More than Truth (Arcane Crossbreeds) Page 14

  Brit jerked at the roar in her mind and glared up at the camera. “It was a reasonable consideration, Taggart. So very little is understood about the biology of a mature Drachon, I could—”

  “Doc!”

  “Britony,” Vin began cautiously, but Brit ignored him.

  “Britony,” Kahn repeated in approval. “We know quite a bit about the biology of the Drachon; however, it is privileged information for only our species. Once you’ve mated…” He let the sentence hang and shrugged his massive shoulders. There was a hint of a smile that curled the corners of his mouth. Those lips, full but partially hidden by his beard, must have been a genetic gift to his sons as well. She well remembered the feel of Tag’s tugging on her nipples. The feeling— Brit brought her mind back to the present before either of her telepathic mates picked up on the slip. Instead she focused on their father. Here she had the opportunity to use this man as a baseline to compare and contrast the chain of biological changes in the brothers during the mating.

  “You are not experimenting on us during the mating.”

  Brit narrowed a warning glance at the camera. She didn’t tell Tag she’d already started analyzing her own blood. “We’ll see.”

  Kahn’s laugh boomed through the lab. “I think I’m beginning to understand.”

  “You have no idea.” Vin sighed.

  Brit ignored Vin and stepped forward to extend her hand. “My name is Dr. Britony Mahoney.” The man lifted one brow at the offering before angling a condemning glance at Vin.

  “Have you explained nothing to her, Vincent?”

  “There are extenuating circumstances,” Vin said drolly, and he pulled her back from his father until the warmth of his chest ignited over the sensitive flesh of her back. What use was clothing if every touch felt as though they weren’t wearing any?

  Brit jerked away from Vin and temptation, choosing to concentrate on Vin’s father instead. She had to stay focused, or the heat would engulf her. It was getting stronger than her ability to compartmentalize it. “Explain what?”

  The man’s dark brown eyes twinkled as they focused down on her. He gave a short, somewhat formal bow of his head but kept his hands at his sides. “I am Dr. Kahn Jennings. As to what my sons have not explained: it is not permissible for another male to touch the intended female of another during a mating, even if said male is already mated or blood kin. I’m afraid Drachon have rather archaic and basic instincts. We find it easier to accommodate them rather than court the consequences. Which brings me back to my initial question… Why have my sons not finished this mating?”

  Vin reached for her again, and Brit shrugged his touch away before the tingling from the contact began to exceed the bounds of her control. She folded her arms over her chest and faced off against his father. “Is the inability to adhere to any personal boundaries a trait all Drachon share, or is it unique to just you and your sons?”

  “For Christ’s sake, Brit.” Tag groaned. Behind her she thought perhaps Vin might have moaned as well.

  Kahn laughed again but crossed his own massive arms over his chest. “I’ve been told it’s a family tendency. So is stubbornness.”

  Brit sighed. “Point taken. Incog recently acquired over a hundred victims from a research facility—one I believe you have a vested interest in. One of those victims mated a Drachon despite not being one. I believe their health and welfare supersedes any biological drive to mate.” Even if that drive was an insistent pulse nearly overtaking her ability to rationalize. She’d actually given rein to her temper and thrown a book at Vin.

  “This should be interesting,” Kahn said drily. He studied his son for a long moment before shaking his head. “Gentlemen,” he called out to the three others standing with Forestor just outside the open door to the lab. “I’d like to introduce you to my son and his mate. However, I think you’ll agree now is not the best time.”

  Brit wondered why they stood in the hall, and Kahn ran his dark gaze slowly over her face for a moment before he shot a glare at his son. “The others would have found the chemical environment of this lab too discomforting to enter. You and Vincent are excreting very strong pheromones.”

  As if she wasn’t aware. She should be accustomed to the Jennings males’ general disregard for her mental privacy. Although intrigued by the scientific potential of analyzing the older Drachon, Brit had more pressing concerns. She needed to find her sister before the ARSA-2 gene activated. Her sister had suffered enough at the hands of the Triumvirate. When she thought of the experiments that were conducted on her…

  Brit straightened and pushed the thoughts away. She couldn’t think of that now. Aside from the potential to weaken her control, there were entirely too many empaths in this room. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to speak with that other Neanderthal you created about some important files.”

  “Britony,” Vin said, but it resonated more with resignation than reproach.

  Kahn only smiled at her. “Despite your importance to my sons, you would still be of extreme interest to myself and the other Drakes for no other reason that your research on Raife Merrick and Katya Schaffer. We’d like to have access to their medical files. I’m sure you can appreciate our interest.”

  Brit started, her pulse jumping in her throat. She hoped they attributed her pounding heart to her hormonal reaction to Vin. “Those files contain personal information, which I am not at liberty to disclose without Agent Merrick and Ms. Schaffer’s express permission. A necessary security measure that I am sure you can appreciate.”

  “Dr. Mahoney,” Forestor admonished her in his low, even tone. “The Drakes are honored guests and the ruling cabinet of the entire Drachon race. As such their interest in any medical data pertaining to their people is legitimate.”

  “It’s okay, Guardian,” Kahn said with another half smile. “If it will make Dr. Mahoney more at ease, we can meet with the newly mated pair and attain their consent. In fact, I insist on it.”

  “I appreciate your cooperation on this matter.” Brit nodded to them and walked to the lab door. There she paused, and it took every ounce of strength she had to keep her shoulders from dropping. In that moment, it felt as though the weight of the world pressed down on her. She met Vin’s worried gaze before pivoting to face his father and the other elders that had moved off to the side to give her room to pass. “Please believe that I do not take any of this lightly. If there is any hope, I will find it.”

  She knew how important Katya was to the Drachon. Without mating, the males weakened and died out. Until the small woman had mated with Raife Merrick, there had been no known matings between a Drachon male and a female of another species. Since births only occurred every fifty years between mated pairs and almost no females resulted, the Drachon were dying out as a race.

  There was just so much she didn’t understand about Katya and Raife Merrick’s mating. It was entirely possible what was killing her could be the very thing that had enabled her to mate him. Brit sighed. And what of herself? Was it possible she was also infected with the ARSA-2? Was that the reason she was able to mate with Vin and Tag? She’d done a genetic workup on herself, but it would be another day before it was complete.

  As she walked into the hall, she heard Kahn’s deep voice murmuring that his sons had mated well. She wasn’t sure she agreed. If the ARSA gene somehow altered females enough to make them compatible to Drachon males, then she might be responsible for killing them with hope.

  Suddenly she felt so tired. Brit massaged the throb that was gaining in intensity between her eyes and stepped inside the elevator. The unreasonable heat, the race to discover a solution that would save Katya’s life, and now the stress of wondering if her sister was still alive were all bearing down on her. Never had she felt so alone.

  She wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed briskly to ease the painful tingling in her flesh and maybe to offer herself the illusion of comfort. Brit shook herself and inhaled. She could do this. It was no more than a complex challenge.
She needed to break it down into soluble pieces, prioritize, and assert her focus to one individual problem at time.

  God, if it were only so simple. Lifting her gaze to the elevator panel, she absently watched the numbers rise and continued to rub at her arms. The blood pushed insistently through her, filled with the hormone that her intellect was useless against. The heat raged, pressing against her control from the inside, fracturing her without any support to shore up the cracks. It was only a matter of time before she could no longer hold herself together, before she broke.

  The tinny sound of the elevator reaching her floor startled her, and she dropped her arms. Even the palms of her hands, the tips of her fingers pulsed. Brit chafed them against her lab coat and pulled the edges together as she exited the elevator. She was in the midst of an overwhelming heat with two mates. Reason argued that she shouldn’t feel so alone, but the truth was it wasn’t work holding her back from accepting the mating. She was indisputably lured to the twins. The very scent, the sight of them enflamed her, but she was also inexplicably repelled by them as well. Like magnets, she was drawn until she got close enough to feel the promise of the mating, and then some force—an instinct—had her pushing away. The two sensations, unrelenting and yet contradictory, made her want to crawl out of her skin. And it left her adrift.

  Brit squared her shoulders and walked down the hall toward the electronic kingdom that Tag lorded over. The door slid open, and he was there. The warm heady scent of him slammed into her, melted over her, and with one lightning-flash lapse of control, her world fell into blues and reds. And Tag.

  Suddenly she was in his arms, his lips soft yet hard as he pressed them aggressively against hers, his tongue spearing past hers to push into the depths of her mouth. And she let him—couldn’t stop him even if she’d wanted to. His big hands flattened, spanning her back before stroking lower to grab her ass.

  “Damn, Jennings. Get a room.”

  Raife’s voice was like cold water being thrown on her. Reeling, she brushed her hair back from her burning face with one hand, and she tried to slow her rapid pulse. All it took was one touch from either Tag or Vin, and she was combustible. “Keep your hands to yourself, Taggart.”

  Tag was wearing a self-satisfied grin. “Sorry, baby, I’ve been dying to get my hands on you all day. Besides, you jumped me.”

  Brit blinked. “I did not.” Certainly not, but the memory of how she came to be in his embrace was a bit blurry. She followed his pointed gaze down to where she fisted his T-shirt, the thud of his heart a taunting percussion against her hand, the hard warmth of his chest so alluring, especially now, when she felt so weak.

  Releasing him and smoothing her lab coat, she cleared her throat. Heat suffused her face, not so much from embarrassment as from the punch of desire that still resonated through her from the contact.

  Raife laughed, and she shot him a glare, but inside she felt in a state of near hysteria. Her control was deteriorating too fast. What happened when she was no more than jagged pieces? What then? Who would be interested in her once she was useless? The sound of the other Drachon’s laughter made her skin crawl, and she stepped back from him, pulse thudding in her throat.

  “Doc.”

  Brit blinked and focused. Tag’s face was so close she could see the gold flecks in his hazel eyes and the soft creases in his full lips. He wasn’t smiling now. His gaze was intent, his body angled to block her from the rest of the room, his big hands warm around her arms.

  “Concentrate, Doc.” His voice slid confidently through her mind, bracing her. The need to crawl into him rose heavily in her, and just as quickly the instinct to reject him swelled in contrast. The crash of the conflict rang in her ears—deafening—and she trembled. Those hazel eyes narrowed as he searched her face, that line between his thick eyebrows deepening. Could he see the battle waging inside her? Feel it? She was too weak right now to shield him. He released her and stepped away. “Vin said you needed our help with some files.”

  “There was a specific subject—victim,” she clarified, casting a glance at Raife Merrick. “I need to know if you recovered enough of the files to determine where she was in the facility. A location. I need a visual from the surveillance.”

  “We can check it out.” Tag was frowning at her as he moved to an elaborate terminal. “You think this is your sister?”

  Brit nodded and followed him to the multitude of screens that formed a semicircle around a chair. She gave Raife a wide berth, refusing to even look at him, knowing she’d never be able to stand against his censure. Instead she watched Tag, enthralled as always with his elegance with electronics. He was a big man, his body broad and heavily muscled—not the typical computer nerd. His hands were massive, but his thick fingers looked graceful on the keyboard as he conjured images and lines of indecipherable text across the screen. She recited Meghann’s subject number when he asked, her gaze drawn down to the strong column of his neck, her fingers tingling with the need to feel the soft texture of his sheared black hair.

  “She shared a berthing with other women. I brought up the video feeds starting with the day before you arrived.” Tag’s voice broke in, and she flicked her gaze to the screens. The footage was on the center screen, showing a large spartan room with five metal beds. The images moved quickly as he forwarded through the footage. Four of the women congregated on two beds. None of them were her sister, but suddenly they came to their feet and rushed to the edge of the frame as a woman was pushed inside.

  Meghann. Brit grabbed his shoulder and pointed. “Wait. Right there.”

  Tag clicked a button, and the video feed slowed. Meghann pushed to her feet and launched herself back at the door, obviously screaming, hands moving in offensive gestures. Tag rubbed his cheek against Brit’s fingers, drawing her attention as the rough scratch of his stubble sent little currents of energy surging up her arm. He was oblivious, the affectionate gesture mindless as his gaze remained intent on the screen.

  “She’s a feisty one.” Raife’s wry observation came from somewhere over her shoulder.

  Brit started, jerking her hand back, but Tag caught it without looking up at her. He finished his task with his free hand, clicking the mouse with finality. His rusty-green gaze met hers. “Look, baby. Is this your sister?”

  Tag had frozen the frame and enlarged the image until her sister’s face, vibrant in her fury, filled one screen. She’d always been unrestrained, so animated and honest in her every reaction. So unlike Brit. Fear and hope tangled in her chest as she leaned forward to touch the screen. “She’s really alive.”

  “Who is she?” Katya asked as she drew up behind them.

  With a shake of her head, Brit blinked away the burn of tears and looked down to see Tag staring at her with an intent, determined expression. It nearly consumed her, but she swallowed and motioned to the screen. “Can you find out what happened to her? She never arrived with the others.”

  Tag’s presence suddenly filled her with strength. “We’ll find your sister, baby. I swear it.”

  His hazel eyes glittered with fiery purpose. She nodded, the constriction loosening in her chest enough for her to whisper, “Thank you.” He released her hand, and his chair groaned as he turned around. Once again his fingers flew over the keys, his steely resolve a balm to her mind.

  “What the hell is going on?” Raife came up on Tag’s opposite side as several pages hissed from the printer. He picked them up and flipped through the images. Brit could see they were close-ups of the other women.

  “You, my lazy friend,” Tag said over his shoulder, “get to earn that hefty wage Forestor pays you. If you can fucking drag yourself away from my assistant for five damn minutes. She can’t get any more pregnant, asshole. Leave off.”

  Raife snorted. “Fuck you. What do you need me to do?”

  “Take those photos to Kel and see if she recognizes any of them. I want to know if any of those women were rescued from that hellhole and where they are now.” Another photo his
sed from the printer, and Brit had to stop herself from grabbing it. Tag picked it up and handed it off to Raife as well. “I want to know everything about this woman.”

  Raife frowned down at the photo and cast Brit a considering glance. With a shrug, he leaned forward to kiss Katya and bounded from the room.

  “Those five women were moved the day of the raid,” Tag continued, addressing Katya. “It’ll take some time to connect the dots with video footage, so I need you to scour the files for any mention of this victim. Maybe we can narrow it down between us.” He scrawled Meghann’s subject ID and handed it to Katya.

  Katya looked down at it, her pale features drawing up with confusion. “What is this about?”

  Tag swiveled in his chair, his gaze capturing Brit’s. She could read the question in his eyes and nodded. He spun back to his terminal. “She’s the doc’s sister.”

  “That’s why you went back there.” Katya voice rang with dawning understanding.

  Drawing herself up, Brit met the other woman’s luminescent blue eyes. “I was told she died during the escape from the Triumvirate labs in Dublin years ago.”

  “Oh, Brit,” Katya said, tears shimmering. “We’ll find her.”

  “Thank you.” Brit nodded, unable to process the feeling of being a part of something, of being valued beyond intelligence. Instead she focused on Katya, taking in her sunken eyes and nearly translucent skin. “Have you been feeding?”

  Katya blinked and flicked a glance at Tag.

  “Don’t mind me.” He murmured as he tapped away at his keyboard. “I’m not even here.”

  Katya snorted and rolled her eyes. “Yes, Doc. More so than usual actually.” She rubbed one arm. “I’m afraid maybe too much. I don’t want to hurt Raife.”

  Brit didn’t like the sound of that. Dread coalesced in her stomach. Katya was running out of time. She pulled a penlight from her pocket and shined it in the woman’s pale eyes, lifting her lip to study the color of her gums and her sharp canines. Brit grabbed her wrist to check her pulse and frowned. “I’m not overly concerned with Raife. His body responds to your needs, but I will do another blood count if it will put you at ease. However, I do want you down to the lab as soon as possible so I can recheck your levels.”