Текст книги "Trammel "

Автор книги: Anah Crow

Соавторы: Dianne Fox
сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Certainly Dane and Noah would have been able to help, but if there had been enough Hounds to take down Cyrus, in all likelihood Cyrus wouldn’t have been the only one dead at the end of the fight.

“She apologized. For killing you. Said she didn’t know you were mine.” Lindsay wondered if that would somehow keep Noah safe from her, next time. He knew there would be a next time.

“She’s right.” Noah’s eyes were hot and Lindsay was aware—all over again—of how close he was, and how bare he was. “I am yours. Even more than before. I remember you, after the fire, what you did for me. You were there and there wasn’t any pain anymore. I have this life because of you. You made me live when I had no life of my own.” He turned his head and kissed the palm of Lindsay’s hand, soft and warm.

“Even before that, you gave me reason to come home.”

Lindsay’s palm felt as sensitive as an erogenous zone, with Noah’s lips on it. He drew his hand down to press his fingertips to Noah’s lips.

“I couldn’t let you suffer. I never had anything that was mine before Cyrus gave you to me. I wanted to give you anything you needed.” The fierceness of that drive had never faded. Everything he’d never had until he became Dane’s, he wanted to give to Noah in turn. Dane had taught him how to feel that way.

Noah kissed his fingers this time, the tip of his tongue brushing over Lindsay’s skin as he kissed each finger, then Lindsay’s thumb, catching it gently in his teeth first. Eyes closed, he pressed his feverishly hot cheek against Lindsay’s palm and shifted enough that Lindsay could feel how hard he was.

“I won’t be hurt if you don’t want me,” he said softly.

Lindsay used his hand on Noah’s cheek to draw him in, slowly, to press a very light kiss to those very warm lips, and found one of Noah’s hands with the other. He pressed it against his own erection. Noah was wanted. Very much. This way, and in so many other ways. Noah was his.

“I need this.” Noah’s voice was raw, as though it hurt to say the words. Lindsay knew this wasn’t easy for him. “You.” He worked Lindsay’s fly open and slid his fingers inside.

Lindsay groaned and arched into the touch. Scrambling to get dressed and ready to leave three days ago meant that, now, Noah’s hot hand was on bare flesh. Carefully, he nudged Noah onto his back and rolled up over him, kissing him again, slower this time.

“Tell me what you need,” he said, trailing his hands down Noah’s bare chest and belly, seeking out his cock to wrap his cool fingers around the hot shaft and stroke lightly.

“You.” Noah captured his hands and sat up. He kissed Lindsay’s palms, his open mouth wet against Lindsay’s skin. “It doesn’t have to... Just this once. Please. I could feel you in me when you held my magic, when you held my pain. It’s lonely without you, Lin. I thought I’d be lonely forever.”

He let go of Lindsay’s hands to tug Lindsay’s shirt up, and he kissed his throat and up under his chin, more open kisses mixed with licks and nips and soft moans that sent need racing through Lindsay’s body.

Lindsay pushed Noah back enough that he could strip off his shirt, then leaned in again to catch Noah’s lips in another kiss. Noah kissed him desperately, hands all over Lindsay’s chest and back and tangled in his hair. His breath came faster until he was panting between kisses.

“Please, fuck me,” Noah begged. “I need to feel you.”

Oh, God. Lindsay hadn’t. They didn’t. Ever.

Yet the intimacy of being inside Noah’s mind was familiar now, and soothing; a physical bond couldn’t be anything but good and right, especially in the midst of all the things that had gone horribly wrong.

“Shh,” Lindsay soothed, stroking his hand over the stubble of Noah’s hair. “It’s all right.”

He wondered if Dane felt this mix of tenderness and driving need when they had sex, when Lindsay begged him for it. He knew how he felt when he needed Dane. There was nothing in the world like knowing Dane was there for him in every way possible. Dane had made sure that Lindsay would have what he needed, without guilt or shame, when Dane couldn’t be here with him. When they had Dane back, Lindsay would make sure Dane knew he was there in turn. Right now, he and Noah were here for each other.

He plucked the blue bottle from the table beside the bed and kissed Noah again while he got his fingers slick. This, he’d done before, if only to himself. He knew what to do, and how to make it feel good.

He kissed Noah’s neck and chest, tasting all the soft new skin that had been tempting him earlier, and Noah opened up for him, leaning back on one hand and drawing his knees up, his breath catching on a moan as Lindsay touched him. He yielded easily to Lindsay’s fingers, reaching down and guiding them in.

Lindsay couldn’t change how cold he would feel to Noah, not without magic he wasn’t sure he had permission to use, but Noah didn’t seem to mind.

“Hot,” Lindsay murmured, the clench of Noah’s body around his fingers even warmer than the skin under his lips.

“You feel good. Always.” Noah’s voice was unsteady. He moved to kiss Lindsay on the mouth, needy and clumsy at once. He found the shaft of Lindsay’s cock and wrapped his hand around it, stroking as he whimpered against Lindsay’s lips.

Knowing that he was going to fuck Noah made the touch even more intense. Lindsay bucked into the tight circle of Noah’s hand, moaning sharply as he struggled to keep from giving in to the urge to do it now, hard and fast and inside. Finally, against every instinct he had, Lindsay moved Noah’s hand away, carefully, so he could focus on what he was doing.

“Lindsay...” Noah leaned back on both hands, clenching the sheets. “Please. Fuck, please, don’t wait.” He let his head fall back, eyes closed, and rocked to get Lindsay’s fingers in as deep as he could.

“Please, fuck me. I need it, please. Tell me what to do.” His voice trailed off into gasps and moans and barely comprehensible begging.

Fuck. Lindsay swallowed hard and pulled his fingers out, pouring oil over them again to slick his cock. He didn’t stop to get rid of his jeans, just set the bottle aside and shoved them down enough that he could move.

Bracing himself over Noah, he slowly pushed inside. Noah was hot and tight, and it wasn’t like anything Lindsay had ever felt. He had to stop moving and take a slow, deep breath so this wouldn’t end far, far too quickly.

Noah’s moan was pure relief. He slumped down on the bed and drew his knees up farther, letting Lindsay have him. Opening his eyes, he reached out and cupped Lindsay’s cheek, a tender counterpoint to how desperate he’d been moments before. They fit together better than Lindsay could have imagined, and when he met Noah’s gaze, he felt like it was locked on something that was rooted deep in his chest.

Lindsay turned his head to kiss Noah’s palm before he began to move. He kept it slow at first, testing the waters and letting both their bodies adjust to the sensations, then he thrust deeper. From the beginning, he’d been thrown into this without warning, hardly ready to handle the task at hand.

But Noah knew what he wanted from Lindsay, moving with him, arching, drawing Lindsay in deeper with both hands on the curve of Lindsay’s ass. Like the first time, he let Lindsay in so easily and offered up everything to help Lindsay get it right. He never left Lindsay with any question as to how good it was for him, either, gasping and moaning and whispering Lindsay’s name and begging for more.

When Lindsay fucked him just right, it rippled through him and he clenched tight around Lindsay’s cock. It was incredibly intense and, each time, Lindsay struggled not to let the sensation overwhelm him.

He managed to balance on one arm and wrapped his other hand around Noah’s cock, stroking in time with his thrusts.

Touching Noah like that turned up the volume and the intensity. Noah grabbed handfuls of the sheets, arching under Lindsay and crying out his name. He begged for more, harder, please, and then he was coming, every muscle taut with it as come splashed up his chest.

The clench of Noah’s body around him shattered the last of Lindsay’s control. His hips jerked and he drove into Noah faster, harder, coming and coming apart with every thrust. Collapsing over Noah, barely catching himself on his elbows, he gasped for breath and grasped at the shreds of coherent thought his orgasm had left behind.

He’d never expected that. Any of it.

Lindsay rubbed his cheek against Noah’s, then mouthed at the corner of his lips, coaxing him into a kiss. Noah wrapped an arm around him and slid a hand up into his hair while they kissed. The soft noises he made sounded both inadvertent and completely blissful. Lindsay savored each one.

He rocked against Noah once, twice more, every movement sending sparks of heat racing through him before he pulled away to stretch out against Noah’s side.

Noah rolled over to face him, pressing close and petting down Lindsay’s back as they kissed. He paused, but it was only to pull the covers up over them, tucking Lindsay in with him.

“That was so good,” he murmured, as though there might be any doubt left in Lindsay’s mind about that fact. He sighed shakily and kissed Lindsay once more, a soft kiss on the lips. “Thank you.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not something you need to thank me for. But you’re welcome. Very.” Lindsay kissed him back. The stubble of Noah’s hair tickled over his palm when he let his hand slip down to the back of Noah’s neck. He rubbed there, working away the tension he could feel building up. “You should rest.”

“You too.” Noah’s eyes were already closed and his tension ebbed as Lindsay chased it away. “If you ever want...” He paused, stroking Lindsay’s hip while he searched for words. “If you ever want this again.

Whenever you decide. It would be good.” His eyes fluttered open. “Understand?”

Lindsay was sure he was missing some of the nuances of what Noah was trying to say, as usual; there would be some kind of formal boundaries on what one did with one’s apprentices but of course no one had stopped to explain them to him. He did understand that Noah would be open to having sex with him again—that Noah wanted him—and he knew what it meant for Noah to let him in as a lover. He’d seen the wreckage of the back porch after Noah had blown Kristan through the door and set fire to the house rather than yield to temptation.

“I understand.” Even in the midst of all his loss and the destruction of the life he’d come to trust, Lindsay felt like something had gone right, something vital in spite of how small it seemed next to Moore’s machinations. Gently, Lindsay squeezed the back of Noah’s neck the way Dane sometimes did to him and added, “Now rest. Before I put you to sleep myself.”

They were a mess of oil and drying come, and Lindsay’s scattered and rumpled clothes, but Lindsay didn’t want to deal with any of it. He wanted to know that Noah was healthy and safe, and he wanted to rest.

Noah didn’t protest. He snuggled down in the blankets and was asleep in seconds. Lindsay watched him sleep and wondered how often Dane did the same when he was the one who slept.

Dane.

Being with Noah didn’t feel like a betrayal, but it filled Lindsay with a longing for his first lover, and he thought about what Dane had said before they went to find Zoey. Dane loved him. Lindsay hadn’t had a chance to unravel the mystery of what that meant; he hadn’t had a chance to stop and think about how he felt about Dane. Not until now.

He found Noah’s scarred left hand and brought it up to his lips. Noah’s love for his wife had given Lindsay his first glimpse what real love looked like for other people, had given him something against

which to measure his feelings for Dane. I don’t want to be the reason you feel the way I do. Noah knew, saw it before Lindsay knew what to call it, and that made everything vivid and real.

They would find Dane, get him back from Moore, and Lindsay would tell him what he deserved to hear. Lindsay didn’t let himself feel anything but certain he’d succeed. He had to. He wasn’t going to lose Dane again. Not now. Not when he finally understood.

Eventually, soothed by Noah’s slow, unlabored breathing and the memory of Dane’s declaration, Lindsay drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Ten

They were offloaded in the dark, under a cloudy sky that made it impossible for Dane to see the stars.

He was, as far as he could tell, nowhere. His instincts were crippled, and he had nothing to go on but a runway and a cluster of gray buildings that could have been anywhere on earth. The wind blew and Dane turned his face into it, but he heard nothing. Maybe he couldn’t hear without his magic.

He and Jonas—in their cages—were loaded onto flatbed carts and accompanied into one of the buildings by a dozen soldiers and two white-coated technicians. When Dane squinted, he could see the nametag of the one who came close to inspect him. The man’s round face twisted with distaste. Dane knew he looked bad, but there was no need to be rude about it.

“Sorry I haven’t shaved,” he said, and was rewarded by the guy nearly pissing himself in terror and falling over his own feet to get back from the cage. “I asked, but these new airlines don’t even serve meals, much less provide razors.”

“Shut up.” One of the soldiers hit the cage with a baton and made the bars ring. Dane wanted nothing more than to reach through the bars and rip the man’s throat out, just to watch the others’ faces. He knew better, though. He was suffering enough already. If he made things worse for himself... Well, they could let him out of the cage right now and he still wouldn’t make it out of there alive.

Dane settled for flashing the technician a grin and hunkering down in the middle of the cage. Too close to the bars and it would be easy for someone to entertain themselves by prodding him with a charged baton. Behind him, he could hear them discussing Jonas. He felt half-deaf without his magical senses, but he could make out the conversation.

Damn right Jonas was “non-functional”. As things stood, Dane was going to have to leave him behind in order to escape and that was troubling him.

Another reason to hate Moore—worrying about the animal he’d spent the last century looking forward to killing. But he wasn’t letting Moore have a single piece of mageflesh, and that included Jonas.

The guards and technicians installed them in a lab, literally installed them by sliding their cages into place against a wall, side by side and some feet off the ground. It was dim, only a few small lights on where the technicians were working, but Dane could feel that the room was vast, the way sound faded into it and was gone. He was sure there were living things in the room other than the staff. When he tuned out the snuffle and whine of Jonas’s breathing, there were faint organic sounds.

“We need to put them out.” The words were spoken low, but Dane’s head whipped around so fast he wanted to whimper in protest. “Blow darts or...”

“I’ll get the stick.” That was a female technician, one who seemed to be in charge. She looked like a cheerleader, but Dane could make out the ugly curl of her smile when she turned toward him. Moore was crazy for ugly, inside or out.

Dane did his best to make it inconvenient for them to tranquilize him, but the back of his cage punched forward and crushed him into immobility against the bars. His body was screaming with pain and yet he still felt the single point of hurt as a thick needle sank into his thigh. Fire spread through his leg and left numbness behind. By the time it climbed up his torso, his consciousness was fading into black.

The black was a void in which he was suspended, but he knew time was passing. It was like he was awake in a dark room, staring into the lightlessness. They were doing things to his body, things he didn’t want done, but he couldn’t wake up. He heard howling and wondered if it was his own voice. The blackness faded into sleep and he dreamed of being in his own bed.

“Time to wake up.” A baton rang off the cage bars, jerking Dane back into consciousness. Waking made him suck in air, and he regretted it immediately. He stank. Jonas stank. Being doused in chemical cleaner hadn’t done much for either of them.

“Am I late for school, Mom?” Moving made his muscles shriek with resentment. His eyes were open, but everything was dim. He hoped it was the lighting and not his brain.

“You have visitors today.” It was the cheerleader again. Women had always been trouble, in Dane’s experience. They had different priorities than men, and their hate lasted for generations as they sculpted their children into weapons. They were dangerous. This one tapped her baton on the bars and smiled sweetly at Dane. “Hungry?”

Starving. The word was enough to make Dane’s stomach rumble, and she laughed, shaking her head so that her hair flicked across her shoulders.

“It’s breakfast time in two minutes.” She slipped the baton between the bars and tapped his cheek with it. “I’ll make sure you have your share.”

As she turned and walked away, the room grew brighter like a sunrise, but the light was watery and artificial. Dane could see better by the moment, and he knelt up, his shoulders against the top of his cage, looking around for the first time. His cage and Jonas’s were the only ones in the immediate vicinity, at one end of the room with technical equipment that he couldn’t identify and rows of desks with computer screens suspended in front of them. That made it harder to see, but if he pressed his face to the bars and looked out on an angle with his one good eye, he could get a sense of the room.

It was immense, like a warehouse. Fans hung from the high ceiling and turned slowly to stir the cold air. There were more cages, row on row, back to back, stacked three high. Dane watched a pair of technicians driving a mobile scaffolding cart into place so that they could see into each level of cages.

Above the hum of the circulating system and the voices of Moore’s people getting to work, he could hear soft sounds, animal sounds. There was the rumble of large doors opening and the hum of a small vehicle coming through, just before it was drowned out in a chorus of howling. None of the people Dane could see turned to look for the source of the noise, but it made the hair on the back of Dane’s neck stand up.

The echo in the room and Dane’s broken senses made it hard for him to understand. Awareness dawned slowly as a large clock over the lab ticked to read six o’clock. Breakfast. Feeding time. The howls—half-human, half-animal—came from the rows of cages. The flatbed cart brought bins of feed, and the technicians got to the business of feeding the animals, directed by the scientists.

“Here we are.” That was his scientist. His. Dane pushed the concept away as hard as he could. She carried two steel trays that seemed heavy, and she looked quite pleased. “You need to start eating well.

None of that kibble for you.”

“McDonalds?” It was hard to stay flippant in the face of the horror that was sinking in.

“I wouldn’t feed my dog that crap,” she said, opening a narrow door at the bottom of Dane’s cage.

“Well, I mean my other dog.”

The opening was too small for Dane to get anything but a hand through. She slid a tray in, forcing him to shuffle back, and locked it in place, then did the same with the second. Raw chicken on one, sprinkled with some sort of blue gritty substance, fruits and vegetables on the other.

“I can’t eat this,” he said. “Not with these teeth.” It was true, and he didn’t want to eat it, either.

“Start on your veggies.” She climbed up a step stool beside him and he could read her nametag. Dr.

Greer Fallon, DVM. A veterinarian. “Dr. Moore will come by to sort you out. She’s been away, or I wouldn’t have left you like this.” She pulled a steel hose down and locked it into place in the side of the cage. Water ran out of it in a steady trickle, disappearing into a drain in the bottom of the cage.

“Here’s that mash, Greer.” A technician came over, lugging a bucket of what looked like oatmeal and raw meat. “How can you stand the smell?”

“That smells yummy.” Greer hopped off the stool. “I stand it because I don’t have human prejudices.

Get me the feeding tube for Jonas and stop whining. I want to be done with this and have him cleaned up before Dr. Moore arrives. Eat up, Dane.” She smacked the front of Dane’s cage with the flat of her hand on the way past.

Dane backed up into a corner, but he realized by the slant and shape of it that he was probably sitting in what was supposed to be his toilet. He’d been in prison and it had never been this bad. He couldn’t stand up, could barely lie down. By the looks of things, they planned to keep him for a very long time.

His stomach growled again. He picked up a piece of apple and sniffed it. He couldn’t tell shit like this.

There wasn’t anything to do, so he started eating. Beside him, he could hear the soft rise and fall of the

veterinarian’s voice as she stuck a tube down Jonas’s throat and started force-feeding him. She sounded like a worried nanny. This was hell.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen.” Speak of the devil. Dane dropped the apple and got ready to be as uncooperative as possible.

Moore came into his line of sight from the far side of the lab, followed by an entourage of white-coated minions. She looked sleek and lovely, her ruddy hair and tall black boots gleaming under the white lights. Queen of the damned. She wore her lab coat like royal robes. Behind her, the girl drifted like a ghost, looking drained. In contrast, the weather mage who’d bested Cyrus at Wildwood radiated a light all her own, like the sun was under her skin. It would make her easier to find when he hunted her down.

“Dr. Moore. Thank you for coming.” That was Greer, stepping away from forcing breakfast down Jonas and hurrying to meet her. “Have you received the latest numbers?”

“I have, Dr. Fallon.” Moore gave her a tight smile. “Progress seems to be getting away from us.”

“We’ve reduced the transplant ratios, yes. The manifestation mortalities were rising too quickly.”

Greer clasped her hands behind her back and joined Moore on her slow parade across the room. “The new cell batches are far superior, thanks to our friends here.”

“It’s good to see them both looking well. But you wanted some adjustments?” Moore’s smile was nothing less than demonic as she caught Dane watching her.

“For this one, at least.” Greer stopped at Dane’s cage and patted the bars fondly. “He’s been running a fever. I’m afraid we collared him too early. Also, I’d like to see his teeth returned to a more feral state.

He’ll thrive if I can put him on a raw diet.”

“And the other?” Moore glanced over at Jonas’s limp form.

“He’s in good health, for his condition,” Greer said, frowning. “We’re keeping him sedated, and it’s safer if we tube-feed him. You were correct about his contributions. We should cultivate a hybrid of these two to maintain for long-term supplies. It’s a pity the cell cultures don’t maintain efficiency in a production matrix.”

“Magic can’t be nurtured that way.” Lourdes was barely audible. She moved past Moore, like she was sleepwalking, and stopped in front of Jonas’s cage.

“Yet.” The weather mage looked contemptuous. “It’ll come.”

Moore took a clipboard from Greer and signed several places on a form. “Sedate him, and we’ll take care of that healing.”

“Of course.”

Dane caught movement off to the side. He already knew where “the stick” was. It was a rod that held a hypodermic needle in the end and allowed them to inject him without reaching into the cage. He shifted into the back corner next to Jonas, where there was too little room between the cages for them to reach him.

“You know what you need to do,” Greer said, coming over to the cage with the stick in her hand. The needle on it was a good two inches long and thick as hell. “You need to get better and you need those nice teeth so you can eat your dinner. When you’re asleep, Dr. Moore will let you heal. Okay?” She gave him a bright smile as she slid the stick through the bars.

Dane watched the needle close in, watched her tense in anticipation of ramming it into him. He grabbed it out of her hands, snapped it, and lunged at her with what was left. He would have had her too, except that Moore snatched her back and away from him.

“You can’t treat them like they’re human,” Moore said icily. “And you can’t treat them like they’re animals. They’re born rabid. Get me another injector.”

“You need to stop that,” Greer said to him, looking wounded. He could see her pulse fluttering in her neck, and he wanted to bite it out and swallow it while it was still twitching. “I’m trying to make you feel better.”

“Here, Dr. Moore.” That was the grumbling assistant who had brought Jonas’s slop. He had a second stick that he was fitting with another syringe.

“I’ll do it.” Lourdes’s voice was faint, but her eyes—fixed on Dane—were brighter than he had ever seen. She dropped her gaze as she turned, her body language soft and submissive. “Please?” She held her hand out for the stick.

“Go ahead, dear.” Moore looked positively proud. “You’ve handled him before.”

“He and I have an understanding,” Lourdes said to Greer. “Whether he likes it or not.”

“We do, don’t we?” she added so only Dane could hear.

“Touch me with that thing and we’ll both understand what your blood tastes like,” Dane snarled. Her mind on his made him want to claw at his head.

“Be my guest.” Greer stepped well back, irritation coming off her in waves.

“We’ve been through this before.” Lourdes stepped closer to him. “If you let me do this,” Dane felt as much as heard, “I promise you will be glad of it. But pain will follow, and you cannot let them see that you are not sleeping.” She slid the stick between the bars.

Dane knew what it was to have her separate him from his will, and it wasn’t happening. His thoughts were clear and his muscles answered his commands to flex. “What do you want for this?”

“Only what you do.”

Lourdes was slight, but she had the reflexes of a cat. The needle came at him like a snake, yet not so fast that Dane didn’t feel a splash of anesthetic on his skin before the point bit in. The pain was half what it had been last time, and he twisted, feigning the agony he’d felt before.

“You have to make them respect you,” Lourdes said, walking away.

The world swam and went gray. Dane slumped down with his head against the cage bars. Beyond the blurred clumps of his lashes, he could see that Moore held something in the palm of her hand. An artifact

with a blue light shining from it like an eye. She turned it toward him and murmured a saying. It made no sense to Dane, but he tried to remember it.

His magic crept back in like the rush of blood to a sleeping limb, and it took everything he had not to scream. Still, he brought his will down with all the experience of centuries, forcing himself to heal from the inside out. Nerves, senses, flesh. His blood turned toxic with dying bacteria, his heart faltered, his sight went dark; finally, his pain and the drugs were swept away as though by a single motion of a hand.

Dane’s back ached with the pressure of his wings yearning to spread. Fur crawled under his skin and his spine twisted as it grew too long for his body. The beast in him had to wait. It had waited for decades to be free until Ezqel had removed the curse and fixed his magic, it could wait again.

The pleasure of being whole made it impossible for him to hear what Moore said next. It felt like she had executed him with the word. The sense of ending was worse than the death he’d died at Jonas’s hands, because his body was still breathing and he was still trapped in this cage. Still failing. He was empty and limp, his heart struggling once more to keep his body alive without magic.

They were talking outside his cage, and Dane tried to make himself focus through the fear brought on by losing his magic. He wasn’t used to being afraid.

“I’d like to preserve a hybrid instead of keeping this one.” That was Greer. She didn’t like Jonas. She was his kind of girl. “We were afraid his offspring would be erratic this time, and we were right. They don’t have his malleability.”

“His ability to recover is unparalleled,” Moore said. “I’m loath to lose that. The others can keep them in line.”

“Perhaps the problem is with his marrow, the way he is now.” Lourdes’s voice was almost pained.

“I’m sure there must be severe errors when he is in the midst of mass regeneration.”

“You think it would improve if we healed him completely?” Greer seemed interested.

“She’s simply being sentimental.” Moore laughed at the girl. “I’m surprised that you’re so fond of the dog, Lourdes.”

“I don’t want him back,” Lourdes snapped. “If I did, I’d be pushing for you to replace him, or telling you he’s useless. I’m telling you to keep him. But stop making fodder for the incinerator just because you like seeing him in pieces.”

“Your notes suggest that his progenitors were excessively obedient,” Greer said. “Now we can’t keep them in line. She has a point. We don’t fully understand the alterations in the body during regeneration. His DNA may carry large defects or it may be susceptible to the influences of the host body.”

“We’ll discuss your manners later, Lourdes,” Moore said icily. “In the meantime, yes, Dr. Fallon, I will restore Jonas as well.”

“Thank you kindly. I’m going to give Dane a little more sedative to keep him under and do some work on him—I don’t want him to wake up while I have a bore in his bone.”

Another needle sank into him and the burn came on full force. He needed to hear. He couldn’t fall asleep. Strangle pole wires caught him around the neck and leg, and he was dragged over to the far side of the cage. There were several technicians as well as Greer there now, and they wrapped metal straps around his chest, hips and thighs, and locked him up against the bars.

As he started to fade, he saw one of them with a blowtorch, bringing it to bear on him, and he was helpless. Fire swept up and down his leg, a fan of blue that burned away his hair there and made his skin tingle painfully. But the flame moved too quickly to burn him and then it was gone. The wire around his neck made his breath whistle in his throat until he heard Greer’s voice rise. The wire loosened.