Authors: Eve Langlais
A crease knit his brow. “What do you mean, you don’t know? Haven’t you ever shifted? Or did the scientists keep you too drugged to manage it?”
“I’m pretty sure I have. I just don’t remember it. It drove the scientists nuts. They’d order me to change, and I’d try, really I would, but I’m a failure. I can’t even sprout a hair or a claw.”
Never before had he heard of or encountered such a thing. Shifters didn’t have to try to change into their animal. It just happened, like flexing a muscle. It was part of who they were. Did his senses fool him? Was she perhaps not a shifter after all, but a human victim? Only one way to find out. Viktor grabbed a coworker walking by and pulled him close. “Smell
smell, recoiled.
“Sniff her and tell me what her animal is.”
Conrad, casting him a wary look, leaned in and inhaled.
His mystery lady didn’t quite crawl up Viktor’s body at the intrusion on her personal space, but it was close.
“Fox. Red fox, actually, mixed with something funky.”
“Fox? A mammal then.” Which made her warm blooded, and a definite no-no to his cold blooded self. While some species could mix and procreate, mammals and those belonging to the crocodylidae family couldn’t. Not that he cared. He had no interest in her as a mate, even if she did fire up his sluggish
redheaded victim whom he refused to call Project – way too demeaning.
“What?” he yelled back.
“Don’t you ‘what’ me, you ornery croc. Get over here and report.”
Grinning, he looked down at his wide-eyed arm ornament. “Come on. The boss wants to see us.”
“Why?”
But I do.
“Because she’s the boss. Don’t worry. She doesn’t bite.”
Slim hands latched around his arm in a grip worthy of any predator, and his recued lady bit her lower lip as he strode across the vestibule to talk with his employer.
A giraffe shifter, Kloe watched them approach, her long neck tilted in curiosity. “They told me you were bringing in a victim yourself, I just didn’t believe it. I wish I’d thrown some money into the pot.”
He frowned. “There’s a wager going on?”
“Noooo.” Kloe said it slowly, and he wanted to groan. Great, just the kind of thing he tried to avoid. And he knew who was behind it. Mason. He’d kill that bloody bear. Ignoring his obvious scowl, Kloe said, “Hello young lady, my name is Kloe, head of this FUC office.”
Tucked against his side, she answered. “Hello. I’m Project.”
Kloe appeared taken aback. “Oh goodness. There’s no need to call yourself that anymore. You’re among friends. You can use your real name once more.”
“She doesn’t remember her name,” he supplied.
“Oh.” That flustered his boss for a moment. “Well, I’m sure Jessie will find it when she has a chance to go through the files. Now, we need to figure out what to do with you. I’m afraid there were more victims than expected. We’re finding ourselves short of space to house them all. Do you require immediate medical assistance?”
He nudged his rib warmer.
“I’m not hurt.”
Kloe appeared relieved. “Oh good. That will make it easier to pair you up with an agent until we find more permanent accommodations. A pity Miranda is still out of town. She would have jumped all over you.”
And possibly driven his rescued lady crazy with inane chatter, but at least Miranda was deadly with a weapon. Not that she needed it with her new husband, a grizzly bear who was more likely to maul first and scoff at asking questions later.
With Kloe taking her in hand, though, it meant Viktor’s part was done. Time to leave. “Since you’ve got this, then I guess I should go.” He tried to peel the bruising fingers from his arm. It didn’t happen. His little red fox clamped them back on faster than he could remove them.
Kloe tried to help him. “It’s okay. No need to fear, um, Project. You can come stay with me if you’d like.” She held out
“Viktor, she’s staying with you.”
“What? No.”
“Oh yes. And that’s a direct order, agent.”
“What are you doing?” he asked, his tone low and harsh. A ghost of a smile on her lips, Kloe lifted her shoulders
in a shrug. “She’s obviously formed a bond with you. Given her trauma, it would be detrimental to try and break it without some professional help. Don’t worry. I’m sure it won’t be for more than a few days.”
Days? Panic suffused him. “But – my work?” Kloe patted his free arm. “Don’t you worry about a thing. I think you’ve earned a few days off. Use that time to recharge, maybe learn a few things from our new friend here.”
“But, but –” Panicked, he couldn’t speak. Couldn’t form the cohesive words needed to get himself away from the fox, who muddled his iron control and made his heart beat like a mammal. “I don’t know how to take care of a woman.”
“Easy. Feed her.”
A long and thick sausage…
“Let her use the shower.”
And lick her dry when done.
“Give her a place to sleep.”
In my bed, cradled in my arms.
Nooooo! Panic made his mouth work as his mind – and dick – listened to his orders and tried to process them. He couldn’t take the fox home. She needed someone appropriate to care for her. Someone whose cock wasn’t stealing all the blood from their brain rendering them stupid and speechless. He managed to choke out a, “But you need me on the case.” “We can call if we require your expertise.”
“Kloe!” He growled her name.
His boss however wasn’t listening and the next thing he knew, he found himself stuffed into another SUV, his albatross wrapped around his neck, being driven home.
This is such a bad idea.
His mind kept repeating that, and yet his hands, draped loosely around her back, stroked gently in an attempt to calm his red fox. As for his cock… Engorged with every ounce of blood he owned, it seemed to think bringing her home was a mighty fine idea.
*
Project could tell Viktor wasn’t too happy about the circumstances, but she, however, didn’t mind them. When the elegant, older woman talked about taking her away from Viktor, an icy fear shot through Project. How did she know she could put her faith in this woman? How could the delicate female, with the long neck and gangly limbs, protect Project? Mastermind was still out there. As was that big, scary sky.
Viktor had already proven himself capable of defending, or so she assumed by the hard glint in his eye, the blood she could smell on his clothes, and the weapons he carried. In this new world, filled with strangers and large spaces, Project would stick to the one person she trusted, even if it annoyed him.
The ride, while less scary this time, was a great opportunity to snuggle him again. To her delight, the same hard nudge of before rested under her bottom. It pleased her especially since she knew he wasn’t happy about the order to take her home.
Inexperienced when it came to sex, Project still understood the mechanics. She’d watched it enough when the guards and doctors came down to the dungeon to have turns with the prisoners in exchange for extras like food and blankets. No one approached Project with the same offer, though, leaving her curious.
What did sex feel like? Were the gasps and groans she heard from the other cells those of pain or pleasure? She’d asked one of the scientists once to explain sex to her. He’d mentioned something about showing her instead. He’d grabbed her, placing a slobbery kiss on her lips she didn’t enjoy at all. Then, she recalled nothing, waking to find herself in her cell, with no idea what happened. As for the man who’d given her a kiss, her only kiss? She never saw him again. And no one ever touched her after that unless it was for tests. Mastermind made sure of that.
It rankled because she had to wonder, did no one find her attractive? Did they sense the strangeness in her that went beyond the fact she couldn’t shift? Why did no one even attempt to flirt with her?
Viktor didn’t flirt, but at least a part of his body showed a definite interest. However, an impressive erection didn’t mean he’d do anything about it. He seemed pretty determined to get rid of her, which didn’t sit well at all. But how could she get him to change his mind?
Musings were set aside as the vehicle drove into a large area made of concrete, pillars and ducts. Dark except for the occasion fluorescent light, she found the closed in space comforting. All around, cars were parked in neat rows.
“What is this place?”
“The parking garage under my building. There’s a service elevator we can take where no one will see us.”
Slowing to a stop, the driver, the same man who’d sniffed her at Viktor’s request, turned in his seat, and said, “Home sweet home. Have
fun
with your guest.”
Project didn’t understand the inflection and Viktor, a dangerous look in his eyes, grunted in reply. Her protector exited the vehicle and, with an arm around her waist, yanked her out to stand by him. Project waved goodbye to the driver who grinned and saluted her. Then she had to scurry as Viktor strode with brisk steps to an elevator. Hanging on to his arm, she hurried to
“My condo.”
“What’s a condo?”
He sighed as he scrubbed his face. “It’s short for
“Do you have enough room? Is it bigger than my cell?” she asked.
Despite his lingering annoyance, his lips quirked. “Much. You’ll see.” He tugged her into the elevator when the door slid open and ran a card along a slot. The portal whispered shut and she felt her stomach bottom out as the elevator ascended.
Up they went. She watched the numbers climb, counting silently in her head until they reached the very last floor, number thirty five. They stepped into a square area with just one door flanked by a keypad. Bending down, he untied the laces to his boots, and glanced pointedly at the slippers someone loaned her. She kicked them off, but she wasn’t sure if her dirty feet were any better. Feet clad in a pair of black socks, he straightened and tapped on the small console. A beep sounded along with a click.
Viktor opened the door and gestured her in. Smiling, Project stepped into his home, and then made a grab for him as the view overwhelmed.
Thickly muscled arms circled around her body and he spoke gently. “It’s okay. I guess I should have warned you that I live in the penthouse. We’re pretty high up.”
It wasn’t the height that bothered her but the floor to ceiling windows along the back wall that gave her a dizzying view of the city with all its twinkling lights.
Still speaking softly, he attempted to calm her racing heart. “If you’re worried about falling, then keep in mind that the glass you see is even better than the bullet proof stuff. You could smash a chair in to it and it wouldn’t even crack. It cost me a fortune, but I wanted to make sure my home was safe.”
Counting in her head, she used the familiarity of numbers to calm her stuttering fear. “It’s so big,” she finally muttered as she adjusted to the vast panorama. Seeing how far the horizon extended just reminded her of how little she knew of the world, and how huge it truly was.
“Big, but nice to look at. Think of the window as a living picture. It can’t hurt you, but you can admire it. And look, you’re still surrounded by walls and a ceiling.”
Peeking up, she said wryly, “That’s a pretty high ceiling.”
Again, his lips quirked. “Now you’re nitpicking. Come on, I’ll show you the room you’re staying in. You’ll like it. There’s only a little window and we can hide it with the
Pausing, she bounced on the cushy surface. “Ooh, this is nice. What is it?”
“Carpet.”
“Your office had fabric on the floor too, but it wasn’t as soft as this. I wish I could have had a piece of this to cover the concrete floor of my cell.”
For some reason her observation made his features tighten. “Come.” He turned, and with his shoulders rigid, led her to a door at the far end of a living area – a living area adorned with couches, chairs and guns. Lots and lots of guns, and big knives. Some of the blades were longer than her arm!
Again, she stopped and gaped.
“Are those all yours?”
“Yes. I collect weapons.”
Slipping her hand free from his, she walked over to a shiny specimen mounted on brackets. She ran her finger along the edge and hissed as it sliced her skin open.
Blood welled and he growled. “Be careful. That’s sharp.”
“So I see,” she replied wryly. “What is it for? And why is your knife so big? I can’t see how that would be practical for cutting food.”
He chuckled. “That’s because it’s for fighting, not eating. It’s a sword.”
“Like the knights wield in the stories,” she exclaimed with excitement. “How wonderful. Do you know how to use it?”
“Of course. I know how to use all the weapons in my collection.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you have so many? And why did you learn their use? Are you afraid of the scientists too?”
“I fear no one.” He growled, and his eyes shone with a fierce glow that made her tummy flutter. “The reason I have so many is because I happen to like weapons, but at the same time, I refuse to own something I don’t know how to use. You never know when a skill with a dagger, a machine gun, or even a garrote is going to come in handy.”
Imagine knowing how to defend oneself from harm. How she’d love to learn that skill. “Would you teach me?” she asked tracing the grip of a pistol.
“My turn to ask, why?”
She faced him and saw him regarding her intently. “Because, I think it would be nice to know how to fight. To not be frightened. Or to have someone do things to me just because they are stronger.”
Pity entered his gaze, the last thing she wanted to see for some reason. She looked away. “Forget I said it. It was a silly
yourself. And if you’re willing to learn, then I’ll teach you.” “Truly?” With a happy sound, she flung her arms around
his neck and hugged him tight, the affectionate gesture, not one
she’d practiced with anyone, and yet, with him, it came so
naturally. Felt so right. So
good.