30. Chapter Thirty

Sylas

I’ve made a huge mess of this. Did I really put all my fellow splicers at risk just to spend more time with Cally? By the thunderous look on Slater’s face, her punishment is going to be worse than if I had simply turned her in the moment she arrived. Now my selfish desires have earned her Colonel Slater’s ire, and an as-yet-unnamed punishment I can’t begin to imagine.

I have to make this better.

“Colonel, please. Punish me, but—”

“Not one more word, Sylas!” He scans an open file on his desk, but doesn’t appear to be reading it. “Barton, Webb, you may step out.”

Something of seismic proportions explodes in my chest. There’s only one reason he would dismiss our guards. He’s planning on doing something so painful, so abusive, it’s against military regulations and he wants no witnesses.

The moment the two soldiers exit, he clears his throat, frowns, and rubs a palm on the back of his neck. I’m on guard, ready to… what? Take a bullet for Cally? But I will. Every ounce of me is ready to do anything to protect her, even if it puts me in danger.

“For never having seen or spoken to a woman before you got here, you splicers sure work fast.”

What is he talking about? I’ve heard rumors that some of the twenty males in the integrated portion of the base had found female partners. I didn’t believe it could be true, though the colonel appears to be confirming it.

His gaze flicks from Cally to me as he leans forward to ask, “Before I inform you of my decision about how I’m going to deal with this, I need the truth about those ropes. Miss Quinn used the term consensual, but if necessary, we can conduct a medical inspection to confirm.”

“I took advantage of her without her consent,” I blurt, assuming this will ensure the colonel is more lenient on her, even though it’s bound to earn me a punishment. Surely nothing the Army can devise would be as bad as what I endured in my previous captivity.

“And you’re a terrible liar,” Cally says, tearing her gaze from Slater to slash me a disappointed look, her eyes blazing with anger and her mouth a tight line.

“We felt an immediate attraction,” she explains to the colonel. “I found him hard to resist, although I didn’t know he’d turn out to be a compulsive liar to try to get me out of trouble.”

The colonel slaps his hands on his desk, which captures both our attention. “I need you two to quit covering for each other and answer the question. Explain the ropes.”

“He’s in rut. He didn’t want to harm me. We figured out a way to… safely explore our attraction.”

Slater nods and leans back in his chair. “Good. I didn’t want to believe one of my males would harm a woman.” He focuses solely on Cally as he says, “After what they’ve been through, they’d have every right to be crazed maniacs, yet I’ve seldom met such a good-hearted group of people. You see why I would do anything to keep them safe, Miss Quinn? Now, I just need to decide what to do with you.”

I start to interrupt, to try one more time to take Cally’s punishment, but Slater’s having none of it.

“Sylas, you were a soldier.” His face is creased in distaste. I imagine he’s recalling the horrible conditions in which he found us, just as I am. “Slip back into a military mindset and give me a report on your observations on one Calliope Quinn.”

Since the day of my rescue—spearheaded by this very male—I’ve tried to put my military training behind me. I guess I didn’t banish it completely, because it floods back.

Rising to my full height and standing in front of my chair in a strict military at-ease position, I gather my thoughts and give report.

“I encountered Ms. Quinn’s dog at approximately 1430 hours two days ago. He was barking in alarm, probably due to my not-quite-human scent and species. Ms. Quinn wasn’t far behind, having crawled under the fence using the hole her dog found. My appearance couldn’t be hidden, so I confiscated her keys, rendered her cell phone inoperable, and remanded her to my custody while I considered the options.”

I quell the urge to ease closer to Cally, to touch her. Instead, I stay in my military persona, which I thought was long forgotten. I continue explaining the events of the last two days in as factual a manner as possible.

“In summary, the civilian, although accustomed to a peripatetic lifestyle and initially wishing to run away, became cooperative after realizing the high stakes situation and has not attempted to run since the first few minutes of our encounter.”

Perhaps I shouldn’t continue. What I’m about to say next will surely get me in trouble, but it also might gain Cally more freedom. “It should be noted that to engender her trust, I returned her keys to her, but she immediately handed them back to me. She has not broken that trust even when I was tied to the bed to ensure her safety during my rut. She doesn’t want harm to come to any of us.”

Slater’s a hard man to read. He has genuine affection for us splicers. Rumor has it he refused a promotion so he could stay on this base and continue to support and protect us. Right this minute, however, his nostrils are flaring and his face is implacable.

“Is that correct, Miss Quinn? You could have run?”

“Yes, sir. He’s been tied up at night. I could have grabbed the keys off his neck and taken off.”

“And why didn’t you?”

Though she’s speaking to him, her hazel gaze collides with mine. “Two reasons. First, I don’t want to be responsible for hurting a bunch of splicers, although I’d never breathe a word about them.”

“And?”

“And I’m falling for Sylas. No. Correct that. I’ve already fallen.”

Something washes over me. I’ve never felt anything like it before. It’s warm and liquid and fills me up. At first, it’s a trickle, but I dig deep inside myself and somehow find a… spigot that allows the flow to become a deluge.

I’m receiving affection, Cally’s genuine affection, for the first time in my life. It’s as close to heaven as I imagine I’ll ever get. It would kill me to lose it now.

The room is silent for an eternity. No. That’s wrong. It’s quiet for a thousand eternities as Slater considers his decision.

“Alright, you two. Miss Quinn? Are you willing to sign the contract we developed for the women we brought onto the base? It contains rules, expectations, and a non-disclosure clause. If you agree, you’ll have to remain here until the splicer project goes public, but you’ll be free to roam the property. You can contact your family or friends who would be alarmed if you are missing, but you won’t be able to tell them the truth.”

“House arrest as opposed to being locked in a cell? I vote for house arrest.”

“We have a nice clean barracks on the integrated portion of the property. There’s an old-fashioned main street where we’re developing a tourist attraction that will be staffed by humans and splicers. Behind the town hall are male and female barracks. You’ll be quite comfortable there and the other women will be happy to take you under their wing.”

He opens the folder with her name on it and I notice the exact moment he sees the name of her book because he smirks, then snaps his gaze at me as he fails to suppress a chuckle. “I see you’re a successful author. I’m not sure what kind of a job we’ll find for you to do that would appeal to your area of… expertise. We’ll figure it out.”

I try not to let my disappointment show, but the extraordinary happiness and affection I felt only moments ago spools out of me as I realize we’ll be separated for the next twenty months. The property is 60,000 acres, about ten miles square.

I’ll be on one end and Cally will be on the other. How will I be able to live like that? Catching her alluring scent from time to time when the wind is right. Smelling her, knowing she’s close, and yet never allowed to touch or see her. The tight squeeze of agony in my chest is worse than the long nights in my cage when I was a prisoner.

“Or,” the Colonel continues, “you can live in a small Quonset in an area we’ve built for the other couples.” He answers my unspoken question when he adds, “Splicer/human couples. There are several people who consider themselves mated pairs living about a city block from here.”

I kneel in front of Cally, who is, to use a distinctly human phrase, looking like a deer in the headlights.

“Would you want that, Cally? Would you want to share a house with me?” My gaze bores into her as I wonder if what we shared was just a brief game to her. Was nothing real? Just something to pass the time until she found a way off the property without having the full force of the United States military after her?

“Of course I’d like to live with you! You and me and the Tot.”

Relief washes through me. Although we’ve only known each other a few days, and even though I’m in rut, what we’ve shared has seemed utterly real and deep and meaningful. By the affection shining on her face, she feels it, too.

“And your book? It will have to be on hold.” We’re so connected, it’s as though I can feel not only her happiness but her pain. Her books are so important to her, as is her freedom. I’m well aware of how much being confined to base is going to torture her.

“Yes. I won’t be able to write that book without being able to travel.”

I’m still kneeling in front of her. Gripping her hands in mine, I squeeze them, wanting her to feel my empathy and concern at her loss.

“Colonel Slater, sir?” she asks. “I don’t expect an answer now, but I’d like your permission to be the official splicer photographer. Don’t worry. I won’t post them. Just let me take pictures of these guys in their daily activities. That is, if they give their permission.”

Though she’s squeezing my hands, she’s looking at him.

“I’ll humanize them. That’s what you’ll need, right? When this thing splashes all over the front pages of every paper and blog in the world, you’ll want goodwill. I’ll do another coffee-table book and a website. There will be pictures of them playing with my dog or engaged in a game of flag football or cooking or… I don’t know, a thousand things that every human does.”

When did she have time to give this any thought? It appears she’s not only come up with a rough idea, but has fleshed out some details. My chest expands, filling with pride at how she’s not crying or bemoaning her fate, but is making this into an opportunity.

Her beautiful eyes are sparkling as she leans forward to engage the man who has decision-making power over this amazing idea.

“Before the haters start their hate campaign, every human on Earth will see these males in action. How can you fear someone when you see them eating and drinking and playing and loving just like you do? And I’ll release the images only after you review them and give your approval.”

“I can see how your book got to the top of its category, Miss Quinn. You have a knack for PR. I’ll read your…” He consults her file and smirks as he continues, “Roadkill Chronicles: A Roadside Eulogy, then run this by my superiors. If I approve, I’ll give it my highest endorsement, which is usually all they need to hear.”

Cally’s smile is ear to ear. “Where do I sign? Oh, Sir, can you get someone to secure my car and Bambi?” When his eyebrows hit his hairline, she laughs, “My Airstream Bambi trailer.”

“Ah. Of course. I’ll get Barton to retrieve and secure it for you in the barracks compound. You’ll get the keys to the trailer but not the vehicle. I’m sure you understand.”

As she nods in agreement, I can’t wait a moment longer to pull Cally into the tightest embrace I can give without hurting her.

“Okay, you two. Get a room. As it just so happens, I have one available.”