New Species 08 Obsidian (3 page)

“What does she want to do?” Trisha’s frustration sounded in her voice.

Tiger stepped closer to the desk. “880 lost his mate and Dr. Allison requested we send a female to stay with him in hopes her scent would lure him from his coma.”

“Would it work? Justice?” Trisha quieted, waiting for an answer.

“No.” He sighed. “I don’t believe so. He can’t be fooled by another female’s scent replacing the one he lost. She would smell offensive to him.” His gaze held Tiger’s. “Did you inform her of this?”

“I told her it would be dangerous. I tried to explain why and I thought she understood.”

“She won’t hurt him.” Destiny coldly glanced at everyone in the room. “She sneaked into his room sometimes. I caught her talking to him. Allison has heart. She didn’t take him to be cruel. She wants to heal him.”

“We need to save her from him if she does manage to get him to wake.” Tiger lifted a hand and ran it through his mane of hair in frustration. “He’s going to kill her. She’s human and he’s never known kindness from them.”

“We assume that.” Justice frowned. “We know so little about this male or his history except for what happened to him right before he was rescued.”

“Humans murdered his mate in front of him, according to the other Species males who were recovered with him. It drove him insane.” Tiger growled low. “He’s going to kill her if she manages to bring him around. We’ll have a feral Species out there attacking humans. We need to find them both and get him back here.”

“Agreed.” Justice shook his head. “I need to call Tim Oberto and bring the task force in on this. They are going to have to put their current mission on hold to find 880 and Dr. Allison.”

* * * * *

Allison shivered in the chilly room. The heater worked but most of the warmth rose to the two bedrooms upstairs. The house was old, the original downstairs construction was poor, but the newer addition to the second floor wasn’t as drafty. Her gaze lingered on the Species on the hospital bed in the center of the room.

“I wish I could get you upstairs but I’m not strong enough to carry you. I refuse to drag you because you’d get bruised. I doubt I could do it even if I tried.” She stepped closer to tuck the blanket around his neck. She’d hooked up an IV for fluids, emptied his urine bag, and knew in the morning he’d need a sponge bath. It was too cold to do it after the sun had set. “We’re safe though. The house is locked up tight. I started a fire in the grate and hopefully it will warm up soon.”

She glanced around the living room and hated the musty smell.
Beggars can’t be choosers
, she remembered. Finding the rental on such short notice in the local paper had been pure luck. The farmhouse was twenty years out of date, the included furniture needed to be hauled to the city dump, but someone had tried to clean it. No cobwebs adorned the corners and dust didn’t cover every surface. The man she’d called from a disposable phone she’d bought had said the electricity and gas were on. He used the place a few times a year to bring his friends out to go deer hunting.

“We’re in a farmhouse. It’s not the nicest place I’ve ever stayed but I paid cash. The owner never saw my face so he can’t identify me and I told him I needed a love nest.” She grinned. “I’ve had to make up some wild stories lately. The guy at the adult store thinks I’m doing some crazy bodybuilder who likes being chained to a bed and the owner of this house thinks I’m having an affair with a married guy while his wife is on a month-long cruise to Europe. I told him I needed somewhere no one would see us together.”

She turned to face the sleeping man. Her gaze lingered on the scar marring his cheek, then the one along his jawline. They were older ones, the fresher wounds he’d come in with had healed, but those two were the worst.

“I have a disposable cell phone, a different one, charging in the kitchen. If you get into trouble we’re just twenty minutes away from Homeland. They can reach us quickly if I place a call to them. I brought emergency equipment in case you need it. I just wish I could have stolen a heart monitor. I’d feel better if you were hooked to one.”

He didn’t move, just breathed, and depression settled inside Allison. She had a feeling it was going to be lonely while she waited to see what would happen with her constantly at his side.

“I’m going to sleep on the couch in here. We’re going to be fine.” Another shiver ran down her spine from the cold. “The weather called for rain but the temperatures should warm within a few days.” She stroked his cheek with her fingers. “I hope you’re warm enough. There’s no dryer here so I can’t heat your blankets.”

She turned away and walked to the suitcase she’d stashed inside the house when she’d brought supplies to care for 880. She nearly froze when she stripped out of her clothes to put on a pair of sweats and a loose sleep shirt. She sat on the couch to stare into the fireplace flames and sighed. There wasn’t a television and she doubted it would have gotten reception anyway.

The folded blanket wasn’t as thick as the ones she’d given 880 but she curled up on the couch with it, trying to get warm. It didn’t work. She was still really cold. It just got worse as time passed. Her gaze drifted to the hospital bed, worry ate at her over his comfort and she rose to her feet.

She lifted his blanket a little to feel his bare chest. He was really warm, his skin responded to her cold touch with gooseflesh and she bit her lip. Her feet were chilled even though she stood on carpet while she debated.

“Oh hell. I want you to get used to my scent. At least I won’t worry about one of us freezing to death.” She rounded his bed to the side where she hadn’t inserted the IV, gently lowered the railing and climbed onto the bed after lifting the covers. “These hospital beds aren’t roomy, are they?”

She twisted enough to pull up the rail. With the limited space she had it wasn’t easy to tuck the blanket over both of them. He was really large and warm as she snuggled tightly against his side, careful not to disturb him.

Warmth invaded her where they touched. Her hand lifted to press against the middle of his chest and each breath he took made it rise and fall. He was fine for the time being. Their body heat combined would keep them both warm through the night. Exhaustion settled in.

This is crazy.
She admitted that. Regret lingered over her hasty decision but it was done. Tomorrow she’d worry about what to do next. She just needed some sleep. Each breath he drew rubbed her hand on his chest and she inhaled his scent. Soap and the hair products they used, plus something faintly masculine that wasn’t cologne, teased her nose.

She was attracted to 880. Guilt ate at her for the way her body hugged his a little tighter than necessary. The idea of him healthy and awake, lying in bed with her, made her stomach flutter. That reaction shamed her. Noticing that a patient was good-looking was unavoidable since she had good vision but the way she enjoyed being so close to him was flat-out wrong. She knew that yet couldn’t stop feeling that way.

Chapter Three

Confusion gripped 880 as he became aware of things slowly. Something pressed closer to his right side, a light weight rested on his chest and he tried to sniff to identify the source. His body didn’t obey his command. He couldn’t see since his eyes wouldn’t open or it was pitch dark. Alarm struck next when he tried to lift his hand to his face. It remained unresponsive, as though it wasn’t attached to his body any longer.

He concentrated on the weight resting over his chest that seemed familiar for some reason but he couldn’t figure out why. He took several deep breaths, each one helped him learn the shape against him as he judged it by feel. He figured out it was a hand lying on his chest and part of an arm. Joy filled him suddenly, a sense of relief that 46 touched him.

She was well but that elation faded as something sinister tugged at his memory. He tried to remember what caused that bad emotion but his mind fogged. He must be drugged. They’d paralyzed his body again, which meant he must have fought the technicians. He hated them. He tried to growl to demonstrate his protest but failed.

Fear came next. What had they done to him? The arm sprawled over his chest and the warmth pressed against his side assured him he lived and 46 remained close. Things couldn’t be too bad if she hadn’t been taken from him. The technicians did that often to punish him and he worried every time that she’d never be returned.

He couldn’t remember what he’d done to draw their anger. His mind blanked. It alarmed him more.
How badly have they damaged me? What drugs are they testing this time?
He couldn’t move, speak, or even use his nose to assist him, to put clues together to determine his situation by scent.

Trapped inside my own body.
It terrified him and he hated the helplessness that nearly drew him to panic. It was the worst thing they could do to him. He pushed emotions back, focused on his breathing, and was able to finally hold his breath for a few seconds. It was something. He’d just have to fight past whatever new test drug they’d forced into his body. He’d done it before and he wouldn’t allow them to win. 46 needed his protection. He meant to keep his promise to do anything to prevent the technicians from harming her again.

The hand on his chest moved, languidly stroking his skin as her body pressed tighter against his. She seemed to stretch. Something wasn’t right but he just couldn’t figure out what. Her fingers dug into his muscles a tiny bit, a soft sigh sounded, and hair tickled the top of his shoulder when she adjusted next to him.

“You made it.”

The female’s voice was soft, unknown, and if he could have, he’d have jerked away from her. She had slept curled against his side with her hand on his chest.
Where is 46? Who is this female? Why has she been put in my living space?

Gentle fingers slid up his chest to his neck, pressed along his artery and paused. The pressure eased and the mattress under them shifted just slightly as she changed position. Metal scraped, her heat withdrew from his side and a draft of chilly air took her place. A blanket settled down and she pressed them tightly against his skin. A light caress breezed over his cheek.

“Your pulse is steady. I was so worried you wouldn’t do well off the machines but you seem to be doing fine. Now I need to give you a sponge bath. I’ll change your bag before I reinsert the feeding tube. I’m sorry but I need to do it until you’re well enough to eat on your own. I should have reestablished it last night but I figured you had suffered enough trauma being moved.”

Confusion filled him and nothing she said made sense. He struggled to move, to open his eyes, but was unable to do so.

“I’ll be right back. I’m going to take a quick shower while the coffeemaker does its magic.” The caress on his cheek stopped and he felt a slight tug on his hair as she seemed to manipulate it. “I’m a bear without coffee. That’s a secret. Most people don’t want to hear that I’m addicted to caffeine but it’s the only way I survived my residency. They really put you through the wringer.” The blanket moved by his chin, tucked tighter, and she petted his chest through the layers of covering. “I’ll hurry. I’m just in the other room, okay? The only bathroom is down here. I’ll even leave the door open. I know you aren’t going to wake that quickly but I can always hope.”

She stopped touching him but he heard movement not too far away. Water ran. A package rustled. He wished he had a keener sense of smell but his nose didn’t seem to work right. Silence followed until louder water came on, something squeaked and then clicked. The water noise became slightly muffled.

880 struggled to regain use of his body. He was alone, according to the unknown female, and her words made enough sense that he worried she was a technician.
Why would one of them sleep at my side? What game are they playing? Is it another of their twisted games to see how I react?
He could feel the weight of something on his wrists and ankles, more aware of his body as time passed. They’d restrained him flat by his limbs. He needed to gain control fast.

The water stopped too soon. He hadn’t made headway with his body, but he’d moved his tongue. It was sluggish but he’d been able to feel the roof of his mouth. One pinky finger twitched. The drug was slowly wearing off. His body would shake the effects of it but it would take time, something he wasn’t sure he had to spare. She said she wanted to hook him to a machine. The squeak sounded again and she sighed softly while rustling around.

“Okay,” she called out. “I’m dressed and now about to pour myself a cup of coffee. I’m going to heat up some water too and we’ll get you clean.” She paused. “Shit. I just realized I’m going to have to strip you down. I’m really sorry about that but it needs to be done. No one wants to be dirty. I’ll be more embarrassed than you. Trust me on that. It’s the one thing that still kind of gets to me. I hated clinic hours when I’d have to look at men’s penises. Let me tell you that it wasn’t always pretty.” She snorted. “Of course that time in the emergency room should have earned me an Emmy for acting as though it was normal for a guy to come in with his dick stuck inside a pipe.”

He listened, unable to do anything else, as she moved around. Her talk of dicks stunned him slightly. She owned a pleasant voice, though, that didn’t grate on his nerves.

“He came up with the lamest excuse ever, as though anyone would believe it accidentally happened. He didn’t trip naked and land on the damn thing. He was a pervert—one with his penis really wedged inside that pipe.” She laughed. “He should have at least used lube.” She came closer. “You should have heard him scream when I had to, well, you don’t want to know where I had to insert a needle. You’d hate hearing about that procedure. I’m the one who had to do it and I still cringe.”

She had just admitted to torturing a male. He tried to growl to warn her away from him as she approached but his throat remained silent. Rage gripped him as he worried that she planned to hurt him too.

“Okay. We’ll do this together.” She was very near. “It’s warmer now that the sun is up so I don’t think you’ll catch a chill. I’d wait a few more hours but I need to reestablish that feeding tube. You’ve lost enough weight.” The covers were pulled down his torso to the beginning of his hips.

Water dripped on him before a warm cloth touched his face. Her ministrations were gentle as she rubbed every inch until she paused at his throat. The cloth left and he heard water sloshing before it returned. She washed his neck and shoulders.

“Don’t worry. You haven’t lost too much mass. It’s hard to weigh you but your ribs are more defined.” She washed him there, down his belly, all the way to the covering across his lap. “I’m a professional. It’s okay.”

The cloth withdrew and he tried to snarl again as she slid the material lower. He could feel air hit his hips and knew he wore nothing except something that trailed over one thigh.

“Okay. I said that, didn’t I? This isn’t so bad. I needed to check your catheter anyway.”

He couldn’t move as the female cleaned his skin and he was shocked when timid, small fingers adjusted his cock. She touched him without gloves and he felt his body stir in response to skin-on-skin contact.

“Shit!” Her hand jerked away. “I guess that’s a good sign. Destiny said you never responded when he did that but it’s definitely a reaction to stimuli.” She sounded nervous. “It all looks good. Everything is secure here and, um, I don’t need to reinsert your catheter.”

Her gentle ministrations became a little hurried as she washed down his legs and covered his lap with something light and dry. It tickled a little when she washed his feet and between his toes with the washcloth.

“Your foot jerked.” Excitement laced her voice. “You haven’t done that before! Maybe taking you away from Homeland was a good thing after all.”

The sounds of her breathing drew closer to his head. Wet hair fell across his bare chest when she leaned over him. The locks were cold but warm breath fanned his throat. Something was removed from over his eyes. It tugged a little on his forehead and cheeks.

“880? Can you hear me? Please open your eyes. I removed the taped pads. You’re safe. You’ve been rescued from Mercile Industries. They don’t have you anymore.”

What does that mean?
He struggled to see her but everything remained dark.

Fingers rested on his chest and stroked his skin gently. “You just need to wake up. I’m so sorry about what was done to your mate. I know it hurts but you have to come back to the living. You’re young, strong, and have a bright future. There are a lot of people who will help you adjust to life outside the facilities. We all care about you.” She paused. “I care about you.”

What happened to 46? Why is the female sorry?
Panic gripped him and he pushed at the fog inside his mind. Memories rushed forth as if a mental door opened that shoved him back into reality.

46 had died. The humans had given her drugs that made her sick then murdered her outside his cage, where he couldn’t protect her. He’d had to helplessly watch her life drain away on the floor in a pool of blood. Howls of grief had torn up his throat as he’d tried to kill her murderers by attacking the cage bars. He’d eventually blacked out from the pain of knowing she was gone to him forever and the indestructible walls he’d battered. He’d failed 46 and had gratefully sunk into the dark pit of despair when he’d lost consciousness.

* * * * *

Disappointment struck Allison when the Species male didn’t open his eyes. He’d moved his foot and his penis had reacted when she’d studied the catheter by touching him there. She’d count it as progress.

She stopped stroking his chest, drew back and reached for a towel to dry the drops of water she’d left on him when her hair had plastered to his chest. Her gaze remained on his face, looking for any sign of emotion. She didn’t even see a flicker of change.

“It’s got to mean something that you had some reactions,” she encouraged him aloud, hoping her voice would register with his subconscious.

She talked softly as she worked on getting him stabilized. She emptied his urine bag, reinserted his feeding tube, and fed him. The liquid diet wasn’t enough for a man his size but it kept him alive and nourished. She had to turn him on his side, not an easy task, to clean his back and change the padding under his hips. Nurses usually did the personal care tasks for patients. She hadn’t had to deal with it since her residency.

The blanket was firmly tucked around his body to keep him warm. She turned away to dump the water into the sink from the bucket she’d used to bathe him. It had sprinkled outside during the night but the sun shone brightly at the moment. It looked as if the storm wasn’t going to be as bad as the weather reporter had predicted.

Guilt tore at her a little as she nibbled on toast, sipped her coffee and sat at the table, regarding her patient. Medical at Homeland would be short-staffed with her gone but 880 was her priority. Ted Treadmont could handle any emergencies. He might bitch about the extra hours but he had the assistance of a few Species who were training to be nurses. It wouldn’t be too taxing for him to cover her shifts.

She’d bet the five candy bars she’d packed that the NSO was looking for her at that very moment. All she could do was hope she’d covered her tracks well enough to buy at least a week to spend with 880. She’d place the call to tell them where they were in seven days if he didn’t improve.

Her hands trembled in response to wondering what they’d do to her when she made that call. It was one of those times she hoped good intentions came into play. She hadn’t stolen 880 to do him harm. Tiger had refused to consider her request and although it wasn’t exactly conventional treatment, New Species weren’t standard in any way. They were genetically altered human hybrids and she needed to adjust to their special needs as their doctor.

Allison washed her plate, refilled her coffee cup and dragged a chair closer to the bed in the center of the room. She sat, used the table to hold her drink and sighed. “It’s going to be a long week, isn’t it?” Her teeth dented her lower lip but quickly released it, annoyed with the habit she seemed unable to break. “How about if I tell you a story? I didn’t have time to buy any books but I loved reading as a kid. Ever heard the story of Beauty and the Beast?” She paused, waited for an answer that she didn’t expect, but wanted to pretend he could answer. “It was my favorite story as a kid.” Her gaze lingered on his scarred face. She knew it was unethical to be attracted to 880 but she couldn’t help it. “Here it goes.”