Chapter 3
Binder [ bahyn -der ] noun
The hereditary line of Talents able to cohere objects together by focusing their will upon them. Denoted by gold halos around their irises, these Talents are most adept in the fields of healing and infrastructure maintenance.
– Excerpt from A Treatise on Talents , Third Edition
“We’re calling the Talent research facility the Source. The refugees have settled in, and we’ve begun testing. Most are eager to show us what they’re capable of. The ones that balk have been removed from the general populace for more intensive study. I can’t help but note that the marketing of these Talents could become quite lucrative.”
– L. Merkel, Head Geneticist,
The Source
Flynn stomped his feet, savoring the pang shooting through his knee. It distracted him from the woman inside the coop. That sense of peace he’d fought so hard to find had been blown to shit. His one safe bolt hole?—
Christ, it wasn’t. He’d been here too long. The Fuil were breathing down his goddamned neck, Omar was gonna be out for blood, and Cal had him on freaking speed-dial.
All of which paled at the prospect of the Sons catching wind he was kicking around their neck of the woods again.
Time to move. Go west. Disappear.
He needed her gone and his damned cuff first.
He opened the door, grimacing at the woman sitting in his chair. Thick brown hair cascaded to her waist and was tousled over her eyes. She had a pert little nose, and full lips evoking thoughts he was better off without. She put down his copy of A Picture of Dorian Gray , and he threw a sour glance heavenward.
Thanks for the reminder.
She watched him from beneath a heavy fringe of bangs, her knees drawn up to her chest. The Henley had fallen off one bronzed shoulder. That was a problem. So was her perfume. The whole room smelled like her, and he didn’t hate it.
He really needed to hate it.
“Thanks for last night,” she began in a rich contralto. “I was dumb to get caught out in that. Where are we, exactly?”
She sounded nervous. Well, he could understand her predicament, but didn’t have a lot of sympathy for it. None, actually.
“Thirty miles from Greyburn. I had to pull off because of the storm.”
Frustration marred her perfect features. She sure as hell didn’t play cards.
“I need to keep moving.”
He waved at the window with a stick of firewood. “There’s no way we’re getting out of here right now. Trust me, I’m not happy about it either.”
She bit at her thumb. God, that was adorab—Christ, no it wasn’t. She had to be scared shitless. Flynn cringed, imagining how she saw him: a big, ugly son of a bitch. He tried to sound gentle .
“Look sweetheart, nobody’s gonna find you—” Damn it, that’d come out creepy.
She tensed, and he caught a glimmer from behind that dark curtain of hair. It wasn’t Breaker red. A sinking feeling curdled his stomach.
“Who are you?” Her voice shook over granite.
He could ask her the same fucking question.
Slamming the stove door hard enough to make the kettle jump, he lurched to his feet. “Flynn. I got a call to pick you up. Look, I get why you didn’t want to wait out the storm with Jake, but it was stupid.”
She raked the Henley up over her shoulder, sinking back in the chair. His eye fell on the porno. Great. Just fucking great.
“Relax, if I was gonna try anything?—”
“How do I know you didn’t?”
He barked out a laugh. “Trust me sweetheart, you’d know.” She made a dismissive snort, and his temper spiked. “I didn’t touch you, and won’t. Look, no one’s gonna find either of us out here. That’s the whole fucking point.” Cursing the slip, he threw the piece of wood back on the pile, wincing as she flinched. Christ, he was an asshole.
“You’ll just have to make the best of it. We both will.” He snagged her bag from behind the recliner and held it out to her with grease-stained fingers. Damn it. “Here, I didn’t mess with this, either.” It was in worse shape than the coat he’d peeled off her last night.
She wouldn’t even look at him. He let it drop.
“Do you know where my sunglasses are?” Flynn grunted at her bag, and she grabbed it to rummage, then shoved them onto her nose. “I get headaches, they help.”
Liar. Necessary or not, it pissed him off.
“You some kind of an engineer?” She motioned at the textbooks.
He colored, pulling off his beanie and running a hand through his hair. Lurching over to the pile of books, he moved them from the chair to under the table, where they joined the car battery he’d pulled. “I tinker.”
Silence wrapped around them and dragged.
The kettle started steaming, and he hobbled over to take it off the stove, feeling her eyes on him. Between his size and how beat to shit he was, she must think he was a real freak show. Shit, she wasn’t wrong. While they were stuck here, he should probably attempt to be cordial. He plunked a couple of mugs onto the table and dug out his manners.
“Do you take honey in your tea?”
She laughed. “Yes, and diamonds on my pancakes.”
“You could’ve just said no.” He shot her a dirty look, taking out a jar and adding a generous glob to his mug.
“You’re serious! Where did you get—Yes! Please, may I have some?”
Flynn pushed it across the table. She added a heaping spoonful to her mug, then popped another into her mouth with a moan. Sound went straight to his groin. He caught himself staring and cleared his throat, looking away. Never mind her shoulder, all of her was a problem.
“Sorry. It’s impossible to get honey…” She sucked on the spoon, clearly not sorry.
“At the Source, I know.” He pulled pasta and a jar of sauce from the cupboard. “I’ve heard you Talents have refined palettes. I hope spaghetti will suit.” He limped into the bathroom to fill the pot.
Her profile stopped him dead in the doorway on his way back. There was no question the woman was engineered. She’d tossed the sunglasses onto the table and brushed her dark hair back. It feathered around an elfin face so perfect his chest hurt to see it. He forced his feet forward, making a conscious effort to breathe.
She turned, her stare hitting him like a wrecking ball—wide golden halos around dark irises. He stumbled, the blood draining from his face.
“Lousy disguise, huh?”
Flynn hefted the pot onto the wood stove. Water sloshed and steam hissed up. He dumped in dinner to cook. The lid clattered as he covered it.
“I—Stir that if it starts to boil over.” Jerking a thumb in the stove’s direction, he left, slamming the door behind him. If his knee hadn’t been so fucked up, he would’ve run. He needed to fix that glitchy plaz-converter and ditch the both of them, the sooner, the better.
Riegel was in a foul mood. Wherever Kara had landed, she had no plans to pull talent. Her propensity for vexing him was maddening. He wanted to tear something apart, and for once, she wasn’t the main source of his angst.
Before the sun had risen, he’d been summoned to attend his Patron. Kept waiting for hours in reception, he only now stood within Titus’s twilight chambers before a convex wall of flickering holograms.
Most were of military operations across the globe, though not all. Some showed Talents being tested. Others breeding. One played a cello. Every facet of their lives recorded, scrutinized, and kept on file.
Strictly for research purposes, of course.
Riegel’s fury stuck in his throat, unable to choke down the semblance of autonomy the others so eagerly lapped up. He’d been thirteen when Titus had first summoned him. The man had been watching a similar array of holos that day, then they’d all abruptly featured Riegel. Stealing a bottle of kir from the kitchens. Masturbating. Killing puppies. Every intensely personal thing he’d ever done, this man had access to with the flip of a switch.
Titus hadn’t needed to say anything. Riegel knew who owned him. He’d fled, filled with anger and self-loathing. Kara had been playing by herself in the garden. Seeing her, something in him had snapped. It’d felt so good to vent his anger on her… And even better when he’d felt her talent bleed into him. His lips curved upwards at the memory of her cries.
The holos swept aside, revealing the man seated in a throne-like chair behind the massive desk of cherry and chrome. The images came to rest behind him in an arc. Against that ominous backdrop, Titus’s gaze lanced through him.
“Tell me about requisitioning a vector.” A distinguished red-haired man of indeterminate years, the conciliatory tone of his voice made Riegel sweat.
He spread his hands in apology. “I—Talent Jester hasn’t answered her summons to breed. She’s either deep in Albanach’s tower or has fled the Source.”
Titus’s lips pruned. He quirked a finger, and a leather-harnessed Breaker stepped from the shadows. Riegel avoided his brethren’s eyes, having been in the same position more than once for disobedience. The man handed Titus a glass of bourbon. Whatever had garnered their Patron’s acrimony, having another Breaker witness the punishment far outweighed the crime. Titus motioned for the object of his ire to stay by his side, absently stroking the man’s haunch. Riegel was keenly aware of the sweat dotting his own brow.
“She’s truant, but there’s zero evidence of a breach, unless you’re privy to some information I’m not?”
“Just a feeling, sir.”
“A feeling.”
“She’s abandoned her responsibilities in the Creche. It isn’t like her?—”
A sharp crack cut him off as Titus slapped the Breaker’s thigh and dismissed him with a flick of his hand, focusing entirely on Riegel.
“Close to Kara Jester, are you?”
Riegel paused, his gut sinking. This was the kind of leading question where things could go very badly for him. “Enough to feel concern for her safety.”
“More like you’re champing at the bit to plow her. Fourteen days off your meds, unable to scratch that particular itch… The need to pass on your genetics must be torturous.”
Riegel fought not to grit his teeth at the man’s perverse pleasure over the situation. Without meds, the need to procreate was a fire in his loins, and the more he tried to sate it without issue, the hotter it burned.
“Approach me.”
He rounded the desk, trying to hide his reluctance. A thread of a dominant female Breaker’s mating pheromones laced through the air from Titus’s dispersion system—Damn the man for using his biology against him!—Riegel reflexively dropped to his knees, head bowed, his member painfully erect. Fingers tipped up his chin, his Patron’s eyes boring into his. The intensity of bloodlust increased, and Riegel’s jaw unclenched, saliva pooling in his mouth at the decadent aroma perfuming the air. His eyes fluttered back into his head. Titus pulled out Riegel’s ponytail and ran his fingers through his hair, stroking him like a favored pet .
A moan escaped his lips, and he hated himself for it.
“I will have your submission, my pretty one. By pain or pleasure, it’s no never mind to me.” The bloodlust abruptly changed to an alpha male’s, and the sour punch of it shot to his groin. Riegel fell forward, his palms slapping onto the granite floor as he retched.
“Since the vector’s already been moved from position, I’ll allow it, but I’m preemptively denying any request to go Outside. Albanach’s stalling. It’s all part of his latest legal stunt with this insemination clause. His ass is chapped that the offspring of your union with his bitch belongs to me, and I’d assumed he’d be difficult. My lawyers are working on it. When he presents her, I expect your due diligence.”
Riegel’s breath came in sharp bursts. “I’m more than willing, sir.”
“Yes. I know all about what you’re willing to do.” The holos flicked to show several of Riegel’s more intense trysts. Titus stroked his upper lip, pointing to one. “This is my favorite. You do get right up in there, don’t you?” He crossed an ankle over his knee, leaning back in his chair. The ice in his glass tinkled as he sipped.
Riegel glared at the man’s tooled Oxfords from beneath his brows. Expression smoothing, he rocked onto his knees, choking down the bile in his throat, needing to be bold.
“Indeed, sir…but if the vector picks up a surge of talent?”
“In that unlikely event, I would suggest you enact harvesting protocols precipitously. The Sons have been especially active in the past twenty-four hours, and the only reason you’ve escaped culling this long is to fulfill my contract with Albanach. Should something happen to her, your existence becomes gratuitous.” Titus tapped a manicured finger against his glass. “Overstep your authority again, and I’ll have you reassigned to Patron Kasham. She’s eager for a Breaker submissive, and I know how much you delight in that. Now get out, before I teach you a lesson myself.”
Riegel clambered to his feet, the corner of his eye spasming. Giving the man a low bow, he took his leave. It wasn’t until he approached the transport room down the hall that he allowed himself to fume. Colors ran as the Fetch on duty pulled talent, shifting him instantly to the bare concrete entry hall of the combat arena on the other side of the city. The man wisely shifted out as quickly as he could pull talent .
Trained animals, that’s all they were to them. The filth of Titus’s fingers lingered on him like a pall. Riegel’s fist slammed into the frame of the portlock, mangling an edge. He ignored the insipid voice apologizing as it failed to close behind him. Damn that slat! The talent he’d been syphoning from Kara wasn’t enough… Not yet, and it wouldn’t be until they were fully bonded. A wave of lust hit him at the thought. She’d be dealing with a similar hormonal storm. Without the suppression meds, the need to mate was all but overpowering?—
Patience.
He exhaled slowly, smoothing his hair back into its tail, and mastering himself. After all, he’d gotten what he wanted. The vector was in place, and he’d been granted leave to investigate any surge activity it detected. It was only a matter of time. Kara would use her talent, and then Titus would be the one on his knees. Him and every other Patron.
Kara snuck another spoonful of honey as soon as the door slammed shut. Actual honey! She moaned around her mouthful. That, the books… How did this guy—Flynn—have such riches?
She watched him pick his way across the yard, not surprised he’d left after seeing her halos…but oddly disappointed. She was used to them causing people to do a double take. Stupid brown rings marked her as a twist. Why would that have different connotations out here? And flawed or not, she was a Talent, and he was a sub. She was royalty sitting in his shack. The reality of the situation curdled her insides. Kara wiped her eyes. She was so stupid. Why did she care?
She smoothed a hand over her brow at the flush of heat that came with the question. An answering burst of rage seared through her bond from Riegel. She caught herself against the table, skin damp with the urge to bolt, heart pounding like a rabbit’s?—
Like when Jake had grabbed her.
No. This time she needed to stay calm. To think. Riegel wasn’t getting any closer, and wouldn’t… As long as she didn’t pull talent. Flynn had been sent to pick her up. She was on track, despite running in to that storm, and he’d said it was safe here. Worst case, she could hide behind him. Kara smirked. She’d had no idea a sub could get that big—her thighs squeezed together, wondering if the rest of him— Ugh! Stop . She wasn’t. Not really. It was just the withdrawal from those stupid meds.
Outside, Flynn had made it to the barn. He moved like he was in a lot of pain, but seemed to prefer solitude to her company. That bothered her. Man, she was dumb. Why did it hurt to be snubbed by someone she’d just met? You’d think she’d be used to that by now…
She was. It was being alone for the first time in her life. Physically, at least. Why not having another body in the room made such a difference… She mulled it over, staring at the landscape as the daylight faded away.
A shrill hiss brought her back. She’d forgotten dinner.
Kara scrambled out of the chair and stood against the wall, frozen. What should she?—
Flynn came in, frowning at the cloud hanging in the air, her, then the sauce spattering over the top of the stove. He dropped his armful of wood and grabbed a towel. Muttering under his breath, he carried the pot to the bathroom. When he came back, he poured what was left of the sauce over the pasta, glowering at the burnt layer at the bottom.
“Don’t do much cooking, do you?”
“No.”
He grunted, looking annoyed, but that seemed like his default. Not that he didn’t have cause. Kara cringed at the sound of him scraping at the burnt mess. He tossed it aside with a horrible clang.
“There’s a bowl in the cupboard, grab it for yourself. Forks are in there, too.”
Crimson, she peeled herself from the wall. He sat, pulling off his coat and hat. His hair stuck up at all angles, and she fought the urge to smile.
“Take what you want.”
She did, watching him liberally spread dusty, pale yellow stuff over his portion, then dig in with gusto. Kara motioned at the jar. “What’s that? ”
He finished chewing and sat back, looking at her for a long moment.
“Cheese.”
“Cheese?”
“Yeah, they make it from cow’s milk. Sometimes goat’s, or sheep’s. Hell, I’ve even read about camel?—”
“I know what cheese is. I’m very fond of it, actually. I’ve just never seen it like that.”
“Have at it,” he said, knocking the jar closer to her and going back to shoveling forkfuls into his mouth.
Kara sprinkled a bit on her meal, and he rolled his eyes. She gave the jar another shake, then cracked it down between them. He didn’t bother to hide his grin. Jerk.
It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t cheese.
She pushed her food around, watching him from beneath her lashes. Easily a foot taller than her five-eight frame, his broad shoulders strained his shirt. Scars bit across his knuckles, crisscrossing over sun-browned forearms she wouldn’t be able to span with both hands. One of them had a nasty bruise. What’d happened to him? It was like he’d been carved up on purpose. Before that, he’d probably been pretty good looking. Strong jaw, high cheekbones, hazel-green eyes?—
They met hers, and Kara’s mouth went dry.
They both looked away. Her gaze landed on a book shoved atop the cabinet. Through the Looking-Glass. She laughed. Boy, could she relate.
“Something funny?”
Jeez, he was prickly. “You don’t happen to have a vorpal sword lying around, do you?”
“Why? Plan on hunting bandersnatches?”
“Maybe.” She glanced at the other titles in the pile. “It’s either that or wrangle a sandworm, but Arrakis has gone all Zhivago on me.”
He grinned, and her insides ignited. “You shouldn’t fill your head with ideas, Alice—Especially when you don’t know what they are.” His fork clanged into the empty pot, and he stood, his entire demeanor changed, lighting up the room. What was that about? “You’ve got dishes, everything’s in there.” He motioned to the bathroom, shrugging into his coat. Man, his shoulders were big. “Think you can handle it?”
Kara shot him a dirty look, not trusting his sudden good mood. “I'll figure it out.”
Flynn laughed as he left. It was higher than she’d expected, and she smiled despite herself.
How hard could doing dishes be?
It wasn’t, just freezing. She was scraping at the burnt pot when he popped his head into the bathroom.
“You’re gonna have to soak that last one, unless you have an impact gun I don’t know about.” He grabbed a ratty towel and started drying what she’d cleaned. She scowled at him. He didn’t have to rub it in. He smiled at her rakishly, and that just annoyed her more.
“You know, sweetheart, it’d be a lot easier talking to you if I knew your name.”
“Kara.” She blushed, handing him the forks and feeling stupid.
“Thank you for doing dishes, Kara.” Her stomach flipped as he stepped closer. Too close. Taking up the space where all the air should be. Her breath caught, and heat flushed up from her core—He sniffed, then shook his head like he was confused. His stare went molten.
So did her insides. His fingertips grazed her cheek, and he wet his lips. What would kissing a man with a beard feel like? She leaned into him, that gravelly voice even deeper when he swore, the curse rumbling against her skin.
“You… Your knives are under the bed, and I’m gonna ask you to put those back.” Flynn swallowed, his flustered gaze dropping to the scissors between her breasts. He made a pained sound, and practically ran from the bathroom, pulling at his nose.
Her embarrassment was a slap. She’d forgotten about the scissors, and the stupid shirt had slipped down, flashing him an eyeful. She tugged it up, her cheeks on fire.
Kara braced herself against the sink, trying to catch her breath. Stupid meds. Shirt. Her. Ugh! She returned the scissors with shaking hands. Her physical response to him—no, not him, this freaking need to mate—heat pooled between her thighs. She gripped at it, biting her lip and sinking into a pained crouch.
If it’s not him, then why didn’t you let Jake put you out of your misery? She ran a hand over her fevered face, not having an explanation. All she’d felt from his overture was disgust. Flynn just looked at her and she was a puddle. It didn’t make sense.
Did it have to? Come on, breathe, Kara. Think with your head, not your crotch. Who cares if he wanted to kiss you? You would’ve let him, but he didn’t. And he was giving her knives back. So either he didn’t see her as a threat, or was trying to prove he wasn’t one.
It was an olive branch, and he was right. They had to make the best of this.
Flynn was sitting at the table working on some kind of tech when she came back into the room. It looked way more advanced than the other hunks of metal lying around. Her knives were across from him, the sheaths a mess. He cleared his throat.
“I brought in some stuff to fix them up.” His head jerked at a couple bottles by the stove, like that almost kiss hadn’t happened. She didn’t know if she was relieved or annoyed. “Should be ready in the morning. Honing oil isn’t frozen if you want to work on the blades.”
Annoyed. She was definitely annoyed. “Binds keep the steel intact, but thanks.”
He frowned at the mention of talent and bent back over his work. Kara sat across from him, fiddling with a knife. Awkward much? The burnt smell from dinner hung in the air and the juncture of her legs pulsed. Ugh, it was awful and so embarrassing— Stop. It’s not like he knows . And once he dropped her off, she’d never see him again. She bit at her thumb, more bothered by that last bit than she should be.
“What are you doing?”
He colored like she’d caught him at something, that ropey scar standing out starkly. Man, that was cute. Her cheek dimpled as she smiled, and his gaze went to it. He licked his lips, then ran a finger under his nose, his brow wrinkling.
“Ah…repairing a loose connection so we can leave. This is gonna be really bright, you’re gonna wanna turn away.”
He was right about that, for all the wrong reasons. She put her back to him, intermittent flickers illuminating the room. The smell from dinner was replaced by something worse. It helped to clear her head. “How does all that work in there? The bathroom, I mean.”
“Pump runs on solar. Battery bank’s in the barn…radiant water heater doesn’t work so good in January, and the propane’s about out, but I could, did you…ah…”
Kara flushed, glad he couldn’t see her face. She’d love a shower, but the thought of doing it with him in the next room made her light-headed. “Oh, no. I mean, yes, but no, I’m okay.”
His grunt sounded relieved. “Right, think that’s gonna do it.”
She turned to find he’d pushed up a pair of dark goggles and was inspecting his work like a jeweler. Apparently satisfied, he started cleaning up, giving a nod to her knives.
“So, you any good, or they a fashion statement? I’ve heard the Source has some interesting styles.” He wiped his hands on a rag, peeking at her through his messy locks with that arrogant grin. It made her want to smile back and hit him at the same time.
“Both. You seem to know a lot about it, you have family serving there?”
His body went rigid, the air crackling with malice. He rose slowly, teeth bared. His eyes snapped to hers, and lust crashed over her so violently, her vision went white for a breath. What the?—
The door slammed behind him, and she was alone. What had she said? Her heart pounded, skin slick with sweat. She fumbled for one of her knives, pulse going gangbusters?—
A howl of pure rage sounded from outside, followed by an awful crack of shattering wood, and then the desolate cry of a wounded animal?—
No, not an animal. A wounded man.
Silence.
Guilt stole over her. Whatever had come out of her mouth, it’d hurt him. She should’ve known better. Subs were disposable at the Source. Maybe that’s where he’d gotten all those scars. The swollen leather grip of her knife bit into her palm. Kara stared down at it, and then at the door.
She left the blade on the table and curled up on the bed .
Him giving her them back had been about trust. Ugh, she was out of her mind after that, but something about him—that damn grin?—
That howl. The memory of it made her heart bleed. What must he be feeling?
Kara’s eyes got hot. Her and her big mouth. She needed to keep her head down, and her trap shut.
She didn’t want to do either.
She wanted to go home, but she didn’t have one of those anymore. Tears scalded her cheeks. Kara cursed herself, hoping he wouldn’t come back and find her a sobby mess. She curled into a ball, eyes squeezed tight, wishing she could bind up everything she was feeling and push it away…
She awoke sometime later, the air stinging her skin. A puff of breath escaped as she exhaled. All the quilts had been piled around her, and she was still freezing. Flynn was snoring on the other side of the room in his recliner. She picked at one of the quilts. He’d taken care of her again, even after she’d upset him. He must be like ice with just his coat.
A lantern burned low on the table, casting just enough light to get around without toppling the towers of books. She went over, gently laying a hand against his cheek. His beard was softer than she’d imagined, and the scars beneath bubbled like Braille. She ran her thumb over them, and he woke, watching her from beneath dark brows.
Something dangerous looked out of his eyes.
What was she doing? Kara kicked herself. The right thing. He’d freeze in that chair.
“Come to bed, it’s too cold for you to stay over here.” She moved back, letting him struggle to rise. He threw a few more logs on the fire while she burrowed under the covers. His weight settled behind her a moment later. After fussing with the blankets, he tentatively pulled her against his chest, curling around her.
“Warmer this way.” He sounded resigned.
Kara trembled, his breath hot against her ear. It was a long time before she slept.