Gator's Challenge (11 page)

“
U
rgh
.” Wes sucked in a deep breath, similar to that of a man grabbing his first breath after drowning. A needle receded from him, the pinching pull of it sliding out not something a man ever forgot. The shot of adrenaline zinged through his body and yanked his consciousness from a dark abyss, shoving it rudely into bright fluorescent lights. The kind of lights that said, “Oh shit.”

Oh shit number two came when Wes realized the restraints holding his wrists and ankles wouldn’t budge.

A word of advice if this ever happened to anyone. Waking up to find yourself tied and spread-eagle in an operating theatre never boded well. For anyone! Seriously. It didn’t, especially since he seemed to have lost most of his clothes. He wore only his form-fitting boxers. And before a wrong conclusion occurred that cheesy music would begin to play before some debaucheries, keep in mind, again, that real life did not suddenly turn into porn at the loss of his pants. At least by leaving his underpants, they left him a little dignity.

Not little,
his gator slyly remarked.
Those puny cowards didn’t wish to expose our impressive girth.

In a gator’s world, size did matter in a lot of things.

Turning his head, Wes noted Dr. Philips, whom he recognized from the old Bittech. The doctor, with no scruples, having been ousted by a pharmaceutical firm for unlawful experimentation, used to work in the secret installation. There wasn’t a thing this doctor wouldn’t do. Science had made him hard. Subjects dying due to failure didn’t bother him in the least.

Seeing him made his gator wary, especially since Dr. Philips held a giant fucking needle.

“What the hell are you planning to do with that thing?” Because in no sane world did a needle that size do good things. Ever.

“Do?” Dr. Philips seemed surprised at the question. “Why, my job, of course.” Not the most reassuring of words.

Washed-out blue eyes regarded him. It took Wes a moment to realize Dr. Philips no longer wore his glasses. He’d also misplaced his stooped shoulders. The thinning hair atop his head hung in lusher hanks. As a matter of fact, Dr. Philips looked like a taller, prouder, thicker version of himself.

“What the hell did you do to yourself?” Wes asked with a pitch of incredulity. It didn’t take a reply, though, to figure it out. What he had to wonder was, what sane man would inject those dangerous cocktails into his own body after having seen firsthand the possible madness and deformities?

Not everyone would care about the risk, not when they saw so much to gain.

He sees the strength he can have.

Vanity. Greed. Want.
His gator understood, wanting to be the biggest and baddest. The strongest males controlled. The strongest males survived. But what of when the lowest ones applied unnatural enhancements? Who became the alpha then?

“What have I done?” The doctor smiled. “What everyone will soon be clamoring to do. A new evolution is coming to mankind. We are about to embark on the next step, and as one of the creators, I am one of the first to enjoy the fruits of my labor.”

“Are you already out of your fucking mind? Have you forgotten the raving lunatics that have emerged from some of these tests?”

The doctor made a dismissive noise. “Early mistakes that have since been corrected.”

The needle still hovered, and Wes hated the trepidation he felt when he asked, “What’s in that thing? It better not be one of your goddamned enhancements. I like myself just fine as is.”

“As if we’d waste such an elixir on someone like you.” Dr. Philips squirted some liquid into the air, the tiny droplets catching the light and Wes’s attention. “The fluid in this needle is meant to prep you for the insemination phase.”

What the fuck! Wes’s mind processed the words. Rejected them. Tried again. Freaked the hell out. Freaked out even more when he could do nothing to stop the needle from plunging into his thigh. He bucked in his restraints. “What the hell did you just inject me with? What are going to do to me?”

“Let me explain it in words my stupid nephew will understand. Dr. Philips here is going to make sure your swimmers are ready to go because you’re going to need them to fuck and impregnate a woman.” The cold statement from his uncle saw Wes whipping to peek at the other side of him. The bastard had snuck up on him. How that peeved. But Wes could only blame himself and his cigarette habit.

Bloody smoking dulled his sense of smell. The nicotine clung and prevented him from deeply tasting of the scents.

If I get out of here, make that when, I’m quitting, cold fucking gator.

Seeing Parker’s smug smile made Wes forget the restraints that bound him. He lunged, his body arcing off the table, yet for all his straining, he remained pinned.

“You fucking bastard. I’m going to bloody kill you.”

Parker angled his head as he tsked. “What a futile threat given you’re so helpless I could slit your throat right now and there isn’t a damned thing you could do about it.”

“Try it.” Dying might be preferable to what they planned.

Dying is cowardly.

Fucking honor.

Parker neared and stared down at him. Wes’s exposed bare skin pimpled at his perusal.

“Don’t tempt me, nephew. I came close once I discovered your plotting. Lucky for you, you have excellent genes.”

Snort. “Given they’re Mercer genes, I’d beg to disagree,” Wes stated.

A hand waved away his words. “You see only the reputation. A reputation that you idiots perpetrate. Move away from here and start fresh. Live the life you choose. The Mercers in Bitten Point are only restricted by themselves. They don’t have to live under that stigma.”

“Funny, you moved away, and yet you’re probably the dirtiest Mercer of all.”

“Dirty for wanting better for myself? Is it wrong to want greatness? Power?” His uncle’s brows rose. “And this is the problem with the Mercers of Bitten Point. Always thinking small.”

“Then why come back? Why use us to further your sick goals?”

“The reason is simple. The Mercer branch of Bitten Point has excellent genes. Healthy genes. Strong ones.”

“If it’s so strong, then why mess with it?”

“Because it’s precisely that strength that we need. When you add some elements from other species, our strong DNA handles it better than most. It’s why the Mercers are so valuable to this project. Our blood seems able to handle anything.” Parker’s eyes shone, but the frightening thing about his fervor? The madness Wes noticed before no longer inhabited his gaze.

He’s not insane anymore. He’s calm and convinced.

Somehow, that seemed more worrisome.

“Is that why you took Brandon? And now me? To test your cocktail on us?”

“Your brother ended up serving as the answer to why it didn’t work. You will help create the next generation that will.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I am not helping you do shit.”

“Really?” The smile on his uncle’s face took his cold blood and turned it to ice. “Then I guess you don’t mind if we use someone else to fornicate and impregnate Melanie. Odd, because I would have thought you’d prefer to handle it yourself.”

Snap. With a roar not meant for human lips, Wes surged from the bed, parts of him shifting and bulging. A gray deadly haze filtered his gaze while strength coursed through his limbs.

The puny restraints could not withstand his yank. Nothing could cage him. He would kill the thing before him that dared call itself family.

He swiped, and the male dodged his strike and then stopped him with words.

“Harm me and I will give Melanie to the less savory results of our experiments.”

Despite the cold thoughts running through his head, Wes retained enough wits to know Parker meant it.

He wants to hurt my angel.
He couldn’t allow Melanie to come to harm, and yet his need to protect the female he considered his mate warred with his instinct to protect his sister. How to resolve it?

Kill him.

The simplest solution and the only way to ensure the man couldn’t hurt anyone he cared for anymore. But an attempt now would never fly.

We have to bide our time, my cold friend. Do as I ask for now, and when the chance arises, we shall wreak our vengeance.

Crunch some bones?
his gator self asked.

Crunch them with glee—after dousing them in hot sauce. His gator did so like things with a little bite.

Let’s make him think he’s won for now.
He needed to glean more of the situation. Wes hung his head, unable to meet his uncle’s gaze for fear the smirk of triumph Parker surely sported would make him snap again.

“I’ll do as you ask.” He almost choked on the words. He no longer wanted to listen. He was done being a pawn for his uncle and Andrew. But he had to be smart about this.

“Obeying won’t be the horrible task you’re worried about, nephew. You get to fuck your old girlfriend Melanie. You will do your best to impregnate her.”

Was it possible to hate and want what Parker offered at the same time?

“I will.” Because hopefully she would see his touch as the lesser of so many evils. He hoped. He also hoped to find a chance to escape.

And crunch some bones on the way.
Snap.

“Stand still as Dr. Philips gives you the second shot.”

More fucking needles. “What’s the second one for?”

“It’s to ensure you’re up to the task. Can’t have you limp for the next phase.”

“I don’t need help.”

“Perhaps not, but just to be sure you don’t balk, you will let the doctor administer it. Or else.”

Again with the threats that made him impotent. What could he do? Nothing but let Dr. Philips approach with his second, smaller syringe. Wes leaned against the medical bed, and stared at his bare feet rather than the doctor. He had to look away because otherwise he might lose his shit completely and kill him. The rage simmered at his surface, an almost living, breathing thing.

A power he would use when the right time hit.

Not yet.

But soon. So soon.

The sharp prick of the needle didn’t disturb. It was the thought of what they injected him with that did.

“If this is some kind of aphrodisiac, then what was in the first one you gave me?”

“That mixture was a serum to temporarily enhance your animal side and remove the block we placed on your ability to shift.”

“You did what?” He forgot his own promise to not look and shot his uncle a glare.

“We give it to all shifters in our control to ensure compliance and because angry animals are hard on our human staff. You wouldn’t believe the money it takes to cover up a death these days.”

Give the guy credit. It took balls to complain about the hardship that came with being a murdering sociopath. “When the hell did you give that blocking shit to me? I haven’t had any needles or blood work done in a while.”

“It’s in the food.” His uncle grinned. “And you never even noticed.”

“It also didn’t work so good,” Wes taunted right back, “given I managed to half shift a few minutes ago.”

That brought a frown to Parker’s face. “So I noted. Odd because the serum shouldn’t have worked that quickly. The formula might require some adjustment.”

Great. Wes and his big mouth had just ensured he’d get drugged harder the next time. “Why are you taking this blocker off anyhow? Aren’t you afraid I’ll snap and eat some guards?” Wes couldn’t help a predatory, toothy grin.

“We’ve run into an interesting dilemma. Having the beast side repressed affects the sperm ejected during climax. In other words, you shoot. If we want to succeed, then we need your animal genes to fertilize.”

“Why not just test tube the babies?” he asked, not because he didn’t crave Melanie’s body against his but because, to him, it made no sense. “You know interspecies mating is hard. The chances of me getting her pregnant are pretty small.”

“Except for the fact her body’s been conditioned with fertility treatments to accept implantation. And we’ve enhanced her eggs within her ovaries as opposed to after we’ve harvested them. For some reason, very few enhanced in-vitro specimens survive. They lack something in their conception that we think can be solved with true coital procreation.”

“Does Melanie know you turned her body into some kind of genetic farm?”

Parker smiled. “Andrew wisely made her think all the treatments she received were to make her more fertile. Which isn’t exactly untrue. It just wasn’t making her fertile for his sperm. The man’s balls are devoid of life, much like his personality,” his uncle confided.

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“Why not? Who are you going to tell? And even if you did find someone to listen, so what? I think it’s time the world knows who we are so I can share with them what I am doing.”

The claim caught his attention. “What do you mean, the world? You sound as if you’re planning to announce what you’re doing and what we are.”

“Because I am.” Parker took on a calculated gaze. “It’s time we came out of the shadows, nephew, and took our rightful place. As leaders.”

“You can’t fucking—”

“Reveal us to the humans? Why not?” Parker’s grin said it all.

And Wes suddenly realized it wasn’t just him and Melanie and everyone else held prisoner at Bittech that was in trouble, but all of shifter kind.

Fuck.
The Mercer reputation is about to get even worse.