26. Clair #2
The corridors grew quieter and colder as she went. Several times she called his name and heard nothing except her own voice echoing through the ancient stone. Then, somewhere far away, she thought she heard a metallic crash.
Clair stopped dead in her tracks.
“Kaelus?” she called.
Silence…then another sound came through the corridor—the harsh scraping noise of metal against metal. Clair’s stomach tightened and she hurried toward it.
“Kaelus!” she shouted again, but still got no response.
She rounded another corner and found herself in a section of the Archive that looked nothing like the bright modern research areas near the entrance.
The walls here were nearly black—the lighting sparse and amber-colored. Old medical symbols had been carved beside the doorways, and several sealed chambers lined the hall.
Clair felt a tingle of excitement. Suddenly she knew where she was—this must be the entrance to the old Containment Wing. Kaelus had told her about it over dinner last night—the ancient rooms where Savage males had once been restrained for days or weeks while the virus burned through them.
A chill crawled over her skin. Why would Kaelus come down here?
“Kaelus!” This time she was certain she heard something. A voice so faint and hoarse—so far away she almost convinced herself she had imagined it.
“…go back…” Clair heard it say.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
“Kaelus?” she shouted, hating the way her own voice echoed down the long, empty corridors.
A louder sound followed—something heavy striking metal. Then his voice came again.
“CLAIR!”
Heart racing, she ran toward it.
“Kaelus! Where are you?”
“GO BACK!” was the reply but his deep voice sounded wrong. It was ragged…strained. Almost animal.
Fear surged through Clair, but it only made her run faster.
“Where are you?” she shouted.
“GET OUT OF HERE!” His voice was almost a snarl now.
“Like hell I will—where are you?” Clair cried.
Another metallic crash boomed through the corridor and she followed the sound.
At last she found it—the Ancient Containment Center.
It lay at the end of a wide passage marked by a massive mechanical door standing partially open. Clair squeezed through the gap and entered a room so dark and terrible that for half a second, she forgot how to breathe.
Rows of enormous restraint chairs were bolted to the floor. They looked less like medical equipment and more like instruments from some ancient torture chamber—black metal frames surrounded by heavy cuffs designed to secure wrists, ankles, thighs, waists, chests, even throats.
Old scanning equipment hung from articulated arms overhead, while dormant displays lined the walls. And in the middle of the room was Kaelus.
Clair’s heart nearly stopped when she saw him.
The big Hybrid was strapped into one of the chairs.
One massive arm was locked down by a thick metal cuff around his wrist, and both ankles had been secured so tightly against the base of the chair that the metal strained whenever he moved.
A heavy restraint crossed his waist, though he had apparently managed to get that one only halfway because one side was hanging loose.
His other hand was free, she noted. Of course it was—he couldn’t lock both wrists himself, and it seemed clear that he had done this on his own—he had locked himself down in one of the chairs as much as he was able.
But why?
The sight of him terrified her. His black hair was damp with sweat and plastered to his forehead.
His chest rose and fell far too quickly beneath his grey tunic, which was darkened with perspiration.
The veins stood out along his neck and temples, and his golden eyes had a reddish glow in the dim room—the pupils narrowed to thin black slits.
But even more startling than his eyes, she saw that his fangs were fully extended. And he was staring at Clair as though the sight of her caused him physical agony.
“Kaelus?” she whispered, taking a step towards him. “What’s going on here?”
His free hand clenched around the arm of the chair hard enough that the black metal groaned.
“Get out,” he said hoarsely.
Ignoring his order, Clair took another step.
“No, not until I understand what’s going on here.”
“Clair, please…”
Something in his voice made her skin prickle. It was Kaelus in that chair, but there was something underneath his voice now—something rough and hungry and dangerous.
She looked at the straps that held him in place…at his face…at the sweat soaking his clothing and the way every muscle in his massive body seemed wound so tightly he might tear himself apart.
Then she noticed the angry red puncture mark on the side of his neck.
Clair’s blood ran cold. Oh God—what had been done to him?
She hurried toward him, one hand outreached to touch him.
“Don’t!” Kaelus roared. And the sound of his voice was so agonized that Clair actually stopped several feet away.
“What happened to you?” she asked. “Why are you down here? Why did you lock yourself up?”
Kaelus shook his head.
“Leave. Just leave—please!”
“Not until you tell me what’s wrong,” she said stubbornly.
His eyes—now much more red than gold—flashed.
“Clair, for the love of the Goddess, turn around and get out of this room!” he begged hoarsely.
“No.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not leaving you strapped to some medieval alien torture chair!”
Kaelus threw his head back and made a hoarse, frustrated sound.
“Gods, of all times for you to be stubborn!”
Clair looked around the room.
“Sendar did this, didn’t he? He hurt you somehow, right?”
His breathing became harsher. That was answer enough for Clair..
She moved another step closer but Kaelus suddenly yanked violently against the restraint around his wrist.
The metal shrieked and Clair stopped in her tracks—that frightened her more than the roar had.
Kaelus was enormously strong, but those restraints had been built to contain Savage males. And he was bending one.
His eyes locked on hers, and Clair saw hunger in them. Not ordinary desire or the warm, possessive lust she had learned to recognize since they’d come to Titus Four. No, this was something else—something feverish and compulsive. A mindless hunger seeking to get out and devour.
But beneath it, fighting desperately to remain in control, was Kaelus—her Kaelus. She tightened her grip on the data tablets she was still holding.
“What are you doing?” she demanded. “Tell me why the hell you locked yourself down like one of the Savage Syndrome males? Like one of the infected?”
His face twisted in terror and fury.
“Because I am infected—now get the fuck out of here!”