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He snorted. “There are alphas and then there are fools. Which, I wonder, will he ultimately be?”
“You have not seen this yet?”the voice asked softly. “It must be because you have refused to look. ”
He shrugged defiantly, as though the voice could see such a movement. “I would prefer not to regret what I can not change. ”
He had a fondness for Charity. Not alove, or a jealousy of what Aiden possessed, but a fondness. Her soul was gentle, her heart filled with warmth. She was the only human he had met who possessed such qualities.
“And if you do not look, how do you know it cannot be changed?”the voice asked. He sighed wearily. “Are there not duties for you to attend to? Surely wherever you are, there are things you must do other than harass me. ”
“Actually, my duty is to harass you more often. ”Her laughter filled his mind. “I have been accused of being quite lazy where you are concerned. ”
“Who would dare?”he mocked her patiently then.
She laughed again. A whispery little chuckle that tempted him to smile.
“Will you be leaving there soon?”she asked.
“Within the hour. We are preparing to fly now. They will be upset at our absence. ”
“There are things you must do, Keegan. They will survive without your knowledge. Remember, what comes easy is not near as important as those things you must fight for. ”
And there was much, he thought, left to fight for. Shaking his head at the cruelties of man and the fickleness of fate, he moved farther into the jungle for the clearing he had landed in earlier. Unfurling his wings he lifted them to the breeze coming behind him and took a running leap into flight. Charity would suffer for the desertion, but he had seen enough to know that her trials were those she must face alone. He had his own destiny to conquer, his own trials to endure. And it must all begin now.
Chapter Four
Breed Compound
Colorado Mountains
Charity came awake with a moan of pain. How she had managed to sleep, to escape the blinding pain of the drugs, she wasn’t certain. How she came awake in the unfamiliar room was even more confusing. She blinked weakly up at the rough beamed ceiling wondering where she was, what had happened. A spasm of convulsive reaction shook her womb, taking her breath, as she moaned harshly. She could feel the dampness between her thighs, the ever-present arousal that spiked through her body. The sexual need she could tolerate, she had learned to accept it over the years. It was the blinding pain of the attempts at forced fertility that weakened her mind.
When the contractive shudder eased away she looked around the room. The bedroom was large and almost homey. On the other side of the room an open fireplace burned cheerily, the flames warming the rooms with heated comfort. The bed was canopied, the thick flannel curtains tied back along the rough wood posts. Several comfortable chairs sat on the other side of the room, beside a large chest and dresser.
To her side a door was open to another room, obviously a bathroom. Thank God, she needed one. She checked carefully, she wasn’t restrained in any way. Her wrists weren’t sore, though her feet felt like hell. She pushed the quilts from her body, finally realizing she was dressed in a large T-shirt, but nothing else. She wasn’t going to bitch; she hadn’t been allowed to wear clothes in six months. She moved weakly to the side of the bed, biting her lip at the pain in her legs and ankles as she swung them from the bed. She dreaded putting any weight on her feet. She could feel their tenderness, the pain awaiting her.
She bit off her cry of agony as she gingerly stood up. Tears filled her eyes and within moments dampened her cheeks as she shuffled to the small room. Once there, she used the toilet, washed her hands and face and glanced longingly at the tub before shaking her head. If she got in, she would never pull herself out.
As she washed her face, she found a clean toothbrush still within its box and worked it free quickly. She felt almost freshened after brushing her teeth and forced herself back to the bed. Her breaths were panting whimpers by the time she sat down on the mattress and managed to pull her legs onto the bed. She collapsed across it, breathing heavily, trying to relax through the contractions in her abdomen. She felt along the incision, surprised that no blood was leaking free. It was bandaged, obviously stitched closed. She blinked in confusion toward the fireplace, trying to remember, to understand the abrupt changes around her.
No cells, no scientists, no restraints. She breathed in deeply, knowing there was something she had forgotten, something she needed to remember. Shadowed images flickered through her mind. Flames and fear, a blinding heat as she fought to escape. She shook her head, trying to make sense of it.
“You shouldn’t be out of bed. If you had called I would have helped you. ”
Fear shocked her system. The breath lodged in her throat as she stared unblinkingly at the fire, trying to deny the voice that had spoken. It wasn’t possible, she assured herself. Not now. Not after all these
years.
His voice was colder than it had been in the Mexican Labs. More savage and controlled than she remembered. She licked her lips nervously, wondering if she would survive the savagery she glimpsed in his eyes.
“You can’t ignore me forever, Charity. ” Smooth, mocking amusement raked across her nerves as leanly muscled thighs came into her line of vision. Between the jean-clad columns, a thick, hard erection bulged against the snug, low-slung cloth.
Charity swallowed in tight reaction as her nipples peaked, hardening with increased arousal. She fought to breathe through the welcoming shudders in her womb. As though her body had instinctively recognized its sexual master, it began to hum in joy. A joy her mind rejected, the intellectual part of her aware that she may have well escaped the physical pain, but the emotional agony to come could well be worse. Muscles flexed, his abdomen tightened as he bent his knees, lowering himself until he could stare at her from the bottom of the
bed. Her breath hitched in her throat. He was older, his features honed, harder. His eyes were a silver-gray, merciless,as cold as ice.
Black hair fell shaggy and thick around his face as he propped his forearms on the mattress, watching her silently. Satisfaction lined his expression, tormenting, knowing.
“Well,” she cleared her throat weakly. “Out of the frying pan and into the fire. ” She commented on her apparent rescue from the Labs, only to find herself now held by the one man she had fought to escape for years.
