Gator's Challenge (13 page)

“Yes.” He sounded so happy, and she noted the shine of madness in his eyes. “The one they just tried on me almost lets me turn into a bear. At least my arms and legs.”

“What were you before?”

“A nobody. I didn’t even know people could change into animals before coming here.”

She’d stepped closer as she spoke to him, close enough to smell his twisted essence. “You’re human.”

“Not anymore,” he said with glee. “And neither will you be. If you survive, they might even let me have you. The next stage of the program is to see if we can cross breed.” He leered between the bars. “I can’t wait to start.”

Not with her he wasn’t. Any thought she’d had to let him out evaporated. Right now, she had to ensure her own escape, which meant getting her chubby ass out of there before she became crazy patient number one hundred and ninety-seven.

Ignoring the guy who now moaned and dry humped the bars, Melanie walked past his cage toward the other end of the massive containment level.

But the guy didn’t let her leave unchallenged.

“What are you doing? Get back in your cage. Guards. Guards, she’s escaping.”

Melanie couldn’t believe the guy was ratting her out. Even worse, the other prisoners began rattling their bars, too, and shouting.

Hell no. She couldn’t get caught again.
I have to get out.
She bolted past the cages where people—and things—rose to their feet shouting.

“
She’s escaping.”

“Don’t leave me here.”

“I feel like chicken tonight.”

The variety of suggestions showed the different levels each prisoner had reached. Some were almost hunter ready.

They were scary, almost as scary as the fact that there was only one door out of here that she could see. For some reason, it made her think of the song “Hotel California” by The Eagles. Once checked in, could she escape? She had to. If she got caught, she might never get another chance.

The elevator door didn’t yield at her shove. The video screen alongside it stated a simple, “Please tap your access card.”

Unfortunately, prisoners didn’t get the same perks as the doctors and henchmen did. She wanted to sob at the injustice. What kind of stupid building required special privilege to move floor to floor?

One designed to keep secrets in.

She tried slapping the access bracelet she’d stolen from the dead guy’s wrist.

The screen turned red. Invalid Access. A siren began to whoop.

“Security teams to level three B.”

Defeat cackled in the background, and her inner kitty slashed at it until it retreated. There must be another way out. Air shafts. Lock picking. Speaking of locks…

Didn’t doors with electronic access always have a manual override? She eyed the panel, inset within a frame, which, in turn, sat flush within the wall. What was behind it?

Let’s find out.
She popped claws from the tips of her fingers. Using the tips, she pried at the panel, hooking the metal. It held firm. She yelled in frustration and punched it.

It continued to flash red as it mocked her.

So she hit it again. And again and again until the door opened. One glimpse of the lizard dude standing in the cab with Andrew and she turned on her heel to bolt, knowing full well there was no escape. Didn’t matter. She wouldn’t just stand there and let them take her.

“Fetch her.”

She ran faster, but it proved futile. A hand grasped at her hair, and she found herself screaming in pain as she was lifted off her feet. Fingers scrabbled at the scaled fist holding her aloft. The pain proved excruciating, and yet the horror at what capture meant hurt more.

Setting her on her feet, Fang paid her no mind as he strode back to the open elevator. She had to stumble after him lest he drag her. Tears of defeat pricked at her eyes, but that didn’t mean they’d broken her fighting spirit.

“I’m going to rip your cojones off and stuff them with rice and spices before I eat them!”

And she’d eat them with pleasure.

Now before anyone judged her, keep in mind that, while human sensibilities might find themselves offended at such a cannibalistic threat, shifters weren’t human. Not completely. Most of them lived with a predator sharing their mind, one that liked to hunt its food, kill it, and eat it. Usually raw.

Ugh. What could a girl do when her feline side wanted to rip into someone and make them into chunks of meat? At least manage to cook them before they got eaten.

By eating the enemy, I take on his strength.
An old belief of her mother’s that liked to rear its sage head every so often.

But Melanie’s inventive suggestions on various ways of cooking psycho Fang’s body parts did not loosen his grip. On the contrary, he got even more stupid as the blood north of his waist drained.

Apparently, feisty women who wanted to kill him for food acted as an aphrodisiac.

Eew. Turned out the crazy hunters did have a penis. It flopped out of his body from wherever it hid and poked at her.

“What is it with you and reptiles?” Andrew stated with disgust. “I should have known to steer clear of you when you broke up with Wes. I deserve better than that gator’s leftovers.”

“I deserved better, too,” she muttered. “You were always lousy in the sack.”

Expecting the slap, she managed to move her face with it, lessening the impact, but it still stung.

“Whore,” Andrew spat.

“Tiny dick.”

Slap.

Nice to know she still had a knack for pushing people’s buttons. Even nicer to know she’d finally stopped kowtowing to Andrew the a-hole. She smiled through the pain as she taunted, “I had better orgasms masturbating.”

But she didn’t get a third smack.

A sneer distorted his features. “I see your game. You think you can anger me enough to hurt you so you don’t have to participate in the next phase. Guess again. I’m going to be watching as you get taken by one of the special projects. It might even be Fang here.”

The grunt behind her made her clamp her lips tight. Horror stole her breath.

The elevator trip proved thankfully short. As the doors slid open, she noted a long corridor, one she was forced into as Fang prodded her from behind.

Please let that be a finger and not something else.

Only a few doors lined this blank level. Nothing indicated its purpose. No signage, no windows to peek in, nothing.

The hallway employed recessed lighting behind solid steel cages. A precaution to prevent broken lights? Only someone expecting to piss off its prisoners would worry about that. The few doors on this level sat in thick metal frames, with embedded keypads alongside them.

For some reason, this area frightened her more than the line of cages. What horrors hid behind these benign portals? What torture would she have to survive?

And I will survive.
Of that, she refused to have any doubt.

No matter what they did to her now, she needed to live so she could save her boys—
and shred that bastard, Andrew.

Stopping before a door labeled Observation C, Andrew poked at the scanner but didn’t swipe his wrist.

“Identify yourself,” said a man.

I recognize that voice
, she realized.

Her cat knew exactly who it was and pictured a man in a lab coat with glasses.

Dr. Philips. The one giving her fertility treatments.

Oh shit.

“It’s Killinger. I’ve got the female.”

“Excellent. The male is already inside waiting.”

“What do you mean you already have a male? Who chose him?” Andrew asked.

“Parker did. He wants his nephew to have first crack at impregnating her.”

Melanie felt a surge of relief. They wanted to put her with Wes? She could handle that.

“Why him?”

“It is not my place to question,” Dr. Philips announced. “If you have a problem with it, then take it up with your partner. Now, if you’re done questioning, get the female inside.”

Displeasure creased Andrew’s features, but he didn’t argue further. “Before I open the chamber, is the male contained? I don’t want any incidents.”

“Pussy,” she taunted.

Andrew smirked at her. “Perhaps you should show a little more fear, given you’re about to be locked in a room with him. Did I forget to mention the gator might not be acting like himself?”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t think we’d just want normal babies, did you? Wes has been given something a little extra to make this moment special.”

With that, a door opened, and a rough shove sent her reeling in. She took a few stumbling steps before she could stop herself. Behind her, the door shut, and she heard the click of a lock engaging.

Great. Just fucking great. Anxious, she hugged herself and peeked around. There wasn’t much to see. Four walls, padded in a strange substance. She pressed her fingers against it.

It squished, but when she dragged her nails across it, didn’t even scratch.

The floor appeared to employ the same substance. It added a bounce factor to walking.

Embedded within another wall, the one at her back, she noted dark glass. Reflective on her side, showing a disheveled woman in a partially torn paper gown, her hair a frazzled disaster. She kept staring, the realization dawning that the glass acted as a viewing window.

People watched. Andrew watched. Which meant they expected a show.

She gave them one. Two slowly rotated digits and a smirk. They might hold the upper hand for the moment, but she’d not given up yet.

At a metallic cranking sound behind her, she whirled to see a section of the wall pulling apart. As the opening widened, a scent hit her.

Musty. Reptilian. Male. Wes. Another sniff and she could pinpoint another scent—violence. Madness.

Predators knew that smell.
Stay still,
her feline hissed.

While remaining still, she did peruse the now much larger space. With the dividing wall gone, the room proved rectangular in shape, long and narrow. Also dim. Very dim.

So dim that, at first, she didn’t see the shadow at the far end.

Knowing it was Wes didn’t ease her trepidation, not with the hint of violence in the air.

“Wes?”

No reply. The shadow stepped closer, a dark, hulking shape that brought a shiver to her skin.

“You’re scaring me.” An admission she hated to make, and yet, there was something in his slow advance, the way he moved, that frightened her.

I don’t think Wes is home.

The alien scent drew nearer, and she didn’t realize she backed away until her back hit the smooth glass wall behind her.

Fear thumped, an irregular stutter of her heart as her breath drew short and ragged.

Inside her head, her feline yowled. She wanted out. She wanted to stand strong in the face of this threat.

But poor kitty was locked in. Melanie had tried so many times on the way over, and nothing other than a pop of a few claws worked.

It was only her, a paper gown, and whatever Wes had become.

Which, as it turned out, was a walking, talking dinosaur.

And he grabbed her by the throat!

H
e held
the female off the floor, high enough that he could properly peruse her. His mate appeared uninjured, and yet he could smell the fear rolling off her. He brought his snout close, inhaling her aroma, rubbing himself on her skin to mark her with his scent. Wearing a bull’s mark would reassure the female that he would protect her against danger.

At least now he would. His pinker self might have had problems accomplishing the task, but he was stronger now. In control, too.

Such strength flowed through him.
I am the strongest.
And to him came the rewards along with the irritations.

A fly buzzed in his head.
Put her down. She’s fragile, you big, dumb gator.

No talking. I am in control.

For now. And only because of those drugs.

I am strong. I shall eat our enemies.

Yeah, well, if you’re going to do that, then you need to have a bit of patience because we’re not getting out of this room until we do the deed.

The female requires insemination.

Let’s try and not call it insemination. And you might want to let me drive for this part.

If I relinquish this part, you will let me have the hunt?

Yes.

We have a bargain.
Snap.

The quick flash of thoughts between them took but a moment, as did the changes back to himself. Wes’s more sane and human-looking self.

Along with his man skin came shame.

“Fuck.” He couldn’t help but curse as he released Melanie.

He waited for her to launch into him. He knew he would have with the roles reversed.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

The lack of freakout upset him more. “No.” The single syllable a guttural grunt. No, he wasn’t fucking okay. Neither was she. None of this was fucking okay.

He spun away from her, a few short strides removing him from the reminder of his failure.

I didn’t save her, and now we’re both stuck here.

“Argh!” He smacked the wall beside him with his fist, only to feel it sink and bounce back.

He leaned his head against the wall, breathing slowly, trying to come down from the fact that his colder side had taken over. Scarier, he’d had to cajole it into giving control back.

The injection, while not meant to change him—at least according to the doctor—did, however, grant more strength to his inner beast.

Not necessarily a good thing.

“Might I remind you that time is wasting and you’ve yet to fuck her?” Parker’s sly words emerged muffled in this strange place. For a moment, as his gator retook control of his motions, he peered around, looking for an enemy to chomp.

No one appeared. Cowards. It was only him and Melanie here.

A pity. He had some pent-up energy that needed expending.

“Do I need to find another male to take your place?” Parker threatened.

“No.” As he spat the word, he pushed from the wall and walked stiff-legged back to Melanie. He stood over her, looming as he stared down. His skin prickled with awareness. He knew the window she leaned against hid watchers.

Leaning down, he bent far enough that his forehead touched hers. He breathed her scent in and heard the rapid flutter of her heart.

Still frightened, but also oozing a sense of anticipation. Did she know what would happen? Would she hate him for it?

“You don’t have to do this,” she said softly.

“You would rather do another?” He couldn’t help the jealous accusation. It came from a primal part of him.

“What? No. I don’t want to do this at all. You know what they are attempting. If we do this, then we play right into their hands.”

“And if we don’t, then you’ll be forced by another. We don’t have a choice, angel. I’m so sorry.” He truly was. He took all the blame. Things might have gone differently if he’d acted that night when Andrew went to fetch her. That was the night everything truly started to go to shit.

Or why not go back further? If I’d not set her free all those years ago, then she and I would be together.
And she might have never entered his uncle’s or Andrew’s radar.

Maybe gators will fly,
his beast snorted.

Wait, they did.

Fuck.

“I’m waiting. Tick. Toc. Should I come in there and show you how it’s done?” His uncle’s taunt drew a rumbling growl from him, and he glared at the smoky glass, seeing only the terribleness of his eyes. The darker side of him swam close to the surface.

Soft hands cupped his cheeks and turned his gaze to her gentler one. “Ignore him.”

“I wish I could.”

“But you’re right. We can’t. So let’s do it. Right now.”

A grin threatened to pull his lips. “Isn’t that what you said right before the first time we screwed?”

She smiled. “You remember.”

“Of course I do. I never forgot anything about you.” Not the way she clutched at him and cried out his name. The way she shyly admitted she loved him.

“Blah blah blah. Get the show on the road, nephew.”

“Argh.” He punched the glass, feeling the slight vibration from the impact. Stupid tempered shit. He wanted to smash through it and kill those watching on the other side. Instead, he could only sigh. “Sorry it came to this.”

“Not entirely your fault. I mean, you didn’t marry the douchebag that got me involved.”

“That douchebag is watching,” Andrew announced.

“Keep watching. Then maybe you’ll see where you kept going wrong,” she snapped.

Wes almost laughed. “You know that is just pulling his stubby tail.”

“I don’t care. What else can the bastard do to me?”

“Don’t ask and don’t tempt. And never forget it’s a Mercer running things.”

“And this Mercer”—she poked him in the chest—“will find a way to fix it. I know you will.” Her faith in him didn’t warm as much as the soft brush of her lips on his. She caught his mouth and sucked at his lower lip. Nibbled it.

What is she doing?

He knew this wasn’t what she really wanted to do. Hell, he certainly didn’t want her under these circumstances, but…

At what point did a man stop fighting the inevitable? This would happen, and in front of an audience.

But he could do his best at least to make sure they saw as little as possible.

Wes clutched Melanie in his arms, tucking her tight against his chest. He moved them, down to the middle of the room, the farthest from both viewing panes framing the space, in the deepest of the shadows because they didn’t dare use proper lighting in here. No light bulbs, not even caged ones, lest they get used as a weapon.

The soft, phosphorous glow that came from the very walls and floor itself bathed Melanie in an unearthly sheen. He ran a knuckle down her soft cheek, the contrast of his rough, working hands against her smooth, tanned flesh a reminder of their differences. She grabbed his finger and sucked the tip, reminding him of the fact that they were so perfect together.

He leaned into her, his lower body pinning hers, his thin briefs unable to hide his erection. No matter the circumstances, he couldn’t help but desire Melanie. He could make this good for her. Good for them both. He owed it to her in case it was their last chance.

The thought spurred him to action. He caught her lips with his, sucking at that lower one, catching the soft pants of her breath.

His hands skimmed her curves from the indent of her waist, the wide flare of her hips, then the curve of her thighs. The edge of her paper gown crinkled as he raised it. The palms of his hands stroked the silky flesh as he bared her, but in such a way that none could truly see.

She caught onto his idea and, bracing her hands on his shoulders, lifted her legs to lock them around his waist.

Their kiss deepened, her mouth parting for his tongue. He tasted her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth for a sinuous slide against hers. The erotic nature of the kiss thrilled him. Aroused him. Aroused his primal side.

Bite her.

He pushed the impulse down. He would do this as a man, not a beast.

Silky skin met his touch as he skimmed over her body, titillating her all without truly exposing her. It proved a torturous form of foreplay. He so wanted to drop to his knees and taste her. Stab his tongue between her velvety folds and taste her sweet honey. But they were watched.

Was it wrong to find arousal in that concept?

He whispered to her, “I want you so bad, but I don’t want to hurt you.” A man his size needed to prepare the way.

She clasped his hand and brought it between her legs. “Touch me.”

Slick honey met his fingers as he stroked her mound. So hot. So wet.

Irresistible. Fuck those watching. This might be his last chance, her last chance, for pleasure. He dropped to his knees and tucked his head under her gown.

She parted her thighs for him, and the full impact of her scent hit him. He could have shot his load right then and there. He didn’t, though. He preferred to hold back, to feel the pain of abstaining as he let his tongue dart forward and taste of her sweetness.

Pure fucking bliss. He suckled happily of her nectar.

It seemed some weren’t happy at his actions. He vaguely heard a complaint of, “I thought he was supposed to fuck her.” And, “If you can’t handle watching, leave.”

He didn’t care. He lost himself in the scent and heat that was Melanie. His.
Mine.

His tongue stroked her velvety folds, spreading them that he might stab his tongue inside her, feeling the tightness of her channel. She lifted a leg over his shoulder, granting him better access, and he used it to stroke the tip of his tongue over her clit.

A shudder rocked her frame, and a small gasp of his name, “Wes,” slipped past her lips.

He stroked her faster, alternating tugs against her button, feeling her body quivering at his touch while her pulse raced erratically.

When she neared her peak, he stood. His erection throbbed within the confines of his briefs. He lifted her first, anchoring her against the wall. She locked her legs around his waist. He freed himself, only to have her reach between them to clasp him.

Tight fingers gripped around his cock. The urge to thrust his hips and come was so strong. But he knew a better place to bury himself.

He lifted her gown, pushing the paper liner out of the way. With her legs wrapped around his hips, none could see the tip of his cock probing at the pinkness of her sex. He watched as her channel hungrily gobbled his length. He pushed in, and she took, the heat of her squeezing all around.

She grabbed his head and drew him to her for a kiss. Their bodies pulled together tight, and all of him ended up sheathed in her welcoming heat.

Pure bliss. He moaned against her mouth. This shouldn’t have felt so good. They came together because they had to. How could he take such pleasure?

Take it. Because who knew if he’d ever feel pleasure again.

He rotated his hips, pushing into her, driving the very tip of his cock deeper. So deep.

Her flesh squeezed him, much like a tight fist gripping him as he pushed in and out of her, driving her with his need, raising their arousal to a point where they both panted and glistened.

“I love you,” she whispered against his mouth just as her body tensed.

“You shouldn’t,” was his reply. And then he could speak no more as he came. She came, too, with a sharp cry and undulating waves, the sweet flesh of her sex shuddering around him and drawing out his pleasure to a bittersweet point.

He might not want to admit it aloud, but he could, here, in this moment, in his head.

I love you, too, angel.
So much that it hurt.