Fire's Touch (The Enlightened Species Book Three) (5 page)

Huey shrugged out of his lab coat and tossed it into the basket. The last in-vitro fertilization attempt had resulted in yet another failure. It was also his last ovum, which meant he was going to have to get in touch with Osiris again and arrange to harvest female Hulven or heredity human eggs, or trade for some. A call he dreaded to his core—Osiris's omnipotent, narcissistic delusions of world domination where making the megalomaniac demand too much lately. Osiris had repeatedly indicated that his research facilities were equipped to find the answer to the problem Huey had dedicated the last few centuries to solving—male Hulven sterility. Osiris dangled his resources in front of Huey's face like a proverbial carrot. Osiris had voiced his desire for Huey to declare an oath to him and become a full-fledged informant many times.

With a sigh he dialed the dreaded number. The line picked up and suspended in silence. Huey spoke his password and listened to a series of clicks as the line was secured. Osiris was nothing if not efficient and paranoid. “Dr. Fennell, I expected to hear from you sooner.” The high-pitched voice of Osiris grated against Huey's sensitive hearing like nails scratching a chalkboard. “It's time for you to visit.” The line went dead, and Huey turned as two males stepped into his house.

“What—?” A needle plunged into his arm, followed by the warm infusion of a tranquilizer entering his system. Huey crumbled, his mind floating off to darkness.

****

Bloodmate.
Conlon had realized Stacey was his biological and chemical match the minute he laid eyes on her. Her coconut scent enveloped him when he strode past her to greet Cassie. He’d intended to introduce himself and Mattie to her immediately, but words completely eluded him the second she opened the door. Primal instincts reared up, shocking him to the core. Under the unfamiliar impulse, he’d nearly snatched her up and taken her to the nearest flat surface to ravage. At the last minute he regained enough control to bypass her and hug Cassiopeia instead. Cassie seemed as stunned with his enthusiasm in giving her a hug as he was giving it to her. He’d known Cassie for centuries, had watched her and Mattie grow up. He had even come to their aide a few times. He’d never hugged either of them, nor would he under normal circumstance, especially knowing there was bad blood running between Cassie and her sister—his partner. Over-greeting Cassie was like rubbing salt in Mattie’s wounds.

Seeing Stacey’s manner hadn’t cooled his ardor in the least. She was snippy and hotheaded. If anything it just turned him on more. He couldn’t disregard the profound sadness beneath the Miss Prissy glare in her large, sapphire-blue eyes. Maybe her time in the blood and breeding labs could account for it. It was intriguing.

Conlon tried to discretely adjust the erection pressing against his zipper. The Tellus male driving glanced over and grinned. “I would get that shit out of your head right now, buddy. You’d be safer sticking your dick in a gator’s mouth.” The other three bodyguards snickered from the back seat and murmured agreements.

“She’s that bad, huh?” No use in denying his attraction. He also didn’t plan on sharing the true reason with Stacey’s hired guns either. The rest of the drive, his four companions regaled him with stories of Stacey, AKA The Sting. Apparently slamming the door in his face and throwing him out of her limo were minor tantrums.

The more he listened, the more challenged he felt. He loved a challenge … either that or he was a glutton for punishment. Just because he felt a bloodmate draw to her didn't guarantee they would be together. In the last few years, much had changed the foundation of bloodmating beliefs—the bloodmating between Hulven and Elven, for one thing, but it had also been learned that if one Bloodmate died, the other could live on and possibly find a second Bloodmate within their lifetime. Amazingly, one Bloodmated couple had decided to pass on joining because their feelings for each other were platonic despite the complimentary biology of their bodies, which revealed that they could mate for eternity. Finding the one perfect person was far less rare than it had been not long ago, yet now it was offset by a freedom of choice and the ability to reject the destined couplings too.

Unlike most males, Conlon had never been too keen on finding his bloodmate either. He'd never been good at intimate, personal conversation. The few times he'd attempted to over his fifteen-hundred-plus years had been disastrous. He'd told his brothers he loved them … a couple of times … maybe. The idea of talking to Stacey seemed so far-fetched anyway, he doubted it would be a problem. Sure didn't change the fact that he wanted to bed her.

The limo stopped next to the waiting Learjet. Conlon growled when Stacey's driver jumped out to open the doors. He'd told the human to wait until Conlon secured the area before letting Stacey out of the long, white armored vehicle.
Son of a bitch.
He jumped out of the SUV before it came to a complete stop and used the speed of his kind to block the open door. The human driver’s eyes widened and he squeaked like a pussy.

“What the hell are you doing?” Stacey snapped from behind him.

Irritated, he barked back, “My fucking job.” Mattie and Jack slid out from the passenger side.

“I didn’t hire you. I don’t give a shit about your
job
. I won’t be lorded over by you or the SOSC,” Stacey hissed at him.

He ignored her and instructed the others, “Secure the area.” The four from the SUV joined him. Conlon pointed to the one who'd been the most critical of Stacey during the drive. “You. Transfer the luggage to the plane, while you—” he pointed to the SUV driver “—check out every nook and cranny of that bird.” He indicated the plane with his chin. “You two stand in front of the doors and don't let her out.”

“You can't do that. I am not a prisoner or a child, Mr. Einar. If they hold me hostage in my car, I will fire them.” Her gaze shot daggers at him from the shadows inside the vehicle. The two guards he'd assigned car duty took a step back. Stacey gave him a self-satisfied smirk.

Conlon removed his jacket, gun holster, and shirt laying them on the floorboards of the open door at her feet. “Fire them. I'll call in a full unit of SOSC warriors.” He shrugged, noting the grins on the guards’ faces. Stacey kicked his things out the door and onto the tarmac with a glare in her eyes that caused his dentes to erupt and his erection to throb. The tip lifted the waistband of his jeans, begging for freedom.

“You are a complete ASS!” she bit out and slammed the car door closed.

Amused more than he cared to admit, he turned to Mattie, who knelt with her hands to the ground, psychically sending ultrasound vibrations into the ground to detect any pressure anomalies that might be caused by moveable masses like vehicles or people. “Wrangle up her human employees … pilot, Mark, the driver. I will deal with them before we take off.”

Ignoring the gasp of the limo driver, Conlon released his wings from his back and took to the sky for an aerial view and a moment to get the right head in the game. He could hear the ping of the Aquatie chief of security sending out sonic waves and listening for the ping-backs his kind used to detect anything or anyone in the area. Conlon sent out a telepathic search for energy. With his highly developed eyesight, he detected several mice, a coyote, and a few rabbits.

Landing, he noted that only the limo driver had a stunned, scared look on his face after seeing his flight demonstration. He quickly scrubbed the man's mind before he could pee himself and turned to scan the minds of the remaining three. Both the co-pilot and pilot had seen enough strange things while flying that neither of them were too surprised—a little nervous but overall fine. Mark was so excited he could hardly stand it. The bookworm was practically bursting mentally with questions, though he remained silent and stared at Conlon with awe.

Since all three men would be a party to the events of the days to come and would be seeing how the enlightened species worked, he was disinclined to remove memories from them over and over. They could obviously handle the knowledge. He decided to let them keep it. He instilled an aversion to sharing this knowledge or any more they acquired about the enlightened species into each of their minds.

Striding over to the car, he released the Tellus guard who stood at Stacey's door. “Do a secondary sweep of the plane.” The guy grinned and trotted off.

His reflection in the tinted windows glared back at him—much like the occupant surely was—as he pointedly leaned over to pick up his shirt. Slowly shrugging into it, and fastened each snap. He slipped on his holster before picking up his leather jacket, brushing it off and slinging it over his arm, all the while never taking his eyes from her window. Stacey's fury and impatience practically shrouded him in menace. He let his amusement show on his face. The snottier she was, the more his hard-on throbbed.

Mattie and Jack gave him an all-clear and he opened her door. Without a glance at him, she climbed out with head held high, black hair twisted tightly into a severe bun that left the curve of her neck exposed. She stomped to the plane and up the stairs. Conlon waited until the limo and the SUV had driven off. Great Fates, she'd planned to travel with only four guards! The female needed a spanking. The image made him groan.

Conlon sat next to Jack across from Mattie. His Tellus partner’s broody gaze was directed out the window. Hopefully he’d get a chance to try talking to her at some point. Not that he had any idea of what to say.
I’m sorry you saw your sister?
He was close to his brothers and their families, sometimes to the point of driving him mad. Especially with his niece Irsu—she was always meddling and trying to fix Conlon up with females who wanted him to sire their young.

If someone wanted him to breed, why the hell didn’t they ask him directly? He’d still say no, but it would be a lot less awkward then asking him through his niece. Since Irsu had logically selected the father of her child, Jerika, she’d determined that it was the only way to procreate. Conlon didn’t want to have children with someone he didn’t know or care for. He loved kids, but the kind of relationship he’d need to ever consent to siring would require communication … never gonna happen. Pick ’em up, take ’em home, make ’em moan, and send them on their way. That was the extent of intimacy Conlon felt comfortable with.

The front cabin of the aircraft contained eight seats, four on each side of the isle facing each other. Since Conlon’s seat faced the front of the plane there was a dividing wall behind his back. “I take it your boss is in there.” He tilted his head toward the door that would access the space.

Jack nodded. “It’s a sweet setup she’s got, better than some four-star hotels we stay in. But this plane is nothing compared to the yacht. That baby is nice on the ocean.” Considering Jack was an Aquatie with a primary habitat of water, Conlon figured he’d take the male at his word.

The other three guards and Mark sat across the isle from him. With him and Mattie added to the mix, that left only one vacant seat. “Does she usually travel with eight guards?”

Jack shook his head. “Normally there are twelve of us taking turns in the seats while four stand. Let me tell you, a flight to Amsterdam feels like forever. The plane has two bathrooms, one in her suite and the other accessible only by going
through
her suite. Unless you’re the pilot or co-pilot, going to the restroom is a luxury. We try to hold off until there are at least three of us that need to go, so we bother her as little as possible.”

Mattie shifted her gaze toward Jack. “Does she ever do anything
nice
?” Her voice seethed with venom. Luckily Conlon recognized it wasn’t really directed at Stacey, otherwise— Fates, what was he thinking? Had he been about to defend Stacey?

Jack seemed to consider Mattie’s question a moment before he answered. “Well, sort of. She pays us
way
more than the industry standard. If you do your job with integrity and keep your mouth shut, she pretty much leaves you alone. Course, if she catches you dickin’ off, look out.” He chuckled; it became obvious that though Jack might not particularly like Stacey, the male respected her. Maybe someone like her found more value in being respected rather than liked.

Jack leaned closer to Mattie and extended his arm behind and away from him, using his hand to draw an “S” pattern in the air—a phonetic sound trick Aquaties used to either block or amplify sound using their sonic ability. Conlon had to lean forward to hear what the security chief said. “I’m not sure, but I think Ms. Winkel anonymously helped my paired sibling open a business. I mentioned to Cassie that my sister was saving money to open a crab shack in San Francisco. The next day, my sister called me excited out of her mind. She got a call from a professional business consultant, and twice the amount she needed somehow showed up in her bank account.” He ceased his hand dance and leaned back.
Why the bitch-act?
Conlon’s curiosity grew.

They sat in silence after that. Jack’s mention of Cassie’s name turned Mattie’s mood from broody to downright surly. Mattie rose with a huff from her seat, stepped to the door, and gave it a sound knock. “Yes?” Stacey’s voice from beyond the door seemed annoyed. Mattie opened the door, forcing the guard opposite him to yank his elbow off the armrest or get it smashed.

“I’m not asking permission to pee,” Mattie announced more bluntly than her normal “shy with strangers” nature usually resulted in.

Stacey laughed … actually laughed. Jack tried to crane his head around to peer into the room. Conlon slammed him back against his seat with his arm. The Aquatie snorted in annoyance. “All right. You have an open pass, but you’re the only one.”

With a nod, Mattie strode through the door, clearing his line of sight to take in the vision of Stacey lying on her side in a bed, facing him. She met his gaze for less than an instant before returning it to the magazine open in front of her, effectively dismissing him. Her low, widow-peaked hairline and wide cheekbones gave her face a heart shape to perfectly frame her mouth. Her plump lower lip and slightly thinner upper lip formed a bow shape that naturally curved up at the ends. Her relaxed expression could be gauged as amused … or smug.