Operation Hydra (8 page)

No wonder Krysta hated this place. He’d never felt so helpless in his life. And he’d just scratched the surface of the depravity. It had to end — soon!

* * * * *

Krysta stared at the device in Dr. Hydran’s outstretched hand and blanched. It blinked rhythmically, displaying the steady beating of Belle’s heart. Each
blip
a mocking reminder that Hydran could make it her last.

“I won’t do it,” Krysta ground out, her teeth clenching.

When she woke up this morning alone in Belle’s room, it had confused her. Each occupant of the Center had their own schedule and her sister’s was designed to keep her away from Krysta as much as possible. But she reached out for her twin and found a barely discernible, unresponsive signal, and her confusion turned to fear.

The elders told her Brett escorted Belle from the ward about an hour before, but they didn’t know for what purpose. Krysta went to the commons and pretended to read, reaching out again and again, attempting to trigger a response in her sister’s mind.

Then, Hydran walked in with his two goons. There were four tables in the commons, but suddenly Krysta sat alone. The elders approached from across the room. Krysta warned them away with a thought. They meant well, but she didn’t need the distraction. Staying near the wall, they pretended to respect her privacy, but they watched and listened. She sensed their minds.

Krysta stood, sliding her chair out of the way with her foot. “I’m done dancing with you. I won’t do it.”

“Of course you will.” Hydran’s condescending tone made her blood boil.

Her hands clenched into fists as his bodyguards flanked her.

“You’ll turn us into whores? You’re tired of watching us perform, so now you’ll be our pimp?”

Hydran scowled. His guards grabbed her arms. “That’s not what I said,” he snapped. “Mr. Darrin was frustrated by your resistance. I assured him you’ll be less resistant this time.”

“And you’ll keep Belle in stasis until I overcome my
resistance?
This is emotional blackmail. If I don’t let him —” One of the guards clapped his gloved hand over her mouth.

“Let, sweet Krysta. That’s the operative word here. You will let him do only what you want him to do. There is nothing wrong with sex between consenting adults.”

The guard’s hand remained over her mouth, while the other pushed her head forward, pressing her chin against her chest. She lunged and twisted, but they were strong and used to her tactics.

“Stay back!” one of the guards commanded. “This doesn’t concern any of you.”

Then, why the exhibition?
Krysta challenged mentally.
Do they have equalizers?

Poised and ready,
one of the elders responded.

Then, stay back.

She watched Hydran’s feet as he moved behind her. He swept her hair away from the nape of her neck and pressed something cold against her skin. It tingled,
then
burned.

“Hold her still,” Hydran ordered.
“Just a bit more, Krysta.
Almost done.”

The guards released her.

“What was that?” she shrieked, reaching back with her hand. Even the lightest brush of her fingers stung her skin. “What did you give me?”

Hydran tossed Belle’s monitor to her, smiling triumphantly. “Your
date
is waiting.”

She swung at him, but one of the guards caught her arm.

“Temper, temper,” Hydran said. “Why don’t you check on Belle?”

The monitor beeped and vibrated. Krysta’s heart lurched and she frantically searched with her mind.

Nothing.

“Please,” she cried, “stop it.”

With a chuckle, he made an adjustment on the control band encircling his wrist and the monitor returned to its previous rhythm. Belle’s presence, weak and unresponsive, reappeared within Krysta’s mind.

She released her breath in a slow unsteady hiss and tucked the monitor into the seam pocket of her pants. “There are no words vile enough to describe you.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll think of something. Let’s go.”

Pulses of encouragement and strength inundated her as she followed him from the ward.

* * * * *

Krysta didn’t say a word as they shuttled to his ship. Why was she so quiet? Where was the hellcat from ward B? Then Trey remembered surveillance equipment was likely attached to her clothes.

“We’ll find you something more comfortable to wear as soon as we get to the ship.” He hoped she understood his meaning.

Her expression didn’t change. This couldn’t be easy for her. Damn, it wasn’t easy for him. Hydran pulled the strings like a puppetmaster and they both felt compelled to dance. No, this had gone on long enough. He was finished playing Hydran’s twisted games. He would get her out of her clothes…
into other clothes…
and tell her some version of the truth. They had both been manipulated long enough. It was time for a counterattack.

Trey took her directly to his cabin and snatched a long-sleeved shirt from his locker. “You know the drill.” He handed her the shirt. “Toss everything out to me and I’ll find you something more appropriate to wear.” He motioned toward the utility room and waited until he had her last scrap of clothing. “I can stop by the galley while I’m gone. Are you hungry?”

“Thirsty.”

Well, one-word answers were better than silence. After incinerating her clothing, he went to the bridge and scanned his cabin. She was still in the utility room and there was no evidence of a transmitter.

“Commander Aune to Master Vee.”
He waited impatiently for the Mystic to respond.

“What can I do for thee?”

Trey turned from the control console and found Vee standing behind him. Vee enjoyed
Shifting
his form from one place to another. For long distances he required a transport conduit, but within the confines of the ship, he could pretty much Shift in and out at will.

“Krysta is in my cabin. I think Hydran may have given her a sedative. Can you scan her from here, or do you need to touch her?”

“I can scan her from here, but to neutralize the sedative, I will need a closer proximity.” He didn’t speak for a moment. “I sense no sedative. Are ye certain of thy information?”

“No. She was just acting… never mind. Thank you.”

The Mystic inclined his head and Shifted from the bridge.

Krysta stared at herself in the mirror on the back of the bathroom door. The shirt Trey had given her fastened up the front. She didn’t know what to call the fastening, but it reminded her of the plastic zipper used on food storage bags.

She folded back the sleeves and glanced at her legs. The shirttail hem left an awful lot of skin exposed, but that was probably just what he wanted. What was she going to do? No, that wasn’t really the question anymore. The monitor blinking from the metal countertop took that choice away. She was going to have sex with Trey Darrin.

How in creation was she going to get through it? That was the question. She felt queasy. The walls undulated and she trembled. Splashing water on her face only made her skin feel hotter, so she snatched up Belle’s monitor and returned to the main room.

Rubbing the smooth surface of the monitor with her thumb, Krysta scrambled for alternatives. She could tell Trey what Hydran had done. She laughed. He worked with Hydran; they probably planned it together. Trey had watched Hydran infect Belle with the virus, why would he care about this?

A slow, burning ache curled through her torso. She shivered and her nipples gathered against the shirt. Krysta closed her eyes. Sensation expanded within her. She knew this burn — this painful throb.

Her eyes flew open.
Libidium.
Hydran had given her Libidium. Damn him! Damn them both. As if Belle wasn’t enough incentive, Hydran had made it that much easier for his good buddy, Darrin. She had to think of something. Trey would be back any minute, expecting her to be submissive and willing…

Stashing the monitor in the bookcase near the bed, she welcomed the heat, reveled in the stimulation. Control! She wouldn’t submit to Trey Darrin’s desire, she’d use his magnificent body to satisfy hers.

She recognized his authoritative stride and quickly sat on the foot of his bed, crossing her legs. The shirt bunched, revealing her long, toned thighs.

“I brought you a uniform and some…”

He missed a step, nearly tripping over his own feet. She smiled, tilting her head just a bit.
“And some what?”

“Blish.”

He sounded choked and breathless. He held two mugs in one fist and a dark blue uniform bunched in the other. Ignoring the uniform, she took the mugs from him, then handed one back.

“What is blish?” She kept her tone soft, purring.

He was too busy devouring her with his eyes to answer, so she tasted the beverage. It was sweet and spicy with just a bit of citrus tang. “Delicious. Are both mugs for me? You’re not drinking.”

His paralysis was almost comical. The hunter had no idea how to be the prey. Feminine power surged through her, magnified by the Libidium. She raised the mug and drank, assessing him with her gaze, while the blish rolled across her tongue. “We both know why you brought me here.” She tossed the mug aside, her gaze never leaving his. “I want to feel your hands on my body.”

In one smooth motion, she unfastened the shirt, letting it hang open from her shoulders.

“Oh, gods, Krysta.”
He dropped the uniform and set his mug aside. “Don’t do this to me.” He groaned.

He reached for the halves of the shirt, meaning to close them no doubt, but she intercepted his hands and pressed them over her bare breasts. “Touch me. You know you want to.”

“Hell, yes, I want to, but not like this.” He pulled his hands out from under hers and stepped back. She didn’t cover herself. There was power in her nudity and she wielded it ruthlessly.

“Not like what, Mr. Darrin? What’s wrong? Does my body not appeal to you now? Am I being too resistant?” She snapped the last word like a whip.

“What did he do to you?”

The fever burned higher. She trembled and squirmed. Licking her lips, she pressed her thighs together and glared at him. “He put Belle in stasis. He can kill her with the push of a button, and he’s promised me he will — if I don’t please you.”

Hesitantly, he reached for her. His expression offered compassion and tenderness.

She twisted away.

“I had no idea,” he said earnestly.

“And I suppose you knew nothing about the Libidium?”

“Libidium?
What’s that?”

She snapped the shirt closed and crossed her arms, rocking on the balls of her feet. “Can’t you guess?”

He launched into a string of alien curses. His disgust seemed genuine, but Krysta didn’t care. She needed relief and Belle wasn’t available to help her disperse the chemical. She was losing control and there was no way he was going to watch it happen. “Get out!”

“What?”

“Get away from me. Now! Get the hell out.”

He didn’t move fast enough. She pushed him toward the door. He called out a word activating the portal and she shoved him into the passageway.

* * * * *

Trey rushed through the ship, restless — furious. He felt like a fool. Thinking back on their conversation, Hydran had all but drawn a diagram. Trey should have done more to prevent this abuse. He should have… He didn’t know what he should have done. He just should have done
more
.

She wasn’t going back! He wouldn’t allow her within a light-year of that maniac. Trey stomped down the corridor, enjoying the noisy thud of his boot heels. Closing his hand into a tight fist, he launched one bruising punch at the metal wall,
then
braced his hands against it as the sharp pain drove away his anger.

What was he going to do? There were so many variables. The only edge they had was Hydran’s trust in him. But how could he protect Krysta without jeopardizing that fragile advantage?
One thing at a time.
Where the hell was Vee? Trey found the Mystics in the lounge, their heads bent in conversation.

“Master Vee, may I have a word with you?” He made no effort to hide his irritation.

“Speak.”

“You may prefer my words in private.”

“Mage Gerr is aware of your frustration with me.”

“
My
frustration with you?”
Trey snarled. “Implying the problem is
mine?
” Damn, but he wanted to brawl. Too bad Vee was an old man — an old man who could incapacitate him with a thought, but that was beside the point. “You scanned her. Why didn’t you realize what Hydran had done?”

Vee stood, stepping out from behind the table. “I sensed no sedative. Is Krysta unwell?”

“It isn’t a sedative, and yes, she’s unwell. Meet us in the infirmary and Shift into a form appropriate to the role you’re about to play.”

“She will know I am a Mystic,” Vee warned.

“Not if you’re as clever as you think you are. She doesn’t know our technology. There will be lots of unfamiliar things in the infirmary. Grab something and make her think it’s a sophisticated scanner. She’ll never realize the cleansing pulse is actually coming from you. Choose a shape and make this work.”

* * * * *

Krysta stood at the viewport, adorned in the dark blue uniform, her arms clasped behind her back. Trey waited for her to turn, but she didn’t move.

“What has he promised you?” Her voice sounded cool and composed, but he didn’t believe it. She was in control, for the moment, but she could only drive herself so far on pride.

“I would think that was obvious,” he said softly. “You’re the prize, you’re the incentive, you’re what
keeps
me interested in the game.”

That made her turn
around. A rosy flush colored her cheeks and the swirling of her eyes was inconsistent. She was still under the influence of the drug.

“If I’m the prize, then what’s the game?” she asked. “Can anyone play?”

His gaze narrowed and he fisted his hands to keep from touching her. More than anything in the universe, he wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her. Tell her he would protect her; promise she would never have to see Hydran again. But Trey wasn’t sure he could keep that promise, so — for now — he continued the masquerade. “It’s a high-stakes game. How will you afford the ante?”