Winter's Wrath: Sacrifice (Winter's Saga #3) (42 page)

Meg watched Laz’s pupils dilate more with each step until they looked black instead of their unusual turquoise.

Without a word, and just a few feet from the room he had been ordered to take the girl, he reached to the duct tape securing her gag and gently pulled it off.

Meg licked her dry lips slowly and swallowed deliberately, aware Laz was drinking in every movement.

Laz watched her wet, pink tongue.  His eyes were transfixed.

Meg’s focus was solely on the lead soldier.  She heard her voice say, “That’s right. Perfect, Laz.  Tell the others to leave.  I want to be alone with you.”

Without removing his eyes from the dark-eyed beauty, he waved to the others dismissively.  “Leave us.  I’ll take it from here.”

The other metasoldiers scowled briefly before he barked his order more adamantly.

“Leave us!” he yelled at them, eyes never leaving the girl’s.

The five other soldiers slowly backed away.

“Tell them to let Dr. Williams know I am secured and very much in your possession.”  Meg cooed softly enough for only Laz to hear.

Without missing a beat, Laz barked the order verbatim to the others. 

Glad to be done with the female wildcat, the others turned tail and hurried back down the corridor from which they came.

“That’s right.  I’m all yours now, Laz,” Meg coaxed.

Her concentration was intense.  She never let go of the soldier’s eyes.  With her will, she commanded him to touch her.

Even as she thought it, his hand reached up and held her shoulder.

“Take me to my room.”  Her voice was coaxing, seducing, mesmerizing.  “I want to be alone with you.”

Never allowing his eyes to leave hers, he slipped his arm under her
knees
and lifted her small frame.  With the added dimension of his touch, Meg knew she was in complete control.  As though led by a marionette’s string, the soldier carried her quickly toward one of the doors twenty feet down the passageway. 

Meg watched from the corner of her eye as he held her with one hand and opened the door with the other.  Once inside, he kicked the door closed behind them.  By her will, he laid her carefully on the bed with straps.  It was the only piece of furniture in the hospital-style room.

“Laz,” she began her completely unrehearsed speech, “my wrists and ankles are hurting.”

He stood silent, awaiting her emotional will before he nodded absolutely and reached behind the waistband of his standard-issue
camo
fatigues.  From his weapons sheath, he removed a seven-inch blade and slipped the glistening metal between her ankles.  With a deft tug, he sliced the ziptie. 

“That’s right, Laz.  Now my wrists.”

Seductively, Meg rolled onto her belly to give Laz easy access to her secured wrists at her back, watching him over her slim, muscular shoulder.

“But, I’m supposed to restrain you for the Director.”  Laz’s brows furrowed—his will momentarily fighting to stay in control.  An inch of worry is all Meg allowed the soldier.

“Of course you are, Laz.  I’m already in a detention room.  You’ve done your job well.  Dr. Williams will be so impressed.  I know I am.”  She offered a soft smile over her shoulder, dark hair framing the dark eyes that held the metasoldier transfixed.

The soldier nodded in agreement, and slipped his knife slowly between her skin and the thick plastic holding her wrists together.  

Meg sat up slowly, rubbing her wrists.  “Thank you, Laz.  You’ve done well.”

The soldier, completely commanded by the small female metahuman before him, smiled hesitantly.

“You must be tired.  You’ve worked so hard tonight,” she cooed hypnotically.

“I am a little tired,” he echoed her will.

“Sit,” she motioned with her free hand to the space beside her on the bed.

Inside, she cringed as he positioned himself directly beside her, but she pushed her true will aside and focused every bit of her energies on controlling the despicable soldier.  

His body heat pressed against her will.  She could nearly taste his lust and resisted gagging from it.

“You’d like to lie back and relax,” she told the soldier.

He watched her face.  He couldn’t resist her siren’s call.   A halo of white radiated off her skin, enveloping her. 
She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. 

A wave of sleepiness crashed over him with such strength, he felt drugged. 

“Yeah, it’s been a long day,” he said in a slurred voice, leaning back against the wall behind the strap-laden bed.

“Rest, Laz.  You’ve earned it.  Let me watch over you for a while.  You deserve the rest.”

“I am pretty tired, now that you mention it,” he managed before his body slumped to the side—dark blue eyes, dilated and fixed on the girl.

“Close your eyes, Laz.  Rest.  Let me take care of you,” Meg heard her voice offer. 

The soldier’s eyelids dropped, heavy and sedate.

“You’ll stay with me?” he murmured, his eyes fighting to stay open and locked onto the mesmerizing female.

“You’ll never forget me, Laz.  I’ll be crisp and clear in your mind, as long as you live.  Rest.  Feel the heaviness of your body.  Sink into the bed.  Be at peace,” Meg’s voice was hypnotic.

The soldier obeyed without another word.  Soft snores resonated through his body within moments.

She watched him, debating what to do.  He had resheathed the blade into its holster at his back.

Knowing she was crossing a line she’d never wanted to cross, she slipped her hand deftly to the soldier’s back and soundlessly slipped the seven-inch blade free.

“Laz, where have they taken the male?”  She kept her voice hypnotic, soothing and in control, even as she gripped the deadly weapon.

“Hum?” he mumbled.

“The other metahuman—where have they taken him?” she repeated in the same tone, ready to strike.

He soldier’s eyes drifted open momentarily and held Meg’s gaze like an oxygen mask to his suffocating will.

“Third floor…lab,” he mumbled obediently.

“Thank you, Laz.  Sleep and feel nothing,” she coaxed watching his eyes drift closed again.

Knowing she was crossing a line, she felt a wave of hatred vibrate through herself toward the disgusting creature who’d tried to violate her for sport less than twenty minutes before.  She held the knife up to the slowly pulsing throat of the sleeping metahuman.  Just as she was about to slip the sharp blade across the exposed flesh of his throat, she caught her distorted image reflected in the pristinely polished metal and grimaced at what she saw. 

Her hand flew to her mouth in abject horror.

Oh, God, help me!
She begged, stifling a gasp—terror surging in her tightened throat.

Abruptly, she stood and backed away from the incapacitated male, razor-sharp knife still gripped in her white-knuckled hand. 

She turned and rushed to the door, opened it a crack to peek down the hallway.  Seeing it was empty, she risked one last glance at the sleeping
,
sadistic soldier praying she’d made the right decision in letting him live.

Only in self-
defense,
she chanted inwardly. 
I only kill in self
-
defense.
Please help me not regret this, God.

She ran from the room as fast as her legs would carry her stretching her empath skills as far as she could, searching for both friend and foe.

By the time she reached the stairwell, a dizzying wave of exhaustion swept over her. 

She leaned heavily against the cold cement of the deserted space and tried to breathe through it. 

No time, Meg.   No time.  Move!

“Evan, are you there?” Creed’s voice resounded.

Evan was about to storm the hospital by himself when Creed’s voice commanded him to hold still and respond.

“Oh thank, God Creed!” he breathed pushing his body back into the shadows from which he was about to leave.

“Williams set up an ambush.  He escaped.  Where are the others?”

“They’ve been captured,” his voice choked the words out for the second time in three minutes.

“Where?”

“They’re still in the hospital, somewhere.”

“Where are you?”

“Right outside the entrance to hospital building, trying to decide what the heck I should do!” his voice was no longer dancing on the verge of panic, he was wrapped in its prickly arms and writhed in its pain.  He’d never felt more inept in his life.

“Farrow and I are on our way,” he breathed.  His voice commanded respect.  Evan felt a rush of thankfulness for the soldier.

“Hurry,” was all he could
manage to say
as he closed his eyes and slipped down the wall of the building that encased his family like a monstrous mausoleum.

Not ten seconds passed before Evan felt a warm hand on his arm.  Startled from his thoughts, the young meta stood tight and ready for battle.  Instead of an attacker, he saw the small silhouette of a girl before him.  Creed was standing on silent feet a few yards to his left.

“What do you know?” Creed’s voice was hushed and even more commanding in person.

Evan repeated everything h
e knew.  “Mom’s waiting on channel
thirteen for our plan.”

Farrow and Evan looked to Creed—the obvious leader of what remained of their group.

Creed reached up and switched his comm. to her channel. 

“Dr. Winter?” he whispered.

“Creed?  Is that you?” Margo’s voice was thick with emotion and fear.

“Yeah, I’m here with Evan and Farrow.  We’re going in to
get
Meg and Alik.  You stay back.  I’m going to turn off all comm; do not intervene.”

“You are my children!” Margo voice pleaded angrily.

“You’re human.  You’ll be killed.  Stay out of it.”  Creed’s words cut, but he knew he had to say them to stop her from trying to storm the compound. 

All the metas heard a gasp from the woman before she cleared her throat and spoke the only words her heart could manage without losing complete control.  “Creed, please?”

“They are my family, too.  If they’re in the dark, I’ll go into the darkness with them.
I will give my life for theirs.”  The muscles in Creed’s jaw clenched, etching severe shadows across his partially moonlit face.

“
I love you, Mom.
” Evan forced his voice to sound braver than he felt.

“We will not leave without them,” Farrow’s voice held as much determination as Creed’s.

“Comm
out,” Creed breathed.  He removed the device from his ear, dropped it to the ground and crushed it under his thickly soled boot before looking to the others to follow his lead.  Farrow pressed her lips into a white line, nodded solemnly and followed suit.  Evan looked between the two metahumans standing with him, ready to go into battle to save his family and felt a surge of strength. 

“Pray for us,” Evan whispered to his mother before yanking the comm. from his ear and grinding it into the unforgiving ground.

The End

If you enjoyed the first three books of Winter’s Saga, I hope you’ll recommend them to your friends and take a moment to help maximize their exposure on Amazon.com
by
writ
ing
a quick review.
  Thank you for traveling on this roller coaster ride with me.  It has been, and continues to be, an honor.

Hugs,

Karen

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Karen Luellen
loves her
witty husband, martial arts/fight movies, the occasional cheesy romance,
her
iPod and an excellent pair of ear buds, chewy pizza, laughing till
she
get
s
hiccups, sweet tea, getting "fur therapy" by snuggling with
her
pets and getting lost in a story for hours at a time (either reading or writing).
She
lives in North Texas with her husband
Dan
and th
eir combined four children
.  She’
s hard at work on book #4
in the Winter’s Saga.

Visit Karen Luellen’s
page at
www.goodreads.com/karenluellen

Email at
[email protected]

Facebook at
http://www.facebook.com/winters.saga