“Sounds like you have some experience with this already,” Killian said. “A protocol in place.” Back in the lab, toward the latter part of his “stay,” he’d heard talk of Pantera prisoners who had been experimented on. It was those days especially when he couldn’t help despising his own species. Nothing was sacred. Not even life.
Raphael walked in then, took a quick look around, and headed straight for Killian.
“Do what you gotta do, Doc,” Killian told Jean-Baptiste, dropping back against the pillow. “I think I’m going to be hanging out here a while.”
“Five hours and counting.” Raphael handed him a donut wrapped in a napkin. Chocolate glazed. Then pulled up a chair. “Eat it. It’ll help.”
“I’m fine, man.”
“That’s right. I forgot. Super solider.” His brows lifted. “But loss of blood is loss of blood. No matter who or what we are.”
True that. And his stomach was making all kinds of noise, so…he took a bite. Then another. “Thanks.”
Raphael nodded. “Now, Benson Enterprises. What do you know about them?”
The male wasted no time. Not that Killian blamed him. They both wanted answers. “Benson was the name of the clinic. Given to me by my commanding officer when I requested an eval, or something to help with my PTSD.”
The leader’s pupils dilated. “Commanding officer’s name?”
Killian stalled out for a second. The guy had a family, wife, and kids. He didn’t want to—
“Just need all the information, Mr. O’Roarke,” Raphael said as if reading his mind. “I’ve got to connect the dots.”
Killian eyed the male. “I’ve known the guy for years, served under him. I’m sure he knew nothing about what was going to happen to me. He’d never send a man under his command into danger unprotected like that. I don’t want him or his family hurt.”
Raphael nodded.
Killian wasn’t at all sure that the Pantera followed the same honor code he did, but they were trusting him, letting him inside their world. Helping him. Maybe he needed to do the same.
Killian released a breath, along with the name of his commander. “Brad Vanco.”
The name didn’t seem to register with the male, but he typed it into his phone anyway. “Had you heard of Benson Enterprises before Mr. Vanco mentioned it?”
“No.”
“And when you went there, initially, who did you speak with?”
“The main doc was a woman. Marcia Copper. A head-shrinker. She was the one who insisted I stay at the facility. I just wanted to talk to someone. Therapy, maybe some meds to keep the nightmares at bay. But she insisted that this was the best way of doing things. Inpatient treatment.” Killian’s desire for the donut faded and he set it on the side table. “Then there was no choice on my part. It was like being a goddamned prisoner of war.”
Raphael glanced up. “The coordinates you gave us for the lab—”
“Did you burn that piece of shit to the ground?” Killian interrupted with undisguised menace.
Raphael shook his head. “It was only an abandoned building.”
Shock rolled through Killian and he sat up. “That’s impossible. I was just there. Broke out two days ago.”
“So you said. Are you sure that’s where you were being held?”
“That’s where I went when I came in for treatment.”
Raphael paused for a second, his brow furrowed. “Was it possible you were moved? Without knowing it?”
His chest tightened as his mind was inundated with questions. “I would’ve known,” he said to himself as well as to the leader of the Pantera. “I would’ve had to have known. Despite the labs and the room where I was held, The Christopher had this smell—”
“The Christopher,” Raphael interrupted sharply. “What’s that?”
“Sounds like a swank hotel, right? Like in Vegas or something. Shit, it was anything but.” He shook his head. “Wasn’t my thing. The guards, the techs, the docs, everybody called it that. Named after the guy who funded the place.”
A cold, hard look stole over Raphael’s face. “Did you ever meet this man?”
“I saw him around the lab. Granted, he was always with a military escort, so I never got close to him. I noticed him checking in with the doctors though, pushing the technicians for more data—”
“We’ve got to get that motherfucker,” Raphael said on a snarl.
“That’s who you’re…” Killian trailed off.
A scent he recognized was drifting into his nostrils, and for a moment he was completely captivated by it. His eyes closed and his mouth opened, and inside his chest that…thing…rumbled to life. In the back of his mind, he heard Raphael speaking, but it was too far away. He wanted more of that scent. What was it? He grinned. Whatever it was, it belonged to him.
Suddenly, a hand clamped around his arm, causing his eyes to burst open. But instead of looking for the one who’d touched him, his gaze was completely pinned to the open doorway.
Puma.
My puma.
“Shit! Baptiste, what the hell did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“He’s shifting! How the…fuck!”
The voices were there. In the background. They didn’t matter to him. Nothing mattered but the golden female, her green eyes calling to him. A growl escaped his throat.
“It’s her,” Jean-Baptiste exclaimed. “Rosalie. She’s in the hall. In her puma state.”
The last thing Killian remembered before his mind dissolved was the deep hunger of the animal inside him.
Wanting out.
Wanting her.
Chapter 7
Fur as black as the night.
Eyes so pale blue they reminded her of ice.
Rosalie watched as Killian’s puma paced inside the cage.
Puma.
How was this possible? He was human. So human. And yet, she’d scented him last night, and at the bayou. Goddess, maybe she’d believed he’d been played with, like the rats. But she hadn’t believed him capable of this. Shifting into a full-blooded puma. It wasn’t possible. Except maybe it was. Raphael would tell her what he knew, explain things to her.
Right before he grounded her ass, or kicked it out of the Wildlands, that is.
She curled her hands around the bars of the large cage and stared at the gorgeous puma, who she was pretty sure didn’t understand what was happening. Poor guy. Learning to separate the puma from the Pantera mind took practice. From the time you were a cub, you tried to break that code. And right now, Killian was pushed to the back, and all that occupied the cage was animal.
Her shoulders fell as she scented Raphael. Shit hitting fan, here we come. Goddess, she was such a moron.
He came to stand beside her. Didn’t look at her. Instead, he stared at the pacing cat. “What were you thinking?” he asked in a dangerously quiet voice.
That I’m a moron? “That I could have a little time in my cat,” she said aloud. “The human was with you and Baptiste and the other Healers. Surrounded. And for hours.” She broke off, shaking her head—confident in what was coming next.
“Fine. Understandable and acceptable.” He turned to face her. “Outside the clinic.”
Moron!
“Why did you come back here, Rosalie?” he pressed. “To him, in your puma state?”
She looked over at the leader of the Suits, knowing her eyes were a perfect mirror into her confused soul. “I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I wanted to check on him?”
“Is that a question?”
“No,” she said on a sigh.
“You care about him.”
She shook her head. “No.”
“You’re attracted to him.”
“Please stop.” Her cheeks were burning. Thankfully, Killian couldn’t hear this. Or could he? She didn’t want to look to closely at him to find out.
“Your job was to keep him safe, Rosalie.”
Her heart squeezed painfully, but she nodded. She’d
screwed up big time. Granted, Killian wasn’t dead, but this was huge nonetheless. She prayed Raphael would only suspend her from hunting duties or shit, toss her in one of the secure units. Because leaving the Wildlands… Goddess, her home—that would be unbelievably painful. And yet, she’d set herself up for punishment. What was wrong with her? Making foolish mistakes. Living inside her puma. Scared, angry—filled with grief and guilt all the time. It was no damn life that she was living. But she’d made her bed, so to speak. If Raphael went hardcore on her, well, she wouldn’t walk out of the Wildlands crying for herself or begging for a second chance. She was a proud Pantera, after all.
She turned to go. “I’ll prepare to leave.”
Raphael grabbed her arm and cursed to himself. “No.”
Her heart stuttered as she turned back to face him.
He shook his head. “For now, you’re on probation. Until I decide what I’m going to do.” He glanced back at the cat that was Killian and released a weighty breath. “You may hate humans for all the right reasons, Rosalie, but this one wasn’t a part of what happened to Mercier.”
She felt the tears again. Behind her eyes. In her throat. But she refused them. “How can you be sure of that?”
“I had him checked out. Had his story checked out. He’s a good man. Fought for his country, saved many of his fellow soldiers, and went into a program he believed would help him deal with his grief over losing a close friend.”
She remembered the dream—the nightmare he’d had. He couldn’t get back to his…friend. “But the program didn’t help him, did it?”
Raphael shook his head. “Was a false front. A way to experiment on soldiers without their knowledge or consent.”
A lump formed in her throat, and for the first time in a long time, she didn’t wish for her cat. They’d used him. Just like they’d used her and Mercier, and so many others. It was time to face and accept the truth… Humans weren’t the enemy. It was Christopher and Benson Enterprises, and all those who turned a blind eye to the lives they were destroying.
She lifted her gaze to meet Raphael’s. “I think I need some help. To deal with my grief. While I await my fate.” Tears broke and swam in her eyes. But this time she didn’t try to hide them or wipe them away.
A soft smile touched the Pantera leader’s mouth and he covered her hand with his own. “You deserve to be happy, Rosalie. Mercier would’ve wanted nothing less.”
Just hearing his name…she was about to break. “I’m going to go. Check in with Parish. All the Hunters. I have some…apologies to make.”
He nodded. “I’ll let you know when I’ve come to a decision.”
She turned around to leave, but before she even got halfway to the door, the snarl of Killian’s puma stopped her in her tracks. She didn’t have to turn around to know what was happening, what he was feeling. Want he wanted.
Her.
In the room.
Close by.
And when he started to rage, go insane inside his cage, she could do nothing but oblige him.
Chapter 8
When Killian came to, or awoke, or whatever it was that was happening to him, he felt like he’d been hit by a truck. His eyes were heavy and his mouth felt dry. He glanced around. He was in the same room, lying on the same gurney-style bed. Same…people. But there were no IV’s or needles or tubes in his arms, and it felt…late. Felt like…night, if you could actually feel that without having visual access to the outside world.
He spotted the technician with the scar, reading a chart and typing something into a computer.
“You took too damn much,” Killian said, though his voice was pretty much a whisper. And his throat hurt. What the hell?
“What’s that?” Ford asked, glancing up.
“Blood,” Killian ground out. “You took too much. Passed out.”
The guy’s brows lifted, but his eyes descended—back to the file and the computer.
“And with all the donuts I gave you.” It was Raphael’s voice. He was walking over to Killian’s bedside, his mouth curved up in a sardonic smile. “Pussy.”
That elicited a soft yet painful chuckle from Killian. “There was one donut. And, if I remember correctly, I only ate half of it.” He gave the leader of the Pantera a strange, I’m-fucking-confused look. “My throat’s killing me, man. In fact,” he winced, “my whole body feels like it’s been run over by a Humvee. Did I fall off the bed or get into a fight or something?”
“No.” The male’s expression tightened.
Okay, something was going on here. Something was wrong. Maybe it had to do with the tests on his blood. Maybe they’d found a way to take the DNA from him. Shit, maybe that’s what the pain was from…they’d already done it. But then why—
His mind came to an abrupt halt. Not only was the most delectable scent in the world wafting into his nostrils, but every cell in his body was screaming that it belonged to him. Fucking strange. Then Rosalie walked into the room and strange upgraded to downright bizarre.
He let his gaze move over her. She was wearing jeans and a tight black tank top. Her hair was piled on top of her head, and her eyes—those sexy, green daggers—met his right away. His gut clenched. The same expression he’d seen in Raphael’s gaze a second ago was shimmering in the Hunter’s. Something like “Shit’s gone down and we’re not sure how to tell you.”
“Okay,” he started, sitting up in the bed, shaking off the lightheaded thing that was making him feel like a weak-ass recruit on the first day of boot camp. “What the hell is going on here? Am I cured? Am I dying? Did the gallons of blood you took from me give you any clue—”
“Killian.”
He shivered and groaned. It was Rosalie saying his name.
Rosalie.
And her face was all…what was that? Sympathy?
Shit. Maybe he really was dying.
He glanced over at Raphael, who was stone-faced and silent, then his eyes came back to Rosalie. “Why are you calling me that?” he demanded on a low growl.
She bit her lip. The lower one. Something he’d love to do. But not now. Not here. Maybe when the pain in his body eased up a bit he’d see if she was agreeable. Screw that. She’s worth the pain.
“It’s your name,” she said.
“Not to you,” he countered. “I’m Human, remember?”
Her gaze flickered to Raphael as she headed over to the chair beside Killian’s bed and sat down. What the hell was going on? It was like a damn funeral in progress.
“Somebody better tell me something,” he began with a slight snarl. “Or shit’s going to get—”
Rosalie jumped in. “When you were…out—”
“Passed out?” he corrected.
“Yes.”
“What? I snored? You watched? Or, maybe you took advantage of me?” he said with a dark edge.
“No.” Her cheeks flushed as her eyes dipped to take in his naked chest and low-hanging gray sweatpants.
Damn. Those sweatpants were about to get tight if she kept that up. He cocked his head to the side and whispered, “You wanted to take advantage of me?”
“No.”
“Your mouth says no, Hunter, but your eyes say—”
“You shifted into a puma!” she blurted out.
The room went still and Killian’s heart ceased beating. Or it sure as shit felt that way. As he tried to remember how lungs worked, how breathing worked, he replayed the words she’d just tossed at him. Then again. There were only five of them, but that packed a significant punch. He felt strangely empty inside. Hollow. His mind too. Except for the five words. He started to shake his head. This could not be true. She was lying to him. Or he was still knocked out and this was a nightmare.
Another fucking nightmare.
His eyes captured hers and compelled her to speak or explain or… But—nothing. She wouldn’t give him a damn thing. Raphael either. The room just remained silent.
For another five seconds, anyway. Then—
“Wh
at the fuck did you guys do to me?” Killian exploded, leaping off the bed. “You were supposed to take it out! Not turn it on! Fuck!” Thank Christ he wasn’t wearing one of those hospital gowns. He would’ve ripped the shit off and been standing there buck naked.
Raphael and Ford looked appropriately sympathetic but crouched slightly—ready for whatever was coming their way. And that thing inside Killian? That hybrid monster that Rosalie had talked about? Yeah, that thing in his gut or chest? It moved, woke.
The puma.
A sneer touched his upper lip. Was that really his truth now? His state of being? How could he accept that?
“It wasn’t them,” Rosalie said, her voice even and strong.
Eyes pinned to the two males, Killian shook his head. “Bullshit.”
“It wasn’t, Killian,” she continued. “It was…me.”
Killian’s head came around fast. She was standing up now, across the bed from him. Breathing hard, his heart slamming against his ribs, he glared at her.
“I came by your room, in my puma form,” she explained. “It…triggered something in you.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand why it would. I mean, there are plenty of puma females—”
“You don’t understand?” Killian exclaimed. “Why you would trigger something in me?” He shook his head, snarled at her. “After last fucking night?”
She immediately blanched. “Don’t—”
“I’m attracted to you, Hunter!” he continued. “Goddammit! You walked out on me last night, and today you come back in your puma form? You really do want to kill me, don’t you?”
“This is inside you, Mr. O’Roarke,” Raphael said before Rosalie could answer, his tone calm, sensible, though his body language warned there’d be a battle if Killian got any more out of control than he already was. “Benson Enterprises put it there, and I’m afraid we can’t remove it.”