16. Not Like This
SIXTEEN
NOT LIKE THIS
Jack
M y stomach went tight with nerves as the door buzzed and Dean appeared.
“You look no worse for wear after your adventure yesterday,” she said brightly, bustling in and pressing a cup into my hands.
Blood.
More blood.
I took a sniff. My jaw ached, saliva flooding my mouth.
Her blood.
“Baxter’s on his way to brief you,” Dean added, watching me too closely as I stared down at the cup, willing my hands not to shake.
Willing myself not to fall on that blood like a fucking beast.
My skin felt too tight. My throat felt so dry.
But I couldn’t drink it.
Blood. And sex. That was what it took to Join. That was what Farida had said.
“I’m not thirsty,” I muttered, shoving the cup at Dean. She pushed it back towards me.
“You need to drink, Jack. You need your strength,” she said like I was some naughty toddler not eating my vegetables.
“I’m. Not. Thirsty,” I snarled, snatching the cup and hurling it at the wall. It cracked open, blood dripping down the white wall, leaving crimson streaks. I watched them inch towards the floor, chest heaving, heart racing.
Her blood. Wasted for the curiosity of these stupid humans , the monster growled. And for once, I had to agree with him.
Dean’s mouth tightened as she unhooked the prod from her belt.
“That was stupid, Jack. We have no spare, and Baxter expects you to have drunk that blood. Your compliance is part of your agreement.”
Adrenaline flooded me. My nails stung as they shifted into claws. My mouth crowded with long, sharp teeth.
No. Not yet. Don’t let them see it. The monster sounded worried, and that was enough for me to put some effort into pulling back from the anger, the fear that was making my skin ache, those twin places on my back tingle.
With a few deep breaths, I dragged myself back from the edge. The tingling pain subsided, my teeth shrank. My claws wouldn’t retract, though, so I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my jumpsuit.
That’s it, play along. Let them think you’re cooperating.
“I … I don’t like drinking blood. Makes me want to hurl,” I mumbled, trying to sound contrite. “You made me do it yesterday, and that was bad enough. I don’t need it, not every day.”
Dean sniffed. I held my breath because the smell of her blood on the wall was enough to send me to my knees.
Fuck.
“Perhaps … if you drank enough yesterday, that would be … yes, I think we might be able to work around …” Dean muttered. I didn’t dare to move. Didn’t want to think about what the ‘work around’ might be.
But I knew. I took another deep breath, trying not to think about the way Mercer had touched me. As she’d whispered about having a front-row seat to my performance.
Don’t shift … not yet , the monster urged. I breathed again.
The door buzzed, and Baxter strolled in. He paused when he noticed the blood-coated wall.
“What exactly is happening in here?” he asked, his eyes darting between Dean and me, forehead creased in a frown.
“Jack doesn’t like drinking blood, sir,” Dean explained hurriedly, her hands fiddling nervously with the handle of that prod.
“It’s fucking disgusting,” I grumbled, putting on a good show, even as the smell of her blood made me want to go lick the wall like a goddamned freak.
Like the goddamned freak I was.
Baxter chuckled darkly, his eyes scanning the splatter, the way it pooled on the floor. “Well, that’s certainly one way to tell us how much you hate it,” he commented lightly, but the undertone was barely concealed fury. I felt it bristle up my spine like a living thing.
“I understand your aversion, Jack,” Baxter continued, sauntering past me to pick up the cup where it lay on its side on the floor, having rolled away from the worst of the blood. “It’s an abhorrent, although unfortunately necessary evil for your kind.”
He picked up the cup and held it out to me. “We do need you to have at least some blood in your system, though … in order for you to complete this final task I have for you.”
My heart skipped a beat.
Final task?
Lies. He lies.
But what if he wasn’t lying? A scrap of hope bloomed in my chest. To be able to leave, to be able to find Blaire … make sure she was okay. The drug Baxter had promised me, the one that would let me live a normal, human life.
He’s not letting you go, not when he discovers the truth … and you won’t be able to hide it from him. He’s taking you to her now.
Wait. What?
But the monster went silent as Baxter tilted the cup towards me.
“Drink, Jack.” His tone left no room for argument.
My brain didn’t kick in fast enough to stop me as I drained the last mouthful of her from that cup. Warmth bloomed out from my stomach. My jaw ached for more. The urge to shift burned under my skin.
Hold it in. Not yet. Just go with him.
“Excellent,” Baxter murmured, heading for the door. Dean jerked her head in that direction, and like a man walking to his doom, I followed with feet that felt like lead.
A fter traipsing through the maze-like corridors, down a set of stairs, and along more gray, lifeless hallways, Baxter stopped outside a door that looked just like mine, with a panel of mirrored glass beside it. Just like mine.
“Morning, Agent Petersen,” Baxter greeted the young woman who had been in the mess hall yesterday. The one who was a dead ringer for Greta.
She nodded, a little, nervous smile twitching her mouth for a split second before she was frowning again.
“Now, Jack. I’m sure I don’t need to go into chapter and verse about the birds and the bees with you,” Baxter said with a wry chuckle that crept up my spine and lingered like ice at the base of my neck. “So, I’ll be brief. Once you enter the room, you release the studs on the flap in the front of your suit. Your … the female will be ready for you. No touching outside of what it takes to … find completion inside of her. And then you can leave.”
Not like this, the monster snarled. NEVER like this.
I held myself rigid to suppress the shudder that was rippling through my bones.
“No,” I grated, my stomach dropping. This was really happening. Exactly what Mercer had said.
Which meant that Baxter knew.
He knew, or at least he suspected, what I also suspected.
I couldn’t let this happen!
Not yet , the monster agreed.
Not EVER!
“I’m a man of my word, Jack. I asked you for a few tasks. While our second task went a little … askew, you still played your part, and I cannot fault you for it.”
I wanted to snarl, to bare my teeth and growl.
To fucking shift, and lunge, and tear. For Baxter’s blood to spray.
But I kept myself rigid.
“This is the last thing I will ask of you, Jack. Do this, and you are free to leave. Do this, and you can be with Blaire again.”
He’s lying.
I know, but what am I supposed to do about it?
“Why?” I asked in a desperate attempt to stall.
I couldn’t fuck anyone on command. But her ? While they all watched? My stomach spasmed. Only sheer will kept me from doubling over.
“You are the only male who is suitable for this specific experiment,” Baxter responded, his eyes cold. “It’s a small task, and hardly unpleasant.”
I gaped at him.
What the actual fuck is wrong with you, Baxter?
“The glass, if you will,” Baxter commanded before I could get my addled brain to react. Agent Petersen blinked at me, then away, chewing on her lip as she tapped a button, and the mirrored glass became see-through.
I lost my breath.
There she was. Sitting tall and straight-backed on the very edge of her cramped pallet bed. That reddish-brown hair was tucked behind her ears, away from her face. Her hands were knotted in her lap.
She looked as terrified as I felt about this.
No. No no no no no no.
Not like this, the monster hissed.
Not fucking EVER!
“Prep her,” Baxter commanded. The young agent’s finger hovered over the intercom button.
“Weren’t we supposed to wait for Agent Mercer?” the girl asked tentatively.
Baxter sniffed. “Who is in charge here? Mercer, or me?”
“Y-you, sir,” she stammered, her eyes darting.
“So, when I say prep her, you prep her .”
“Yes, sir.” The girl reached towards the intercom panel with a hand that shook.
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.
Her blood was singing in my veins. And they wanted me to …
I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.
My blood buzzed. I needed to shift.
Not yet! the monster insisted.
When, then? I demanded. I can’t do this!
Wait … just wait …
“Seven, you need to prep for …” The girl broke off with a small choking sound. Dean threw her a stern glance, but it didn’t seem to matter that she hadn’t explained anything.
Horror crept through my veins as Seven stood, fumbling with the fabric panel on the crotch of her suit. I went cold as she snatched a tube of … was that fucking lube … from the bed, and knelt, reaching between her legs and …
I had to look away.
“You’re up, Jack. Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes,” Baxter said, as the buzz of the door mingled with the buzzing of my disgusted, fucking terrified brain, and Dean shoved me through. Locked me in with her.
And her scent.
Fuck.
Black tea.
Springtime.
Warm pussy.
My face burned as my cock shot hard in my pants. I made the mistake of glancing in her direction. She was on her knees, head resting in her hands on the bed. Her ass … and everything else … exposed to me through the flap in her jumpsuit.
“I can’t do this,” I managed to grate out through teeth that were suddenly long and sharp. Was it fight or flight that had the shift happening? Or the sudden, fucking horrifying urge to fall on her, to rip every scrap of clothing from her. To sink my teeth into her shoulder at the same time my dick sank into her pussy.
She sucked in a breath, her back going rigid. And Jesus fucking Christ, it wasn’t just warm pussy I could smell. It was warm, turned-on pussy.
Not yet , the monster urged.
“The bulge in your jumpsuit suggests otherwise,” Baxter replied through the tinny intercom.
My lips peeled back from my teeth, turning towards the two-way glass.
“I won’t do this!” I snarled. My body trembled, growing.
“If you’re worried about her, Jack … don’t be,” Baxter said in a bored tone. “She’s a seasoned pro at this by now.”
What the fuck?
I roared. Or was it the monster? There was no stopping the shift now, as rage burned away every other emotion.
Muscles thickened. Clothing seams groaned as my body stretched.
“Shit. Get in there with a suppressor!” Baxter snapped. The intercom was off, but my ears were so sensitive now. I could hear everything going on outside. The panting breaths the young agent took outside the room. Dean’s fingers fiddling with that fucking prod.
Every single fiber of clothing whispering on Seven.
I couldn’t look at her. But I was going to tear the three outside the room into shreds for trying to make us do this. For making her do this before.
A seasoned pro …
How many times had they made her do this?
Once is too fucking many! Kill them all! the monster raged.
I stalked towards the door, some predator instinct savoring the scent of their fear even through the thick walls.
“I … I don’t have one!” Dean’s voice trembled. “Mercer said not to … or we might risk compromising them …”
“Fuck,” Baxter muttered.
A shudder rocked the building, slamming me against the wall.
The lights went out.