Chapter 3

I wake with a roar, muscles straining with a sharp need to get up, to move, to find something. Something important. An unknown, base instinct screams at me. I bellow again.

A sharp, rattling noise penetrates my ringing ears, and I silence myself with predatory intent. My nostrils flare in the darkness. It's pitch black, and I can't stand. Something is holding me down, holding me back.

Straining my legs, I hear the rattling noise again. I'm chained.

In a flash, it all comes back to me. Radeel's office. The trap.

I've been kidnapped and locked away in the dark.

Fury makes my muscles swell. I want to rip the chains from my body, explore the boundaries of my confinement, and destroy my unknown enemy, but I need more information. I'm a brutal Kral, but I'm a devious one, too.

Willing my blood to calm down and stop whooshing in my ears, I listen. There's a steady hum of something mechanical in the short distance. A cold storage unit? Farther away, an irregular cracking sound catches my attention. I can't identify it.

A variety of smells swirl through the air around me. Something medicinal, and something antiseptic. Iron, machinery. And beneath all of that, something faintly fresh. Something that entices me to try to rise to my feet again, even though I know I can't.

I snip my claws together—waterdyas, the small green plants that grow on the warm water lakes of my home planet, broad and flat at the surface, with a long stem connecting to the mud. The scent is light and herbal, faintly citrusy. I haven't smelled waterdyas in years. Am I on a Kral planet? Am I still on Hofterin?

The intermittent smacking sounds cease. There's a faint noise, like a whimper, and something heavy clanks. Footsteps move in the darkness. The scent of waterdyas grows, then vanishes, drowned by the scent of blood and fear. My tusks ache, an unfamiliar sensation.

I frown, the faint throb growing.

My brain is sharpening with every moment I'm awake. Ignoring my tusks, I start to trace the chains binding me. My ankles are shackled. I follow the cables to thick bolts locked into the cold floor. I stand slowly, waiting to get yanked off my feet, but find I can pace about a body length in every direction outward from my hard cot.

I'm still wearing my clothes and my boots, but the blaster holder at my shoulder is empty. The comm unit is missing from my implant, so I can't call anyone for help. I stomp my feet, feeling the reassuring weight of the packet in my right boot. I still have my arsenal of fake IDs and, I grin to myself, there's a spare comm in that packet, too.

Amateur kidnappers, to leave me in my clothes and boots.

In my long career of espionage and occasional assassinations, I've never been captured before. I find the sensation, trapped and at an unknown adversary's mercy, distasteful.

Why am I here? A basic assumption, that this has something to do with Radeel's operations and my previous clandestine work for Haven, doesn't seem to fit. I could see a revenge killing, perhaps, but there's no reason to hold me captive. I'm not partial to Haven's secrets, so there's no point in torturing me for information. I have no ransom value to Haven either, now that Radeel's dead.

My mother would ransom me, I suppose, but she doesn't have a substantial amount of silvers to her name.

My instincts fire. I can't shake the feeling this imprisonment is personal.

I rack my brain, trying to recall the brief, scattered moments of my capture. The dart. The voice. Was the voice familiar? My brain hums, sifting through conversations, threats, deals. . . I know that voice, but not from my career with Haven.

Rubbing a hand across my chest, I consider what that means. I haven't been home to Flex for a lifetime, or what seems like a lifetime. I can't remember the last time I spoke to my mother in person.

But something tells me the voice, the male who captured me . . . the threads tie at the root of me.

A sudden light brightens my cage. I squint, staring at the dark shape pacing into view. Is this the male who stunned me in Radeel's office? He's short and slim, with pink skin and stubby horns. He's tugging a belt through the loops at his pants, his movements agitated.

He bellows, "Inde!" and then slams a fist onto the metal counter beside him. Lab equipment bounces. The faint sound of a glass breaking tinkles in the air.

I straighten in my cell, squaring my shoulders, and his gaze hits me.

His lips twist into a rictus grin. We stare at each other for a long moment. My skin itches, but I don't look away.

A Csevadian bustles into the room, wiping his cybernetic hands on a cloth. He frowns at the pink male, blinking one blue eye. The other, a cyber implant, gleams steadily red. "Was it unsuccessful?"

The pink male crosses his arms. "It worked," he says grudgingly. "I could feel it in my blood, powering me. But it drained in moments."

The Csevadian grins. "But that's excellent progress! That was only our first attempt, and it worked! I knew mixing Kral blood with that of the closest genetic relatives, the home planet's native mammals, would trigger the primal urges." He rubs his hands together and pulls a tablet from on top of the counter closer. "We have a lot of stored Kryllian blood and tissue."

I frown as I listen. Kryllians are small, winged creatures who live deep in the jungles of the Kral home planet. Once upon a time, billions of years ago, we shared a common ancestor. But why are these two experimenting on Kryllians? They're not intelligent. And there's no profit in the sale of their flesh for meat.

His red eye whirring in its socket, Csevadian says, "Now, describe exactly what you experienced. Leave nothing out. We must find a way to make the effects last."

"You must," the other male mutters. "I will never be who I was meant to be if you don't get this to work. Everything I've been building toward for my entire life. Everything you've promised me. If you fail . . ."

He lets the threat trail off, but the Csevadian appears unbothered.

They walk from the room, heads bent over the tablet screen.

I stare after them, nonplussed. I have no idea what's going on. Or how I'm going to escape.

They're gone for a while. I take advantage of the light and look around the room. It's a lab of some kind, that's obvious. There are no windows to tell me if it's day or night, if I'm in a city or the countryside. I don't even know if I'm still on Hofterin, or if I've been transported elsewhere. I don't think I could be on Kral. It's a long journey from Haven's headquarters, and I don't think I was unconscious for that long.

The room is wide, with two opposite doors—the closer one the two males just departed through, and the other one from which the pink male first arrived. The far door pulls at me. The waterdyas and blood scent emanates from there.

My brain tells me those scents aren't pertinent to my escape.

My instincts disagree. Wrath frissons in my veins, swelling the muscles of my chest.

I rub my skin there, frowning. Am I growing redder?

I'm not a base Kral, subject to the whims of the Wrath. In my thirty-odd years, I've never succumbed to it. I understand it, of course. It's the curse of my species—the toxin that floods our veins during times of heightened emotions or threats. It invigorates and empowers us for a short period, however, if it's not soothed, it kills us—violently and without mercy.

It's never triggered in my body before.

I don't know what's happening to me, and I don't like it.

I've helped fellow Krals channel their Wrath into fistfights and, occasionally, into hard fucks, the violence or the sex leaching the toxin so it doesn't envenom the bearer. But I have a feeling no one here would do the same for me. So I can't succumb.

I stare at the black encroaching across the veins of my forearms and will it away. Eventually, the burning sensation fades, and I rock back on my heels, rotating my head on my neck. I don't like this. I don't like this place. I need to escape. Now.

As if summoned by my thoughts, the Csevadian and the pink male return, arguing softly to each other. The pink male slams his fist on the counter again and stalks off as the Csevadian calls after him, "I didn't sign up for hazard pay. Either you knock him out, or we wait for Mara in the morning. He can rip her apart."

My ears perk. There's a third person involved in this shady lab. Who is Mara? A female?

The pink male spins and yanks a metal rod from the wall.

Oh shit, I know what that is. I just spent two months in a Federal prison.

I leap backward before he turns, but the cell is so small, I have nowhere to run. He touches the rod to my thigh, electricity spikes through my body in a harsh wave, and I'm unconscious before I can do more than groan.

WAKINGslowly once more, a heavy lassitude flowing through my body, my eyelids feel weighted by stones as I blink at the bars above me.

Something clanks near my feet. I glance down to see a small female kneeling, shoving a tray through the opening at the foot of my cage. She's not looking at me, so I take a moment to study her. She has dark hair and pale skin. Her hands are steady on the tray, and she's not chained.

My sluggish brain takes in the fact she's wearing a shapeless gray uniform and slippers. She must work here.

My lip curls. She earns her silvers tending to a lab that imprisons people.

I sit up, my chains rattling, and she falls backward with a sharp squeak. I smirk, pleased I startled her. Now that I can see her face, I realize she's young and comely, with light hazel-brown eyes, a high forehead, and a narrow chin. I don't recognize her species, though something in the cast of her features is familiar. Maybe I've seen another of her kind in passing before.

Her lips part as she stares at me in wonder.

"What do you want with me?" I growl.

She blinks rapidly before finding her feet and backing away from the cage.

Satisfaction curls in my gut. This female knows I'm a threat even though I'm confined. I want to warn her she's right—I'm going to escape this place and burn it to the ground—but I refrain for now. If she's in charge of bringing my food, I probably shouldn't terrify her. Not yet, at least.

As I stoop to pick up the tray, she runs from the lab, using the far door and letting it slam shut behind her. In the wake of her passing, the scent of waterdyas fills the air. My tusks throb.

I swipe my hand across them, scowling at the closed door she vanished through.

The tray is pretty bare. There's a protein bar. Lyfia's Blood, I hate those processed vitamin bricks. And a water packet. I sniff everything, trying to determine whether or not I'm being drugged, but I don't scent anything other than the female.

Aware I need to keep up my strength, I eat the bar and drink the water. I keep the tray though, sliding it under my cot. I know it's petty—it's too flimsy to be made into an effective weapon—but I have a feeling it will irritate the pretty female.

Nothing happens for a time, and I pace, bored and antsy. The lab is silent except for the faint whirring noises of the machinery and an occasional beep, plus my clanking chains.

Eventually, the far door cracks open again and the female peeks inside, her eyes meeting mine before they slide away. She's pushing a cleaning cart. I sit down on my cot and watch as she wipes down the counters, mops the floor. The longer she spends on the menial tasks, the more my anger at her grows.

Does she not see me here? Chained?

I want to growl, to make her jump and fall again.

Her movements are graceful and careful around the various glassware lining the counters. Her breathing, however, is erratic, and the quick, uncertain glances she keeps sending in my direction keep my interest for a while. When our eyes meet, the pale skin of her cheeks ignites to bright red. It's an interesting reaction.

"My name is Viz'en Kah," I say, an idea slowly building in my brain. Maybe I can befriend her, and she'll help me escape. "What's yours?"

She doesn't acknowledge my overture. So maybe not.

The near door opens, and the pink male sticks his head out to bark at her, "Get in here and help Inde with the bloodwork."

The female grays until her skin matches her clothes, but she nods, pushing the cart to the side. Hurrying quickly past my cell, she vanishes through the door just as the pink male steps deeper into the room, his red eyes on me.

Bloodwork? I eye the pinprick holes and faint bruises on my left arm. They've been taking my blood. Or have they been injecting me with something? A chill whispers across my skin.

This place is obviously an illegal lab. They've kidnapped me. With Radeel dead, no one in the universe will look for me if I vanish and never return. Well, maybe my mother if she surfaces from her most recent medication regimen long enough to remember she has a son. I'm the perfect victim for this kind of forbidden experimentation.

But I'm no victim. A deep snarl rumbles in my chest before I stand and demand, "Why am I here? What do you want with me? Did you kill Radeel?"

The male doesn't answer. Instead, his eyes fall to my swelling biceps, his expression turning greedy. I know I'm throbbing with Wrath again, my skin turning crimson and veiny. I can feel it burning inside me, but I don't look away from his face.

I study him as he studies me. I don't know what species he is. The pink skin is somewhat unusual. He may be a mix of several different species, especially considering his snubbed horns. Did he cut them, or did they grow like that? From this distance, I can't tell.

His nose is crooked like it's been broken before.

I can't deny the red irises unsettle me. They're too similar to the cybernetic eye the Csevadian doctor wears. I wonder if he's had them enhanced, too, and he's currently looking inside of my body.

Resisting the urge to cross my arms, I lean forward. "If you don't let me go, I will kill you."

I'm going to kill him either way, of course. But I'm not telling him that.

He scoffs and waves his hand at the cage. "No, you won't."

Impotent fury flashes through me before I, again, tamp it down. Instead of throwing my body uselessly at the cage bars, I force myself to sit on the cot and lean back against the wall. Crossing one leg over the other, I raise my brows at the male. If he wants a staring contest, I'll give him one.

The female appears in the doorway, and both of our gazes snap to her. She shrinks her shoulders inward and gasps, "Sir, Dr. Inde needs you for a moment."

The pink male grins and rubs his hands together.

Scurrying out of the way, the female keeps her head down as she passes my cage on the way to her cleaning cart again.

I want to growl at her, to get her to look at me, to see me behind these bars, but I also don't want to draw the pink male's attention to her for some reason, so I stifle my urges and watch her run to her cleaning cart.

She stumbles twice, and a vicious thrill moves through me. I want her to be afraid of me. So afraid.

But when we're alone in the room together again, and I'm watching her clean and scrub once more, I want to order her to stop. Her slim hands are reddening, rubbed raw by the sterile fluids. She's also moving more gingerly than earlier, like she has pain in her body somewhere.

Frowning, I stroke my chest. I don't know why I care about the health of this illegal lab's employees.

I settle back to watch her, determined to enjoy the way she continues to wilt under my attention.

Eventually, the two other males enter the main room again. They stand in front of my cage for several minutes, talking in whispers I can't quite make out before I remove my gaze from the female to look at them.

"It has to be when he's in its thrall," the Csevadian says firmly. "The enzyme's not present in his system otherwise. The passive form of the catalyst disappears too quickly from the serum when we mix it with the KryllianDNA."

The pink male strokes his chin before flicking a glance at the female across the room. She's studiously avoiding the three of us, her head bowed over the counter as she swipes at a stain.

Disquiet churns in my stomach at the way his gaze assesses her.

"Mara," he finally says firmly, "join me for a moment." He gestures to the closer door.

The female closes her eyes briefly before nodding and hurrying through the room, again avoiding looking at my cage. Fire burns in my veins at her easy dismissal. I want to reach under my cot to throw that food tray at her.

I refrain.

The Csevadian stands at my cell bars, watching me closely as the other two disappear from sight, and I return my attention to him. The cybernetic eye makes a whirring noise, the iris retracting and widening as he scans me from head to toe.

"What do you want with me?" I ask again. I sound like a broken comm, endlessly repeating myself to an uncaring user.

The corners of his dark blue lips quirk, but he doesn't answer. Instead, when he finishes his scan, he says softly to himself, "A remarkable specimen, yes, but I'm still not sure he was worth the extra effort. I think any Kral would do. And this one won't be easy to subdue."

My chest puffs up, even though I don't like the sound of that.

Inde touches his ear, and I realize he's making a data recording. He continues, still murmuring, "Consider lowering his protein intake for a few weeks to weaken his body before we attempt to trigger the catalyst."

He turns toward his room, but I call after him, "Even weak, I will crush your skull with my claws. I will impale you on my horns until your blood coats my skin. My tusks will tear out your eyes."

He doesn't respond to my threat, still murmuring as he disappears through the open door.

I slump back on my cot again. I need to get out of here. If they plan to starve me, I have to take advantage of my current strength level.

But I have no ideas on how to get past the bars surrounding me. Maybe if I pretend to sleep, I can grab one of them the next time they try to draw my blood. And then hope they value each other's lives highly enough that I can hostage my way out the front door.