Fire's Touch (The Enlightened Species Book Three) (35 page)

Where?—Haiti. Shit, that was bad. Haiti was a nightmare.

How?—any means. If One was going to be able to destroy his father’s organization, he first needed to take command of it. The task was staggering. All of his father’s secrets had rushed into his mind so quickly, One felt as if he were swimming in a vast, densely packed file room looking for a needle in a haystack. Where to begin? His father had instilled an overwhelming concern for this male Frank. He dug deeper to detect the imminent threat to this Frank guy. The SOSC? That might not be accurate. Hell, there might be no threat at all. Osiris’s fear of the SOSC had tinged everything Osiris did and thought for the last decade.

Why?—murky. One rummaged and rooted into that issue, surprised to find that Osiris trusted this Frank guy enough to place him temporarily in charge of ALL day-to-day operations while Osiris was unavailable. Why had his father been unavailable? As the answer came to him, he had to diffuse his rage. Not against his brother, Ten, whom One actually admired … or the female. The anger rose against Osiris. Along with all of Osiris’s other memories came the knowledge that Hulven males could procreate. How could Osiris have withheld that from him? Then again, that was just like Osiris. At least with him dead, One could find out everything. Those fucked-up, detoured, half-truth barriers Osiris had placed in the continuous flow of thoughts between them were gone. All One needed to do now was ask the right questions to get the full answers.

In seeking the why, an emotion flowed in. What the fuck? Much as One would have rather not learned Osiris had been tapping this Frank, it also didn’t surprise him. Males were Osiris’s bag. It was the … love.

He had to protect this Frank—a right-hand man who knew the day-to-day operations would go far in getting One to his goal. But the Haitian compound … nope. Let the SOSC take it. Hell, once One knew where they all were, he’d send the information anonymously to the SOSC himself. The breeding compounds were a small part of the shit his father delved into. There was so much more … the implications of the memories turning his brain into dirty-gray sludge disgusted him.

One stepped back onto the mat. He had spent the last year becoming Eric Reed’s friend. Osiris had ordered him to gain the human’s trust in hopes of using Eric to infiltrate the Mesa SOSC world. Problem was, he actually liked Eric. So far, the closest One had gotten to the SOSC was picking Eric up from his Hulven foster-sister Jess Einar’s house just outside the huge SOSC human integration spread on the outskirts of Mesa. In truth, he hoped Eric wouldn’t introduce him to his peeps; that way he didn’t have anything to report back to his Piece of Shit Pops.

Moot point now. He air punched while hearing the song “Ding-Dong the Witch is Dead” in his mind.

“What’d you do, Oney, drop a giant deuce?” Eric lifted from the wall he leaned against.

One’s cover name was Anthony Rico, but rather than “Tony,” Eric had shorted it to “Oney,” and the nickname had stuck. Kinda ironic since it was closer to One. Go fig. Probably a quirk of the Fates.

“Naw, Dick, but thanks for the bowel interest. I gotta blast. Family bullshit drama … you know the drill.” One loaded his bag.

Eric had to be a decent guy. “Well, if it end up being a snowball under the Arizona heat, man, you got my number, true?”

Jesus. Who’da thought a friend offering to simply be a friend could crack One’s shit open like an egg. One threw the bag on his shoulder and headed for the doors. “Yeah, hold your breath … blue’s your color.” He heard Eric chuckle but didn’t risk a look at him for fear Eric would see how much the offer meant.

Once he got this Frank, One might be able to hold his father’s organization together without having a rebellion from the freaky fucks Osiris liked to put in charge of shit. The loyalty those bastards had to Osiris would only be given to One if he could prove to them he was just as ruthless as his father. Gaining and maintain that loyalty until his could figure out a way to knock the entire she-bang down in one blow was crucial.

One dropped his bag into the backseat of his car. Looking around first to make sure he was alone, he shadowed and ported to Frank’s office using Osiris’s knowledge as a direction point.

The blonde lifted his head from his desk with a start. Yup, motherfucker, Osiris isn’t the only one able to do that. He grinned as Frank went into a fighting stance.

“Simmer down, douche-bag,” One told Frank. “Gather the basics. You’re being evac’d under Osiris’s orders.”

The guy’s eyes widened. “Who are you?”

“One. Code: Gabriel. Now get the fuck moving.” Seemed Osiris’s feelings might have been single-sided, because Frank actually appeared relieved at hearing the code that meant Osiris was dead and One was large and in charge. Guided by his father’s memories, One swung a bookcase from the wall; he punched a code into the safe the bookcase had hidden and withdrew the file that held all the codes, accounts and locations of Osiris’s financial empire.

Frank was loading thumb drives and office shit into a duffel bag. Figures, more worried about Osiris’s operation than a pair of underwear. Whatever. “What about this compound?”

One thought about it. If the SOSC weren’t on their way here, there was one surefire way to get them here. “Release the females and have the soldiers wire the fucker to blow. It’s compromised. Tell them they can scatter or fight … your choice.”

Frank furled his brows and nodded. Lifting a phone, he gave the order to fight. Stupid fucker. Again … whatever, not his biz. Until Frank said, “One of the Hulven females is pregnant by Osiris. It’s an Elven fetus. The female hasn’t figured out how to release the energy in vitro … yet. But she’s one of the rare anem—”

Shit
. “Bring her to me.” Oney cut him off mid-sentence.

Frank placed a second order on the phone like he was ordering Chinese food. A female with wide, terrorized eyes stepped in. She tried a shaky-legged curtsey. One rolled his eyes. What was this, the seventeenth century? Then her scent floated to him: Cherry blossom. One grew instantly and uncomfortably hard behind his zipper.
Mine.
She wore a ratty dress three sizes too big for her, making her figure impossible to decipher, and her mousy brown hair was split and braided like a twelve-year-old human. With her shoulders slumped and head bowed, she didn’t look like much. Then her light-green eyes flitted at him and quickly looked away. Holy mother may I … oh, no, you may not.

“Move out,” One barked, irritated and confused by his reaction.

Trailed by Frank and the girl, whose name he still didn’t know, he strode to the small airstrip and hopped into a helicopter like he owned it … because he did fucking own it, now. Frank shoved the girl hard when she hesitated and fury ripped through One. He leapt out and cymbal-crashed Frank’s ears with his hands, watching the bastard crumble to the ground before he realized he was growling. The girl’s big, apple-green eyes met his, and her indrawn breath clenched his chest.

One offered her his hand and helped her into the bird, even fastened her seatbelt before unceremoniously tossing Frank’s dead weight onto the floorboards. The sound of her heart beating hummingbird-fast echoed loud in the condensed space. What if she ported and escaped?

“Don’t try to escape.” The words felt lame and his voice carried a harshness he didn’t intend. Cherry looked around as if his statement had given her the idea to escape. Fuck.

“Why?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, yet it had the impact of a megaphone against his mind.

“You will never be harmed … ever. I know you have no reason to trust me, but you have my word.” His voice still rumbled with the growl he couldn’t quite silence. His gaze inadvertently dropped to her mid-section. She gripped her stomach and nodded, probably thinking her protection was coming from the child she carried and nothing more. Good.

She took her time responding. Her gaze searched his face as if she were trying to gauge the integrity behind his word. “I will stay with you. I won’t try to escape. My name is Cherry. What’s yours?” Again, with the booming whisper. One’s dentes slid into his mouth. Cherry flinched. Named after her scent, she no doubt had been born in a breeding site, bred and caged her entire life. One had an irrational urge to kill Osiris himself.

Ignoring her question rather than scare her with the sight of his dentes, he slid the helo door closed. Taking deep breaths, he walked back to the pilot’s side and climbed in. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cherry poke Frank’s body with her foot a little harder than necessary.

“Cherry, don’t touch him.” Because the sight of her touching the male sent a flare of possessiveness though him.
Jesus Christ, that’s just fucking fantastic
, Oney thought, disgusted with himself.

“Sorry,” she muttered with a blush of shame.

“S’all good, he probably deserves to have his head caved in. I just can’t let that happen yet. My name is Anthony, by the way.” She let out a raspy breath and her generous lips lifted at the corners in a small grin that didn’t come close to reaching her eyes.

One turned his focus to flying them the fuck out of there. Where to? Autonomy was a new thing—usually Osiris dictated his moves. Siberia—the location came on the coat-tails of a visual. Osiris’s private main headquarters and another secret he hadn’t been aware of. Fuck, he liked Mesa. Unfortunately, it might be awhile before he could go back there. One lifted from the tarmac as the small out-building blew apart. Looking down, he saw a few females scattering into the forested part of the island, a few children clutched to them. Hurry up, you useless SOSC fucks.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

It took Conlon every ounce of control to press himself silently to the wall as Osiris happily strolled past them. The urge to kill Osiris compounded at the sight of Stacey’s limp body strapped down naked and spread-eagle. Hawk roared and the chain shadowing Conlon slapped his chest, making him instantly visible. A small Elven, in a lab coat, lay dead across the room with his heart ripped from his chest.

“Conlon, duck!” Enlil’s voice behind him held urgency.

Conlon felt the swipe of a blade slash him from behind his ear to his temple as he went to the ground. The feel of his energy being sucked away meant Enlil was siphoning someone close to Conlon. An instant later Hawk grunted. Targeting the sound, Conlon launched at it. Grasping the feel of legs, he took Hawk to the ground. The unseen form struggled for freedom. The draw off his energy ceased instantly. Conlon held tightly with one hand, slamming blows and taking a few. Conlon knew if he didn’t knock Hawk out, he was dead.

“Fight the compulsion, my friend.” A punch to his chin almost dislodged his hold, but Conlon drew back and struck the male hard at the point his ear should be. Hawk appeared beneath him, still, his eyes closed.

Panting, Conlon looked back to see Enlil with his hands up toward Stacey, eyes glowing. Another male shimmered into sight standing next to her with a dagger pressed to the center of her chest. “NO!” Conlon bellowed, scrambling to his feet. The male’s expression was tortured. Suddenly the blade was knocked out of the male’s hand and Jacob appeared, sword raised to strike a fatal blow.

“Yes. Please,” the male begged. “Please.” His head lifted high, exposing his neck. White knuckles clasped at the edge of the table where Stacey lay vulnerable. Pain radiated from him. Even weakened by Enlil, the male struggled against his father’s powerful compulsion. “Kill me. I … I can’t hold … it. I must … kill … die … for my sire.”

Conlon saw a full syringe one on a metal tray next to the male. Praying it was a tranquilizer; Conlon grabbed it and plunged it into the male’s back. His eyes rolled into his head and Conlon eased him to the floor. Jacob slowly lowered his sword.

After Jacob covered Stacey with a sheet found in a cabinet, Conlon undid the straps holding her to the table, his hands shaking. Conlon needed her to awaken, to see her beautiful eyes. He brushed the curls from her forehead. Biting into his wrist, Conlon placed the wound above her lips, using his thumb to open her mouth.

“Let me. I’m iron rich, Conlon,” Jacob offered.

Conlon shook his head and watched his life’s blood drip into her mouth. Elven didn’t share blood except to bond … and then it was an exchange. Though low in iron, Elven blood had more powerful healing ability than any Hulven blood. Her tongue peeked out, reminding him of a baby bird. Her beautiful dentes erupted and a sweet moan escaped her lips. “Liefde, will you be my bloodmate?” he whispered in her ear.

Her eyes fluttered open and Conlon fell into their clear, sapphire depths. Her head lifted and her tongue lapped over his wrist, sealing his wounds. “I love you so much, Conlon.” A stream of tears flowed into her hair. “I knew you’d come.”

Her hand grasped the back of his head and she pulled his lips to hers. Her kiss had a desperation that he fully understood and responded to. After being apart, terrified and full of adrenalin, they devoured each other. The burn he’d felt in his chest since the moment she went missing shifted to his groin. Only the feel of the cold steel table beneath her kept him from mounting and claiming her right here … right now.

He hadn’t even heard Sargon and Eros come through the halls, but the deep rumble of Sargon clearing his throat was distinct and brought Conlon back from the brink of full rapture. He hissed, lifting from Stacey’s sweet lips tinged with the taste of his blood. She blinked and met his gaze. “I will be your bloodmate, Conlon Einar.”

Conlon lifted her into his arms. Greyton stood with Enlil and Jacob facing the wall. The hallway beyond the door full of warriors all turned away from Conlon and Stacey’s private moment. He’d forgotten anyone else was present. Forgotten where they were; forgotten everything and everyone in his need and love for his bloodmate.

“Where’s Osiris?” He demanded as Stacey asked, “Where’s Johnny?”

“Safe. As is Mick,” Greyton answered Stacey.

Conlon felt her sag with relief. “Osiris?” he asked again. His urge to tear the male apart had not dissipated.

“A coward. He released his living energy before we could capture him. Dean is not on the berg,” Greycia answered. Her gaze held sadness.