on why the reflexive metal released you when the two of you had sex. Now, strip her." Veckus issued quick commands. "Only this time, I intend to watch."

"No way in hell—" Scott began, but was immediately cut off when several soldiers jumped him, wrestling him down. He was thrust face-first against the cold warehouse floor, and the whip sliced into his flesh once again. Grimacing, he struggled, desperate to reach Hope before his enemies stripped her bare.

Beside him, he heard Hope grunting, and she cried out. Holy hell, this couldn't be happening.

Again the whip stung across his shoulders. Then his lower back. Writhing, he worked to get a fix on Hope, but the relentless, shredding swipes of the whip kept him glued to the Moor.

"Ten more strikes for Dillon—then we will begin."

Scott felt tears burn his eyes, and blinked them back, slowly turning his head to get a look at Hope. She lay shivering against the floor; they'd left her underwear on, but otherwise she was completely naked, just like him.

Veckus circled her, his blazing eyes feasting on her, and Scott arched his back against the whip, shouting in Refarian, ordering the warlord to release her—to back off his insane and cruel plan.

"String her up against the wall," Veckus announced with a dark grin in Scott's direction. "Put the whip to her back next."

"No, no, Veckus." Scott panted, scrabbling at the hard concrete. "Not her. Please."

"Please? Please?" Veckus reached for the whip that was currently held in Kryn's grasp, slapping it against his open palm. "Did I just hear the powerful Lieutenant Scott Dillon begging me for a favor?"

Scott pressed his forehead against the floor, trying to breathe or even to think—both of which were becoming increasingly difficult with the frigid air of the warehouse folding about his naked body, and the stinging welts of the whip emblazoned across his back. "Just don't touch her," he managed at last, swallowing hard. "She's not part of this war."

"Then you shouldn't have made her part of it." Veckus took the whip and slowly dragged it across Scott's shoulder, allowing the leather strap to snake threateningly across his raw flesh.

"Surely innocence means something, even to you," Scott argued hoarsely, but was met with cruel laughter.

Slowly Veckus trailed the whip low across Scott's back, then lower across his buttocks. The cursed thing lifted, and Scott braced for a torturous slap—yet none came.

"If you want to live—both of you," Veckus said, "then you will show me exactly what you did earlier to disengage the reflexive restraints. Now, Dillon, go to her."

Crawling along the floor, gasping, Scott made his way across the small distance that separated him from Hope. She gazed in his direction, wide-eyed with terror.

Don't worry, sweetheart, he transmitted mentally, praying she could somehow hear him. I won't let this go too far.

Drawing her into his arms, he tugged her against his chest, and could feel her heart racing frantically against his. "Don't be scared," he whispered under his breath.

"Your back, Scott," she murmured so low that only he could hear. "The way he keeps beating you."

"It's okay." He captured her mouth in a rough kiss. Despite the horror of the moment, perhaps because of the heightened adrenaline, he felt a rush of warmth flood his body. It hardly mattered if his greatest enemy watched.

"No! Not like that," Veckus coached from the sidelines. "In your natural form, Dillon. Change again!"

Scott pulled apart from Hope. "Never."

"Kiss her in your truest form, or I will kill her now."

Hope reached to touch his face. "It's okay, Scott. I'm not afraid of you—you know that."

Scott cast a scalding glance at Veckus. "And I'm not afraid of that vlksai bastard, either. You think you're in control here?" He wrapped Hope within his arms protectively. "You think you can debase me any worse than I naturally am? I have Antousian blood in my veins. Sharing genetics with the likes of you is the worst punishment I could have. You can't inflict that on me all over again."

Veckus dropped beside them both, drawing his mouth against Scott's ear. "You should learn a little more respect for your own people."

"Not until they deserve it."

"Change!"

"I stay in this form. You won't kill Hope—hell, you won't even harm her. You know why? Because if you do, you won't ever get a damned thing out of me, and you know it. So it's your choice, Veckus. Either stand down or lose any chance you might have of learning a fucking thing from me."

Veckus circled them, running his hand across the top of Hope's head with all the sensuality of a lover, and Scott felt his face flame hot. If the man so much as touched her once more, he was going to kill the freak, his own life be damned.

He was thankful when Veckus seemed to reconsider his strategy. "Bind them," he instructed one of the other soldiers. "Back-to-back, just as they are—naked. Let them see how persuasive the frigid cold can be."