Wolfen (29 page)

“Wait,” she said.

Arik faced her with a huff.

“First tell me why you agreed.”

Something dark passed through his eyes, shadows so deep, she
couldn’t believe she’d never seen them before. “I have my reasons,” he said
shortly, and headed toward the ammunition stores, leaving her alone with too
many variables to consider.

He wanted to use Alpha? That’d be like playing Russian
roulette with one empty chamber. Besides, the Wolfen had already shot her down
once.

Then again, with Arik in the picture, the situation had
changed. Could she make Alpha reconsider? Arik seemed to think so. Only one way
to find out.

Desiree walked.

She made it almost to the tunnels, when Dare cut her off.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry, all alone?” He grinned as if he’d caught
her red-handed, and for a second, angry heat flushed through Desiree’s face.

She scrambled for an explanation he might believe. “I was
going to the lab.”

“Without Arik?”

“He went to get something I need.”

“And he couldn’t do that after he dropped you off into safe hands?”
Dare wriggled his fingers in front of her face.

She slapped his hand away. “We’re on a tight schedule. And
besides, it’s two minutes. I can handle being on my own for two freaking
minutes.”

“That’s not what I heard. Little birdie tells me you got a
real hard-on for the Wolfen down there.” He jerked his chin toward the tunnels.
“All Romeo and Juliet, and shit.”

“
What?
”

“You could’ve told me you’re into that freaky stuff. I can
do freaky.” Dare gave her a nasty once-over. His gaze stuck on her prosthesis
on the way back up. “I can do freaky real good.”

“You’re disgusting.”

Dare chuckled. “Like you can talk. What, you got offers
lining up in the wings? Please. Any man worth his dick around here wouldn’t
touch you with a ten-foot pole.”

“So what does that make you?”

Realizing what he’d said, Dare snarled. “You need to watch
your mouth, Tripod. Before something bad happens to you.”

Desiree seethed. The tunnels were
right there
.

“We got a problem here?” Arik glanced from Dare to Desiree
with a look that told them they’d better not piss him off. She’d never been so
glad to see it.

“Dare was just being his usual disgusting self,” Desiree
said. “And wasting my time.”

“That so, Dare?”

The redhead liked to talk tough when no one was around, but
he knew he wouldn’t stand a chance against Arik. He backed up like a good
little minion. “Just found her wandering around without an escort and figured
she got lost,
sir
.” He glared at Desiree. “Lab’s that way. In case you
forgot.”

And Desiree knew Dare wouldn’t be straying from her side for
the rest of the day. Not even for an instant.

Drip, and drip, and fucking drip…

~

Aiden had figured a few things out after his little chat
with
Desiree
.

One, she was a heartless, conniving bitch, just like her
father. But she wanted something from him, which gave him the upper hand. Or
had, when she’d been willing to compromise. He could have used it to his
advantage and gotten the fuck out of here. So what if she wanted to tag along?
As soon as they got out of here, he could have left her in the dust.

But no. He had to be the tough guy, pretend none of this
bothered him—like he was in here for fun and could walk out any damned time he
pleased.

Yeah, that was the second thing he’d figured out: he
couldn’t. His cell walls were solid rock. How the hell Klaus and his minions
had managed to dig holes into it, he didn’t know, but the crevices that allowed
water to seep through were tiny flaws he couldn’t exploit. It was at least ten
feet to the surface, and who the hell knew how thick the walls were?

The door was the obvious weak spot. Except it was four
inches of thick metal hung on seven sets of industrial-grade hinges drilled
deep into the rock. Kind of like submarine doors; built to withstand incredible
pressure.

Three heavy locks—one ancient and two modern—and a couple of
deadbolts at the top and the bottom. Good thing a two-inch gap along the base
let in air. The claustrophobic little box was enough to test his sanity. Even
back in Chernobyl, he’d never wanted for space or light as much as he did here.
If he stayed much longer, he’d start clawing at the walls.

To take his mind off of it, he listened to what went on
aboveground.

The converts had been taken care of that night, and the
stench of charred flesh the next day told Aiden the humans had burned the
bodies left behind. He wondered if it was for the people’s benefit, or some
lame attempt to warn off the rest of the group.

Either way, business as usual had resumed up there. The
guards rotated. The market opened. Kids ran around and dared each other to go
down into the tunnels. He waited quietly to see if they’d do it, ready to scare
the shit out of whoever was brave enough, but none of them were. Punks. He and
Bryce wouldn’t have batted an eyelash.

Speaking of which, his brother ought to be halfway home by
now. Aiden wondered how Bryce and Sinna were getting along on their own. He
could imagine the long, tense silences, and shuddered. Sinna enjoyed a good
rapport; she was a social creature like Aiden, if a little more subtle. Bryce
was the direct opposite. Hell, he’d probably have enjoyed the peace and quiet
here. God love him, but a conversationalist Bryce was not.

Aiden’s stomach growled. They hadn’t fed him in two days.
Naturally, since the door had no convenient slots, no one wanted to risk
opening it to serve him gruel. It was more an annoyance than a discomfort. He’d
weathered worse, and as long as that water kept dripping, he at least had a
steady source of fluids to tide him over a while.

What worried him more was whatever that witch was planning.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry all alone?”

Aiden’s ears perked up. He recognized that voice. One of the
guards from the other night. The timbre was different, though—amused, in a
condescending sort of way, but threatening at the same time. He strained to
hear the answer, but it was too soft to make out. Aiden put his nose to the
door’s bottom gap, and sucked in a deep breath to get a whiff of the speaker.
Too many conflicting scents to make out a specific one. He picked up on
temperaments, though: anger, aggression, arousal, fear.

“Please. Any man worth his dick around here wouldn’t
touch you with a ten-foot pole.”
A sick, backhanded compliment, as if the
girl should count herself lucky to be on the receiving end of his attentions.
What
the fuck?
Did that pass for pickup lines around here? Aiden knew the type,
and he felt sorry for the girl, who clearly had no one to look after her.

Her answer was a short, low hum that tickled Aiden’s
eardrums. Whatever she’d said pissed the guard off—big time.

“You need to watch your mouth, Tripod. Before something
bad happens to you.”

Aiden scowled and pulled away, wholly uninterested in the
witch’s antics. He resumed his seat with his back to the door, and ignored the
rest of the exchange. Whatever she got, she damned well deserved. And probably
worse.

Whump-whump-whump-whump-whump…

He’d gotten so used to the vibrations he barely noticed them
anymore.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

That
he noticed. His eye twitched. He needed a distraction.

Aiden waited for Desiree to come calling, but she didn’t.
Voices grew faint, lost in the shuffle of life aboveground. People passed the
tunnels but didn’t linger long enough to entertain him. Even the children kept
their distance today.

Hours went by. At some point, a different pair of guards
took up post by the tunnel entrance. Aiden scented gunmetal and testosterone, a
hint of alcohol, but nothing else. They didn’t talk to each other, and their
presence kept everyone else at a distance, which left Aiden without
entertainment once again.

Drip.

He kicked the far wall.

Drip. Drip.

With a growl, he pushed to his feet and traced the source of
the drip to a tiny, protruding root high up in the wall, where water trickled
quietly down to a crested outcropping, pooled into drops, and rolled off into a
puddle below. Keeping his eye on the offending noisemaker, Aiden felt around
for a loose rock. There were a handful of them, none big enough to use as
hammer and chisel, but one fit nicely into his hand. He bashed it against that
sharp peak until it dulled, then waited.

Dripdripdrip
—off to the side. A different leak. Eye
twitching, he found the source in the opposite corner, right in the ceiling
where water had soaked through, creating a crevice the width of his fingernail.
He had nothing to plug it with.

At the end of his wits, Aiden tapped his foot to the beat:
Tap-tap,
drip-drip. Tap-tap, drip-drip
—a rhythm he could get behind. Lemons,
lemonade, and all that shit. He closed his eyes, imagined an orchestra playing
him a proper James Bond theme song. Why the hell not? Pretending the stage was
all his, he held an imaginary mic to his mouth, and belted out the words to
Feelin’
Good
. His cell’s acoustics amplified his voice and made him sound badass,
so he tipped an invisible hat, snapped his fingers, and sang.

It worked, too. He vocalized the instrumental parts, nodded
like he had a pair of shades on his nose, tapped his heel like he wore 60’s
designer loafers instead of beat-up combat boots, and soaked up the applause in
his mind, throwing in some fancy footwork to wow the crowds. “
And I’m
FEEELIIIN’…gooood…
”

Approaching footsteps ruined the mood. Aiden lost his
groove, the sharp suit, gangsta hat, and his fandom audience, as four dark
walls slammed back together around him.
Good feeling’s gone.

“Finally worked up the nerve, eh?”

Three sets of footsteps approached, Desiree’s among them.

“Aw, and you brought friends,” he said. “How nice.”

Keys in the locks, tumblers turning, and deadbolts creaking out
of their moorings. Aiden braced himself, ready to throw his weight against the
door and bust out of here. Now was his chance.

The door unlocked, and he moved. With only a few feet for a
running start, he sure as hell made them count, and he slammed into that
portal. The last deadbolt snapped off, and the door flattened whoever was on
the other side. A wide-eyed guard across the hallway fired a shot from his
piddly little gun.

Aiden didn’t even feel the impact. He grinned savagely, and
reached for the man’s throat.

Or at least he tried.

His arm wouldn’t come up.

Aiden looked down at the ridiculous frilly dart sticking out
of his pectoral. The paralytic in it spread faster than he’d have thought
possible. His whole left side was already frozen, and it took tremendous effort
to raise his head up to look at the fuck who’d shot him.

He reached out with his right hand and got it up to waist
level, no farther. Worse, the serum was like an army of fire ants running
through his veins. It itched and burned at the same time, shooting tension
through his limbs. No matter how Aiden strained, he couldn’t move. Caught in a
precarious position in mid-step, he lost his balance, unable to correct. The
dickhead guard let him fall on his face.

A string of curses brought the second guard out from behind
the door. Aiden recognized his voice as the one who’d come on to the witch.
“You almost broke my nose, asshole!” He kicked Aiden hard.

Aiden couldn’t reciprocate.

Normally, pharmaceutical weapons had little effect on his kind.
Sedatives and tranquilizers might make Aiden sleepy for a bit, but he always
managed to shake them off, and give someone a piece of his mind. This was
different. Aiden could barely breathe. He couldn’t blink. His heart rate
slowed. Every muscle had gone rigid, including some very inappropriate ones,
given the situation.

The guard who’d be losing his leg very soon, stomped on
Aiden’s spine, and kicked him three more times before his shooter buddy
snapped, “Dare!”

“
What!
”

“Get him back inside,” Desiree ordered.

Her two minions hoisted Aiden up by his arms and dragged him
into the cell, laying him out diagonally so he’d fit in the confined space.
While his eyes could still move, Aiden turned them on Desiree who brought in
electric lanterns and two buckets, setting them within easy reach.

“Go on, bitch,” Dare shouted at Aiden, “let’s hear you say
something funny now.” He shoved Desiree aside to get at him again, and she
slammed into the wall none too gently.

“Arik,” she snapped, “get him out of here.”

“The hell you say! I wanna see this.”

“Arik!”

Arik wrestled Dare from the cell and the door closed,
locking Desiree in with Aiden.

Perfect.
If he could just get close enough to do some
damage, she’d be minced meat long before either of those douche bags knew what
was what.

Move your arm.
The neural message fizzled out at the
base of his skull.
Wiggle a damn finger!
Nothing—just static at the back
of his neck.

And now he couldn’t even move his eyes. With every second
that passed, Aiden became a prisoner in his own body. It wasn’t pain he felt,
exactly. It was as if his muscles had suddenly turned to cold, hard stone.

Worry began to gnaw at him. What the fuck was this?

And then the witch’s words came back to him like a lame
movie voice-over, and Aiden saw red.
There are over fifty Wolfen females in
Haven. And you. One, lone, viable male.

The fuck that was gonna happen!

Aiden fought the paralytic, tried to force his will on his
own body, to make his limbs move. Shift. A fucking twitch would be enough.
Something
to get out of this. He was Wolfen, goddammit! He was invincible!

He was frozen, stiff as a fallen statue, and ice filled his
bones, chilling him to the deepest corners of his soul. Aiden couldn’t move.

He couldn’t fucking move!

Whatever they’d injected him with had not only rendered him
utterly and hopelessly inert, but also uncontrollably hard. As pissed off as
Aiden was, as much as he feared—for the females, more than himself—his body was
primed to go, playing right into the witch’s hand. If evil could be condensed
into a serum, it was now coursing through his veins, courtesy of one small,
innocent-looking dart.

And he wanted to kill something.

Desiree gave a quivering sigh when the guards had left. She
righted herself and turned to face him. A colorful bruise covered her entire
right cheek. She limped a step closer, bent over, and pulled on her pant leg.
Aiden’s gaze was focused on a point too far above to see clearly, but he could
make out enough.

The witch had an artificial leg.

Not a very good one, by the sound of it. She had to manually
work it for the knee to bend so she could kneel by his side. When she did, she
cupped his face to make him look at her. His skin crawled at her touch. A growl
built in his chest and stayed locked there.
Get the fuck away from me!

Desiree glanced at the door, a four-inch barrier between her
and two armed guys arguing out in the hall. “I didn’t want this,” she
whispered.

Fuck you!

“I thought there would be more time, I…” She bit her lip. “I
know you won’t believe me; you have no reason to. But I tried to stop this. I
really did.”

I will tear your fucking heart out! I’ll rip the rest of
your limbs off and watch you writhe. I WILL DESTROY EVERYTHING YOU EVER LOVED!

“I’m sorry.”

No, don’t you do this! Don’t you fucking touch me!

Inside his mind, Aiden screamed in impotent rage. It did
nothing but make everything worse. His heart labored to pump blood through his
body, and he grew lightheaded. His lungs drew in small puffs of air, nowhere
near enough to keep him conscious, but some insidious component to this poison
kept his mind churning.

He couldn’t move, but he felt
everything
. He smelled
the woman, and hated that her scent was so goddamned clean. Her thumb brushed
his cheek and, to Aiden’s horrified disgust, the caress made him even harder. A
fragile, one-legged human girl, and he was completely at her mercy. He had
control over nothing, including the erection which couldn’t be called arousal,
even as a joke. It was too sick, too fucked up.

This isn’t happening.
It couldn’t be.