More than Truth (Arcane Crossbreeds)
Loose Id Titles by Amanda Vyne
Arcane Crossbreeds 3:
MORE THAN TRUTH
Amanda Vyne
www.loose-id.com
Arcane Crossbreeds 3: More than Truth
Copyright © August 2013 by Amanda Vyne
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
eISBN 9781623004002
Editor: Kierstin Cherry
Cover Artist: Anne Caine
Published in the United States of America
Loose Id LLC
PO Box 809
San Francisco CA 94104-0809
www.loose-id.com
This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning
This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id LLC’s e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
* * * *
DISCLAIMER: Please do not try any new sexual practice, especially those that might be found in our BDSM/fetish titles without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither Loose Id LLC nor its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles.
Dedication
For Dad, who always insisted my knight in shining armor was out there; for Mom, who taught me to wield a sword and shield all by myself (just in case); and for Jason, who will slay dragons for me but doesn’t mind when I want to wage battle on my own. It’s because of you guys that I can write about true love.
Acknowledgment
Behind every good book (I like to think this qualifies) there is more than just an author. There is a whole crew of dedicated people. I just want to take this moment to give props to the editors who have helped me make this book and the books before as kickass as possible. Mary Harper, who first introduced me to the fine if painful art of tearing it down to build it up; Kierstin Cherry, for taking on my obsessive repetition twitch over and over again; and most of all to Christy Lockhart for her all-around awesomeness.
And to the Sirens, a very talented group of writers in their own right. Thanks chickies—I wouldn’t even have gotten this far without your support.
Chapter One
The kiss was meant to be a distraction for him—not her.
And Dr. Britony Mahoney was very distracted by the wet press of Tag’s full lips and the erotic thrust of his tongue into the depths of her mouth. A shiver worked through her body that had nothing to do with the cool air in his apartment at Incog. Desire settled low in her belly until she throbbed with it. His massive hands clenched her lab coat, and he jerked her closer even as his mouth covered hers, devouring her.
She almost forgot to inject him with the needle—the entire reason she’d initiated the kiss in the first place.
At the initial prick of the hypodermic needle, he stiffened against her, but it was another heartbeat or two before he let her come up for air. Even then he didn’t immediately release her. In fact, his arms tightened around her, and he pulled her with him as he staggered back a step. He angled his upper body to look down at her, brows low over those rusty hazel eyes.
“What the fuck have you done, Doc?”
Although the telepathic words were dull in her mind from the special sedative she’d just shot him full of, the surprise and pain that underscored those words were sharp, and they slashed through her. She hadn’t expected to feel remorse, at least not this much.
Bracing herself, Brit held on to him as he staggered again, and whispered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do.”
Why had she said that? She used logic to make all her choices, and she’d never felt the need to defend them. But this didn’t feel like logic. It felt like betrayal, and she hated that. For the first time she
didn’t
know what to do and time was running out.
“Fuck.” His curse came out in a thick growl against her temple as he teetered to the side, and too late Brit realized nothing short of a hydraulic lift was going to stop his big body from going down—hard. Despite barely clearing five feet, she tried to soften his landing anyway. She dug her fingers into his shirt and pulled for all she was worth, but his head still slammed into the hard wood with a sickening
thud
.
Dammit
. Brit pushed to her knees next to him and gently ran her hands over the back of his skull, the sheared black hair soft against her fingers as she assured herself there was no real damage. For once she actually appreciated his hard head. The plan was to maneuver him closer to the couch before she injected him, but that kiss completely leveled her thoughts. Leave it to Tag to approach a simple kiss with the same aggression and focus that he committed to every other aspect of his life. Her heart still slammed against her ribs as she knelt there next to him and pressed her hand to the solid heat of his chest. His heartbeat was steady beneath her palm. Her relief was short-lived. Tag shot his arm up and wrapped his hand around her wrist. He pulled her hand to his chest. Startled, she met his intense stare, pulling against his firm grip.
“Doc. Don’t.” His words were slow, slurred, but she could easily read his emotions in his gaze, clinging to hers. Intent. Pleading. She knew what he was trying to tell her. If she did this, then she would lose everything she’d built here. She’d lose him.
The truth of it hurt. There would be no coming back from this, and it was all her fault. She had been terribly naive to believe the horrible genetic research she’d participated in all those years ago would stay buried. She’d wasted years pretending it never existed when she could have been working on a way to counter it. Now a woman was dying, and if Brit didn’t do something about it, that woman would take her mate and unborn child with her. Brit just couldn’t be responsible for another death.
“My misdeeds have caught up to me,” Brit whispered, “and there’s no running this time.”
His lips moved as though he wanted to argue, but his eyes rolled and he went slack. She blew out a shaky breath and lifted her equally shaky hand to her pounding heart. Tag was too honorable to forgive her for this.
Brit brushed one finger over the shallow crease between his dark brows. Unconscious as he was now, he didn’t have that ever-present deep furrow between his eyes that signaled his irritation with someone, usually her. Despite her complaints to the contrary, she had come to anticipate their arguments over his imperious security measures in her lab. It had come to be a bit of a ritual for them. She would blatantly disregard his rules, and he would come growling to her about the importance of them. Maybe she did it because she knew he would come, and she needed that much from him, even if it could never be more.
Now his fury would be real. Tag was as strong in his emotions as she was reserved in hers, and he would take this betrayal hard. Regardless of her intentions or how she tried to mask them with semantics, this was a betrayal, plain and simple. She regretted that—regretted the necessity of deceiving him—of deceiving everyone at Incog. But the truth was worse.
Brit rose to her feet and stared down at his face, the hollows of his cheeks rough with a day’s growth of black hair. Regret was a destructive beast roving through her, threatening her resolve. For one terrifying heartbeat, she wanted to lie next to him and wait for the sun to rise. She wanted to look into his brownish-green gaze and confess the sins of her past and her fears for the future, to put it all out there instead of drowning in the truth alone. Right then, Brit would have given anything to have someone share the burden of this fear, to have one other person in the world understand, to hear someone tell her it would be okay even if it wasn’t true. To hear
Tag
whisper he had faith in her.
She clenched her fist around the syringe so hard her hand shook and her knuckles turned white. Her heart tightened and pushed blood hard into her head, making her feel faint. Her lips throbbed. His taste still lingered there, burning her, and she couldn’t resist the urge to run her tongue over them to gather it—savor it. Closing her eyes, she let the resulting tremor rage through her. She hunched forward around the overwhelming yearning to let him shoulder some of her burden.
Tag was a man who saw life in black and white. His ability to differentiate between right and wrong was an integral part of him, one that he clung to as desperately as she did her control. His sense of loyalty and honor defined who he was. If she involved him in this, it could compromise everything that defined him.
Brit could never let that happen. She was alone in this.
For over ten years, she’d worked with Tag at Incog, the independent security firm that helped the not-so-human aspects of society with their not-so-human problems. For over ten years, she’d carefully navigated the desire between them, selfishly keeping him just close enough to feel the bite of it.
Taking in a deep breath, she studied his big body sprawled on the floor, so still. The calculations she’d used to create the serum were flawless. She’d been very careful to ensure there would be no serious threat to his health, but the urge was there to check his pulse to be sure.
Brit forced herself to retreat one step and then another, putting space between them. She wasn’t a complete fool. She knew if she touched him again, let his heat warm her, she’d lose what little control she had left. Control was more than everything. For her it was the
only
thing.
She was of the Arcane species.
Homo Arcanus
. Evolution had favored them over their human cousins, making them more advanced. Most of them anyway. Unlike almost all other crossbreeds, Brit didn’t inherit any of their evolved genetics. She presented completely human, no special ability or enhanced strength. Just her inexhaustible intellect. Her parents had realized right away that she was different from her sister, from all other crossbreed children. They just hadn’t realized how different. They hadn’t understood her often painful hunger to disassemble every component of life so she could understand and categorize it, but they tried to facilitate her, to satisfy her need to learn.
Brit frowned down at the syringe in her hand and smoothed her thumb over the plastic casing absently as she let her mind slip to the past.
At ten she’d attracted the attention of the Triumvirate, the three corrupt witches that governed the Arcane. As a rule they hunted crossbreeds, but they had offered Brit something different: a new life in science and a means to assuage the excruciating craving to learn. She exhausted and discarded every brilliant scientist they brought in to teach her. By sixteen she was obsessed with genetics—the infinite possibilities a perfect playground for an intellect that never stopped. She’d just been too naive to understand the direction the Triumvirate had neatly led her—until it had cost her everything.