Chapter 7
Hierarchy [ hahy -uh-rahr-kee ] noun
The system of internal governance utilized by Breakers based upon a combination of strength, talent, and the ability to project bloodlust.
– Excerpt from A Treatise on Talents , Third Edition
“Talents at the Source have become restive. Splitting up familial units has shown promise in eliminating this fractious tendency. The Creche, a facility within the Source, has been specifically designed to fill this need, and has the added benefit of negating some of the stigma of mating within traditional family units. All Talents will now reside there before engaging in a directed breeding program. These measures, along with the development of nullifiers, have proven extremely effective in quelling any thoughts of insurrection.”
– L. Merkel, Head Geneticist, The Source
They sat across the table from one another, listening to the fire pop. Flynn’s head hung down, elbows on his knees. Kara cleared her throat, and he looked up at her. She fiddled with the handle of her empty mug.
Damn those halos. He tried to tamp down the thrill they sent through him. He could feel her wrestling with the same emotion. “That snap… You were bonded?”
She opened her mouth to speak several times before anything came out. When it did, her voice was unsteady. “It’s not what you—Three weeks ago, I received my summons to breed. I-I panicked. It came early, and my Patron was away. Albanach promised he’d get me out of the contract…” She bit at the side of her thumb, looking away. “Riegel has been slated as my consort since before I was born. When I was a pre-pube, he shattered my femur with his talent. It created a partial bond between us. He’s not stable, cruel. The thought of him—I-I tried…”
Kara’s face scrunched up. She looked at the ceiling, rubbing her wrists, glassy-eyed. “Our dam healed me and smuggled me out, but he’s been tracking me, waiting for me to pull. I thought that a thread of talent might go unnoticed, but bonding… I am so sorry Flynn, I didn’t mean for this to happen. They’ll come for me now, and he’s going to kill you.”
“Dam. That’s what Sourcies call their mother. You mean like yours and his?”
Her silence was answer enough. What the fuck was wrong with people? They joked about Source Talents being inbred, but Jesus fucking Christ?—
He needed some air, and they needed to go.
“Pack your shit.”
Flynn ripped his coat off the recliner, trying to separate himself from her tempest of emotions. He grabbed the car battery and headed out to the barn, unable to hide his relief at walking without that damn hitch in his gait.
Fucking Binders.
After a minute, he laughed. When he stepped in shit… Whatever. It was a done deal. Nothing to do but suck it up. So she had a psycho brother on his way to kill him.
Could be worse .
He knew better than most that you couldn’t pick your family, and it wouldn’t be the first time someone’s brother wanted him dead. He looked back at the coop, able to sense Kara like a cord was streaming between them. That, and it was hard to be mad at someone when you could feel how torn up they were. She was really upset. Christ, so was he.
Flynn rubbed his unmarred knuckles. Every mark, earned or not over the past three-plus decades, gone. He popped the hood of the car, supposing he should be grateful, but all he felt was empty. Dorian Gray flashed through his mind. Who was he now? She’d stripped everything away, giving him a blank slate.
He sure as hell didn’t deserve one.
Battery reinstalled, he dropped the hood and went to start the ignition. It turned over on the third try. He let it run and started syphoning gas from the generator. It came fast, and he got a mouthful. Swearing, he spat and filled up the spare can. They’d need it for the trip up. Shit. It wasn’t the only thing he needed. He couldn’t go back without his goddamned cuff and his fucking onus to the Fuil settled. He ran a hand over his face. Turning up like this was gonna be a problem, but he had the damned car; if he threw enough cash at Mick, he might give him a pass. Maybe. One of the Fuil captains had claimed Tracy after shit went down. With her out of the picture, he had a chance of making a clean break.
It was a slim one. Man held a grudge longer than Santa’s naughty list.
A wave of Kara’s frustration hit him, and he shared it.
But say Mick did let him go. Would it really be so bad being bonded to her? Flynn knew exactly why he was being called in. Cal wasn’t gonna let him dodge his responsibilities anymore. If they hadn’t bonded, God only knew who they’d had lined up for him.
He put the car into reverse, moving it into the woods where no one would trip over it. After the Source reconned the perimeter, the barn would be the next place they secured. The ground was frozen solid, so no tire marks to worry about, just the junker. Flynn put his hand on its side and pulled talent, setting a cloak. The junker disappeared, but there was a fine line before the vectors picked up a void. The longer the car was in one spot, the more likely the resonance would build and point right to them. Christ, bonding had already done that. It was still weird pulling again after so long… Back at the Underhill compound, just now…
It’d been safer to forget he was a Talent, and all the shit that came with it. That said, Kara had actually solved a lot of his problems. Well, the ones he’d left up north. Those halos, regardless of what the hell that second ring was, marked her as a throwback, same as him. Equals. He shook his head, not able to process that yet, but it basically guaranteed a kid.
Not just a kid. A strong heir.
Flynn bit back a smile. Shit. A kid. Miriam would love that, especially if it was a girl. His grin spread ear to ear. That wasn’t something he’d ever—His face fell.
With good fucking reason.
What the hell had he been thinking? He’d flat out known he was tempting fate and jumped right into the fire. Not once, not twice… Christ, he’d been making up for lost time, and Kara had been all in. Damn, everything about that woman was smokin’ hot.
That stupid grin had snuck back onto his face, and he quashed it. It wouldn’t last. Only way he’d kept a lid on his perv tendencies was by using the agony in his knee to get his sadistic fix. Without it…shit. He needed to watch himself, she was already wreaking havoc on his self-control. He didn’t want to hurt her.
That was a goddamned lie.
He scrubbed at his face. It shouldn’t be this hard to be a decent fucking human being, and he’d promised… Flynn glanced up.
Best two out of three?
Fuck. He’d rein it in, take her up north, do what he had to do. Be a contributing member of society, and take his fucking seat.
Christ, that sounded horrible.
Flynn stared south, into the night. The probability of the Source having a Fetch who could shift a squad to Lyden or Greyburn was slim, but if they did, it’d be maybe an hour, tops, before they got here.
A quarter of that was already gone.
They needed to stop fucking around. The memory of earlier brought an intense wave of heat. It echoed back from Kara. He’d known about the compulsion aspect that being bonded brought, but had underestimated the intensity of it. No wonder Sourcies screwed whomever the Corporation stuck them in a room with.
Trudging back in, he swore. Like he didn’t have enough incentive on his own.
Inside, Kara was fighting to close her bag. He came up behind her.
“Here, I’ll hold it.”
She jumped at his nearness, brushing against him.
It was like lightning leapt between them.
She was in his arms, her eyes large with need. His hands tightened on her, and she drew in a sharp breath. All that shit he’d been shoving down started to stir?—
“Why do you smell like gasoline?”
He gave a weak laugh at her expression, stepping back, burying those old urges. Riffling his hair, he cursed himself. He wasn’t gonna be that animal again, ever.
Goddamn, he hated lies. Especially the ones he told himself.
“I was distracted. Let me clean up, and we’ll go.” He started toward the bathroom. “This bond… There’s more to it than there should be.”
She fiddled with the bag’s pull strings. “I-I don’t know what you mean. I am sorry, Flynn. I tried to be clever, but I’ve put us in an awful position. I’m afraid that as far as the Source is concerned, you’re my consort.”
He turned away with a nod, not particularly worried about what the Source thought about anything. Up north was a different story.
Kara sank bonelessly onto a chair by the table. She’d made a mess of things. That bonding would’ve been felt for miles, never mind if a vector was monitoring the area. Nora would be furious with her lack of caution.
Kara laughed. She was an absolute menace left to her own devices, every one of her decisions horribly reckless. As if almost dying in that storm wasn’t enough, now she was stuck with a consort, and the overwhelming compulsion to breed. What she’d felt before? Nothing compared to the resonating echo between them, and it wouldn’t stop until she conceived.
How long would that take? Without knowing Flynn’s level of talent, she couldn’t venture a guess. Under normal circumstances, she would’ve expected to endure a consort’s attentions maybe a handful of times.
Not that she considered what they’d been doing something to be endured, and all that talent washing over him had erased every flaw. Forget what was in his pants, she could understand the arrogance he’d displayed earlier. He was Source-level painfully handsome, with none of the soft, androgynous edges the men there had. It was a rugged kind of beauty and way too appealing.
Desire surged over her. There was an answering wave from the bathroom, quickly followed by shock. She smiled. Guess that cold water was good for something.
She’d barely felt any recoil from the breaking, had Riegel? It killing him was probably too much to hope for. He would be here, soon. The thought made her stomach clench. Sitting by the window was dumb. She went into the bathroom.
Flynn was at the sink. He’d shucked off his shirt and stood with his head ducked, scrubbing at his beard. Her eyes drank him in, and she reached out, running her hands over the perfect triangle of his well-defined back. He inhaled sharply, then spat out water, coughing. She laughed, tracing her fingers up his spine, across his shoulder, down his lat?—
She felt his pleasure at the way her hands glided across his unmarred skin, sliding to his chest. His need as his cock thickened, and his breath caught. She stretched up the length of him and rested her lips against his shoulder. Her hand skated down his stomach, fingers trailing along the line of fine curls beneath his navel.
Flynn took her hands in his, stopping them.
Kara’s brows knit, feeling him struggling with something. He was probably still upset with her, and he should be. She’d made him a target .
“I’m sorry.” Her voice caught. He let her hand drop and finished rinsing the suds from his beard. Kara stepped back, watching the muscles in his back slide beneath his skin, fighting the urge to tackle him. How was she going to do this?
“It’s done. We’ll figure it out once we get up north. Until then, I have some ideas on how you can make it up to me.”
She handed him a towel, laughing. “Do you now?” Her hands drifted to his pecs. Jeez, she couldn’t stop touching him. Her breath sped, feeling the weight of his regard as her fingers moved across his chest. Not a trace of that melted patch of flesh was left.
“Well sure, you entrapped me,” he said, his hands settling on her hips.
Her skin pricked, his pleasure at touching her radiating through their bond. What was sex going to be like? Another wave of desire broke over her.
“I think we both did a pretty good job of outsmarting ourselves.” She searched his gaze. “What are we going to do?”
His kiss was tender. Still gentle after the botch she’d made of things.
“We’re gonna satisfy this compulsion so I can think straight enough to drive, then get the hell out of Dodge.”
His hands were on her, and Kara lost herself in him.
The gibbous moon illuminated the frozen landscape, its chill light reflecting off the snow. Riegel watched the barren forest pass beneath the craft, preferring solitude to conversing with Nells. The man’s preoccupation with his offspring and aged mother was disturbing.
They were less than a half-hour from the epicenter of the surge, and Riegel was eagerly anticipating Kara watching whilst he played with her lover. He smiled, remembering the look on her face when he’d broken her leg. She hadn’t been able to run away from him then, nor hide after. Their partial bond had opened up a new world of possibilities. With a completed one, it was a world he’d dominate, grinding those who opposed him to dust. Once at the top of the Breaker hierarchy, he’d have carte blanche over his line, and start by burying every last Patron, bringing about a new age of Breaker supremacy. To keep Pax alive or not…he prevaricated. If he did, it would be in nullifying chains at the foot of his throne.
Riegel smiled, thinking of the one he would have at his side. It’d stretched his talent to the limit sating Ielle, but courting her was like playing Russian roulette with multiple bullets. Losing the ability to draw upon Kara’s talent had put another round in the cylinder. Ielle needed to be kept at arm’s length until he had Kara firmly back under his thumb, else the courtesan might actually succeed at killing him during their games.
Nells cleared his throat. “Sir, we’ve arrived at the structure. It looks like an old barn. I’ve instructed the men to run the perimeter when we land. If you’ll give the order?”
“Given. I’ll be heading down as well. I’d like to see for myself what we’re dealing with.”
“Ah, you’ll need a helmet, sir.” Nells saluted and left precipitously to relay the order.
Riegel stared daggers at the man’s back, his aversion to the damn things wasn’t something he cared to be reminded of. The direction of the craft’s thrusters changed, and his preferences became immaterial as his pulse quickened. Whether by fear or lust, he was about to regain his advantage.