The Coven

THE COVEN

Stephanie Burke

www.loose-id.com

Warning This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id® e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

The Coven Stephanie Burke This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Published by Loose Id LLC 1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-2924 Carson City NV 89701-1215 www.loose-id.com

Copyright © September 2008 by Stephanie Burke All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.

ISBN 978-1-59632-766-5 Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

Printed in the United States of America

Editor: Irene Williams and Karen Williams Cover Artist: Christine M. Griffin

Dedication This book is dedicated to my long-suffering editors, Irene, Allie, and Karen, and my belittled beta, Ouida, who all probably want to bury me in a garbage can after these edits. Thank you all for sticking with this one. It had some very touchy places for me, sensitive places that would not let me go until I started exorcising my own daemons by exorcising those of the heroine. Sorry for…misplacing (yeah, that will work)…some of the sex. How’d that happen? I also want to thank Camille Anthony for telling me that I can really do this; Den, who kept telling me that no one else could do it; and Kate Douglas, who reminded me several times that I actually could do it. This also goes out to the men and women of Flamekeeper, who put up with me while I was doing it!

No creatures or scientists were destroyed in the making of this book, but one motorcycle, a mouse, one perfectly good wrist brace, and a physical therapist weren’t so lucky. I promise, no more sex while I am getting electrocuted…I mean, the ultrasound therapy!

Chapter One “Ms. Reid? Over here!” “Ms. Reid, you are looking perfect tonight. Look this way, please!” “Ms. Reid! You are an inspiration! I love you!” “Ms. Reid! Ms. Reid! You are a goddess!” “You are a dirty tramp, and you seduce men into worshiping you, you nasty slut!” “You stole my husband, you bitch!” “I hope you rot in hell!” And Cyprus, as usual, ignored it all. The flashing bulbs temporarily blinded her, but she ignored the minor inconvenience as well, as she moved with her customary style and grace down the wrinkled red carpet that had been rolled out for her visit. She turned and flashed one last mysterious smile at the gathered crowd, both the hateful and the adoring fans, and silently made her way into the safety of the hotel. “Ms. Reid?” She looked up at the oh-so-proper, British-accented voice, realizing absently that it was the hotel manager. She paused, giving the short, balding man her full attention, noting how he flushed a little at her scrutiny. The doors behind them closed with a whoosh, muting the noise and shouts of the crowd, though bulbs continued to flash as paparazzi desperately tried to get that winning shot of one of the world’s most beautiful and renowned vocalists. “Um.” He cleared his throat, tugging at his collar as he shifted from foot to foot, more like an adolescent than a grown man. “Security has been tightened on your floor as you

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requested. Also, you are the only occupant of the twenty-seventh floor, though we can easily accommodate you and your entourage in the penthouse suite.” “Thank you and that will be all,” a tall, long-haired man spoke, towering over both the manager and Cyprus. “Though we appreciate the hospitality you and your staff have provided thus far, Ms. Reid does not prefer the penthouse or any of the presidential suites. The twenty-seventh floor is perfect for our needs.” The manager froze, staring at the man as if suddenly noticing his presence and that the sheer aura surrounding Cyprus had rendered the world blind to anyone else around her. But then, that was part of her mystery. Cyprus Reid never traveled with fewer than five men, five painfully handsome, dominating men. How anyone could ever not notice them was a complete mystery, but usually they managed the neat theatrical trick of fading into the background. Once they decided to be seen, however, a blind man couldn’t miss them. Each stood over six feet tall -- five perfectly formed men, each unique and differently beautiful in his own way, who made it a point to surround and protect Ms. Reid from any and all activities that could be considered dangerous, especially keeping any unsavory fanatics at bay. The one who spoke to him -- Unus, he had discovered -- the one with long, dark hair, appeared to be the spokesman for the rest of the group. If there was anything to be settled, this one was the one to do it. He stood before the manager, his perfectly cut Savile Row suit doing nothing to hide the raw masculinity and barely leashed savagery that seemed to glow from his eyes. The other four, all mystery men of different ethnic backgrounds and styles, moved in closer, alert to any trouble that might develop. “V-v-very g-good, s-sir,” the manager stuttered, growing nervous now that all that male power was directed toward him. He reached into his pocket, then took a quick step back as all the men moved forward, hiding Cyprus behind a wall of muscle. “It’s just the electronic key card,” he quickly explained, sweating under his collar as if suddenly fearful for his very life. “Just the key. No one else besides our head of security has a copy.” “Your head of security?” the man asked, leaning forward, getting closer so that the manager could make out small, very fine tribal tattooing along his hairline, down in front of his ears, and down into the collar of his shirt. “Jason Giles,” the manager explained. “Very good, comes highly recommended. He is securing the twenty-seventh floor as we speak. Ms. Reid’s safety is our chief concern.” A slim, dusky hand reached between the two of them, halting any movement the tall man might have made and pulling him back into line.

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“Very good.” He conceded to the smaller female whose hand now rested on his arm, nodding once. “Ms. Reid is exhausted…” “Oh, excuse me!” The manager snapped back into host mode and hastily directed the small party to the private elevators. “These only stop at executive floors, like the twentyseventh,” he explained, while placing the card against a small scanner. The doors immediately opened, and he quickly ushered them inside. The men immediately surrounded Cyprus protectively. Within seconds, they were whisked to the proper floor, and all exited into the plushly carpeted, brightly lit hall. “As requested, Ms. Reid’s room is in the center. The rooms on either side of her are prepared for occupancy and can be accessed only though the interior doors that are in Ms. Reid’s main suite. All others are closed off and locked, both electronically and by physical means. This floor is as safe as Fort Knox.” That said, he led them to a door where another man, one with nearly white blond hair, stood at attention. Instantly, the men were once again on high alert, their bodies tensing as they formed a barrier between Cyprus and the unknown man. “This is Jason Giles,” the manager introduced. “He is head of security, hired exclusively for your safety during this visit.” “An honor,” Jason spoke softly, his eyes going to the odd collection of men who surrounded the artist. “We thank you.” The long-haired spokesman for the group eyed the strange male carefully. “But your services, though appreciated, are not needed.” There was steel in that voice only a dead man could miss. The undercurrents flowed strongly and were rife with testosterone. “Be that as it may,” Jason replied, “I remain your first line of defense. If something gets out of hand, I will do my best to quell it before it even makes it this far. And if you have any issues, no matter how minor, be sure to let me know. Any extra security is a must. We all have to protect the beauteous Ms. Reid,” he added, with barely veiled sarcasm. “If you think --” the now disgruntled leader of apparent party-toy men began, but a slim hand pressing against his arm stopped him again. Huffing and visibly fighting to control himself, the man nodded and stepped aside. And Jason got his first glimpse of the real-life Cyprus Reid.

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Chapter Two She was a tall thing, even without the heels. Jason estimated that she stood at least five feet eleven inches in her bare feet, just two inches shy of his own six feet one inch height. Her skin was an indefinable mix of colors that could not be attributed to just one race. Golden was the best way to describe it. Cyprus Reid had a golden glow -- an aura, if you will -- about her. Her eyes were almond-shaped and long-lashed, and the color of molten gold. Her lips were full and generous, making her mouth more seductive than beautiful. Her nose was not too narrow and not too wide, just perfect for her heart-shaped face. Her cheekbones were high and well-established, showing that this woman would age gracefully. Her skin was clear, not a blemish to be seen, and Jason didn’t think the effect was from makeup. Her hair was a blending of gold and brown with a few platinum streaks highlighting it for fun. It was currently swirled and coiled into an intricate knot on top of her head, but he recalled from previous pictures that it hung somewhere around what People Magazine had described as “a butt so perfect that the angels wept when she walked by.” She was dressed in a form-fitting sheath that skimmed along her million-dollar curves and emphasized the fact that she either had a damn good personal trainer or was gifted genetically. Her breasts were high and firm, but not too large or overly done. Her high-heeled shoes revealed a set of trim ankles and just a hint of enticing toes. She stood there in the hallway, a butterfly surrounded by towering hulks of testosterone. It made her look all the more delicate, more feminine, and more ethereal, if that were possible. Jason was not impressed.

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If things went the way he thought they would, and he was seldom wrong, he would prove that this vixen was a vicious, mad-dog killer. The tall man, the one he decided to refer to as Ape-boy, glared at him, then abruptly nodded. “We thank you.” “All part of the service,” Jason said, with a smile that rubbed the forced acquiescence deeper into Ape-boy’s face. “Now, if you will excuse us, Ms. Reid needs her rest.” “Not from where I’m standing.” Jason flirted gently, testing the waters while at the same time bugging the hell out of Ape-boy. He decided he wasn’t egging the man on; he was killing two birds with one stone by seeing how the group of boy toys reacted when some other male paid attention to Cyprus. Plus, he was checking out her reaction. Irking the big guy was an added bonus. He smiled, just knowing that he was great at this multi-tasking thing. Look at how much he was accomplishing in such a short amount of time. Ape-boy tensed even more, if that were indeed possible, but Cyprus just grinned slightly, a small movement of her lips that lit up her whole face. Jason paused at that small grin, realizing that he was grateful she hadn’t smiled. If a small gesture of amusement could raise the temperature a thousand degrees, he could only imagine what a full-fledged smile could do.

Down, boy, he mentally told his cock as his blood began to relocate itself to lower quarters, and his smaller head began to sit up and take notice. She’s a bad guy. A really bad, male-hating, murderous black widow spider. Too bad his cock paid no attention in the least. Taking a deep breath, and thankful for the long cut of his suit jacket that hid his rising problem, Jason stepped aside and watched as Ape-boy gestured to another of the boy toys to check out the room. A red-haired man, slightly shorter than Ape-Boy, stepped through the door, and after a discreet amount of time, returned and gestured them inside. “Thank you.” Ape-boy briefly nodded to Jason and the manager before escorting Cyprus to the door. “Your attention is” -- he glared at Jason -- “overwhelming.” “I live to serve,” Jason quipped, ignoring the glares sent to him by both the manager and Ape-boy. Snorting, Ape-boy slammed the door shut, ending the confrontation before it could develop further. “Nice people.” Jason smiled at the manager, who looked fit to be tied. “It’s so hard to find attentive help these days.” “Maybe you should remember that, Mr. Giles,” the manager snapped. “You were rude to that man.”

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“He was rude to me!” “Be that as it may,” the manager continued as they moved toward the elevator that remained open and waiting for them. “The guests are always correct.” “Even annoying prima donnas?” he had to ask, waiting to see if the red-faced man would explode. “Especially the prima donnas, though there have never been any reports of Ms. Reid behaving in an unseemly manner.” “Yeah, and those five men are just for show.” “Be that as it may, Mr. Giles.” The manager sighed as the elevator rapidly dropped them to the lobby. “It is not your place to judge. You were hired for the specific purpose of keeping her safe. That is all you are to think about while on this job.” “Keep her safe.” Jason nodded, before excusing himself and making an exit toward the staff rooms that had been set up for his use. “Safe behind bars,” he muttered to himself and stopped in front of the door to his room. The nanocyte strand guarding the door remained unbroken, so he cautiously unlocked the door and entered the room. He secured the door behind him and moved to scan his surveillance equipment. “Now, Ms. Reid, let’s just see how good your boys are at keeping you safe.” Even if they found a few of the bugs he’d planted in the room, they would not find them all. And there was still his audio feed and the mechanical sniffers he’d installed, just in case there was some illegal drug use. At this point, he would do anything to take her down. Now it was time to sit back and watch the Cyprus Reid show, where the climax would hopefully end with a standing ovation as she was carted off for a lengthy jail term. “I love my job sometimes.” Jason chuckled as he settled in front of the monitor while the images appeared on-screen. “Lights, camera, action.”

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Chapter Three “Unus, was that display absolutely necessary?” white-haired Quattour asked, looking at their Alpha and noting the excessive amount of hormones he was exuding. “It is, after all, only a human.” “It was testing me,” Unus growled, removing his jacket and tossing it aside carelessly. “There is something different about this one.” “Maybe, but there is no need to draw attention,” Quattour responded, then tilted his head to the side and listened very carefully. His deep brown skin made his purple eyes look alien and intense, which narrowed in anger as he moved about the room. The others froze at his actions and instantly went on red alert. Tria, the black-haired one of the group, snarled, his full upper lip pulling back to show gleaming white fangs that rivaled the paleness of his skin. He was not amused. Quattour’s white hair seemed to shiver, the need to release his platinum tresses almost overwhelming, but he held on, not knowing what or who could be watching. “There are listening devices in this room.” No sooner had he spoken than all five males surrounded Cyprus, ushering her out of the suite and into the hallway, leaving behind all possessions. “This is unacceptable,” Unus snarled as he urged them all to the elevator and slid his key into the slot. “The manager will hear of this outrage.” “And maybe one of us should remain,” Quinque, the blond-haired one commented. “Just in case someone comes to…clean house…while we are away.” “Suggestions?” Unus snapped, much to the amusement of Cyprus as well as Quin. “You have spent the most time among these…creatures.”

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“Hmm, if what I suspect is true, then I believe that I shall stay behind, Unus. Any of you would more than likely rip apart the one responsible before we could get the answers to the questions his death would undoubtedly leave behind…like…how he found us in the first place.” Unus turned to look at Cyprus, awaiting her decision. She nodded once, a small smile tugging at her lips. Just then there was a high-pitched ding, and the elevator doors slid smoothly open, waiting for them to enter. “Make it so,” Unus said softly to Quin. “And if the perpetrator returns, see to it that he remains. I will want answers and the knowledge he holds. If he is working for Crenshaw --” “Understood.” Quin cut him off, nodding at the elevator doors. “Now you had better get moving. I am sure the manager will want to accompany you back to the suite.” Unus nodded in return and hustled his people into the elevator, as always, surrounding Cyprus within a wall of muscled flesh. As the elevator doors closed, Quin took his position outside of the door, silent and still as a statue. He knew he would not have too long a wait. The one who had planted the bugs undoubtedly knew his cover was blown and that he had to remove the evidence of his misdeeds before they led back to him. He flicked his fingers, watching absently as long black talons extended from his fingertips. Oh, yes, they would have a long, involved, and interesting conversation, to say the least.

***** Jason cursed lightly under his breath as he saw the group rally around the singer and make their way toward the door. What had tipped them off? They would not have had surveillance detectors with them; it would take a lot to identify his state-of-the-art equipment. Most of it was fresh from the lab, and only the scientist who had invented the things could have detected them. But no, that was the least of his worries. Cyprus and her gaggle of men would report him to the manager, and the hotel would discover the hidden devices if they looked hard enough. That would cost him his job and any reason he had to stick close to Cyprus Reid. He had to act fast. He ran toward the door, thanking God that none of the pretty boys were smart enough to leave someone inside the room. That would have made things a little difficult to explain.

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As it was, he didn’t have the convenience or the luxury to stop and think up a plausible story. He made his way to the bank of elevators, quickly but politely sidestepping milling guests and other hotel employees -- just in time to see the doors open and Cyprus Reid and her entourage exit. He quickly turned his back, praying that his nondescript suit would blend in with other guests, and breathed a sigh of relief as the small group walked right past him without noticing him at all. He quickly made his way to the elevator, slipped his key card into the security slot, and was soon moving swiftly to the twenty-seventh floor. He stepped out of the elevator, a spring in his step as he envisioned the conversation taking place between the manager and the boy toys as they tried to explain their reason for believing the room was bugged without solid proof. They would come off as paranoid prima donnas, giving him time to dismantle and remove the dozen pocket-sized devices. “Piece of cake,” he said with a chuckle, striding toward the suite door, then freezing when he saw Mr. All-American Tanned and Blond Wonder Boy casually leaning against the wall. “So, Mr. Bond, we meet again,” the blond cackled, rubbing his hands together like a villain in a 007 movie. “I…” Jason stammered. “I…oh, shit.”

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Chapter Four “Never heard of shit cake,” the blond one said. “But I hear they do strange things in Southern California.” “What are you doing here?” Jason decided to take a direct approach. “I could ask the same of you, Mr. Security Professional.” He smirked, then pushed off the wall to stand at his full height. “I was doing a sweep,” Jason said, thinking quickly. “I got word that there may have been people in the room, so I’m checking it out.” “People, when there are only supposed to be three cards able to access this floor? Or is the manager in the employ of a tabloid now?” “This is just routine,” Jason insisted, putting on his best glare as he stared at the amused-looking boy toy. “Now if you will let me pass…” “No problem, Mr. Security Officer. You’re the professional and all that.” The blond stepped aside and gestured toward the door. “Right after you.” “I can do this alone,” Jason tried to dissuade the man, but he persisted and followed him into the room. “No, Mr. Trained Professional and all that.” Quinque smiled innocently. “I want to learn from you. Jason had to grit his teeth and ignore the impulse that screamed for him to lay the asshole flat. But he had to belay any action that would cause further suspicion on his part. It wasn’t easy, but he kept smiling as the blond-haired, tanned pretty boy followed him inside. “Well,” he said, and made his way toward the first bug he’d concealed behind a rather ugly framed painting of a ship lost at sea. “I guess I’d better start looking.”

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“Aren’t you going to ask?” the tall blond suddenly inquired, his eyes gleaming with hidden amusement. “Ask what?” “Where the rest of my party has gone.” “Oh. That.” Jason cursed himself silently for his oversight. “So where are they?” God, he hated working civilian cases. Give him a case where it was just him and a target. No interaction with people at all suited him just fine. “Oh, they went downstairs to complain to management.” “Complain about what?” Jason asked, playing along. “The tub not deep enough? Not enough gilt on the light fixtures? Water not from the best frozen glaciers that the North Pole has to offer?” “Bug infestation.” Quinque smiled. “What? A fly follow you in?” he asked sarcastically, wondering how they had discovered the bugs in the first place. “No.” The man chuckled. “I was referring to a more discreet type of bug, but one that is that much more vicious and damaging.” He moved closer to Jason, a smirk firmly in place. “These bugs are more infectious than anything, spreading their germs to everyone they come into contact with. Devastating things, really.” “Devastating,” Jason sneered. “Right.” “So,” the blond man continued, ignoring the sarcastic look. “Show me, Mr. Professional, how exactly does one remove that type of pestilence? Or are we all doomed for a long and dangerous infestation?” Before he could answer, the door opened, and the rest of the too-pretty-to-be-real party made their way inside, followed by the hotel manager. “Mr. Giles,” the manager began, sounding concerned. “Thank God, you are here. Is what they are telling me true? Have these rooms been bugged?” “I was about to find out,” Jason snarled in response, wanting nothing more than to pull his weapon and shoot the lot of them. “I think it would be safer if Ms. Reid and her cohorts leave the area.” “We are staying.” The big dark-haired one, the one his intel identified as Unus, spoke softly. “It would be safer --” “We are all capable of taking care of Ms. Reid.” He interrupted Jason, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “More than capable.” Snorting, Jason turned his back to the men and slipped his hand into his coat pocket to pull out a wand-style detector.

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No sooner had his hand slid out of sight than he was shoved, his back slamming against the wall, his hand ripped from his jacket. Instinctively, knowing that he was under attack, he fought back. His free arm went up to connect with an elbow of the man struggling with him, his fingers sinking into a pressure point while he brought his knee up to connect with the rockhard stomach of his assailant. That slowed the assault, but didn’t drop the man as he expected. Instead, the grip on his wrist tightened, and a pressure point on his own arm was prodded viciously. Cursing, he looked up as he tried to hook his heel around the man’s knee and throw him off balance. But the man was prepared, his legs spread wide for balance, knees bent, making it hard for him to affect the knee joint from his position. He growled, fighting to free one hand, going for the other’s throat. But that move was checked as well, the other’s free hand sliding down to attempt a wrist lock on his partially free hand. They were at a stalemate. As he realized this, he began to calm, to think rationally rather than attack. But as he let his mind begin to override instinct, he heard the disturbed cries of the manager and the soft growls his opponent was emitting. He focused in on whom he was fighting and then silently cursed. He was looking into the eyes of the pale, fragile-looking redhead. His black eyes gave him even more of a porcelain doll quality that left him vaguely disturbed and greatly intrigued. How had the smallest, most helpless-looking one of the lot learned enough dirty fighting to hold him at a standoff? “That is enough,” a beautiful, creamy caramel voice commanded. It was a dark, husky voice that spoke of tangled, sweaty sheets and nights of hot, energy-draining passion that always left you wanting more. As soon as the voice penetrated his thoughts, he found himself released, the redhead stepping back while still glaring at him with those insanely deep black eyes. Jason quickly pulled himself together, straightening his jacket as he turned to see who had spoken. His angry gaze was caught by a calculating set of molten golden eyes. His mouth dropped open as those eyes in that beautiful face seemed to move closer, as the redhead and the rest fell in behind her. Cyprus Reid had spoken, and apparently, her word was law.

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“I’m sure that Mr. Giles meant me no harm,” she continued, her voice traveling through his body like warm honey, even as she stepped closer to him. “Am I right, Mr. Giles?” All Jason could do was stare into those smoldering eyes, feel the fire as that golden voice flowed throughout his body, and tremble as fear like he’d never known before settled into pit of his stomach. For looking at Cyprus Reid, Jason felt awe and lust, a dangerous combination when you took into account that he was staring right into the eyes of a cold-blooded killer.

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Chapter Five They were moved to the presidential suite. Jason had to rein in his anger the entire time the manager made his apologies and explained that the cleaning crew he’d let in to place the fresh flowers and fruit before going downstairs to greet them probably had a ringer on board. “These things happen, and you all were very swift to discover the problem.” Unus glared as Ms. Reid, the siren-turned-killer, just smiled. “It will not happen again,” he insisted. “From now on, only Mr. Giles will know where you are in this hotel. We terribly regret what has happened.” ”It’s understandable.” Cyprus spoke, amusement in her gaze as she stared at the small man. “These things do happen.” “I should have listened to Mr. Giles,” he lamented. “I should not have let anyone in the room after he inspected it the last time.” “Really?” Cyprus drawled. “Then we indeed owe a lot to Mr. Giles. And I, for one, want to personally thank him and ensure we’re protected from any more of these little incidents.” “Yes, of course.” The manager nodded, flushing in embarrassment. “Good, then,” she continued. “In that case, I want Mr. Giles personally involved in every aspect of our stay here, no matter how brief. And I want him at all times within…calling distance.” “I’ll give you my personal number,” Jason gritted out, hoping against all hope that she was not going to suggest what he had a feeling she was about to. “No, that is not good enough,” the manager protested. “It would take too long for him to reach you.”

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“Indeed?” Cyprus raised one eyebrow, looking around at her cadre of men. “What do you have in mind?” “I feel that Mr. Giles should move into the presidential suite with you. Not in your rooms,” he was quick to add. “But in the spare suite located within the presidential suite. That way he can ensure that nothing like this happens again.” “Agreed,” Cyprus said with a smile. “I really do feel safer knowing that someone will be here, even when we are not, to protect me and mine. I do so care for my companions’ safety and privacy.” “Completely understandable.” The manager nodded in agreement. Jason cursed silently while forcing a sickly sweet smile on his face. “So, we get to be roomies.” Jason turned at that familiar voice, snarling as he saw the grinning countenance of his blond nemesis, Quinque. “Roomies,” Jason forced out from between clenched teeth. “Nice.” “Well.” Quinque chuckled. “If it was your goal to get closer to us, you now have your chance.” “What?” Jason paused, and Quinque stopped with him while the others continued to the elevator with the manager. “I mean, you could learn to be a bit more discreet,” Quinque purred. “I believe you have underestimated us.” “What the fuck are you playing at?” Jason growled, stepping closer to the man, absently noticing that they were the same height as he stared into the man’s oddly colored eyes. One was blue, the other green. Almost like a mixed breed of cat or something. “So violent,” Quin murmured. “Almost like an animal defending its young. Are you defending someone, Mr. Giles?” “Apparently, you and your mistress’s cadre of boy toys,” he snapped, not caring about manners. He had more things on his mind now. How was he to report in to the organization about what he was learning? And if he was stuck in the hotel, he couldn’t easily track their movements. It wasn’t impossible, but it did make his job more difficult. “Oh, I think my feelings are hurt,” Quinque responded. “Cadre of boy toys? I’ll have to use that one. At least you didn’t call us worthless.” “Hmm.” Jason grunted, already tiring of this conversation and the happily smiling man. “And maybe this time, you won’t take us so lightly.” Jason turned away from the man, having no time for the jokester. He had too many things to figure out. Like how this bastard knew the bugs were in place. He had observed

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them when they’d walked into the room. They had no equipment, no detectors, no way of knowing… “What are you hiding?” Jason turned to face the man, his anger rising again. It was almost as if his instincts were driving him to best this man, to prove that he was better, was more worthy. “An unappreciated addiction to chocolate and anime,” he countered easily. “But the real question, Mr. Giles, is what are you hiding? And to whom do you owe your loyalties?” “I don’t know what you mean,” he snapped, watching as the mysterious blond man began to circle him, examining him from every angle. It made his hair stand on end. “Of course, you do,” the man continued. “But you would be a fool to admit it. And you appear to be no one’s fool, Mr. Giles.” “Look, Mr.…” “Quinque, but you may call me Quin, Mr. Giles. No last name required.” “Well, Quinque, of no last name,” Jason snarled. “You know nothing about me, and I like it that way. My job is to keep you all safe.” Behind bars, he thought as he stared into that bi-colored gaze. “Now if you keep slowing me down, I will not be able to carry out my mission.” “Oh, we wouldn’t want that to happen,” Quin said with a smile. Rolling his eyes, Jason walked by the grinning man to join the group waiting for them at the elevators. “As I have told Ms. Reid,” the manager spoke to him, “I am using my passkey to take them to the suite now. If you will accompany us with the wand that caused all the trouble, you can clear the room before we move their possessions upstairs.” Jason nodded, stiffening a bit as the grinning blond fool joined them. “Yes, upstairs.” Jason tried his best to sound pleased, even eager, but from the looks of the boy toys, especially the one called Quinque, he wasn’t fooling anyone. And Cyprus Reid…well, she looked amused.

***** After sweeping the room and declaring it clear of any type of electronic devices, Jason left Ms. Reid and company to head down to his room and gather what he would be taking back with him. He had convinced the manager to allow him to keep this room as an operations base, just in case some drastic form of protection was called for, and the small, proper man readily agreed, saying that he wanted to protect Ms. Reid’s delicate sensibilities. “Delicate, my ass,” he snorted, slamming clothing into his duffle bag. “Any woman who keeps company with five strange men…”

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He sighed and sat on the bed, allowing himself a moment to reflect on all that had happened. The excuse of the cleaning crew -- not even brought up by him, thank God -- saved his ass. He would have to be more careful. As much as he hated to admit it, Blondie was right; he had underestimated Cyprus Reid and her men. Well, maybe he had underestimated her men. That weak-looking redhead had held him at a standoff. He’d seen his actions as a threat, and like any good bodyguard, had moved to neutralize that threat before anyone, mainly his lover, was hurt. So it appeared that the boys were more than just good-looking eye candy. Oh, they were still arm ornaments in his mind’s eye, but now they were more of the dangerous kind, the kind that concealed all sorts of hidden poisons and traps for the unwary. And after his mistakes, his many mistakes, he acknowledged, he was going to be way more wary. Sighing, he reached into his pocket and retrieved a small satellite phone. Unlike most cellular models, it could not be tracked or traced. Its signal would be bounced off of innumerable satellites before the signal met its destination. This scrambled signal could never be traced back to him, but still, Jason was very cautious in its use. After three rings, it clicked twice, and he relayed his message. “The fox is in the henhouse, and the natives are restless. Will report when the rooster crows.” He snapped the phone closed and sighed again, before rising to his feet and checking out all the information he had gathered on Cyprus Reid. She had to be the killer. There were too many coincidences around her. Every murder had taken place in a city where Cyprus Reid was performing. In the case of the missing scientist, it was too much to ignore. Always, it seemed that she had no part of the murders, seemed to not have a connection to science, Mount McKinley, or the individuals who had been ripped part in the most horrible of ways. She always had an alibi and stayed for days after each murder, sure that her actions would never be noticed or recognized. She was such an arrogant bitch. He had latched onto Cyprus Reid completely by accident, noticing that she had played at a nearby venue in D.C. when one of the scientists had met his bitter end. It was just a hunch that had him checking out Ms. Reid’s performing schedule in conjunction with the murders. What he had found had amazed him. Ms. Reid had done a lot of performances, donating a substantial amount to orphanages and education programs. But even more importantly, there had been a murder each night of her performance. And when he narrowed the search, he realized that on each night, the

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citizen who lost his life had been a part of a covert military operation that had been disbanded ages ago. Something to do with extraterrestrials and outer space radio waves, shit that would be called New Age hokey now. So anyone could imagine his surprise when one of the scientists he had been hired by turned out to be the only one left. He’d dug up that information on his own, information about David Tobias Crenshaw, the scared, elderly scientist running from a psycho serial killer with a grudge, and had not been pleased about what he had found. He detested strange and dangerous mysteries, but he chose to overlook the fact that the facts about Crenshaw and his group didn’t add up. Instead, he chose to look at this situation as preventing the death of a human being. And anyone who had done what this monster had done to the other elderly men could not be considered human. He still didn’t trust Crenshaw, but he figured he was the lesser of two evils. Better to follow the devil you knew rather than the devil you didn’t, and the devil named Cyprus Reid had too many mysteries to be considered a lesser evil. He took the job out of fascination and curiosity, which grew into anger and disgust as he reviewed photos of the dead men and the reports from coroners about the gruesome and pitiless way the men had been killed. So here he was, moving into the den of a murderer -- suspected murderer -- and moving closer to his goal. If, and that was a big if, Cyprus Reid was innocent, he would move on and try other avenues. But after so many months of research and tracking and following gut instinct, he knew that he had found the right person. Ms. Reid had had ample time and opportunity, but with the anonymity that being a public figure allowed her, the instant alibis and multiple reported public sightings that never happened, she breezed into town, committed her crimes, smiled for the cameras, and then moved on. Always being in the spotlight meant that she always had an iron-clad alibi, because always someone was willing to make one up for a chance to get into her good graces. And those who had nothing to gain by helping her star to rise would be quick to sling accusations and claims, confusing the justice system and giving her even more of an alibi as the counter claims were dismissed. Always being in view meant that someone was always watching…and that meant that no one believed she could slip away during a bathroom break and slash a few throats. Hiding in plain sight, a trick that had served her very well indeed. The only question left was why. Why would a young woman, replete with fame and fortune, resort to killing old men in general, and these particular old men specifically? Vowing to discover the answers to these questions, Jason rose with new purpose. He was closer to the source and could suss out any pertinent information. He could always

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return to this room to make guarded reports to his employers, and he could add to his own personal store of information as well. Tossing the last of his clean clothing into his duffle, along with any equipment at hand that he felt he needed, he moved to the exit, ready to beard the beast in its own den.

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Chapter Six “What do you think of Mr. Giles?” Cyprus settled onto the huge bed in the master bedroom, casting a curious glance at the heated Jacuzzi pool that sat over by a set of huge, tinted windows. The pressure-treated glass let just the right amount of sunlight into the room while protecting its occupants from the nosy stares of helicopter operators and the residents of the buildings nearby. Unus rolled his eyes at the question, reaching up to tie his long hair behind his head before crawling into the bed beside her. “That is not an answer, Unus,” she said. “I know you have opinions. It’s part of your nature to observe everything around you.” “I think that he is trouble,” he grumbled, settling beside his mistress. “I think that he needs watching. He could be detrimental to our plans.” “And is that all?” she questioned, reaching out to stroke his head as he settled onto his stomach beside her, partially lying over her in a protective manner. “I think you see more.” “I prefer not to make my observations known until I…spend more time in his presence.” “Well, I think he is a fool,” Cyprus purred, bending low to breathe into Unus’s ear, giggling as his body shuddered in pleasure. “I think he is a big-headed fool with misguided delusions of grandeur, but” -- she added as Unus chuckled -- “but, I believe he is trainable.” “You do?” He lifted his head, his black eyes peering at her. “I do. And I am sure that you feel, hmmm” -- she sat back and tapped her bottom lip with a manicured nail -- “potential. That is the word I was searching for. You feel potential in him, do you not, my Unus?” “I feel something,” he grumbled. “And Duae feels a bit more.”

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“Duae wanted to gut him,” Cyprus said and chuckled. “But I think Quin likes him.” “Quinque is another type of fool.” Unus held in a laugh as Cyprus playfully struck one of his rounded shoulders. “Be nice,” she chided. “Besides, you concurred with my choice of Quinque.” “That’s different,” Unus said. “Quinque had potential.” “This one does too.” Cyprus giggled before settling down, stroking Unus’s hair. “This one has so much potential, Unus, so much skill. Remember, he held Duae at a standstill, and that is not easily accomplished for a mere human.” “Duae just didn’t want to hurt the bastard,” Unus grumbled, but shifted around so that his head rested on his mistress’s stomach. He rubbed his face against the soft skin and inhaled the sweet floral smell of her. She was growing ripe again. Silently, he hoped that this time they would find their missing partner. It grew more difficult each time to watch his love suffer pangs and longings that none of them could ever fulfill. It just wasn’t right! The thoughts of her past agonies made him growl, and the feel of the long scar that bisected her perfect body, that rough line of untreated skin and tissue beneath his cheek made him…it made him… “Maybe this one does have potential. There is something different about him, I will concede. Maybe the bastard is not a lost cause.” “Calm,” Cyprus breathed, her honeyed voice soothing as it settled over him, calming his internal beast, easing his nature. “Calm, my lovely one. All will be well.” “One more to go,” Unus purred, lifting his head, his eyes holding her steady gaze. “One more,” she agreed. “Then we go home.” “And if what we need is not there?” “Then we will seek it elsewhere.” Cyprus sounded confident even as she ran frustrated hands through her hair. “We will seek it to the ends of the universe if we must, my Unus. But only after honor has been satisfied, and after what was once stolen is returned to its rightful place.” Unus purred his agreement, resting his head back on the scarred plane of flesh that made up her abdomen. “And the others?” she asked, stroking his hair again in a soothing manner. “They await our protector,” he said derisively. “Oh, dear,” Cyprus moaned. “I hope that they aren’t planning to hurt the poor human.” “Oh.” Unus reared up, filling her sights with his naked chest and nipples that grew hard and eager under her gaze. “They have something planned, all right. Just a small welcoming party. Just…a little something to make him feel more at home.” “You know he planted those bugs?” she said with a grin.

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“And now, he knows that we know.” Unus chuckled. “This will be interesting to watch being played out.” “Interesting,” Cyprus retorted. “You have a vile sense of humor and an unquenchable taste for violence and bloodshed.” “And you like it like that,” Unus growled, his voice growing deeper with each word. His black eyes took on a golden glow, the same gold that made Cyprus’s liquid eyes the subject of much controversy and desire. “You know I do,” she breathed, reaching for him, the one who yielded to her power. Her first. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” As he spoke, Cyprus shifted, laying her arms on his shoulders, moving him to lie beside her, his long hair acting like a frame for his beloved face. “No other way,” she whispered, leaning down to trace his full bottom lip with her tongue. She smiled at his deep, growling moan, smiling a siren’s smile full of seduction and promise. “My Lady,” he breathed, reaching for her, wanting to feel her soft flesh beneath his hands. But she stopped him, halted his progress with a shake of her head. “No, my one,” she murmured against his mouth, nipping at that full bottom lip. “Lie still. This is for you.” “But --” “For you,” she stressed, her eyes flashing fire as if daring him to challenge her words. Lowering his eyes and relaxing his muscles, he bowed to her will. Smiling again, she leaned down and pressed her nose against his neck, inhaling the exotic scent of her man. “You always smell so good to me,” she moaned, her fingers reaching up to tangle in his hair, smiling as his head tilted back in full submission, exposing his neck. He said nothing, but he preened in the way that shifted his form, showing pride in her praise of him. “So good, and all for me,” she whispered, her tongue licking a wet path down his neck. Sliding down his body, she allowed her fingers to trail down his hair to the rounded muscles of his shoulders. She tested the flesh there, pressing her nails in gently, watching as the firm flesh gave way. He moaned, shifting his hips at her actions, letting his legs fall open to give her room, pressing his rapidly swelling cock against the soft flesh of her stomach.

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“I feel that,” she said and chuckled, one hand reaching down to stroke his silky hardness. But then her hands were gripping his wrists, forcing them above his head, and Unus knew that the unspoken command was for him to leave them there. It was then, even through his unrest, that Cyprus began to sup on the feast that was her lover. Small moans and gasps escaped his mouth as she nipped and bit at his neck. She grinned at the marks she left there, and softly trilled her dominance of him. She licked away the slight pain of those possessive marks and moved on to his chest, nipping and marking, showing the world to whom Unus belonged. She even ran her tongue along the fine hairs in his armpits, nibbling at the tendons, making him hiss in pleasure, his cock hard and weeping, his hips arching up as he sought any friction to help ease his ache. The sounds and scents of her mate drove Cyprus onward. She sucked and lapped at his dusky nipples, drawing them into hardened peaks so sensitive that a mere touch of her fingers sent his body shuddering in hunger. Carefully she traced his stomach with her tongue, tasting the rock-solid wall of muscle that supported such a large frame. Her fingers raked down his sides, raising welts as her nails skidded over his flesh, before shooting toward his groin, making him moan and thrash beneath her. Yet his hands remained where she placed them, her command of his submission total and complete. Unus hissed as his mistress dominated him. He felt his chest burst with pride and his heart overflow as she took her pleasure in him, as she showed him with her actions how much she adored him. She could have had anyone, anyone she wanted, yet she had chosen him as her first. Their bond was more powerful than any other, and through that bond he could feel her pleasure humming in his mind. He released the emotions they shared, reveled in them as they made his own ecstasy double. His cock was hard, the foreskin rolled back to expose the tender purple glans, and his balls grew heavy, filled with seed yet to be released. “Cyprus,” he gasped, opening his eyes and staring at the golden goddess who topped him. “Yes, my precious one, all for you,” she whispered, her teeth glinting in the dim light of the room.

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She smiled as she went lower, digging her tongue into his navel, tracing the small indentation carefully before moving down through the trimmed, neat patch of hair at his groin. Unus closed his eyes, fighting for control as he felt his stomach lurch and his balls tighten. So badly he wanted to release, to smear her face with his seed, to mark her as she had marked him. As if she heard his words, his fantasies, Cyprus leaned lower, allowing her chin to brush against the head of his cock, smearing the precum in shiny streaks over her chin. “So sweet, my Unus,” she purred. “Such a sweet cream all for me.” “Sweet Creator of All,” Unus gasped as a hot, wet heat tormented the head of his cock, velvety slick heat that made him hiss curses and blessings alike. Cyprus smiled up at him, her mouth filled with his cock, fluttering her tongue against the large vein underneath the shaft as she swallowed him deep. “Mmm,” she purred, savoring the flavor of her lover, the salty sweet spice of him. The vibrations in her throat sent tremors running thought his body. He clamped small, sharp fangs into the delicate flesh of his bottom lip as a flash of heat left a sheen of sweat over his body. His hips began to arch, and he clenched his fists, determined to leave his hands where she’d placed them, no matter how much obeying her command was killing him. “Cy…” he hissed between harsh breaths. “Cy-Cyprus!” She pulled off, licking at the pearly strands of precum that she hadn’t managed to suck off, and blew a soft puff of air over his wet skin. “Delicious, My One,” she murmured, raking her nails over his thighs before reaching up with one hand to cup and tug at his balls. “Perfection, as always.” The fingers of her other hand reached out to hold him steady as she leaned in close to nibble and lick at his foreskin. “My Mistress,” he whimpered, his eyes glazed, and his vision grew hazy as he struggled to keep his lover in focus. “Let go,” Cyprus insisted as she began to pump his shaft, her fingers dancing over his hard length. “Let it all go for me, My One.” She took a deep breath, then her mouth pulled him in, and she swallowed him to the root. “Mistress!” he bellowed, his hips arching up, fucking her willing mouth as her hands cupped his ass, aiding in his movements, demanding a more forceful thrust. His head slammed back, scattering pillows, and he felt his toes curl as the sounds of her slurping and his moans filled the room.

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He was almost there…almost lost in the pleasure when he felt more than heard her chuckle. Then a finger was running through the saliva and precum along his balls before sinking back between his tight ass cheeks. “Cyprus!” he screamed as that slim finger sank deep, sending fresh waves of fire through the nerves in his ass. She unerringly stroked his prostate, sending stars zooming behind his eyes as his head danced among the pillows. He didn’t know whether to thrust up into the pulsating tunnel of her throat or down onto that slim, teasing finger that was working him with sheer perfection. But his body took over, and he was riding her throat and her finger, losing himself in the sensations, crying and screaming as pressure built and built and swelled until… “Cyprus!” Unus’s whole body arched upward as his orgasm tore through him, holding him frozen as unbelievable pleasure raced through him. “Cyprus! Mistress!” He felt his ass clench around her finger, his cock swell in her throat, and then spurt after spurt of his seed exploded into her suckling mouth. Cyprus kept at him, sucking more gently now as he grew sensitive, but intent on draining his balls of every drop of his seed. Finally her finger eased off his prostate and from his body as she opened her mouth and allowed his softening cock to slip free. “Beautiful,” she breathed, looking down at the sweaty, sated mass of Unus. “Sheer perfection, as usual, My One.” Then she slid up beside him and pulled him into her embrace, offering what comfort she could, crooning lullabies and caressing his hair until the worry lines in his forehead totally disappeared, and Unus, her defender, drifted off into sleep. “Soon, all will be perfection,” she whispered, laying a kiss on his forehead and ignoring the wetness between her thighs. “I promise.”

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Chapter Seven “Just what I needed to make me feel like one of the guys.” Jason rolled his eyes as he stepped into the suite of rooms. There, what once was the foyer of the lush groupings of rooms, now looked more like the lobby of some jungle sexual fantasy. This vision was made complete by the gaggle of halfnaked men lounging about. There was the white-haired one who was smirking at him, the redhead who had held him to a standoff, and the black-haired pale one who resembled a gothic version of a vampire. The only two missing were the blond-haired GI Joe reject with the bi-colored eyes and the ever lovable Ape-boy. “Hail, hail, the gang’s all here,” he said sarcastically, dropping his duffle at his feet. “Mostly,” he added, looking around. “And we are so pleased to see you,” the black one with the oddly dyed white hair replied lazily. He lifted one hand and examined a set of very long, very sharp-looking black lacquered nails before peering over them at Jason. “The sight of your…face just seems to make my day.” Jason scowled, but remained silent, waiting for these boys to make the first move. “Oh, I don’t know about that, Quat,” the vampire-pale one said, his voice not as deep or rumbling as the first one. “His face looks to be the kind that grows on you.” He rose to his feet, adjusting the very short sarong tied around his waist to cover up the fact that he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. “I have the honor and privilege of being Tria. The one currently sizing you up as a scratching post is Quattour.” “What?” Jason tilted his head to the side, disbelief apparent at the odd names. “Quattour.” The black man rolled his eyes. “Q-u-a-t-t-o-u-r, pronounced Cat-or.”

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“The redhead is Duae,” Tria continued, pointing to the silent man who watched him like a hawk. “And the blond, whom you will no doubt be seeing later, is Quin.” “Jason,” he replied, gritting his teeth and trying to be personable. “Jason Giles.” “Jason Giles.” Quat rolled the name on his tongue as Tria crossed the room and stood before him. “Welcome to the zoo.” Jason rolled his eyes as Tria reached for his bag. “Ignore Quat,” Tria said. “He’s moody.” Jason stared at the black dude, and for a moment, he could have sworn that his long, white hair…repositioned itself? No, he must have been shifting, he decided. Sentient hair was too much to be believed. “I got that,” Jason snapped out as Tria’s fingers brushed the handle of the bag. The pale man paused, an odd look crossing his face as he stared at Jason. “I mean, I have some sensitive equipment stored in it and would feel better if I handled it myself.” “Understandable.” Tria smiled affably. “After all, I am sure that you are here to protect Cyprus. You need all the sophisticated and sensitive equipment…functioning.” There was a joke there, Jason decided, as Quattour and Duae snorted. “Your room is right this way.” Tria didn’t miss a beat as he turned on his heel and moved toward a door nearly hidden by potted trees. “These things are a menace.” Jason sighed, pushing aside a bough as he followed the shortest boy toy, Tria, to the room. “People can hide behind them. They should go; they present too much of a safety issue.” “Cyprus likes trees,” Tria explained, nodding to the others as Duae and Quattour rose to follow. “And what Cyprus wants, Cyprus gets? Is that it?” “Something like that,” Quattour agreed, following the others as they opened the door and entered the room. “I didn’t expect company,” Jason growled, but the others ignored him and began nosing around the room, examining it, almost like dogs being led to new territory. “And if anyone lifts a leg to piss on the carpet, I’m leaving.” “Dogs?” Tria chuckled. “Jason Giles likened us to dogs!” “I’m almost insulted.” Quat chuckled as Duae rolled his eyes and made his way toward the en-suite bathroom. “Um, how about this? Get the hell out!” Jason spoke loud enough so that Duae, who was now in the bathroom and running a bath, from the sounds emanating from that room, could hear. “Kicking out your welcoming party?” Quat laughed. “Boy! Americans and their sense of hospitality!”

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“How about people invading your personal space?” Jason growled, wondering if it was worth it to kick some ass to establish a pecking order now or later. “Invasion?” Tria laughed. “You would know all about invasions and personal spaces.” “It’s my job,” Jason gritted out. “And I wonder just who you are working for.” Quat’s voice lost all humor. “I wonder what it cost them to get you to invade our space.”

Not so stupid after all, Jason thought as the tension level in the room shot sky high. “I don’t know…” “Do not lie,” Quat growled. “It’s not like we couldn’t sniff out your lies the moment you opened your mouth.” They stared at each other, odd purple eyes boring into Jason’s brown ones. The air grew almost thick enough to cut with a knife as the standoff continued. The hair on the back of Jason’s neck stood on end as something within him screamed “danger!” But he found that something else within him, something a bit stronger, almost dared him to move. He stood his ground, even though he felt like shaking in his shoes. The abrupt sound of silence as Duae shut off the water was almost as loud as a bullet, and Jason flinched, ever so slightly, but it was enough. He knew he had lost some kind of power play. He just couldn’t figure out what the game was they were playing. “There is only one reason, and one reason alone that you are even still on this job,” Quat continued. “And that reason is busy at the moment.” “Cyprus gets what Cyprus wants,” Tria added, stepping up to Quat and stroking his hair in a calming fashion. “And…Cyprus wants him,” a familiar voice called from the doorway. Quinque had arrived. “And now…things get interesting.”

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Chapter Eight Jason seethed as he watched the puppy-like blond enter into his room, that stupid smile firmly planted on his face. “What the hell!” He threw his hands into the air. “The more the merrier. Quinque, was it? Welcome to the den. I assume you want a piece of me, too?” This situation was growing completely out of his control, and he didn’t like it. How had the others known? What did they know? How did they find out…or were they just going on assumptions? “Under different circumstances…maybe.” Quin chuckled as the tension in the room began to leach away. “But then, I am a very loyal sort of individual.” He stopped speaking as Duae returned from the bathroom, a grin on his full lips. “Everything to your liking?” Jason snapped, turning his head to face the man while positioning his body in such a way that he was backed into a corner, but kept all the men in view. Duae rolled his eyes and made his way over to the white-haired Quattour. He placed his hand on his shoulder, and the black man began to visibly relax. “But that brings us to our original purpose.” Quin moved deeper into the room and smiled at the gathered men. “Gentlemen, we are on the move.” “Where?” Quattour asked, nodding at Duae before stepping back, and again Jason swore he could see the man’s hair settle, like a huge dog settling himself. “And what is it this time?” “Local television station.” Quin smirked. “And you are going to love this one, Tria. We are going to the deepest, darkest parts of West Baltimore. Television Hill. What a quaint name.”

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The redhead sighed, shaking his head, as he exited the room. Jason raised an eyebrow. “He is not a major fan of West Baltimore,” Quin explained. “Something to do with a bunch of females in beehive hairdos when we were in a parade there. Apparently, they love the strong, silent types. He was kissed to within an inch of his life.” “No.” Jason sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “My gesture was in reference to the fact that I was not informed of this outing.” “I didn’t know we were required to check in with hotel security before we made a move,” Quat said with a sneer. “I need to ensure that your exit and entrance to these facilities are orchestrated with the utmost ease and safety…” “That is good.” Quin smiled. “Because you are coming with us.” “Not in my job description,” Jason nearly growled, frustration eating at him. “Oh, it is now. Which is why I wasn’t part of the little welcoming party. I was finalizing arrangements with hotel management.” “What arrangements?” Jason was almost afraid to ask. “Just those about you accompanying us to our events during the week we are here.” “What?” Jason was aghast to hear that his voice had risen several octaves during his outburst, something that amused the other men in the room. “Cyprus was so impressed with your…moves that she requested your presence as backup. Oh, your…boss…readily agreed. So I hope you brought clean undies and a nice suit. As of today, and every day until our visit is over, you are officially one of the…what did you call us? Oh, yeah! Cadre of boy toys.” If he could, Jason would have knocked the smug smile off of that bastard’s face. But instead, he gritted his teeth and played along. “Yes,” Quin continued, patting him on the shoulder like they were the best of friends. “Yes, a boy toy, an ornament, a plaything…just one of the guys.” “Great,” Jason snarled. “I can hardly wait.”

***** “Stuck in the middle with you,” Quin sang softly, grinning at the men sandwiched around him, and especially, at the scowling Jason Giles sitting beside him. “And I don’t know what to do…” “How about shutting the hell up?” Jason snapped. He was not a happy man. First off, he’d had to race back down to his original room and dig through the hotel blazers and khaki pants to find something that wouldn’t scream security. And that meant he

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had to leave his equipment in the room with the nosy busybodies who called themselves Cyprus Reid’s escorts. The only consolation with that little affair was that the other men were rushing to get dressed as well. Once he returned in a black blazer and slacks, his white button-down shirt gleaming, his outfit had been vetoed right away, not that he could blame the guys. With what they were wearing, he would have stood out like a sore thumb. That meant that he had to endure being dressed by the men. He shuddered as he recalled them stripping him down like he was a child and tossing all assortment of clothing at him. Conservative went out of the window as all sorts of animal skins were pressed into his possession. His hair was scrutinized, the military buzz cut that was so convenient for him to manage and maintain clucked at, as if having short hair made him less of a man. When he pointed to the snickering Quin and his less-than-long, luxurious locks, the others scoffed at Quin’s relative youth in the greater scheme of things. “Youth,” he mumbled. “As if any of the boy toys were barely legal.” “Aww, youth is a relative thing when it comes to experience.” Quin chuckled, turning up to grin at a scowling Tria, who had the unfortunate privilege of being seated on the other side of him. “And this is just cozy.” Across from them, Cyprus snickered and leaned closer to Unus, the large behemoth of a man glaring at him. “Cozy is not the word that I would use,” Jason grumbled, trying to adjust the tight, clinging leather pants. Who knew that being an arm ornament was so much damn work? He had been primped and combed to within an inch of his life. They’d brushed blond streaks into his hair, they had trimmed his nails, they had plucked his damn eyebrows! And then there was the fact that he couldn’t wear underwear with this get-up. He had almost balked, but the thought of the mutilated bodies of their past victims made him give ground. He’d disappeared into the bathroom with the brown leather pants and emerged sans briefs, but with a new appreciation for leather. The stuff did feel good against his bare skin, though he cringed at the thought that some other dude’s package had been cradled in the crotch of these pants. The shirt he was wearing was more like an old gold and black fishing net. There were more holes than material, but they had allowed him a wonderful assortment of chains and beads to make up for the lack.

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He thought he looked like an eighties rock star throwback. The others had applauded as they applied foundation and lip gloss. He’d sat in the chair and fumed. But compared to what the others were wearing, he was decidedly the most conservatively dressed. Unus was dressed in a bondage master’s dream assortment of leather straps and harnesses, all in black, of course. His long hair was left free to hang loose and covered him like a cloak. Duae, in contrast to his red hair, was wearing a deep green pair of leather pants and a black…what could only be described as a belly shirt. It was tight and shiny and showed off the eight-pack abs and the large shoulders the man had. They must lift a lot of weights, Jason decided as he took in the musculature surrounded him. He was quite glad that he kept himself in shape now that he worked a lot in the private sector. Quattour, with his odd white hair, was dressed in fur. There was no other way to describe it. His boots were a combination of white and brown furs, his vest was made of what looked like a wolf pelt, and his pants were black suede. His hair was free as well, giving him the look of an ancient barbarian or a warrior. Tria, true to his vampire gothic look, was wearing a long, black duster and a very tiny pair of black leather shorts. His boots reached up to mid-thigh, so it was hard to tell that he was only wearing a tight black pair of spank-me shorts beneath the coat. His hair was piled on top of his head in some kind of knot and held in place with several sharp-looking steel hair sticks. Quinque was simply dressed in a brown leather harness and a pair of brown suede pants. Walking from the hotel to the car was one of the hardest things Jason had ever done, especially when you added in all the Cyprus watchers with their flashing cameras and their recording devices. And speaking of the grande dame herself, he had yet to see what she was wearing. She was enveloped from head to toe in a voluminous black cloak with a deep hood. He could tell that she was highly made-up with sparking gold makeup, but beyond that he hadn’t a clue. “Where are we going again?” He glared at Quin, who continued to smile at him. “TV Hill to film a variety show called Wild Side. Then it’s off to the city for a night at the Orpheus. We party there until around two or so, and then we’ll head back to the hotel. Cyprus likes us to get our…beauty sleep.” He chuckled in amusement, grinning at Jason. “Some of us need more beauty sleep than others,” Quat sneered, making a face as Jason gave in to a sudden flash of immaturity and rolled his eyes at the man.

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“We should make an effort to get along, at least for the cameras,” Unus’s deep voice intoned, causing a temporary pause in the local hostilities. “All the world will be watching and --” “We must keep up appearances?” Jason interrupted, ignoring the scowling Unus as he waved his hand negligently toward the crowd. “Appearances, yes.” Unus inhaled deeply, as if seeking patience, before he carried on. “As I previously stated, the eyes of the world will be on us, and we must show a unified front.” “Thick as thieves.” Jason smiled sarcastically. “Tight as a murder of crows.” Unus smiled in response, showing off an impressive set of fangs. “Or Ravens.” Jason shudder, wondering what fool doctor would file them like that and then snorted when he thought about the cost of such a venture. “Murder of crows,” Jason growled, his eyes narrowing as they went from face to face in the limo. Were they taunting him? Testing him? Just being a bunch of high-maintenance assholes? “That is enough.” The soft, dulcet voice broke the rising tension in the car. Cyprus adjusted her cloak, allowing the hood to fall back and expose her face. Jason had to fight the urge to groan as the ethereal beauty exposed herself to the men in the car. Her makeup was done in white and gold sparkles and emphasized the almond shape and unusual golden color of her eyes. Her lips were glossed to a high sheen with a gold sparkle that teased the eye. Her cheekbones were highlighted with a surge of bronze that made her skin seemed to glow. Altogether, the men and their mistress made a stunning group of people, a masterful example of human perfection, and it almost made Jason ashamed to be a party to this. Ashamed, he thought, because how many young girls and boys would go out and try to force their bodies into these configurations? How many would starve themselves to artificially achieve this ideal of beauty? He sat and contemplated this life, the things that these people did, how the outside world perceived them, and how easy they made it look. “I am sure that you don’t want to be here, Mr. Giles,” Cyprus added, her golden eyes boring into his. "But here you are. Upon your say so, I will have the driver pull over and let you out. You go on about your business and your life, and we shall go on about ours.” Jason said nothing, doing his best to regain his professional image as she turned to her men.

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“And as for you five, we will not antagonize our guest. You will all realize that like us, he has an important job to do…” Her words trailed off as she looked Jason up and down in a considering fashion. “So there will be no baiting, taunting, or teasing. I am sure Mr. Giles will find that his job will go a lot more smoothly if we all agree to…cooperate. Is that not right, Mr. Giles?” Grudgingly, Jason nodded his head, trying to remember the real reason he was here. “You are correct, Ms. Reid, and I apologize to you and your…entourage. I have not been behaving in a professional manner, and it will not happen again. I wish to maintain my role as security, in any manner you see fit, and I will remember my professionalism.” There was silence for a moment, before Quat snorted. “Don’t expect an apology from me,” he declared. “I behave in the way that is appropriate to how I am reacted to; I treat others how they treat me. And I respect…” He curled his upper lip, and Jason could have sworn the man’s hair shifted again. “I show respect where respect is given and earned.” That said, he turned away to stare out of the window, ignoring the exasperated look on Cyprus’s face. Jason narrowed his eyes, but held his tongue. He had been behaving childishly enough, giving his intent away, reacting to these people, and it was not like him. There was something about Cyprus Reid and her merry men that just affected him the wrong way. Maybe it was because he had seen all of the photos of the bloody bodies of the murdered old men, or maybe it was because they behaved like their hands were lily white, not crimson red, soaking in blood. He didn’t know, but whatever it was, these people were sending his instincts whirling. His hunches, his instinctive guesses, had never been wrong before, and he was going to follow this lead to the end. “Quattour,” he began. “I apologize --” “Save it,” the black man interrupted, his purple eyes flashing angrily. “I don’t and I won’t trust you until I learn what lies you are hiding, Jason Giles. I will tolerate you because for some reason Cyprus wants you here, but I want you to understand something. I don’t trust you as far as I could suck you up in my mouth and spit you out, and baby, that ain’t far. I am, as they say around here, putting you on notice. I will not interfere with what you presume is your job, no matter what that job here is, but I will not allow you to tear apart the family. Do you understand me?” Quattour leaned forward, a growl in his voice that almost made Jason lean back in fear. But before he could answer, Quin, at his side, was interjecting again. “Quat,” he said with a sigh, “Give the boy a chance. You never know; he might be more than what you think.”

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“You are such a child, Quinque,” Quattour snapped, still staring at Jason. “Yeah, but I am not going to view the world in black and white, Quat. Maybe Jason has the wrong idea about us. And there has to be more to him than meets the eyes. I mean, Cyprus hasn’t ejected him yet.” “I am sitting here,” Jason felt compelled to add, holding his gaze strong with Quat’s. “You don’t have to speak around me as if I don’t exist or am incapable of understanding you. And I believe I understand. You are protecting your family.” And he did understand, in some strange way. If he had a family, no matter how twisted, he would do his level best to see them safe. Okay, he could understand that. Maybe he could use that to build a rapport with the men, something he realized he had totally destroyed because of his unaccustomed reaction to Cyprus Reid and her men. “You understand nothing!” Quat’s voice dropped to some wild, freaky, growling octave that Jason wasn’t even sure was human. He stared, wide-eyed, as the man leaned forward again, his purple eyes almost… Was it a trick of the light or were those eyes glowing? “Quattour!” Unus barked, breaking the white-haired man’s gaze from his. Jason watched in shock as Quattour settled back into the seat, growling low to himself. “Well.” Quin snickered. “Now that we have cleared the air” -- he ignored Quattour’s snort and Unus’s sigh of exasperation -- “can we get on with the business for the night?” “I don’t know,” Tria said snarkily. “I kind of like the tension. It makes for an interesting after-party.” “Bloody vampire.” Quin smiled widely. “And those are my good points,” Tria felt compelled to point out. “Well,” Quin continued. “I think I like Jason.” At the disbelieving glances he was given by the other men, even Cyprus was compelled to let out a chortle of amusement. “Why?” Tria asked. “Nothing against you, Jason,” he added, nodding toward the man who now sat in open-mouthed horror. “It’s because…well…he has fortitude.” Quin nodded as if that were that. “Fortitude. I can get fortitude in a vitamin,” Quat snarled. “I appreciate honesty.” “Well, there are all kinds of honesty.” Quin smiled and leaned forward to pat the stillangered Quat on the knee. “And there are all kinds of strengths. I appreciate strength in any of its forms, including the strength to beard the dragon in its den, so to speak.” “Foolishness,” Quat grumbled. “But,” Cyprus added, her voice sounding amused as she settled her cloak over her face again. “I do so like a good fool. Nothing better to take your mind off of your troubles and relieve your tension.”

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“I think --” “Silence!” Quat was cut off by Cyprus. “Your opinions are duly noted, Quattour, and if I wish to hear another, I will deliver my request via engraved invitation. Do not push me on this. I want Jason Giles here, and here he will stay.” Silence. “Am I understood?” This was directed to all of the men, and Jason watched as these huge, intimidating men suddenly reverted into scolded little boys. Interesting dynamics, he mused. Apparently Cyprus’s word was law. “Good.” Cyprus added, “Now, children, let us go and do this talk show and then expend some energy at The Orpheus. The night is young. Daddies and Mommy want to…revel.”

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Chapter Nine It was a singular experience, Jason thought, as they exited the limo to enter the small club near Baltimore’s Red Light district. The people screaming, the cameras flashing, the sheer energy Cyprus Reid and her men seemed to produce by just being in the room. The interview had gone well, according to Quinque, who seemed the most upbeat and optimistic in the bunch. The talk show host had only asked about fifty or so embarrassing questions. Of course, the whole world wanted to know who the new addition was, and Cyprus had giggled in that chocolate caramel voice of hers that Jason was auditioning. Never, ever had Jason been more grateful for Unus’s declaration that none of the boy toys were to speak. He had gotten past that one with a wink and a longing look at Cyprus. Only he knew that the longing in his eyes was to wrap his hands around her scrawny neck and squeeze until her legs quit kicking. But he gave a masterful performance of a lovestruck swain, and the audience had eaten it up. But it was embarrassing, you know? He and the others had been laid out like extras in a bad porn shoot, surrounding Cyprus like a bunch of fleshy pillows. Only Unus, by virtue of being Cyprus’s favorite, was given an actual chair and a speaking role. “What is with the male ornamentation?”

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When that question was not so casually tossed out, Cyprus just grinned, and the men all leaned in a bit closer. Unus rolled his eyes as he asked the interviewer with a straight face, “Is that not the job you occupy? A cute face to ask inane questions?” Even the studio audience fell silent at that one. Jason was hard-pressed not to snicker. He was doing his best to remain stony-faced and solemn, but sometimes people just made it hard. “My One,” Cyprus had chided, amusement dancing in her golden eyes. “I am sure that this beautiful man has some other purpose than asking inane questions.” Deeply offended, the talk show host glared at them all, then focused in on Jason. “A new one?” he asked, false sweetness dripping from his every word. “You might say that he is trying out.” Cyprus grinned up at the camera, her large eyes innocent and amused. “Trying out? What skills does this one possess? Talented tongue?” They all leaned back at that. To the world at large, they looked deeply offended, but in actuality, they were all fighting hard to hold back the guffaws of laughter. But Cyprus had finally had enough. She sat up in her seat, the smile falling from her face. With deliberate movements, she reached behind her and removed the small black receiver box for the microphone pinned to her lapel. She dropped the set-up with extreme disdain to the floor and rose to her feet. As one, her men, Jason following a step behind, rose and encircled her like a protective wall of muscled flesh. The interviewer was left gaping as Cyprus, one of the hottest tickets in town, gave him one last blank look before turning around and exiting the stage, to the shock and horror of the producers and stage crew. “What are you doing?” the interviewer screamed, face alternating between bright red and deathly white as he realized that his career could be walking out on him, because he couldn’t control his temper. Despite the fact that he was something of a minor celebrity in his own town, he had yet to realize that small-time fame had nothing on the high-powered star machine that Cyprus Reid wielded without apparent thought or guile. As she quietly left the stage, she ignored the pleas from the director and the stuttered apologies from the interviewer, the entire studio audience -- people who’d spent hours standing in line to catch a glimpse of Cyprus Reid and her gaggle of handsome men -- and exited the building, her men walking out behind her.

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Now they were calmly walking into The Orpheus as if they hadn’t a care in the world, not showing any concern that they, probably for the sake of vanity, Jason grumbled silently, cost that man his job. So it was a decidedly unamused Jason who trailed the group, past the grinning manager, and into the VIP section. “That man is going to lose his job,” he grumbled. “Then that man will learn to hold his tongue,” Quat retorted. “Something someone else in our company needs to learn.” Any comment he would have made was immediately drowned out by the wall of sound that seemed to slap them in the face as soon as they entered the main body of the club. People dressed in all types of leather and lace, in nylon and vinyl, twisted and gyrated to the wild, crazy beat that was banging from the speakers. There were several cages set around the room, cages where scantily clad men and women writhed and jerked in simulated ecstasy against the black iron bars. Strobe lights practically blinded Jason, who was not expecting them, and the wildly colored, bright, rotating lights seemed to dance with the beat of the music, moving the mass of humanity that was seemingly losing control inside. Jason paused for a moment, his eyes growing wide, but a small shove from Quin kept him moving. “Don’t fall behind!” The blond had to yell to be heard over the driving beat and pounding bass. “If we get locked out of VIP, it will take forever for them to hear us to let us in.” Nodding, Jason hurried to catch up with Quat and the others, nearly feeling overdressed in his little leather outfit as he checked out the clothing that some of the others were wearing. But soon enough they were inside the small, carpeted room, Cyprus seated in another thronelike chair, Unus at her side, while the rest of them were invited to take seats scattered around the room. The owner of the club, a tall, pale man who rivaled Tria for the vampire look, entered, a smile on his lips. “Wonderful show.” He gave a chuckle as the door closed, muffling the sound of the non-stop party going on right outside the doors. “You do know that it was live?” “It was?” Cyprus asked, all innocence and light in her gold body suit. “It was.” “Well,” she purred. “The man was not very…nice.” “That’s one way of stating it,” Unus growled.

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“Flaming asshole would be another word,” Quin added, taking a seat nearest the door, right next to Jason. “So…you do speak.” The owner laughed, his rich, mellow voice filling the room. “Woof, woof,” Quat growled, rolling his eyes and adjusting his fur. “And they bite,” the owner added. “Some of us more than others.” Quin snickered. Jason snorted, rolling his eyes as he sought to make himself more comfortable and failing miserably. “And your newest little plaything, Ms. Reid,” the owner rattled on. “He seems more difficult than the others.” “Still needs house training,” Quat said. “But maybe we’ll just keep him.” “It was the same with you,” Unus grumbled, a warning in his voice. “And see how well that worked out?” After that, silence descended on the room, an uncomfortable block of quiet broken only by the sound of creaking leather and the rustling of fur as the group shifted and moved around. After a few moments of this, Cyprus sighed, her eyes going about the room before traveling to the one-way glass that gave them a perfect view of the teeming masses of humanity grinding and humping on the dance floor. “I grow bored,” she mused, winking at the owner. “How about we go out and earn our keep?” She arched one eyebrow at the man as a blush suffused his face. “Anytime you are ready, my lady,” he breathed. “The world, this club, and anything you choose are at your disposal.” Nodding, she turned to her group of men, a knowing smile on her lips. “Go dance,” she instructed, amusement dancing in her golden eyes. “Go and amuse yourselves, but don’t hurt anyone.” Almost instantaneously, the atmosphere in the room changed. The men sat up and, almost as one, vacated the room, leaving Unus, Cyprus, Jason, and the owner alone in the room. “Won’t you join them?” she asked, walking over and touching Jason on the arm. Just that one touch made Jason jump, feeling as though something had touched a hidden part of his soul. He found himself once again almost at a loss for words as he stared into her golden eyes. Forcibly breaking the trance her gaze was sending him into, he turned away, trying to force his rapidly beating heart to slow. “No,” he managed to say through his dry throat. “It…it’s not my scene.”

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“Then,” she breathed as she moved in closer, “what is your scene?”

Murderer, he thought, trying to remember why he was there and to ignore his libido. But there was something about her… She affected him, she and her whole crew of misfits. “Quiet,” he said, refusing to turn and look at her. “I like things quiet.” “Then you picked the wrong person to be around,” the manager said with a laugh. “Cyprus and her exploits are famous in these parts.” “You’ve been here before?” he managed to ask. “I’ve been everywhere,” Cyprus replied and then turned away, stalking over to Unus in impossibly high heels. “Exploits?” Jason shifted his gaze to stare at the manager, wanting some information other than the pablum that they spoon-fed to the press. “Yeah,” the manager reminisced. “She started a riot a few years ago, just by getting happy and singing on the dance floor.”

Hmm, simple stuff, he thought. Drugs, maybe…? “Getting happy?” “Yeah, she had just released her first album and damned if it didn’t go platinum the first week out.” “Are you sure you don’t want to play?” Cyprus asked, and this time it was almost a command. What was going to happen here? Jason wanted to know. Maybe she would be making plans with the manager here. He made a note to check out the owner and manager before the week’s end. Too bad he had found no way to leave a bug or two on Cyprus herself. But he had time, he reasoned. There would always be another opportunity. “Play.” He nodded, turning toward the door and preparing to face the wall of music that would slam into him the moment he stepped outside of the protection of this room. “I can play. I am quite good at games.” “Of that I have no doubt,” she muttered under her breath as he walked out. And even though he’d barely whispered his words, he was sure that Cyprus heard him, and was amused.

***** Inside the now-silent room of glass and steel, Cyprus turned to face her friend, her eyes glittering gold as Unus moved to her side. “Now that we have some semblance of solitude, tell me what you know.”

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“With pleasure, my lady,” the club owner spoke, his own eyes flashing an angry black, before he continued with his report. “The Clan you seek will be at the opera. Their leader will meet you there…opening night. But he demands payment.” “Everyone wants their pound of flesh,” Cyprus murmured, but there was wry amusement in her tone. “Anything else?” “Ah,” he said with a smirk. “That’s the rub. There seems to be a lot more than meets the eye…with some members of your party.” “Do tell?” “Can’t you sense it?” the owner asked. “It’s the madness.” “I know,” Cyprus said with a grin. “Glorious, is it not?”

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Chapter Ten Destination Unknown…known…known…known…known…Unknown…! The sound of the deafening drum overlaid by the bellowing trumpets inadvertently made his heart match the pace of the bass and made him groan in discomfort.

This is why, he thought to himself, I never ever ventured too far into clubs inhabited by the wild bunch of kids known as Generation X and The Millennials. They were half-dressed, screaming, and gyrating wildly to the beat of the music. He didn’t understand their multiple piercings or their even wilder haircuts. Who in this day and age wore a Mohawk, anyway? He sighed, then coughed, scowling as he realized he had probably just inhaled a lot of not-so-controlled substances. And judging from the uberhappy looks on some of the club kids’ faces, there were all kinds of chemical joy and happiness being spread around. Deciding to ignore the chaos going on around him, Jason began to look for the other merry men who had accompanied the Witch Bitch from Hell. He saw two of the boys by the bar while another two were beginning to make a spectacle of themselves on the dance floor, grinding and bumping against each other and apparently any takers who decided to dance into their sphere of influence. He had decided to make his way toward the bar and to discreetly observe the two there when someone -- or was it something? -- decided to plant themselves directly in his path. His nose wrinkled as one little twit, probably about nineteen, sidled up to him and tried to smile through the gold grill wrapped around her front teeth. “Wanna party, sailor?” she purred, reaching out to stroke all of the flesh exposed by his too tight, barely there outfit. “No, thanks.” He forced a smile. “My dance card’s full.”

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She pouted, but moved in a little closer, doing all kinds of encroaching into his personal body space. “I bet you can find a slot for me…at the top.” She breathed the words into his neck, making him step back and resist the urge to snap her little neck like a twig. But she moved in even closer, taking his look of distaste for one of desire. “I can make it good, baby,” she whispered, her breath smelling surprisingly of mint. “I can make you scream.” “I can return the favor,” he growled, his eyes narrowing in irritation. But not sensing the danger, she smiled and reached up to run long, red lacquered nails down his chest. “Oh,” she hissed, her eyes suddenly turning serious. “Make me hurt, Daddy.” “Oh, I’ll make you hurt,” he promised, but just before he made good on this threat, a friendly, short-haired blond popped up beside them. “I leave you alone,” he whispered, stepping in between the two and pushing the visibly annoyed woman aside. “And look at the trouble you get into.” The woman took a step back, her eyes going wide as she recognized who had interrupted her play. “Quin!” Her verbal diatribe ended almost before it began as she recognized those famous parti-colored eyes. “Charmed,” he muttered before turning again to an irate Jason. “Time to take a walk, baby,” he murmured, reaching out to take the stiff man’s hand. “Have a cigarette or something.” “Cyprus!” the woman shrieked. “Cyprus has to be here!” Her loud tones drew the attention of several people, and soon Quin and Jason were surrounded. “Damn it,” Jason swore as the people began to reach out and touch him, to shout questions at him, to grope and grab at some very delicate areas. And even worse! As he used his slight height advantage and looked over the crowd of club-heads, he noticed that the pair at the bar was gone. He couldn’t see much more of anything else because the group surrounding him was getting thick. “Who are you?” “Are you the new guy?” “Did you really cause that dude on the news to lose his job?” “Are you fucking all of them?” “Wanna try me on for size?”

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“Are you gay or bi? What’s it like being with Cyprus?” The questions were neverending, and the more they shouted, the more he just wanted to start swinging fists until they all left him the hell alone! “Leave off!” Quin shouted, causing Jason to look at the man with new respect. His voice carried, and it carried authority. The questions suddenly began to taper off, and a few people backed away. “It’s Quin,” someone gasped over the sound of the driving beat in the techno-crap that they called music. “He’s the talkative one!” Although there was no end to the underlying thrum of excitement -- in fact it seemed to build, the people began to give them some breathing room. “Now” -- he spoke softer, making the group quiet even further -- “we are here to have some…fun. If you all play nice and sweet for us, and no, I don’t mean in the back room, Cyprus may decide to come out and sing a song or two. Wouldn’t that be nice?” The crowd expressed their pleasure in gasps and shrieks of approval, and Quin beamed like a proud parent. Well, he was speaking to them as if they were a bunch of seven-year-olds, so maybe the expression on his face was not all that out of place. “So let us go and enjoy ourselves for a bit before we report back to Cyprus. Sound good?” The resulting cheer was almost enough to deafen him, but it had done the trick. The crowd began to disperse. “And just like that,” Quin said to Jason, “Peace…or, well, some form of it in this place.” Before Jason could speak, there was a gentle touch on his side, and he turned to find the same golden-grilled smile that had started all the mess to begin with. “I’m really sorry,” she gushed, the blush on her face about as out of place as her outfit in a convent. “If I had known that it was you…” “You shouldn’t have accosted some other stranger minding their own business,” Jason snapped, frowning as her blush, and most of the color in her face faded. “Be nice,” Quin purred, reaching out to touch the woman on the arm, restoring a bit of her color and a ghost of a smile to her face. “Jas… Our new associate here didn’t mean any harm. He is just not…a people person, I guess.” “Like the rest of them?” The woman smiled. “Yeah, just like the rest of them. Especially Quat.” “I’ll remember,” she spoke softly, preening under the small caress. “And I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, the offer is still open…” “Not in a million years.” Jason rolled his eyes, inwardly fuming at the thought of the intel he could have retrieved from the two at the bar.

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“Maybe next time,” Quin soothed, then ushered her away with a pat to the arm. “Next time, my ass,” Jason grumbled. “And that’s exactly what half of them wanted to see while the other half wanted to take.” “Ha-ha.” Jason made for the bar, shaking his head as people parted to let him pass. “I thought it was funny!” Apparently, Quin the comedian was going to follow him. Well, maybe, Jason mused, he could get some info out of him. He got to the bar and snapped out his order. “Rum and Coke, easy on the Coke.” The bartender, a woman dressed in a black leather cat suit with a cleanly shaved head, grinned and nodded. “One of those nights?” She chuckled as she prepared the drink and slid it over to him. “How much?” Jason asked sharply, in no mood for idle conversation. “Comped,” she informed him, before turning to Quin. “The boss never charges Cyprus or her entourage. The usual?” When Quin nodded, she slid a bottle of clear water to him, twisting off the lid where he could see. “There you go, Quin, you cutie. You think about my offer?” “Still considering it,” he responded, lifting the bottle off the bar and taking a long pull. “Well, it’s a standing offer, Quin, always open for you.” “Thank you, Luv,” he responded, winking, as she turned to take care of more demanding customers. “Standing offer?” Jason’s curiosity got the best of him. He watched as Quin threw back his head, downing half of the remaining water in a few swallows. “Yeah, Luv has a really good offer on the table for me.” “Luv? Come here much?” “Always, when we are in town,” Quin answered. “And Luv is her name. She’s an artist.” “And she wants to paint you nude?” Jason asked, almost as if he already knew the answer. “Nah, she wants to ink my body. She thinks a few well-placed tattoos would improve my image. Not to mention the piercings.” Quin laughed. “Huh?” “She’s a tattoo artist, a famous, award-winning one at that. She tends bar here so that she can get an up-close view of humanity, or something like that. She’s an eccentric oddball, but I like her.”

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“Eccentric.” Jason snorted. “Maybe you need to look at the company you keep.” “Artists.” Quin tossed back the remaining water and placed the empty bottle on the bar. “So, are you ready?” “For what?” Jason asked, feeling a hint of unease. “For the questions you obviously want to ask. So…ask away.” “I guess I’m obvious,” Jason allowed, trying to start a little cat-and-mouse game with Quin. “From the moment you installed those cameras,” Quin agreed. “So are you ready to come clean or what?” “Come clean? I told you…” “Yeah, and that was a bunch of bullshit,” Quin continued in the same mild-mannered voice. It was almost enough to make Jason wince. Almost. “If you choose not to believe --” “Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer,” Quin interrupted. “I am not the enemy!” “Looks like it to me. Though Cyprus thinks you’re okay.” “Cyprus,” Jason muttered, picking up his drink and tossing back a goodly portion of it. It might go against his rules to drink while on the job, but he felt the liquid fortitude was needed. “Yes, Cyprus.” Then his parti-colored eyes lost their amusement. “The thing you have to understand is that we are very protective of Cyprus. And no matter how much I like you” -- he moved in closer, running his hands over Jason’s chest -- “and indeed, I do like you -- I will gladly let the others turn you into something resembling Swiss cheese if you as so much as lay an unfriendly hand on her hair.” Jason narrowed his eyes as he observed the man invading his body space. “You are not a stupid man, Jason, nor are you a dense one. I am positive that you have several redeeming qualities, intelligence being one of them, no matter what Quat thinks or says.” He stepped even closer, his lips nearly brushing against Jason’s. “So I will give you this warning once. Beware of the games you play and who you play them for. Ultimately, you are merely a pawn, a disposable game piece, acceptable collateral loss…fodder, if you will, and that is not coming from our side.” Jason paled a bit, feeling uncomfortable now that the boy toys were making their opinions known. It scared him how accurate they seemed to be in their guesses. At least he hoped they were guesses. If there was a leak… Abruptly, he turned away from the bar, away from the curiously tattooed Luv who was keeping an eye on them even as she slung drinks to thirsty patrons, away from the all-tooknowing gaze of Quin, whose oddly colored eyes seemed to pierce his soul.

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“Where are you on your way to, my friend?” Quin asked, a thin veneer of amusement covering his all-too-serious tones. “Out.” “Out where? You planning on bailing on us? Giving up that easily?” “Giving up?” “This quest for the truth.” Quin smirked. “And you look like a man who enjoys a good challenge.” “Or for some fresh air,” Jason gritted out. “If that is allowed…?” “By all means, great protector.” Quin bowed, throwing out one arm as if begging favors from a monarch. “If it so pleases you.” “It does,” Jason snapped, not liking the amusement the other man seemed to be feeling at his dilemma, at his expense. “Fine, fine, very fine.” Quin smiled as Jason turned and walked away, and fell into step behind the man. “Alone,” Jason snapped as he realized he had a follower. “Against the rules.” Quin shrugged innocently and stepped close to the scowling Jason. “You people are too much,” he sniped. “Can’t I even go outside for fresh air by myself?” “And here I thought you were supposed to be protecting us…” Jason turned and stared at Quin, his face unreadable as he watched the smug man preen. “Right,” he drawled before turning and making his way to the exit, ignoring his unwanted escort and praying for the strength not to just murder them all. The people parted and let them by as if he were Moses parting the Red Sea, and that served to irritate him more. Slamming the release mechanism with both hands, he snarled as the steel door slammed open and grimaced even more as he realized that the door was an alley exit. Like he could get fresh air in a garbage-strewn alley. His shadow was silently amused behind him, and that just drove him onward, wading through the discarded plastic bags, broken glass bottles, and broken-down cardboard boxes. “Such fresh air here,” Quin drawled, a no-longer-silent sentry at his side. Jason rolled his eyes, doing his best to ignore the man, and wondered why he had never taken up smoking. The pastime might be a disgusting and addictive habit, but it would give his hands something to do, while the smoke would mask the smell of rotten food, spilled alcohol, rotting papers, and decaying trash, a mixture commonly known as garbage juice. Jason was just about to forget about the whole temporary escape when something caught his eye.

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There was a flash of black on the side of the building. Normally, he would have ignored this as some odd piece of trash caught in the building’s brick façade, but something in him -- some small part of his heart -- his instincts urged him forward. “Where are you going?” Quin called out, but Jason raised one hand, waving him to silence. “What…?” “Shh…” He stepped closer to the end of the alley, toward the very edge of the building, looking for that flash of black. The shadows seemed to grow, and his skin began to tingle as he stepped further and further away from the safety of the club entrance. But something was urging him forward. He ignored the crush and squish of things better left unnamed beneath his feet, the maggot-choking smell of the place, and the air that seemed to suddenly freeze up around him. His eyes scanned the building, one hand absently going to his side where his weapon usually was holstered, but cursed silently when he realized that he was unarmed for this exercise. “We need to get back,” Quin urged, moving closer to Jason, but halted as the man again waved him back. Jason was busily scanning the side of the building, still searching for that elusive flash of black. His heart began to pound, and he had to force his shoes to slow down, to force his breathing to calm. Tension was singing throughout his body, making all of his senses alert as his body recognized…danger…imminent attack… Whatever it was, it was causing a strange style of stress inside him to build and build until it felt like his ears would explode from the pressure. His mouth dried up, and his palms began to sweat. His eyes were now nervously darting around the alley, as he took a step back and began to turn in circles. It felt like…like he was being hunted. It was wrong, this feeling. He was the hunter, never the prey! But now his senses were screaming, and his knees were knocking, and the nearly silent air began to fill with the sounds of imagined breathing, the sound of fear and terror. He took a deep breath, ignoring the tainted air, trying to force some semblance of calm, when out of the corner of his eye he caught a flash of black.

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“What the fuck?” he gasped, swiftly turning in that direction, almost losing his footing and falling to the garbage-strewn ground. But he quickly recovered himself, and despite his instincts that were now screaming for him to flee, sucked in a deep breath and began to race toward the flash of black. “No! Wait!” Quinn called to him, but he was racing down the alley, following that silvery flash of black. His legs pumped as adrenaline flowed through his body, making him more aware of his surroundings. He leaped over some rats gnawing on what appeared to be pizza boxes and swerved around a dented metal garbage can that was lazily rocking on the wet ground. He noted oddly that the flash of black had been heading toward the top floor of the club, the rooms where presumably Cyprus and the big silent one were located. But…but that was wrong! They were not being hunted, they were trying to suss out his client for execution. Who would be trying to murder the murderers? Or maybe spy on him, he altered his line of thought slightly. Had his client put someone else on the job? But before he could formulate any more hypotheses, there again was a silvery flash of black…but this time it seemed to be turning in his direction. He skidded to a halt, throwing both hands out for balance as the black seemed to leap from the wall of the club to the wall of the building facing it. Then it seemed to vanish. “What the fuck?” he gasped again, eyes wide, looking around him, again getting that feeling of eyes following his every move. His breath was rasping in his chest, and he had to wonder if he had slipped into some bad sci-fi movie as he scanned for that flash of black. He turned in the alley, back toward the wide-eyed Quin, when he felt a sudden displacement of air. Battle-hardened instinct had him diving to the filthy ground, throwing his hand over his head as something glided past, something that came so close he could feel the silk of it against the backs of his hands, something that was virtually silent moving on currents of air. He leapt to his feet as soon as that…that darkness passed over him, and saw…nothing. The alley was absolutely clear. The strange tension that had filled him, that had permeated throughout the whole alley was suddenly gone. And he was left with…the stench of garbage juice all over his clothing. “What the hell was that?” Quin was walking toward him, his face twisted in confusion.

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“That’s exactly what I want to know,” Jason snapped. “You did see that…that…that thing?” “Thing? Man I didn’t see anything, except you doing a good imitation of duck and cover. What the hell was that about?” “That…thing! That black thing! Don’t tell me you didn’t see it! It was right there! It came right at me!” “Man, maybe you need another line of work. The stress of this bodyguarding seems to be getting to you. That or you really need to give up drinking.” “I am telling you something was right there! You had to have seen it!” “Seen what?” Quin shouted, shaking his head and wrinkling his nose at the smell of his companion. “See you making like it’s the Blitz, and someone was trying to drop a bomb on your head?” “I am not making this up!” Jason all but shouted in Quin’s face. “I know what I saw! Something was trying to take my head off!” “Whatever, man.” Quin held up both hands, letting the whole matter drop. “Batman just took a shot at you! Whatever. But we have to go back inside…and you need some soap.” “I know what I saw, Quin,” Jason argued as Quin turned and made his way back to the security door. “Sure,” Quin called over his shoulder. “And I know what I smell. I think this ends our trip to the light fantastic. You need to get cleaned up, and it’s almost time to go anyway. Cyprus never stays out too late the first day in a new town.” That said, Quin banged on the door and some good sport pulled it open. Grumbling, Jason followed, only to pause as he noticed Quat standing there, holding the door open. “Saw you go out and thought you might need someone to let you back in,” he explained to Quin before wrinkling his nose at Jason. “And look what the cat dragged in…through the trash. Though it could be said that you are just disintegrating or devolving into your own kind…” Quat let his words trail off as he stepped back from Jason. “Had a bit of an incident,” Quin explained, and Quat just waved his hand before his face. “No matter what Unus says, I am not sitting beside that.” He pointed at Jason as if he was some sort of man-sized, dung-eating beetle. Jason, in the meantime, rolled his eyes, ignoring the insults. But his mind was replaying what had happened. Something was not right here. His instincts were screaming for him to leave, to get out of this job, to go back to where he came from…but there was an equally loud and annoying voice urging him to stay.

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Almost like a cat, his curiosity had been aroused. And he would stay here until this job came to fruition, until all of his questions were answered to his satisfaction.

***** “Oh, my God,” Cyprus exclaimed when she saw the bedraggled Jason. “Did you find something dead to roll in?” “Very funny,” Jason groused, crossing his arms defensively. “Is there a bathroom where I can clean up a bit?” “More than a bit.” Quat snickered. “You smell bad enough to make a maggot vomit.” When the others in the room just glared at him, he shrugged his shoulders, giving them all large, innocent, puppy-dog eyes. “What? I only speak the truth.” “I think the time has come to end this particular party.” Unus spoke softly, looking from man to man in the room “Yes, I believe our business is concluded anyway.” Cyprus smiled at the club owner, nodding her head politely. “With a song, of course,” the owner’s eyes flashed eagerly. Cyprus Reid in his club would make things lively and was more than enough payment for his meager services. “As always, it’s been a pure pleasure.” Cyprus gave him a final nod. “And as always” -- the man smiled, bowing slightly before Cyprus -- “it is an honor.” Good-byes said, Cyprus nodded to Unus, and together they proceeded to the door. “You may bathe when we get back to the suite,” Cyprus explained to Jason, who was looking none too happy with his own smell. “And you can ride up front with the driver,” Unus added, shaking his head as if Jason was a mere child getting caught jumping in mud puddles. “Yeah, sure, fine,” Jason grumbled, stepping aside and watching as Cyprus plus entourage exited the room. Before he could follow, there was a hand on his shoulder, and Jason turned to see the owner handing him a damp towel. “Here you go, kid.” He smiled kindly. “That should help until you get back to the hotel.” “Thanks.” Jason forced himself not to snap. The owner was only being nice and friendly, which was more that he could say for the group he traveled with. “And a bit of advice,” he added, holding onto the towel as Jason made to pull it from his hands, making him look at the owner carefully. “Be careful who you follow, and be even more careful who you betray.” “A warning?” Jason growled, narrowing his eyes at the man.

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“No, just some advice.” The owner smiled, letting go of the towel and waving toward the door. “After all, you wouldn’t want to find yourself doing more harm than good, Jason, hurting the innocent and all of that. Just be careful and be aware.” Before Jason could respond, an irate voice -- Quat’s -- called up to him. “We are waiting, Your Highness, and some of us need to go home and get reacquainted with soap and water in the worst kind of way!” Jason turned to the owner and gave him a smile that was all white teeth and arrogance. “Thanks for the towel.” He began to mop off his face and arms. “The advice you can keep,” he added, turning and walking through the doors. “Youngsters,” the owner said with a laugh as the door slammed. “When will all of these youngsters ever learn?”

***** When Jason next saw Cyprus, she was standing alone on the club’s largest stage, one single spotlight glittering over her body in hues of silver and blue. Her body was encased in the tight gold cat suit that covered her from neck to ankle, but managed to seem almost obscene the way it exposed each and every blessed curve of her body. She smiled out at the audience, her face sexy and innocent, a heady combination for the men in the audience…and many of the women as well. She threw her head back, tapping one foot shod in what had to be a seven-inch, clear stiletto heel. All eyes were on her, and she began to sway to the music, her eyes going soft and dreamy before she opened her mouth, and the most joyous sound the audience had ever heard poured forth.

You gave me nothing but a memory, Silent tear and dignity Were all that I had left of my life. Everyone remained frozen, their attention rapt on her solemn words and the soulful music that accompanied them, something simply amazing in a crowd that was moments ago slamming and moshing to the heavy techno acid beat.

I thought I’d die With a smile on my face No need for gossip No need for disgrace Perfection…in a globe of glass Was all the world could see.

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Then with a crash of drums and cymbals and the flash of colorful lights, the musical sensation known as Cyprus Reid kicked her act into high gear.

But what do you know about perfection? How dare you even look in my direction? When all you see is the reflection Of what you want me to be. She began to dance, to gyrate her hips in a totally obscene way that made Jason sweat and the crowd roar with approval. The beat increased, the guitars screamed, the horns and trumpets…they were loud enough to make the building shake. And in the middle of it all, Cyprus danced, she spun, she kicked, worked it to the floor, and shimmied, and through it all her voice filled them all with a sense of determination and purpose. She easily proved that she was more than an exotic face and a gorgeous body in those few moments. With a few words and a few movements, she sneered in the face of authority, shook her ass at preconceived notions, and put Jason Giles on notice.

I’m sick and tired of all this grief And now I think it’s my belief You’ll never understand until you see What lies beneath. Cyprus threw her arms out, almost daring people to look her over and discover what secrets she was hiding. The men surrounding the stage chuckled softly. Even though he couldn’t hear them, Jason knew by the expression on their faces that they were laughing at him. It pissed him off more than anything, and that included old ladies in grocery stores who paid in pennies, Rush Limbaugh, and people who cut him off on the highway because they were too busy talking on the phone instead of paying attention to their driving. But she stood up there, taunting him, he knew. With her seductive smiles and suggestive body movements, she was challenging him to discover the secrets that she held. In the midst of the screaming, clapping crowd, Jason silently fumed, a silent pillar of disgust while the world around him lauded and celebrated…worshiped the golden idol of their creation. “There is more to you, Cyprus Reid,” he mused as she twirled and danced, flirted with her troop of merry men, and sang the songs that electrified the crowd. “But I am betting what lies beneath is a cesspool.”

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Chapter Eleven The whole limo drive back to the hotel, Jason fumed up front with the driver, who kept the window cracked open the entire time. It was almost a blessing for the driver to take the underground valet entrance, sparing him the humiliation of walking, reeking, through the crowd still gathered outside of the hotel. And the elevator trip also strained his temper as Quin looked at him with pity, Quat with scorn, and the rest surreptitiously avoided him as best they could within the close confines of the car. He didn’t remember much about the mad dash to the hotel room, but he recovered enough of himself to go in first and check out the room, much to the amusement of the others. “Why?” Quat snickered. “Your smell would be enough to scare them away!” “Why, indeed?” Jason muttered, wanting nothing more than someone to be in the room to take the lot of them out. Then he wouldn’t have to put up the pretense of actually checking out the room for a possible invasion. But the rooms proved to be clear, and he eagerly made his way toward his private quarters, desperate to get rid of the smell that was giving him a headache. “I wonder if it will wash off.” Expecting the sarcastic comment to have come from the ever-loving Quat, he was surprised when he turned his head and came face-to-face with the black-haired Tria. “What?” he snapped, just about done with this whole affair and these people. “What will wash off? This dirt? Or does that club produce a special type of dirt that is resistant to soap?”

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“No,” the deep voice almost purred. “I was speaking of the smell of duplicity that seems to surround you.” Stiffening, Jason turned and stormed to his room, fuming. “You can keep the pants!” some wiseass called to him. “After all of that…activity, I think they suit you more than us.” “Jackasses,” Jason muttered, then snarled as the room exploded into laughter as if they could hear what he said. His face was still burning in embarrassment and anger as he slung the borrowed clothing across the room and stalked into the bathroom. “Stupid motherfuckers,” he hissed, turning the water on as hot as he could stand it and at full blast. There was one good thing about these overpriced hotel rooms; they provided the best in bathing amenities. He gratefully stepped into the hot water and moving under the hard spray before he remembered that he’d left his shaving kit in the bedroom. Going out there dripping wet where the boy toys had a habit, a bad habit, of just walking in on him, he resigned himself to using the toiletries the hotel provided. It was once he was shampooing his head with rough fingers that he calmed down enough to contemplate the whole situation. Beside the fact that the sextet in the other room was hiding something, he had another uneasy hunch. Whatever he had seen in the alley was related to that group. There was no proof and no tangible way he could connect them, but something in his gut knew it. And he never ignored a hunch. Ignoring his hunches, no matter how absurd, had led to a lot of major disappointment in his life. So now the question was, what was that thing? It was stealthy, fast, and seemed to be possessed of enough weirdness to run along walls. Why had it been there? What did it want? As he contemplated it, his mind began to draw some wild conclusions: His client was a scientist. What if…what if that thing was something that he had created? Was it something that this group was trying to steal, killing off all who had been in on the planning? What did it want? It hadn’t appeared to be running away. Was it being controlled by Cyprus and her group? The questions kept picking up the pace, and the unanswered mass of them was beginning to make his head hurt trying to reason out answers for them all.

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Closing his eyes, he leaned into the water, allowing the hard-hitting spray to wash some of his stress and headache down the drain. Inhaling the surprisingly pleasant scent of the shampoo, he leaned deeper into the water, dropping his head so that the water could beat on the back of his neck and shoulders. It felt so good, especially after the night that he’d had. Calming and peaceful, he decided, as his body began to release some of the exhaustion and tension he always seemed to carry within. He felt his muscles loosen and moaned in pleasure. He ran his hands over his body and began to let his mind wander. How long had it been since he’d shared a shower? How long had it been since he’d felt someone else’s hands running over his chest, across his nipples, down his stomach? Unconsciously, he let his hands trail over his body, imagining a pair of slim fingers with long, manicured nails raking over his skin. “Oh, yeah,” he breathed, the sound of his own voice, husky in growing desire, sending his passion rising. He sucked in his bottom lip as he closed his eyes and began to lose himself in the fantasy. Yeah, the woman of his dreams would be on her knees, staring up at him with that wicked grin on her face, suds running down her golden skin. He allowed his fingers to pluck at his nipples, worrying them until they were tight little nubs that burned and tingled, shooting fire down his stomach and making his balls tingle. Her tongue would lick at his balls as his dick rested against her face, and she would suck one into her mouth, panting as she ran her nails up his thighs. His hands ran over his stomach, becoming slick in the creamy white foam before he slid his fingers through the thin trail of hair that started below his navel. He let his head drop back before he let his fingers tease the base of his cock…just like his woman would. Her full red lips would part, and her little pink kitten’s tongue would lash out, lapping at the precum that had beaded up on the head of his dick. She would coo and whimper as she took his cock in a firm grip and pull it low enough so that she could lick at the head like his dick was an ice cream cone. He shuddered at the image, teasing his own cock before he ran his fingers down to cup his balls and rolled them gently in his hand. His hips started to rock as intense pleasure almost made his knees buckle. He hissed and widened his stance, allowing his fingers to tease behind his balls at his sensitive perineum.

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His breathing began to race and lights danced behind his eyes as he finally took a grip on his equipment and gave his dick one long, languid stroke. “Open for daddy,” he moaned as he imagined his dream girl opening her mouth wide and sucking his cock into the tight, wet heat of her mouth. “Ooh, yeah, baby,” he breathed, his muscles tightening as his soap-slick hand began a steady pumping rhythm. He could hear her groans as she swallowed him whole, deep throating him like a porn movie queen. “Fuck, yeah.” His hips pumped faster as his dream woman tossed her golden hair, her head bobbing as she struggled to keep up and not choke on his cock. Her hands would leave off stroking his thighs and ass to grip his balls and to pull at her own rose-colored nipples. Her breasts were soft, an amazing contrast to the rock-hard nipples that would press into his legs as she tried to get as close to him as possible. Her knees would spread out in the slippery tub, her manicured nails trailing through her own dark golden pubic mound to part her labia and expose her swollen pussy, dripping with all the juices of her desire. She would pull off his dick with a wet pop and lick her lips as if he was the most delicious thing that she had ever tasted. “You like that, baby?” he would ask, and her deep, husky voice would reply, “Please, Daddy? Can I have some more?” At his nod, she would rush to gobble him down, choking herself in the process. She would pull back, coughing a little, as she looked up at him with those golden brown eyes and beg, “Please, Daddy? Can I try again? I promise…I’ll be good…” His hands pumped furiously now, his ass clenching, his fantasy growing out of control as his golden brown baby would suck him down again, swallowing and using her throat muscles to massage and give him the ultimate pleasure. His hair felt like it was standing on end as electric tingles raced down his spine, through his stomach, and settled deep in his balls. His cock swelled in his hand, seeming to double in size as it tightened and prepared to explode. Ecstasy had his mouth open and gasping aloud, the sounds of his passion masked slightly by the roar of the water. But in his mind, his golden goddess was groaning her pleasure around his dick, the vibrations from her throat sending his mind swirling into a dark oblivion of hunger and need. “Shit!” he gasped as he felt his balls burn and pull up to the base of his dick. His cock spasmed, his ass clenched, and before he could take another breath, a soul-shattering orgasm tore through him.

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His body quivered, his knees grew weak, and his heart raced in his chest as spurt after spurt of his creamy essence splattered against the shower wall and was rinsed down the drain. “Cyprus,” he breathed, then froze as the sudden realization that he was fantasizing about a murderer penetrated his soft, hazy afterglow. “Damnit!” he cursed, sticking his head under the water and giving his body a good rinse. He was getting too close to her. He could not afford to see her as a person. She was a monster, a murdering monster that he had to stop.

But she was a damn good-looking one, a voice in the back of his mind raved, and he cursed again as he violently twisted off the water and climbed from the tub. He grabbed a bath sheet -- they never had plain towels in hotel suites -- and scrubbed the water from his body. It was human nature, he reasoned with himself. Cyprus Reid was a good-looking woman who exuded sex appeal like a nun gave off chastity vibes. It was inevitable that he would feel something for her -- on a physical level only, he rushed to assure himself. It was just hormones reacting to a good-looking package. But there were still a lot of unanswered questions about the elusive Cyprus Reid and her merry band of men. He exited the bathroom, tossing the bath sheet to the floor before checking to see if his phones and equipment were in proper working order. Tomorrow, he decided later, sliding between the cool sheets of his queen-sized bed. Tomorrow he would find the answers to his questions and put his head back squarely on work, where it belonged.

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Chapter Twelve “Wakey-wakey, eggs and bakey!” Jason wrinkled his nose and growled as that bright, cheery voice tried to pull him from the solace of sleep.

“Good morning, good morning… We danced the whole night through, so good morning, good morning to you!” “Get the fuck out…if you want to live!” Jason buried his head deeper into the pillows. Jerking off in the shower had relieved a lot of tension and had left him with a lot of confusion that he’d just tabled before finally seeking solace in sleep. And now here it was… He peeled one eye open to peer at his bedside clock and at the bright red numbers that seemed to glare at him. And in return, he turned his glare on whoever was brave enough to infiltrate his bedroom at five in the morning. He was not in the fucking military anymore! He was not going out to Reveille ! He wanted to get more than three hours of sleep. “Don’t threaten me, buddy,” the same irritating voice sang out. “You’re out of shape! I’ll kick your can!” He snorted, sure he was having a really bad nightmare. Only an asshole -- scratch that, only a huge asshole would come into his bedroom at five in the a.m. and spit corny eighties movie lines at him. “Come on! Get up! Join the dark side! We have cookies…” “Get the fuck out!” Jason roared, sitting up in his bed, his chest heaving, his eyes narrowed in anger as he finally gave the invader his full and complete attention.

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“Ohhh!” Quin snickered. “Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning!” Quin was smiling. Quin was awake and dressed. Quin had to die. “Do you have a death wish?” “No, just a wish to get on with the day,” Quin sang, dancing backward as Jason tossed his blankets aside. “And we must have had one hell of a dream.” Quin chuckled, pointing at Jason’s lap. “I’m a man.” Jason rolled his eyes. “You don’t like it, get the hell out.” He looked down at his stiffening cock, not quite morning wood, but close, and shrugged. He gave his cock and balls a good scratch too, daring Quin to say something. After all, the man had invaded his room and awakened him. “Well,” Quin purred, moving closer to get a better look, “as impressive as this show is, and that is coming from a comparison point of view” -- he rubbed at his own crotch -- “that is not what I’m here for. We have to get you ready.” “Ready for what?” Jason yawned widely, running a hand through his buzz-cut hair. “For our morning appearance, of course.” Quin snickered. “Morning… You actually have a schedule?” “Yeah, it kind of…changes,” “Well, I would appreciate a copy of it, as I am your bodyguard.” “Yeah, yeah.” Quin waved his hand dismissively. “I’ll see what I can do. But in the meantime, you have to get ready.” Nodding, Jason rose, naked and unabashed, and padded toward the bathroom. “Very impressive,” Quin muttered again, before he turned and made his way to the main living room.

***** Jason had thoroughly enjoyed his morning’s shower and the thought that he was holding the rest of the bastards up, when he suddenly came to the realization that he still had no idea where they were going. With a towel wrapped around his waist, he padded from his bathroom to the main sitting room where…

FLASH! Jason blinked rapidly as a bright explosion of light robbed him of his vision and replaced it with a multitude of brightly colored streaks and stars.

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“What the fuck,” he gasped, stepping backward, both hands rising up to cover his eyes. “Oh, that was just pure perfection,” a voice called out, followed by a chorus of murmured agreement. “I love candid shots. This one will look so perfect in the layout. Ms. Reid, how do you find and surround yourself with such perfection?” By this time, Jason was about done with blinking the stars from his eyes and forced the watery organs to open again to see what was going on. He got a bleary impression of a tall, rather skinny man holding a large camera and a group of three men behind him before the camera flashed again, serving him up another helping of temporary blindness. “Cut that out!” he bellowed, stepping further away and cursing the fates that had convinced him to take on this job. “He is just precious,” the man muttered again before a deep, rumbling voice pulled Jason’s attention away from his watering eyes. “Enough,” the voice purred, one that Jason easily recognized as belonging to Unus. “You were not brought here for this.” “But…but I was sent to get some shots…” “Of Cyprus and Cyprus alone. That is what was agreed to.” “But…” “The film.” Large Unus, dressed in a black custom-cut suit -- it had to be custom-made to fit a man over six and a half feet tall -- looked impressive and daunting. He arched one dark eyebrow, and the photographer shuddered before opening his camera and exposing the film. “See? All gone,” he muttered, frowning at his camera. “I still want the film,” Unus rumbled. Sullenly, the man complied. “And the memory stick,” Jason called out, recovering enough to defend himself. The last thing he needed was to be beholden to these people. Sighing, the photographer popped open a side compartment on the camera and handed over the stick. “I want that back,” he said grimly, but instead, the large man just smiled. “Put it on your expense report.” The photographer pouted, but turned back to his assistants, grumbling about freedom of the press and first amendment rights. “You need to get dressed.” Unus turned to Jason, his face expressionless. “I came out here,” Jason hissed, moving closer to the towering man, not wanting his words overheard, “To find out exactly what it was I am supposed to be wearing. No one informed me that the press would be en suite.”

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“Just wear what you will. The others are eating in the dining room. Get dressed and go join them.” “I think I’ll get dressed and stay here,” Jason retorted, ignoring the eyebrow Unus raised in his direction. “After all, it is my job.” “Indeed.” “Yes, indeed. And as it is my job to protect your…Ms. Reid, it is your responsibility to give me a full itinerary so that I know what to expect.” “So you want to protect Ms. Reid?” Unus grinned. “Yes, of course,” Jason snapped, wondering at the unusual question. “She did say that she felt I could keep her safe.” “Yet you come out here without investigating your surroundings, let a strange man point something in your direction and get off two rounds…excuse me, shots. I think it is you who needs the protection.” Jason gritted his teeth because he knew that Unus was correct in his estimation of the morning’s situation. He was again taking this job too easily, not treating the threat to her as real…even though in his estimation, Cyprus Reid was the threat. He had to do it, he decided. He had to swallow his pride and try to continue to gain these people’s trust, even though just being around them made his hair stand on end. “I must apologize for my lack of attentiveness. I have no excuse.” He looked Unus dead in the eye, showing a sincerity that he could not have faked if his life depended on it. He was sorry that he had displayed such a lack of attentiveness to the job…just not the job that they believed him working on. Unus opened his mouth to respond, but then the door to one of the private bedrooms opened, and a hush descended on the room. Cyprus Reid was in the house, and all the people there sat up and took notice. Dressed in an ankle-length tunic of cream and a matching pair of harem pants, Cyprus looked as if she had stepped out of some desert fantasy. Her hair was tied in one long, thick braid and rested against her shoulder, liberally decorated with small gold and red bells. Her face appeared to be bare of makeup, giving her a fresh, young look while appearing to be the absolute in well-styled sophistication. Her feet were bare, showing off a maidenly vulnerability, as well as a few grand in diamond toe rings. But the overall effect was that of youth, freshness, and innocence. How the murderous bitch managed to pull it off so well, Jason would never know.

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Unus quietly cleared his throat and made his way to his mistress, extending one arm to escort her to the photographer, anything he would have said tossed aside as unimportant as his mistress entered the room. “Like a dog running to his master,” Jason muttered to himself as he watched the photographer and his assistants fall all over themselves to meet and greet the lady of the hour. “Ms. Cyprus Reid,” Unus declared in his deep, grating voice. “May I make known to you Randall Mitchell.” Turning to the enraptured photographer, he completed the introductions. “Randall Mitchell, may I present to you Ms. Cyprus Reid.” “Ms. Reid, it is an honor,” Randall started right in. “It is a privilege and a pleasure to finally meet you.” Cyprus, for her part, gracefully extended her hand, allowing the man to gush all over it. It was enough to make Jason sick! How dare he fawn all over her, slobbering over her hand… And why did he care? Shaking his head, Jason attempted a strategic retreat to gather some clothing for himself and to clear his thoughts. Despite what Unus wanted, he would stay here and guard Cyprus. It would take more than one bodyguard to keep up appearances. Yeah, he had to keep up appearances. That was, at least, what he told himself.

***** “I have never seen such perfection.” Jason returned just as the photographer and his assistants were fluttering around Cyprus like a bunch of worker bees gathering around the queen. Cyprus herself appeared to be saying very little, almost ignoring the gushing praise from the man. She sat in a large reclining chair draped with gold and red silks and satins, pillows surrounding her like small, soft mountains. The assistants stood just beyond camera range, holding metallic reflectors designed to obliterate any shadows that dared to darken her face. The photographer walked around, spewing compliments and snapping photos like a demented Cecil B. DeMille. Holding back a shudder of disgust, Jason made his way to stand beside Unus. “Looking better,” Unus commented, cutting eyes to Jason for a moment, before once again turning his attention to the floorshow spectacle taking place in the sitting room.

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“How can anyone be so damn chipper at six in the morning?” Jason groused, staring with ill-concealed ire at the photographer and his minions. “It just ain’t natural.” Unus shrugged, never taking his eyes off of Cyprus. “Well, at least I’m dressed now,” he muttered, tugging the comfortable and familiar black suit jacket that fell loose enough to conceal his weapon and a few other small toys that he found essential in his line of work. And no one could complain about his practical black suit not fitting in because Unus was wearing the same damn thing. Again, Unus tore his eyes from Cyprus to scan Jason’s black pants and jacket, noting the black shirt and tie in passing. “You uncomfortable?” he rumbled, pulling Jason’s gaze to his own. “Why would you say that?” Jason asked, trying to hold in a blush as he crossed his arms over his chest. Okay, so maybe dressing totally in black screamed defensive, but after the day he’d had, he felt a great offense, like clothing that screamed “badass” was the way to go. Unus looked him up and down and then snorted. Sneering in return, Jason again let his attention follow the action taking place. “And if we could just get your boys…” Both Unus and Jason winced as the photographer turned his attention to the two men in the room. “They are not boys.” Cyprus raised one eyebrow as her velvety chocolate voice filled the room. ”Well, you guys…” “They are men, Mr. Mitchell. And the agreement was that you leave them out of it.” “But Ms. Reid…Cyprus…” “Ms. Reid,” Cyprus corrected, never raising her voice, but making her authority known. “All right, then, Ms. Reid,” the photographer conceded. “I think it would be just breathtaking to have your men undress and…” “This shoot is over.” The photographer froze at her words, his mouth falling open. “What…” “This photo shoot is over.” Cyprus spoke as she rose to her feet, as regal as a goddess, to approach the man. “You can’t…” “I can do anything I wish, Mr. Mitchell,” Cyprus corrected. “And I wish this shoot to come to an end.”

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“But…” “But what, Mr. Mitchell? Are my words not heard and understood?” “Why?!” “Why, Mr. Mitchell?” Cyprus purred as she approached the man, taller than he in her bare, bejeweled toes. “Because you are ignoring my wishes and are attempting to take liberties that no one has the right to see.” “But…” “The subject of the men who follow me is a closed one. And I believe that I made that clear to your producers, Mr. Mitchell. And if I cannot trust your discretion in dealing with these matters, then I cannot trust your discretion in any dealings with me and my people. So therefore, this photo shoot is over.” “I apologize,” the photographer stammered, but Cyprus turned her back to him and began to make her way toward her bedroom. “Ms. Reid?” he wailed, apparently cursing his foolhardy mouth as he watched his meal ticket, and possibly his job, walk away. “It is time for you to go,” Jason stated, just as Mitchell started to angrily walk in the direction in which Cyprus had disappeared. “But…” He turned to try and plead his case to Jason, the sanest looking of the bunch. “But I only wanted to make the shoot something special,” he explained. “What do you want from me?” Jason asked. “You tried to get pictures of me in my towel this morning. That’s not the most effective way to win friends and influence people. And then you called me a boy too.” “Those are just words!” Mitchell squealed. “And that is just the front door.” Jason chuckled as he took the man’s elbow gently in his grasp. “I am sure that your lovely assistants can gather up any equipment you need.” “But…but I wanted a costume change…” “And my bare ass on the film,” Jason added. “But I won’t hold that against you. I happen to think that my bare ass is spectacular too.” Jason kept up the string of nonsense as he escorted Mitchell through the door and into the hall. “Besides,” he added, “I am sure that you have enough pictures to cover whatever article your people are…who are your people?” “Hot Sheet,” he whispered miserably, still looking confused. “Then I am sure Hot Sheet now has more photos than any other Cyprus Reid watcher in existence. And look at it this way. The poor schmuck that insulted her men last night probably lost his job when she walked out on a live broadcast.”

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“She did that? She can do that?” he asked, eyes wide as he began to realize that Cyprus was no pretty face who lacked substance. She seemed to realize her own power and wielded it like a pro. “Yeah.” Jason nodded his head. “She is Cyprus Reid, a lady to the end, who can do just about anything and everything she wants. Feel lucky she didn’t confiscate the film in the camera.” “Wow,” the man mused, looking star-struck as his assistants joined him with the rapidly packed lighting equipment. “Okay, then.” Jason smiled. “Good-bye now.” Before the man could retort, Jason slammed the door in his face, figuratively and literally wiping his hands clean. He turned back to the room to see Unus grinning at him. “Protective,” he muttered, and Jason felt a blush suffuse his face. “I just didn’t like his attitude. He wanted nude pictures of me.” “Right.” Unus snorted once in his direction before he turned to follow Cyprus into the master bedroom. “Yeah,” Jason grunted to himself. “Well, I really didn’t like the man.” Any other soliloquy he could have made was interrupted by the buzzing of his cell phone. “Giles,” he snapped, not feeling very courteous in the wake of all of those damnable confusing emotions. He really didn’t want to protect Cyprus Reid and her ilk! He wanted to bring them down! “How are things on your end?” Cursing silently, Jason realized that he had answered his private line, not the phone he used for casual business. “Things are…progressing,” he allowed, annoyed suddenly for some strange reason with the tone box that his employer used to disguise his or her voice. “I only have a few days…and…” “And I am here, doing what you hired me to do. I will keep you safe,” he snapped, growing impatient. But then he had another one of these flashes of intuition that had often saved his skin. There was more going on here than met the eye…and that thing last night… “What aren’t you telling me?” he snarled, growing angrier and more distrustful by the second. “I-I don’t know what you mean, I am sure,” the voice stammered. “Tell me what you are hiding!” “My identity, and we agreed upon…”

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“Can the shit!” Jason bellowed, then realized where he was, still standing by the front door. With a scowl on his face, he swung the door open again and moved out into the hall. “Can the bullshit,” he hissed, looking about the wide hall, ensuring that no one was invading the entrance to the suite. “There is something more to this story than what you told me.” Silence on the other end of the line. “You had better fucking come straight with me, or so help me God, I will turn right around and leave you to your own devices!” “There…there may be some…complications I forgot to mention.” The voice sighed, reluctantly. “Well, I guess you had better start disclosing these complications, and I mean disclosing them now.” “I-I really don’t know why they are targeting my fellow scientists, nor me,” the voice stammered. “It may have something to do with a…a cross-breeding program…” “So they are now animal activists,” Jason snapped. “With the amount of leather and meat these people consume, I don’t think so. You are lying to me, Doctor. That is strike one.” “I am…being honest,” the voice continued. “There was a breeding program and some things…went…awry.” “Define awry…” “One of the creatures escaped.” “And that led to murder and mayhem because…” “That creature is seeking revenge.” “Revenge?” Jason growled angrily. “You have me out here risking life and limb for a mutant flying monkey?!” “Not a monkey,” the man assured. “Something far more dangerous and deadly.” “And that thing would be…?” “Cyprus Reid.” Jason stared at the phone in disbelief. Then he shook his head, his brain unable to process what his ears were hearing. “Cyprus Reid?” he asked, incredulity in his voice and his face. “Cyprus Reid was affected by the treatments.” “What treatments?” “Matter of national security, I’m afraid, Mr. Giles. I can’t disclose that information.” “Security, my ass,” Jason snapped. “If this was a matter of national security, the feds and the CIA would be all over this.”

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“I was with an obscure branch of research and development, Mr. Giles. Black Ops, if you will.” “So the right hand doesn’t know what the left hand is doing, and you hired outside talent to keep it that way.” “Something like that.” “Then I guess you had better start explaining what I’m up against.” “Just that we were experimenting into the psyche of the human being, trying to open a portal to make humans access more than the barely five percent of brain power we use.” “And this made people go off on murderous rages?” Jason sneered sarcastically. “I’m not buying it. Strike two.” “Well, it made people paranoid and delusional. Cyprus Reid is paranoid and delusional; she thinks that the world is against her. And I must thank you for discovering the connection between the singer and the escaped volunteer for this project.” “Volunteer, huh?” “Yes. I would have never recognized her if you hadn’t made that leap of logic to follow her. The men who she travels with must have been convinced that her cause was a right one. Fanatics, all of them. And because she is accessing more than the normal portion of her brain’s abilities, that would make her the perfect cult leader.” “So now killing off scientists is a cultist goal?” Jason was not convinced. “Cultists, no, but it seemed to be her raison d’être.” Before he could comment further, he heard a ping, and the private elevator began to open its doors. “Later,” he snarled, closing his phone and placing it at his waist before the golden doors slid open. Three of the four missing men poured out into the hall, smiling when they spotted Jason. “Enjoy your shower?” Quat said before sniffing at the man. “At least you smell better than you did last night.” Jason said nothing, just made a silent head count, then looked askance at the men. “What?” Quat snapped. “Where is he?” More suspicion and intrigue, Jason thought, scowling at the grinning men. “Where is who?” “Unus is with Cyprus.” He pointed behind him. “Tria, Duae, and you, Quattour, are here.” “The boy can count,” Quat said and sneered. “And I am coming up one short. Where is Quinque?”

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“Out,” Quat took great delight in informing Jason. “Out where?” “Outside?” he asked, giving Jason puppy-dog eyes. Duae rolled his eyes, and Tria snickered. “Help me here,” Jason began, but Quat cut him off again. “There is not enough help in this whole wide world for you,” he cackled, reaching past Jason for the doorknob. “And it’s not like I would offer it if I even could.” “Just what is your problem with me?” Jason snarled, knowing that if he were an animal, his hackles would be rising. “My problem?” Quat growled, tossing his hair in such a way that it seemed to be swaying around him. “My problem, little man” -- he moved into Jason’s personal space, crowding him, but not making him give ground -- “is that I can’t stand liars.” “Oh, fuck you,” Jason growled, beginning to wish he had never risen from his comfortable bed or taken on this job. “Not even if you begged!” Quat snapped back. “Quat?” Tria called out, stepping in between the two of them with some effort. “Cyprus…” “I know what Cyprus wants,” Quat snarled. “Though it’s beyond me why.” And again there was the standoff, Jason and Quat glaring at each other over Tria’s head. The elevator pinged once again, and it was into this tension that Quin casually strolled. “Just the man I wanted to see.” He chuckled and brushed past the still silent Duae and bumped Quat aside with his hip. “Isn’t it a lovely morning?” he asked, reaching past Tria and Jason to open the door. “Inside!” He shooed Jason, almost forcing them to enter the suite. “I brought you breakfast.” It was then that Jason noted the enticing smell coming from a previously unnoticed white Styrofoam container that the blond haired man held. “You could have let the bastard starve,” Quat grumbled, entering the suite and immediately taking off for one of the smaller bedrooms. “Charming in the morning, isn’t he?” Quin rolled his eyes, motioning for Jason to follow him past the potted jungle in the main room and to a small alcove that boasted a small table and a few chairs. “That is one word for it,” Jason allowed, following the man and the enticing scents of fried potatoes and breakfast meat. “Ignore him,” Tria advised with a laugh as he followed, the ever-silent Duae right behind him. “Quattour always takes some getting used to.”

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“That is one way to put it,” Jason concurred, trying his best to ignore the men who now lounged about the alcove, looking like some barely dressed, lobotomized boys at a brainless model convention. “Well,” Quin said, apparently not taking offence at the scathing looks Jason was shooting at them, “Sit, eat. You must be starving.” He could say screw them all, Jason thought, before going back to hide in his room or to do more research…but damn it, he was hungry. He took a seat at the table, and Quin handed over the container. “I got you bacon, eggs, sausage, hash browns, a few English muffins, and room service should be bringing up coffee and juice soon.” “Thanks.” Jason nodded, mouth watering as he opened the large container and inhaled the enticing scents of his breakfast. He had not eaten since breakfast the day before and was beginning to realize just how hungry he was. “Not a problem.” Quin snickered as he took a seat at the table, watching the others as they sprawled around the room on various cushioned chairs. “We always take care of our own.” “But I am not one of you.” “You are,” Quin insisted, a hard edge coming into his voice. “For now.” “For now, then,” Jason allowed, before he began to tuck into his food. The little container held a magnificent set of metal flatware, which he eagerly put to use. All were silent until a knock at the door heralded the arrival of the ordered beverages. “I’ll get it,” Tria called out, hopping to his feet in a swirl of long, black hair, but Jason beat him to the punch. “I’ll get it,” he commanded, stepping away from his meal and pushing Tria back into his seat. “It’s my job.” Tria shrugged as Jason made his way to the door. There was a moment’s conversation, and then the door closed. Jason walked back to the table pushing a small cart. “My protector.” Tria giggled, almost bringing a smile to Jason’s face. “Again, it’s my job. I am here to take on any danger that may exist for you or Ms. Reid.” “And if it had been Quat?” Quin had to ask, amusement clearly written all over his face. “Then he would have damn well answered the door on his own.” “Damn the consequences?” Tria asked archly. “He’s a big boy,” Jason growled, snatching up a glass and pouring out some orange juice. “He can take it.”

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***** The laughter that filled the room made Cyprus, snuggled on top of her bed with Unus, smile. “See, Unus?” She giggled at the infectious sound. “No worries. Jason Giles is more than he appears, and that works well with this group.” “As you say,” Unus grumbled, but in the back of his mind, he still wondered. “Trust me.” Cyprus smiled, before closing her eyes and losing herself in the gentle caresses of her first. “Always,” he agreed, settling down again, ensuring that his Mistress had her rest. This was going to be stressful enough, and he wanted her as comfortable as she could be. “It’ll all work out.” She spoke around a yawn. “Wait and see, Unus. I’ll make it right…for all of us.”

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Chapter Thirteen “I don’t have a tux.” “No excuse.” Unus grinned at Jason while Cyprus made no effort to hide her laughter. “So go and rent one.” Quat sneered as he softly brushed his long, white hair. There was so much tension in the air that even his hair seemed to be more vibrant, curling almost lovingly around his fingers. “I am sure that with your attitude and looks, you are used to renting…things.” He pursed his lips at that telling statement, almost daring Jason to respond. They, Cyprus and her men, were gathered in the main living area that Jason liked to refer to as the Jungle Room. As usual, the men were sprawled out and about the room on pillows and lounging in chairs like a bunch of handsome male-flesh satellites around their planetary goddess, Cyprus. Jason was the only one in a straight-backed chair brought in from the eating alcove. Unus as usual, was standing behind Cyprus, acting as her main body servant. “He’s not that bad-looking,” Quin was quick to defend. “I mean, he has the body. He just needs the attitude.” “One short hair defending another.” Quat curled his lip. “I really don’t see why anyone would waste their time.” “Oh, he’s not so bad.” Tria sighed. “I mean, at least he knows how to fight. And fighting is almost next to making love.” “Who said anything about making love?” Jason snapped, finally glaring at the circle of men. “I thought we were talking about a tux!” “And your underwhelming attractiveness,” Quat had to point out, still slowly running his sable-bristled brush through his hair, shuddering as if it were foreplay. Then again, with this motley group, you never knew.

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“I do not find him unattractive,” Cyprus finally spoke, and it was like the admiral had come on deck. Suddenly all the men were alert, all joking stopped, all eyes on Ms. Reid. “I think his face has character. I would love to see his hair longer, but that is not for me to decide. Just as it is not for me to decide if you all should be shorn or continue as you are.” That brought about an unreal moment of silence, and for a second, Jason actually believed his client’s story about her being an experiment with more brain power than most. But that was the stuff of science fiction and cheap romance novels. His client wasn’t being totally honest with him, though he still felt that Cyprus Reid was a killer. Maybe the cult angle…? “Quattour,” she spoke again, her velvety tones filling the room with relaxing vibes. “You and Mr. Giles are about the same size.” “I seriously doubt that,” Quat pouted, looking down at his lap and then over at Jason, again daring him to react. “And,” she stressed the word, a hint of anger in her voice that made Quat lower his head and tilt it to the side, almost like a submissive dog. “And I believe that you should loan him something.” “Cyprus?!” he nearly wailed. “Now Quattour, you know you are the biggest clotheshorse here. And I know for a fact that you have at least three tuxedos that you never use. Be kind to Mr. Giles and loan him one. I would be ever so grateful.” “Only because you ask it of me,” Quat allowed, raising his head a bit to smile at Cyprus, then turning his head to glare at Jason. “And he can keep it. Lord knows what he’ll do to it.” “I said I would replace the outfit.” Jason forced himself to be polite, even thought he would rather choke the tall black man with the tuxedo pants than give them back. “Never you mind.” Quat rolled his eyes before rising to his feet. He was all grace and controlled movements, and that made Jason want to smack him even more. “I’ll go and scrounge up that tux. Be grateful for Cyprus, because if it were up to me, you would be getting your outfits like you undoubtedly get your lovers.” “So speaks that man who actually looks like a rent boy,” Jason snapped back, growing tired of the childish banter. “And I bet your prices are very reasonable too. So…what do I get for five dollars? And the oral has got to be great. I assume it’s the only way someone can shut you the hell up.” There was a moment of silence as Quat stiffened and paused in his exit. He slowly turned around to face Jason and his people, an incredulous look on his face.

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But before he could speak, the room exploded into laughter; even Unus the Silent was snickering. A dark red flush slowly crept up Quat’s neck, and that made the others literally howl with laughter. “You little --” “The tux,” Jason cut him off, nodding toward Cyprus, who was eyeballing them both in amusement. “If you please?” Sniffing, Quat turned and exited the room, stomping all the way. “Now that was amusing.” Tria chuckled. “Not too many can get the best of Quat.” “He has an attitude problem.” Jason sighed, nodding toward Cyprus. “Again, I find myself apologizing. I do not mean to cause dissention within your ranks.” “You make them sound like soldiers.” Cyprus smiled. “I like it, though a military designation would not fit any of my men.” “But the same concept applies.” Jason gently probed for information, something he should have done much sooner. “No.” Cyprus grinned, easily reading his intent. “My men are here because they want to be, they choose to be.” She seemed to slump a bit in her chair, before turning haunted golden eyes in his direction. “Though it’s beyond me why, sometimes.” “Maybe, my lady,” Unus spoke softly, placing his hand on her shoulder in a comforting manner, “it is because there is no other place we would rather be.” “You are all so sweet.” Cyprus smiled, though her eyes kept a sense of dark whimsy about them. “And I want you all to know that I love you very much for it.” “That is understood.” Quin rose, leaving his pile of pillows to crawl over to Cyprus, and almost like a cat, wind himself around her legs. “And the sentiment is returned.”

So, Jason thought to himself, observing this semi-private moment. There are real emotions here. And if someone gets their emotions involved in their crime…task, he amended, then those people are nearly unstoppable. Death was the usual result of that type of fanatic, and they would not hesitate to take as many out with them as they could. “Your tux.” Quat’s gritty tone broke Jason out of his contemplation, and the plastic bag that hit him in the face made him lurch out of his seat, ready to defend himself. “That was not nice,” Cyprus scolded as Quat slammed both hands on his hips, almost daring Jason to retaliate and attack him. “Yeah, well, I never said I was a nice person.” “Well, you had damn well better learn!” Cyprus leapt to her feet, her eyes glaring hotly at her boy toy. Before Jason could make a move, Quin skittered out of the way as Cyprus stomped over to her wayward boy and delivered a stinging blow to his face, almost knocking him off his feet.

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“I have put up with this childish behavior, Quattour, and I refuse to sit back and watch it anymore. You are an adult! Show it!” Quattour looked stunned, his large lavender eyes growing bright with unshed tears as he stared in disbelief at his goddess.

A goddess ? Jason thought, his own eyes wide in wonder. She was more like a flipping three-star general. “You are disgracing yourself, and you are disgracing me with this adolescent behavior.” “But…but he…” “I don’t care what lies he has told or what secrets he thinks he is hiding. He is under my protection, and that protection includes being safe from being verbally assaulted by you at every free moment.”

Damn, Jason thought as Quat dropped to his knees before her, head hanging low. He looked at Cyprus to see what she was going to do next now that she had seemingly broken the proud man. “Quattour,” she said and sighed, dropping to her knees as well, gripping his head and pulling it to her chest. “Quattour, I know you are trying to protect me, but at this stage, I can protect myself.” “But you never know what he…” “Shush, little one,” she breathed, wrapping her arms around the man, burying her face in his long, white curls, getting them all tangled around her face and body.

Maybe he needs a better conditioner, Jason mused. “I know your fears, and I am being cautious. I have not survived as long as I have on my own without learning to be wary. But I don’t want you to get yourself worked up over this.” She buried her hands in his hair and tugged his head up, looking him directly in his eyes. “I know what I am doing, Quattour, my defender. Allow me to see this thing through to the end.” “My lady,” Quat whispered, his tone respectful, though barely audible. Cyprus looked over her shoulder at Unus, and he in turn gestured to the remaining men to rise. “Come with us, Mr. Giles,” Unus intoned. “I believe Cyprus and Quattour need some time alone to discuss some things.” “Where…?” he began as the men seemed to disappear into their separate rooms and almost instantly emerge, wearing precious little but some very brief…swimming briefs. “To the pool, of course,” Quin answered, moving toward the door after shooting one cautious look at the still-kneeling Cyprus and Quattour. “Get your suit,” Unus spoke again, nodding in Jason’s direction. “You are not wearing a suit,” he began.

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“But” -- Unus grinned showing some very white, very sharp-looking…teeth? -- “I am not required.” “Then I should not be required, either,” Jason argued. “You are doing this undercover, are you not, Mr. Giles?” Unus asked. “Or have you forgotten your apologies this morning for not behaving in a more professional manner?”

Damn, Jason thought. He’s got me there. “Fine,” he snapped, storming off to his bedroom to strip off his suit and to dig around in his bags for his trunks. “Hurry up!” Tria shouted. “The water awaits!” “Coming,” Jason yelled back as he stormed out in a pair of knee-length board shorts. Everyone paused to stare. “Oh, not in that, you’re not.” Quin laughed, pointing to his own tight Speedos. “What? What’s wrong with them?” “Image,” Quin informed him as Tria and Duae leaned against each other in laughter. “And we promised the hotel we would drum up some business by making appearances around the place. You won’t fit in wearing that, and it will make people start questioning.” “Like they aren’t doing that now?” Jason tried to argue his way out of ball squeezers and the banana hammock that the others seemed to preen in. “Yeah, but now you are just another addition to the group. If you go like that, the tabloids will start to have a field day. They will follow us around, snapping pictures, climbing through windows, invading our privacy. And I thought you were to protect us all from that?” Jason would have pouted if it didn’t make him appear like a little girl. Instead he nodded his agreement. “I suppose you have something for me to wear?” “Indeed I do.” Quin was all smiles and giggles as he tossed a small plastic bag at Jason. “I ordered for you as well, when I knew that we were going to hit the beach, as it were. They are new, so no fears of wearing used banana hammocks.” Jason froze at the term, the one he was just thinking, but then waved it off as coincidence. “Thank you very much,” he allowed, before turning back to his room and changing. “Why are they white?” he called back as he unearthed the suit from the sack. “It will look good against your skin,” Quin called back. “Good against my skin,” Jason mocked his words quietly as he stripped off his board shorts and slid into the suit, wincing at how it made his package stand out. “I am not getting this damn thing wet!” he called back, knowing that the “damn thing” would become see-through when a judicious amount of water was applied -- like a teaspoon’s worth.

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“Just sit, then,” Tria called out. “Sit, burn, pick up chicks, work on your tan, I don’t give a damn what you do, so long as you come on out now! Water’s waiting!” Rolling his eye again, Jason exited the room and tried not to blush as all eyes turned to him. “Not bad,” Quin allowed and then turned toward the door. “Our public awaits!” And happily, they all exited, being urged on by the black-haired Tria and the solemn Unus. **** “I love you,” Cyprus spoke softly as she let her hands run over Quattour’s back. “I love you and nothing, no one, is going to change that.” “He’ll get you killed,” Quat muttered, rubbing his face into the soft flesh of her stomach, inhaling her familiar and beloved scent. “He threatened you.” Cyprus tugged at his hair again, her golden eyes meeting his purple ones. “He is a threat to you, and you don’t know how to behave.” “I am not afraid of any human!” “But he is not just any human,” Cyprus added, tightening her fist in his hair. “He is so much like you…” “Never!” Quat snarled. “He is like you, and there is nothing to be done about it, Quattour. To your mind, to your instincts, he is a threat.” “He cannot harm me!” Quat insisted, narrowing his eyes, his voice dropping to a low growl. “There is nothing he can do to hurt me.” “Except maybe usurp your place in my affections.” Cyprus cold words stopped anything else that would have rolled off of Quat’s tongue. “You think I don’t know you, my Quat?” Cyprus arched one eyebrow, her lips quirking up into a smile as she observed the shock and dismay that streamed across his face. “After all this time, you believe that I cannot guess the thoughts that flow through that head of yours?” She waited, and just as she knew would happen, his hair reflexively tightened around her body before the silken tendrils began to retreat from her person. “Are you surprised, Quattour?” She chuckled, allowing him to pull away from her, stepping back herself as she observed her more alpha-type Raven. He knelt there in the carpet, a surprising flush of red sweeping over his dark skin. That was one of those quirks about her people, she thought. They could hide their emotions behind a veneer of disgust and expression of distaste, but their hair and their blushes always gave them away.

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“And now you are thinking that maybe I have found a true replacement for my most emotional lover.” She smiled as she backed away further, until the backs of her thighs hit the high bed that dominated the room. She perched neatly upon the seat, her eyes gleaming as she watched her Raven chew through the feelings of jealousy and abandonment he was currently feeling. “Do you believe that I love you, Quattour?” she asked softly, watching his emotions dance across his face. “Yes, Mistress,” he admitted, his shoulders slumping. “And do you believe my love is conditional?” “No, Mistress.” “Do you believe my love a fickle thing?” “No, Mistress.” “Then why would you believe that I would find another to take your place?” “I would never --” “But you did,” Cyprus scolded gently. “Is your love for me a doubting kind, Quattour? Is it the kind that you constantly question and gnaw at until it is but mere scraps lying tattered at your feet?” “No.” Quattour rose to his feet, shock evident on his face. “Never!” “Really?” Cyprus drawled, reaching up and toying with the collar of the silken robe that skimmed her body. “Really.” Quat’s voice dropped several octaves, and his nostrils flared as he sniffed out his mate. Smiling, Cyprus slid her legs apart slightly, her breathing increasing as she took in the sight of her Quattour. His dark skin was flushing in his growing desire, his eyes flashing like purple stars as they ran over her body, taking in her posture. His hair began to wave around his body, caressing and stroking his skin. “Then…show me,” Cyprus watched with hungry eyes as Quat lowered himself to all fours slowly, his muscles rippling beneath his dark skin. His eyes never left hers, giving her a jolt of passion as he began to slowly crawl to her. His muscles bunched and contracted in a teasing rhythm that was a nice piece of erotica in its own right, his hair framing the body that was the stuff of fantasies. “Oh, yeah,” she breathed as he reached her, his hands running over the soft skin of her legs, sliding her robe up to her thighs. She spread them more, making space for the animal in human guise who sniffed at her, licking his lips.

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Then he was on her, sliding up between her legs, tearing and rending the robe until it was in tatters, framing her body like so many multicolored ribbons. “I want you!” he snarled, breathing heavily, sweat forming on his body as he visually caressed the perfection beneath him. That she would allow this…that she would lie beneath him… “Cyprus?” he managed, a question in his voice even as he made love to her name. “Take me.” She reached out, shaking off the remaining thread and material, caressing his face with steady hands. “You know what you need from me, my heart. Take it.” Then Cyprus gasped as his hair encircled her body. Strong and soft, it tangled around her legs, spreading them even as it eased her back into the bed. Cyprus relaxed, burying her face in his silken locks, inhaling the musky smell of her lover. She watched as he moved closer, rising above her, his knees pressing into the bed on either side of her hips. “That you would…” He broke off, shaking his head and licking his lips. “I want this,” she insisted, snarling as her eyes narrowed in growing frustration. Her body was making itself ready for his possession. She could feel her vagina softening, growing wet as her nipples hardened under the touch of his white hair. Her limbs held a slight tremor, and her clit began to swell. “Mine!” His nostrils flared before he bent low and laved her from navel to neck, shuddering at the state of her arousal. “Beautiful,” Quat whispered, his eyes taking in how Cyprus writhed under the touch of his tongue. Cyprus didn’t care for his compliments at the moment. She narrowed her eyes and snarled, arching as his hair caressed her body, moaning as the silken strands tugged at her nipples and wrapped around her thighs, spreading her open and stroking her gently. “You are so fucking wet,” he breathed, watching as beads of slick moisture coated her labia. Then his hands came into play, running along her bared flesh, watching as gooseflesh popped up along her arms and thighs. Quat smiled, exposing elongated fangs as he again lowered his head and latched onto one hard nipple. “Quat!” Cyprus moaned, tossing her head back, her golden hair tangling with the white strands that still danced along her body. “I-I l-like that.” “Then you will love this,” his deep voice grumbled, and his fingers plucked at her lonely nipple as his mouth began to travel over her body, worshiping her soft, supple skin.

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Cyprus knew that it was her yelps and mewls of pleasure that were filling the room, driving her lover onward, but she refused to control herself. This was what her Quattour needed, and this was what she herself desired above all things at this moment. She allowed him to see her desire, her want, and when his careful fingers slid into her core, when his silken hair began to stroke her fully hard cock, Cyprus threw back her head and screamed. “Right there!” she moaned as his fingers slid through her labia and into the soft, silken heat of her vagina, instinctively finding her sweet spot and stroking it until her knees began to tremble, and her body was screaming with desire. She began to buck upward, fighting against his caressing hair as his mouth lowered and sucked on the head of her cock, rolling the foreskin back and nipping at the tender, exposed flesh. With Quat’s hair sawing at the base of her cock, his mouth sucking on the head of her dick, his fingers buried deep inside her, overflowing with her juices, Cyprus threw her head back and bellowed her pleasure to the world. She could feel it building deep inside her, the tensing of her internal muscles, the burning of her nerves, the almost painful arch of her body that didn’t know whether to thrust up into his mouth or to push back harder onto his fingers. That, coupled with the feeling of being restrained by something as intimate as his hair, soon had Cyprus tumbling head over heels into her first round of orgasm. And Quattour rode her orgasm with her, sucking at the thin, sweet fluid that flowed from her cock as well as shuddering as her internal muscles tightened almost painfully around his fingers. From the look on his face as Cyprus forced her eyes to open to focus on her lover, she knew that he was imagining sliding himself deep into her silken heat. His eyes darkened even further as she licked her lips and uttered one word. “More.” Quat let go of her cock with a pop and quickly lowered his head, licking around his fingers, lapping at her spilled cream with a hungry moan. Still working his fingers within her, he proceeded to not miss a drop of her juices, licking and laving at her quivering flesh, driving more screams from her throat as her almost too-sensitive flesh was forced into arousal all over again. “You animal, you lovely, lovely animal,” Cyprus moaned as her need for him rose to a fever pitch. His fingers and tongue were fun, but she wanted something thicker, something hotter and harder filling her to the point of explosion. “Your animal,” he growled as his hair loosened its hold on her, and he rose to loom over her on the bed.

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“Yes,” she breathed. “Mine.” Then his fingers were tearing at the crotch of his leather pants, tossing torn bits of animal hide around the room in an effort to expose himself for both of their pleasures. Cyprus purred at the first sight of his swollen member. It was as dark as the rest of him, topped by a pale purple, plum-shaped head. It was wet with his arousal, shiny with traces of his pre-ejaculate that she knew from experience would taste sweet and tangy. “Give me a taste,” she all but growled, and Quat wasted no time in climbing up her body and pressing the hot head to her lips. Cyprus whimpered as she lapped at him with her tongue, her fingers going to the firm globes of his ass, tugging and pulling him closer. She purred as he rested against her tongue, the head and the musky scent of him so close to her nose. She looked up at him, along the line of his body, and smiled around the thick cock filling her mouth. Quat groaned, throwing back his head, his hair flowing wildly about him as he took in this erotic sight. Then he screamed as she began to suck and pull at his cock. Her fingers were not idle, however. She was physically expressing her pleasure, her fingers dancing between the cheeks of his ass, down his trench, finding and caressing his tight little rear aperture. He bucked, nearly choking her, but she merely laughed, the vibrations flowing from her mouth down his dick, to his balls. “I have to have you,” he breathed, his voice harsh to her ears as he pushed backward, forcing her slim finger to penetrate his ass. He grinned, then bucked back harder, sending her finger in to the hilt, caressing nerve endings that he loved to have stimulated. “Really.” She licked her lips after pulling off of his cock, then dropped her head again to lap at the thick length of it. “Yes, my Mistress!” He moaned and dropped to all fours over her, his ass in the air, humping at the single finger that speared him and stretched him so. “Then take me.” Before Cyprus could blink, Quattour was between her spread thighs, the leather remains of his pants tickling over her skin. Her legs were hefted into the air, and the head of his cock was… “Yes, my fourth!!” Cyprus wailed as he slammed deep inside her wet pussy and began to thrust strongly. His purple eyes bored into hers, and he leaned over her, teeth exposed. Growling his pleasure, he slammed into her harder and harder.

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Cyprus felt spread and stretched to capacity as her lover pounded away at her. She marveled at the feel of his heavy balls slapping against her ass as he hefted her legs higher to get a deeper penetration. And the pleasure! It so filled her that she could no longer hold in her screams of ecstasy. “Fuck!” she wailed, her voice trilling in her pleasure. “Quattour!” Which only made him move harder, faster, deeper than before. She felt her muscles tightening again, her hard cock slapping against her stomach before he lowered himself to press fully against her body. Then her cock was being massaged against the rigid muscles of his abdomen, increasing her joy immensely. Her hands clawed at his back, leaving bloody trails as her desire reached an unbelievable peak. “Like this, Mistress?” he breathed into her ear, licking and nipping at her neck. He swiveled his hips, striking her sweet spot and stimulating her whole sheath. “Yes, yes, yes!” she screamed, her whole body clutching at his, as she lost herself in the ebb and flow of his pounding rhythm. ”Yesssss!” Suddenly the very air seemed to still as she froze. Quattour slammed deeper, his movements burying himself into her and holding himself as deep as he could as she felt the first tremors of her internal muscles milking him, and then her orgasm broke. “Quattour!” she shrieked, her hips slamming up as waves of fire flowed over her body. “Gods, yes, Quattour!” Cyprus began to keen as delicious sensations engulfed her body in torrents of pulsating heat. Her internal muscles clamped down on the hard cock that seemed to vibrate deep within her, and that only made her pleasure more potent. Her cock exploded, sending a thick river of seed flowing between the two of them, making his movements against her flesh easier as his stomach muscles tightened further, keeping her orgasm going. Then Quat was hissing, grunting as he swelled even thicker within her. He bellowed once, and Cyprus hissed as his fever-hot seed flowed from him and flooded her insides, screaming as she felt the large knot within his cock tighten and pulse, traveling up his length to lodge itself tightly within her, connecting them as closely as two lovers could ever be joined. His hips rested against hers again, and he panted, his face buried in her hair as they both waited, moaning as their release still held them within its maddening grip. “As…if…you could…be replaced.” Cyprus giggled, nudging Quat with her chin until he lifted his heavy head to stare at her with sated purple eyes. Even his hair was a limp, shivering blanket that covered the both of them. “Maybe…” he breathed. “Maybe I was being illogical.” “Maybe you were being a spoiled brat,” Cyprus allowed.

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“Maybe…” “Don’t make me hit you,” Cyprus growled, narrowing her eyes before nipping at his nose. “Yes, Mistress,” he agreed. “You really deserve a spanking for the way you have been behaving.” Quat perked up at that. “Which is why you won’t get one from me,” she added, smiling as he pouted. “And you will treat Jason better.” “I can’t work miracles,” he snorted, burying his face back into her neck while he waited for his penile knot to dissipate. “You two are so much alike.” Cyprus laughed, enjoying the total body relaxation that came after a really good fuck. “I don’t know what I am going to do with the two of you.” “I have suggestions for him,” Quat piped up. “Don’t push it,” she snapped, and he conceded with a whimper. Cyprus rolled her eyes and wondered at the strange similarities in all of her Ravens, and especially, the striking ones found in the human named Jason.

***** At poolside, Jason watched the crowd follow Tria with their eyes as the black-haired man cut through the water like a dolphin. “He’s good,” Jason grudgingly admitted, looking over at the suited Unus who was watching over everyone like a mother hen. “Tria has a certain affinity for water,” he allowed, staring out over the crowd of watchers, his face impassive. “I surprised that you are not ordering me into the water.” Jason watched as Quin sat at poolside, kicking his feet in the warm, chlorinated water while speaking and signing to Duae, who was in the pool, the water coming up to his chin, but at Quin’s side. “He’s deaf?” Jason queried, finally asking about the silent Duae. “In a manner of speaking.” Unus inclined his head. “What? He is mute?” “Yes.” “But he has some hearing?” “Some.”

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“Then how can you make him aware of danger?” This was a logistical nightmare when it came to protecting someone out in the public spotlight, like Cyprus and her boys, when a major player couldn’t even hear. “We have our ways, and Duae is very good at defending himself, as I am sure you are already aware.” Jason nodded, then looked again at Duae and Quin, who seemed to be having a wonderful conversation with hand gestures and facial expressions. “That doesn’t look like ASL,” he commented. “You know, American Sign Language?” “I know, and who said that English was his first language?” “So, it is some form of sign.” Jason nodded. “Do you all know it?” “Yes.” “Do I have to learn it?” “No. Duae is perfectly capable of understanding you, Jason Giles.” “Hmm.” Jason nodded again, searching for a way to dig more info. None of his contacts had ever mentioned that Duae was mute. But then their public persona was all about quiet strength and androgynous hotness. It could easily be missed. He wondered if that was the reason they all remained so quiet in public. “About this tux…” “We will be attending a musical tonight.” “Musical, huh?” Jason ran his fingers through his hair. At least they were now letting him in on their plans. “Where and which one?” “Oh, you will like this one.” Unus chuckled darkly. “We are going to see The Phantom of the Opera at The Hippodrome.” “The really big theater on Pennsylvania Avenue?” Jason sighed, mentally working out the logistics of keeping six people safe in that wide-open area. “Relax.” Unus ran a hand through his long, dark hair before turning to eye Jason. “Box seats.” “Like that’s going to make me feel better.” “It should not make you feel any worse.” Then Unus rose to his feet, looking unaffected by the heat as he started toward the wide glass doors that held the entrance and exit to the hotel. Jason turned to follow his line of sight and cursed slightly as Ms. Cyprus Reid, surrounded by a host of fans and one preening Quattour, exited. Somewhere during her discussion with the bastard Quat, she’d managed to find time to change to an enticing one-piece slip of material. It was a metallic gold color and covered the majority of her body…but it was the body that was exposed that made him want to drool.

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Her sides were practically bare, and the exposed golden skin seemed to glisten in the sun. It had a keyhole bodice, if one would use that term to describe a swimsuit, but it left a heart-shaped swath of flesh exposed and hinted at the major cleavage it struggled to hold. Her nipples were hard nubs in the fabric, hidden and exposed at the same time. The suit was cut high on her thighs, hinting at the firm belly and taut muscles that made up her abdomen as well as her ass. Yet, as she turned to speak to a fan, the rounded globes of her ass were exposed by the thong back of the thing. It left him groaning in desire and growling in anger that someone else was looking at that delicious derrière. He just wanted to dive in and bite at the… Wait! Why was he lusting after her? He was there to expose her murderous acts and take her down! But the swelling in his Speedo played false with those thoughts. Sighing, he quietly adjusted the bulge of his swelling cock before rising to his feet and following Unus over to her. “Having fun?” Unus asked as the crowd kept a respectful distance of three feet all around her. Cyprus just smiled as Quat procured a lounger for her and carried it over to where Unus and Jason were standing. “We talked.” She spoke softly, her words barely reaching Jason where he stood beside her, alert to any wrongdoing in the small crowd that had gathered. “No more issues?” “Resolved as much as possible.” Cyprus sighed. “There is no going against one’s true nature.” “Indeed.” “And if you all are done talking about me as if I wasn’t here…?” Quat said, walking over to them and gesturing to the neat nest of towels and pillows he’d managed to find and create for Cyprus on the lounge. “Perfect.” Cyprus grinned. “I thank you, my Quattour.” “The pleasure is all mine,” he responded, and Jason had to prevent himself from growling as Quattour presented her his arm. He watched somewhat enviously as Quattour escorted Cyprus to her seat. Unus took up his usual position behind her and slightly to her right, and Jason stood beside her.

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“Is this wise?” he asked as some of the crowd pretended to be interested in sunning and other assorted poolside activities, while keeping an ear and an eye on the celebrity in their midst. “It was agreed upon,” Cyprus explained, smiling her toothpaste commercial smile. “But it’s not very safe…” Before he could complain more, the hotel manager bustled over, smiling obsequiously as the paparazzi began to gather outside of the gates. “Ms. Reid,” he gushed. “I hope that you are enjoying your stay. And I sincerely hope that Mr. Giles is up to the task of seeing to your safety.” “I very much feel safe.” Cyprus spoke softly, her voice not carrying further than the manager’s ears. “And Mr. Giles is everything I have come to expect from security people on this side of the continent.” Jason frowned, knowing that could be interpreted in different ways, but the manager chose to beam brightly, taking it as a compliment. “Who’s the new guy?” some reporter finally got enough courage to call out. And the others quickly followed in his footsteps. “Who’s the new guy, Cyprus?” “What’s his name?” “What does he do?’ “Does this mean you’re recruiting new men?” “Can I have a shot?” “Is he good in bed?” Jason stared, agog at the storm of questions that rained down on them. Other poolgoers perked up, wondering if Cyprus was about to break her silence and answer some of the questions that they all were dying to know. Cyprus just smiled, turning an innocent face to the paparazzi, but that was all. And of course, that maneuver required the prerequisite lightning storm of camera flashes and pleas for her to give them “more face.” When someone started rattling the gate, as if by magic, all five of her men were suddenly surrounding her, and Jason found himself falling in, ignoring the fact that he was wearing a pair of skimpy little white Speedos that left practically nothing to the imagination. The manager looked over at Jason, who was in character, and then turned, swiftly walking out of the pool area. Some publicity was one thing, but these people rocking the fence were dangerous. He wanted to further his hotel’s reputation by having Cyprus appear at the public pool, not start a riot. He raced off to call security. “It’s getting hot,” Jason hissed to Unus, knowing that he would see the danger that they all were in.

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But Unus just stood there, face impassive as ever. Before he could say something else, demand that Cyprus be brought inside or inquire if her plans involved inciting a riot this day, Cyprus took a deep breath and began to sing. The boy toys stepped back, exposing Cyprus in all her glory, head tossed back and pure, true notes emerging from her throat. It wasn’t exactly words she was singing; no, it was more like tones. She trilled the scale, starting at inhumanly deep growls and rising to an angelic soprano, the notes almost big enough to shatter crystal. But no matter what she was doing, it was having an extreme effect on the crowd. They were all frozen, standing there, some with their eyes closed, but all enthralled by the music. Even Jason found himself swaying to a beat that Cyprus seemed to pull from her very soul, the notes to her wordless song filling his soul with peace and contentment. Almost as suddenly as she started, Cyprus stopped, leaving the crowd, the paparazzi, everyone lingering, hungry for more. It was a moment of hushed anticipation, of a teasing tension that filled them. And then she got up and walked away, her men falling in line behind her. Jason blinked his eyes rapidly, then raced to fall in line behind Quin, still looking a bit dazed and confused. They passed a security detail as they entered the hall, but the bewildered men had nothing to contain. With a few notes and the pure sweetness of her voice, Cyprus had calmed and soothed, proving that music did indeed calm the savage beast. And she left the people there quiet and content, hungry for more.

***** Jason was still silent as they prepared for their evening out. He had remained silent as a meal was ordered and plans were discussed, a part of the group, but only marginally there. He ignored the amused looks tossed in his direction by Quin and Unus, and tried to comprehend what his eyes and ears had experienced. When Cyprus opened her mouth and began to sing notes, not even words, he had wanted to just lie down and bask in her glory. And it appeared that his reaction was not abnormal. Later, reports from the hotel manager had shown that the nearly rioting paparazzi had calmly left, delighted with their pictures, and any aggression seemed to have dissipated.

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All anyone could comment on was the beauty of Cyprus’s voice and how gracious she was for sharing even that small part of herself with them. Even the hotel guests who were poolside reported being refreshed and invigorated. It was strange. It was not human. It was confusing. And here he was, about to go out and pretend to be a boy toy of this walking enigma. His client was withholding more than he had originally guessed. If Cyprus was a failed experiment, then the military had to have their hands in her life. If she could sing people to calm, she could conceivably incite them to riot. And the militaristic applications for a talent like that -- they were endless. And even he, with all of his conditioning and mental training, had been caught up in her thrall. Maybe there was more of a reason she was doing what she was doing, because deep in his heart, Jason knew that Cyprus Reid was a killer. Now with the new information about his client and what he had gleaned during these past few days, maybe her motives were not as suspect as he’d first thought. There was something huge going on here, and now he was in the position to discover who exactly was the bad guy. Trouble was, he was no longer sure himself.

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Chapter Fourteen “I love a sharply dressed man.” Cyprus chuckled as she walked among her men, inspecting them like so much cattle at an auction. And everyone was dressed to the nines. The tuxedos were sharply pressed, the shoes shined to a high gloss, the shirts starched to within an inch of their fabric lives. Even the studs on their shirts and cufflinks on their sleeves were perfectly polished, a reflection of each man’s eyes. The ties and cummerbunds, however… “Why am I wearing a blue noose again?” Jason grumbled, more offended that his James Bond-like appearance was going horribly wrong. “It matches your eyes, like your studs.” Quin chuckled. “You are just color coordinated.” “And where did you find dark blue studs on such short notice?” he asked, disappointed that he couldn’t go with the basic black that would not have had him standing out in a crowd. Dressed like this…it almost felt as if he belonged with these psychos. He ignored the strange, warm tingling that thought brought about as he glared at Quin. “Contacts,” Tria sang out merrily as he flounced into the room. “It’s all in who you know.” “Yeah,” Jason grumbled, glaring at the gathered men in the room. After what had happened poolside, he found it difficult to stare Cyprus in the face, so he concentrated his ire on the men. “Not like it’ll do much to improve your looks,” Quat sniped quietly. “Behave, Quattour,” Cyprus’s berating voice admonished. “Remember what we spoke of.”

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“I remember.” He sighed, rolling his eyes at Jason. “But I don’t have to like it.” “Like it, hate it, I don’t give a damn,” Cyprus said, her use of profanity startling all the men into staring at her in confusion. “But you will accept it.” “Yes, my lady,” a cowed Quat responded, nodding his head before glaring at Jason again. “Now,” Cyprus purred, stepping to the front of the men again, running her hands over her slim hips. “I think we look stunning.” Stunning definitely applied to Cyprus. Again, she was in her trademark gold, this time an elegant gown that encased her tightly from bustline to just below her thighs. There, the gown flared out generously, giving the impression of an old-school Hollywood runway dress. The bodice itself was several layers of material, ruched to give it dramatic flair. The gown was sleeveless, though a pair of silk, opera-length black gloves ran from her fingers to her biceps. A subtle black sheer lamé covered the entire gown, making it sparkle with her every movement. Around her narrow neck was a waterfall of amber and onyx, accented by several carats of diamonds. Her hair was swept up into a mass of curls, small diamond clips holding the golden mass in place. Cyprus could have been any Hollywood starlet doing a walk of fame, not a pop singer who had gained nationwide recognition with all the attention she garnered, on her way to an opera house in Baltimore, Maryland. “The car is waiting.” Unus’s voice filled the growing silence as Cyprus looked over the men once again. “We should hurry.” That said, he managed to produce a long, silken throw the exact colors of the dress and held it open for Cyprus. “All is in readiness?” she asked, smiling up at the larger man. “All is as you require.” Somehow, Jason got the idea she wasn’t talking about intermission snacks or the rise to the Hippodrome. “Then, by all means, let us be off.” Silently, they moved to the elevator, Jason and Unus taking point and looking over the elevator before they allowed the rest of the men to enter, though Jason did note that Quat seemed to hover before them all in a protective stance. Maybe they really were some kind of effective protection after all. Jason decided that he needed to keep that in mind. If it came to hand-to-hand combat to put Cyprus down, he knew he had to isolate her from the rest of the group. That is, if his client ever came clean about what was going on.

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He hated mysteries, but he hated being used more. If he was being sent out as cannon fodder… The rest of his thoughts ceased as the elevator doors opened, and they were again faced with a wall of spectators. The Cyprus Watchers, as he dubbed them, were everywhere. Cameras were blazing and flashing as hotel security held the wild crowd back from entering the hotel Guests who were staying there stood by in awe, watching as the celebrity in their midst made her way to the exit. After the impromptu concert at the pool, many had gathered in the lobby just to see what the afternoon would bring. It was common knowledge that Cyprus Reid and her entourage were attending this evening’s performance of The Phantom of the Opera, and they wanted to be the first to tell the tale of the incredible outfits and the stunning good looks of her men. “Wait here.” Jason nodded to Unus as the men closed ranks around Cyprus, keeping her protected in the center. “I will check out the car.” “I’ll go with you.” Unus moved forward, but paused when Jason gripped his arm. His next words were punctuated by a flurry of camera moves and squealing women as if that one simple touch was a prelude to sex in the lobby -- hot man-on-man sex, at that. “It’s my job,” Jason insisted, whispering so that none of the bystanders would hear their conversation. “It’s what I’ve been kept here to do, remember?” “I’ll go with you,” Unus insisted. “Look, I’m not going to sabotage you all.” Not here, he silently added. “But let me do the job I was hired to do.” “I do not lack the training, Sentinel.” Unus smiled. “Besides, you need someone to…watch your back? Is that not how the saying goes?” “Yes.” Jason shifted and then nodded. It only made sense. He was not about to try and take them down here, and if he missed something in the hired car, or if he were mobbed… Yes, he could let his guard down a little and allow the other man to go with him. Nodding again, he released the arm, noting that it felt like stone beneath his hand, before turning to face the wall of people between him, the tired security, and the waiting car. “Who’s the driver?” Jason asked as they moved forward. “Because I am qualified to drive a limousine.” “A trusted friend,” Unus assured him. “And I had assumed you were qualified; otherwise, you would not be here on the job, as it were.”

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“A friend?” Jason looked up at Unus as the glass doors opened, and they were assaulted with the brilliant stereo surround sound of the screaming mob to go along with the Technicolor picture. Knowing that speaking was next to useless at this point, Unus nodded and pressed forward. Security was struggling to hold back the mass of humanity, but they managed to hold everyone back from the car. As they approached, the driver, another tall, well-built, black-haired man exited, nodding almost reverently to Unus. “All is in readiness?” he asked, speaking a little bit louder than usual, but the man understood. “Yes, sir.” He damn near saluted, Jason thought. “All is in readiness.” “Good,” Jason snapped, thinking that here was another mystery when he already had a bellyful of them. “Then you won’t mind if I check the car.” “One of…yours?” the man asked Unus, dubiously. “That remains to be seen,” Unus replied. “But for now, yes, he is one of ours.” “Very good.” That was all that was needed, apparently, as the man backed away and opened the passenger door, allowing Jason entry. It was a plush automobile, Jason grudgingly thought, checking out the lavish interior. The seats appeared to be made of velvet, the bar fully stocked, and a state-of-the-art sound system was activated, waiting to be used. He sniffed the liquid, not noting any poisons or dangerous fumes. He ran his hands between the seams of the seats, checking for any odd lumps or bumps. He found nothing, not even lint. Whoever took care of this car’s detailing was very thorough. Finally, he ran his fingers along the car lining, checking for any odd devices or wiring. Finding nothing, he reached into his pocket and produced a “magic wand” that sent out an alarm at the detection of any odd electronic devices. He found none. Nodding, he climbed out of the back and repeated the procedures for the front of the car, including the driver, though that check was perfunctory at best and was made to look like a friendly greeting. All through this, Unus said nothing, and the driver looked agog at Jason, as if the man had gone completely mental. “Better safe than sorry,” Jason snapped at the man, while trying not to do anything that could set the paparazzi off again.

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“One of yours,” the driver conceded to Unus, shaking his head. “He behaves rather like a member of your clan.” “Indeed,” Unus agreed before turning and nodding to Quat, who was, as usual, standing point for the men. “Clan?” Jason asked, but turned his attention to the glass doors as the people started to scream and shout once more. Cameras flashed and questions were shouted as the doors opened, and Cyprus Reid once again made her appearance with her men. The security braced themselves, holding back the line of fans as the men parted ranks a little, allowing small glimpses of Cyprus in gold as she made her way to the car. Jason and Unus quickly returned to her side, guiding the men as the lights flashed, and the screaming voices devolved into a huge wall of sound. Once at the car, Cyprus paused, and the men moved, allowing her face to be seen by the crowd. And they went wild, loving their precious songbird, as she waved serenely at them, a beautiful smile on her face. The men allowed this for a moment before hustling her into the car and piling in on either side of her. The door slammed, and the car took off, leaving screaming fans and sated paparazzi behind. “That’ll hold them,” Quin said with a sigh, sinking back into his seat. “At least until we get to the opera house.” All the men seemed to relax, and again Jason was struck at how tense they were. They were very protective of Cyprus, and it wasn’t the fanatical type of protectiveness that cult members had for their leaders. It was tinged with genuine concern. Cult leaders led by fear, and these men were not fearful. Respectful, yes; fearful, not in the least. “Well.” Cyprus smiled. “Relax now, Quin. The evening has just begun. And I am expecting a very eventful evening.” Turning to Jason, she smiled sweetly. “Have you ever seen the musical performed?” “Can’t say that I have,” Jason drawled, slouching in his seat. “But everyone knows it’s a story of an obsessed madman and the woman he tried to seduce.” “Really?” Cyprus stared at Jason until he sat up a little, feeling a bit self-conscious. She stared until his eyes met hers. “When I see the musical and read the book, I see a poor man who was used and discarded when he was no longer needed. Christine managed to steal something important from Eric, just before she cast him aside. I look at that musical, and I see his sacrifice for her in the end, and what he struggled through for love.” Jason blinked as he absorbed this, trying to see her point.

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“But he tried to kill her,” Jason pointed out. “And she betrayed his love, a love that she freely gave in the beginning,” Cyprus countered. “And there is nothing greater than betrayal, don’t you agree?” Cyprus’s words were dead and cold; her golden eyes glazed over as if remembering some deep hurt. Then she blinked rapidly, and the darkness in her eyes receded. “And here I am getting all upset over a work of fiction.” She smiled and settled back in her seat. “Betrayal, huh?” Jason asked, feeling as if a noose really was tightening around his neck. “Something that I can never forgive.” Her eyes darkened mysteriously, the shadows he often glimpsed there taking over for one brief moment. “But you don’t have to worry about that, dear Jason. I was speaking of the play. In real life, I don’t think anything is worse than a man killing a child. That type of homicide is worth nothing less than total destruction.” She smiled sweetly, then turned to nuzzle Unus, who was seated at her side. “I-I agr-agree.” Jason stammered, wondering how the conversation had gotten so serious in such a short amount of time. “At any rate,” Cyprus continued, turning smiling eyes on her men, “tonight will be interesting and entertaining. Especially if you haven’t seen the musical before, Jason.” “Yes,” Jason agreed, still feeling trapped in some inexplicable way. “And I will try to look at it from your point of view.” “That is all I ask,” Cyprus murmured, sighing and closing her eyes. “That is all I’ll ever ask of you, Jason.” And again, Jason felt that something important had been said, but it was beyond him to figure out what. It almost seemed like Cyprus knew what he was about, and instead of packing him off or turning her thugs on him, she was asking for understanding and for him to view her situation from all sides. His logical mind screamed at him to ignore these insights, but his instinct, the thing that had kept him alive for so long, was urging him to listen and pay attention. Maybe tonight would reveal more than he had bargained for, and maybe tonight he would learn the truth. Suddenly he didn’t know if he should be impatient or fearful of what the night had to offer. Either way, he knew as well as the rest of them in that car that something big was going to happen soon. He only hoped that he could handle the repercussions.

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Chapter Fifteen Okay, Jason conceded with a small grimace, maybe this Eric guy was getting the short end of the stick. He watched as Eric sang and danced across the stage, schemed and manipulated facts so that his angel of the night could get ahead in the music business. And the lovely Christine seemed to be taking advantage of every opportunity he threw into her luscious little lap. Maybe Cyprus Reid had a point to a certain degree. Was her strong opinion about betrayal in this work of fiction linked to something that had happened in her real life? Perhaps with his client? These thoughts were still reeling though his head as the curtain dropped, the lights flashed, and the intermission began with resounding applause. He found himself standing and clapping with the rest of the men, still lost in a fog. It wasn’t a commentary on the artists’ performances; it was that he was given even more to think about. “Thirty-minute intermission,” Unus grumbled in his deep voice. After the fantasy world that the performance had transported them to, the sound of regular speech jerked Jason into awareness. ”We are staying here, I trust?” Jason asked, looking down into the theater and the teeming mass of humanity that had showed up for opening night. They had access to a plush, well-appointed box. There were champagne and canapés to partake at their leisure, and they had a nearly panoramic view of the stage. There was no reason to exit the safety and controlled environment to go and mingle among the would-be murderers and rabid fans.

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It would make his new desire to ferret out the truth of the Cyprus Reid affair moot if the woman in question was killed. “No.” Unus spoke again, rising to his feet and offering a hand to Cyprus, who gracefully rose. “As usual, we will take our fresh air on the balcony.” “I don’t think so,” Jason argued. “The space is too open, too dangerous.” “And why would we be in any danger?” Cyprus asked, a smile on her lips. “I don’t see the need for your concern. It’s not like anyone is actively out there trying to get me, is there?” She arched her eyebrow as she spoke, and Jason had to fight the flush of guilt that threatened to explode across his face. “Crazed fans,” he gritted out. “Remember, there are a lot of crazed fans out there.” “In here, too,” Quat said with a sneer before a sharp look from Cyprus shut him up. “I am just going out onto the south balcony, Jason,” Cyprus explained. “It is fairly sheltered, and only those with box privileges have the right to be there. You can, of course, reconnoiter, if it makes you feel any better…” She let her words trail off. “It would.” Jason again sensed that something was going on, and that it would be going down soon. He had to get out to that balcony and look around. Maybe all the answers he sought were there. “Then I’ll give you fifteen minutes,” she said, walking over to a sidebar where a small buffet had been set out. She picked up a glass of sparkling wine and lifted it to her berry red lips. Jason watched as the pale liquid passed those lips, the bubbles popping against her mouth as she closed her eyes, conceivably to savor the taste. “You had better get going.” Quat sniffed. “Your time is wasting.” Shaking his head, Jason shook off the ever more intensely growing carnal thoughts of Cyprus’s mouth and made his way out of the room. He followed the signs to the south balcony, a relatively short trip from their box, and stepped outside the huge plateglass doors that separated the stately opulence of the theater from the lush humidity of a summer night in Baltimore. His footsteps echoed on the marble tile set in the concrete floor of the balcony. Above him the sky looked like purple velvet, the stars muted by the many florescent lights that fueled the city landscape. But beyond the noise and lights of the city, Jason knew that there were billions of twinkling stars out there. The night sky was like a beautiful velvet canvas painted with the mysteries of a thousand lives past.

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What great things that sky had witnessed, he would never know. He was stuck in the here and the now, all of those untold tales plain whimsy. Sighing, he pulled himself out of his fanciful thoughts and concentrated on the job at hand. He looked around the relatively small balcony, dressed up in flowers and benches, no doubt for tonight’s performance. It was a small, beautiful garden complete with several reclining gargoyles to watch over the person or persons lounging here. Curious, he walked over to one, noting that the gothic thing was rather fierce-looking, with the head of a dragon and the body of a lion. It looked almost alive, so great was the detailing. “That’s the difference between Old World craftsmanship, my friend,” he explained to the silent sentinel, “and today’s reproduced crap.” Laughing, he tapped the stone creature on its head and reached into his pocket. After retrieving his magic wand, he walked the perimeter, smiling when he picked up no listening devices. He looked up; it was amazing how so few people, even trained professionals, examined anything above their head to see what was to be seen. Nothing much, he thought, just a few more gargoyles and bare stone wall. The south balcony was apparently for the special and wealthy, as the small area was protected from visual spying with the clever design of the building. The only access was from the sheer stone drop along the sides, which was being watched over by several security cameras as well as motion detectors. The only other access, barring helicopter drop, was by way of entrance from inside the building itself. It would take a very determined and highly skilled trained assassin to get to Cyprus. Which made the second half of his job all the easier. Checking his watch and seeing that he still had a good five minutes to spare, he swiftly returned to the gargoyles and pressed several eraser-sized bugs to their bellies and feet. He could swear he could almost feel them staring down at him in amusement, but shook off that thought as sheer whimsy. He finished off by placing a few motion sensors that would make his very expensive, modified Rolex buzz at his wrist if someone tried to climb over the balcony railing. He sighed. He could get a visual, but he didn’t want to risk the very observant boy toys discovering it. He knew that Unus had training, and from the way that Quattour behaved, he was sure that the black man had some serious experience as well. They were starting to look less like the fanatics his client claimed and more like a wellorganized military force.

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He was turning to make his way back to the exit when the doors opened, and Quinque made his way toward Jason, the ever-present smile on his face. “Your time is up.” He smiled as he moved uncomfortably close to Jason, his eyes glinting in amusement. “I was just coming back in.” Jason spoke softly, not really feeling any animosity from this one. He seemed almost too open and friendly. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Quin asked, catching Jason’s attention. “Huh?” Jason eyed him oddly, tilting his head to the side even as he dug his hands deeper into his pants pockets. “Beautiful,” he reiterated, as if Jason was slow. “The stars, man.” Quin grinned, before turning and walking over to the stone railing that seemed to hold back the dead air beyond the balcony. “The stars. There are billions of them. So many balls of gas burning away.” “What’s so special about intergalactic flatulence?” Jason stared at Quin, genuinely wanting to know what the man was going to say. “Even knowing that they are nothing more than big balls of gas” -- Quin snickered -“they lose none of their mystery and charm.” “You can’t even see them from here,” Jason scoffed, running a hand over his face, somewhat disturbed that Quin’s opinion eerily paralleled his earlier thoughts. “But you know they are there,” Quin retorted, his blue eyes boring into Jason’s. “It all about faith, man. Believing when you have no reason to believe.” “But…but the stars are tangible.” Jason inhaled deeply, unnerved by the other man’s steady look. “As soon as we clear the city limits, you can see them.” “And what if you never left the city, Jason? What if you never had the opportunity to fly or go beyond what you are? And there are people out there, in that big city, who have never stepped one foot off that concrete. Do you think they believe that the stars don’t exist, that they are some big myth? Do you think they will call you a fool for believing in what you have not seen or have no reason to believe?” “It’s not the same thing,” Jason unthinkingly blurted out. “Everyone knows than the stars exist. We are taught that, shown pictures --” “And cannot pictures and teachings be fabricated and twisted to suit the needs of those in power?” “Yes…but the stars --” “Are real.” Quin smiled. “But do we believe because we have been in the quiet cold of space to look at them, to touch them, to behold them in all their fiery glory? No.” He shook his head, turning once again to stare up at the night sky. “No, we take it on blind faith, Jason. Blind faith and belief.”

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Then he smiled. ”But, if we want to get technical, we can always examine the facts, gather all the data, and use science as a blinder for faith… Although science seems to be to be based on a lot of blind faith and logical jumps in conclusions.” “Just what are we talking about here?” Jason snapped, growing uncomfortable with this line of conversation. Just what did these people know about him? Had he given up the game already? “Stars.” Quin smiled. “And the fallibility of man and faith, and twisted knowledge.” “All that from stars you can’t even see.” “But…I have faith that they are there. And that is good enough for me, even if I didn’t have the data to support science’s blind leap of faith.” “You are whacked in the head.” Jason ran a hand over his face before turning and striding toward the door. “And here I was thinking that you were the most normal of the bunch.” “I’ll take that as a compliment!” Quin called back, his laughter audible. But Jason ignored him as he made his way back toward the box, just in time to see Unus and Cyprus exit the safety of the private room. “All clear, I trust?” Unus’s voice sounded slightly condescending as he paused before him. “Clear.” Jason nodded, ignoring the broad and almost eager smile on Cyprus’s face. “Well, there are more canapés and sparkling wine in the box,” Cyprus said with a smile. “The rest of my men are around here somewhere, mingling, I presume.” “Quin’s on the balcony.” Jason spoke softly, relieved that he would be alone in the box. He wouldn’t have to explain the wanting to be left alone in a corner while he fiddled with the listening device in his pocket. With the boy toys out of the way, he could easily plug in his earpiece and actually get some firsthand information about what was going on. His instincts were screaming at him, and he never ignored the impulses he had come to rely on. “Very good.” Cyprus reached up to brush imaginary lint from his shoulder, her voice carrying amusement that made him smile despite the serious breach in privacy he was about to commit. “I hope you are enjoying yourself, Jason Giles.” “It’s been an experience.” “And have you developed any feelings for the poor, abused Eric?” “Let’s just say that I’m open to the possibility that just maybe he was given the short end of the stick.” “Betrayal stings.” Cyprus arched an eyebrow as Jason fought to hold in a slightly shamed blush. “Yeah…” “But we can always have faith that all things will work out in the end.”

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“Doesn’t he die?” Jason asked, trying to recall if he had ever made it to the end of that particular book before it became an Andrew Lloyd Webber smash hit. “Well, who knows?” Cyprus grinned. “I always took it on faith that he somehow escaped the fate that others planned for him.” “We have to go,” Unus interrupted, shooting both Cyprus and Jason meaningful looks. “We only have another few minutes of intermission before the musical starts again.” “And I do want to take a turn on the balcony,” Cyprus said almost eagerly. “I have heard such wonderful things about it.” “Yeah,” Jason grumbled, grateful that the uncomfortable subject of betrayal was turning again. “But stay away from the edge and watch out for the gargoyles,” he joked. “And why would I do a thing like that?” Cyprus giggled as Unus rolled his eyes. “Are they not put there for our protection?” “Yeah.” Jason nodded, thinking about the stone monstrosities that had felt strangely alive to him. “But these look hungry, like they could eat a person in a few quick bites.” “Oh, my,” Cyprus said with a giggle. “I’ll consider myself warned, Mr. Giles.” “Just doing my job, madam,” he returned, backing toward the door, and Unus, obviously growing tired of the nonsense, took Cyprus’s elbow to escort her to the balcony. “And I feel safer already.” She smiled, before turning and walking away. “And you don’t feel like a murderer anymore,” Jason mumbled. “But I guess we’ll find that out tonight.”

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Chapter Sixteen “I do so hope you know what you are doing,” Unus breathed as they made their way to the glass doors. “Don’t I always?” “Most of the time,” Unus allowed. “More than most.” Cyprus rolled her eyes at her mate. “If I didn’t, then you would not be here, O Prince of my Heart.” Unus’s reply was held back as they reached the doors, and he quietly slid them open. “So.” Cyprus spoke softly as she made her way over to one of the stone gargoyles guarding the balcony. “It has been a long time.” “Since we’ve had some interaction…” “A very long time.” Cyprus grinned. Then going up on her toes, she placed a rather chaste kiss on her mate’s cheek. “But you and I both know I have to do this alone.” “You spend too much time alone.” “I thought you would all be grateful for the break.” She patted him on the chest softly. “And I know that we can all use a break.” “But not from each other.” Unus winked at his mistress. “We can never be too far from each other,” she said in return. “But you need to go so that I can do what I need to.” Unus nodded at Quin, and the pair made their way to the doors, standing just outside of them, leaving Cyprus alone in the warm night air.

*****

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What the hell is she doing ? Jason thought to himself, making himself comfortable in one of the box seats. He was facing the door, a good position to keep an eye on things, but far enough away so that he could easily pull his listening device from his ear before anyone noticed what he was doing. “Masterminds of the criminal kind rarely do their own dirty work,” he muttered, frowning at this odd behavior. But he sat and waited, his instincts screaming at him that something important was happening and soon.

***** Dropping her wrap to the bench, Cyprus wandered over to the edge of the balcony, sighing as she breathed in the night air. “Moonflowers,” she guessed. “Someone has planted moonflowers around here.” Smiling at the whimsical name of the flowering plant whose seeds were a powerful hallucinogenic, Cyprus took a moment to think about disguises, beauty, and death. Then turning back to the bench, she grinned, baring elongated fangs that would have sent any celebrity watchers running in fear. She slid the gathered glove off her left wrist, then bit sharply, grunting at the pain while holding her wrist far enough away so as to not bloody her outfit. There was a grating sound, the sound of stone sliding against stone, and then a deep growl filled the night air with an ominous sound.

***** “What the fuck…?” Jason gasped, his eyes going wide as he sought to identify that odd sound. It wasn’t natural. Nothing out on the balcony could have been able to reproduce it. Suddenly, he didn’t know if he was scared for Cyprus or whatever unknown thing she was doing, but his instincts screamed in fear, and his heart began to race in his chest. “You know what I want.” The words were nearly growled and so deep that they were almost indistinguishable from the deep, gravelly noises that suddenly filled the night. “What?” Cyprus gasped. “Tell me what you want.” “You mock me!” the voice roared, and Jason ran for the doors. There was a loud popping sound, and his small devices began to scream out their destruction. Screw the waiting game and stealth. He needed to be there. He had to find his answers, but something in his heart would not allow Cyprus Reid to be harmed.

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He threw the earpiece down and took off down the hall, sprinting toward those glass doors, toward Cyprus and the strange thing that was out there with her.

***** Rolling her eyes at the stupidity of some creatures, Cyprus reached underneath the elder beast and slammed her palm against his chest, easily smashing the listening devices that she knew the human Jason had planted on him. She turned, ignoring the blood running down her wrist, and repeated the gesture on the second beast that stood there, silent and watchful. “Of course, I mock you,” Cyprus growled, her eyes flashing a dangerous red as she moved closer to the impudent creature that stood before her. “Do you have any idea who I am?” She rolled her eyes as she plucked the small bugs from the flowerpots and carelessly dropped them to the ground. She stomped on them, grinning maniacally, before turning back to the creature that was now glaring at her. “I know that you are outcast…” “Then you will know that I am no longer restrained by the polite rules of our society. There is nothing preventing me from ripping your throat out and pissing on the remains!” She tossed her hair and stomped her foot, almost daring the lower caste beast to move toward her. “And if you know who I am, then you know that I do not require any assistance to break you.” Silence. The beast knew when he was beaten. “Now give me what I want.”

***** Jason ran as fast as his feet could carry him, sometimes slipping on the rough carpet as he made his way to the private balcony. Distantly, he could hear the muffed roar of conversation as the regular opera-goers laughed and talked about the stunning rendition of the musical of love and betrayal, but ignored them. He paid no attention to his surroundings as he blindly raced toward the plateglass doors that separated him from Cyprus and the thing that was threatening her. He skidded to a halt as he almost literally ran into Quat, Tria, and Duae, also making their way to the private balcony. “Whoa!” Tria called out, throwing up an arm and nearly clotheslining Jason. “Where’s the fire?”

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“Cyprus!” Jason gasped, trying to dodge around the three men. “What about her?” Tria edged around him, preventing him from moving. “There is something on the balcony with her!” While he was trying to explain, Quat and Duae seemed to circle around him, preventing any forward momentum. “I seriously doubt that.” Quat grinned. “After all, hero, you were out there checking things out.” “I know, but there is something,” he snapped, trying to push past the men, feeling desperation rise. He looked around for a way past the three men, wanting only to reach the balcony and ensure that Cyprus was safe. “Unus and Quin are with her. What could go wrong?” “I know what I heard!” “Then you heard wrong. Besides, how can you hear something all the way from the box? Unless…” Quat paused. “Unless…there’s something you want to come clean about?”

***** “He is…he is here, in this city.” “Wonderful,” Cyprus breathed, relaxing her stance a bit. “Now was that so very hard?” Her voice was condescending as she stared down at the miserable creature that had been stationed here since before the last major human war. “Tell me more.” “He is…learning,” it grumbled. “He has altered his appearance. He is no longer a he, but a she.” Cyprus’s eyes narrowed as she pressed her hand to her stomach, feeling it lurch with the desire to spill her last meal. “So, the bastard is discovering what he has stolen.” “It hides in plain sight,” the thing growled. “It mimics its own line. It is scared.” “Can you confirm this?” Cyprus snapped, looking down at the healing wound on her wrist. “And I suggest that you hurry. Your payment is rapidly healing.” “It has been confirmed. It hides itself in old buildings, old gothic buildings. I believe some of what it stole is influencing it.” “I did not ask you for your beliefs, old man.” Cyprus was incensed. That thing was manipulating a part of her soul, her mates’ souls. “Can you confirm?” “The Clan Crimbluagh guards the building where it resides. The clan is always accurate in their reports. It discovered that along with prolonging its life, it can alter its appearance, utilizing the stolen one’s predetermined future adolescent. The ability to enter the gestalt state is with us from the moment of creation, and this creature has tapped into this, much as

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these scientists tap into fetus and cord blood. They use the blank potential that is already present to shape their states of being.” “Bastard,” Cyprus hissed, torn between tears of anger and tears of sadness. “As your friend who owns The Orpheus bargained with me for this information, so I do bring it. Now, to see to your end of the bargain?” “Yes,” Cyprus muttered, pulling her thoughts away from murder and revenge. “Yes. You have more than earned your pay.” “And here’s a bonus,” the old one gritted out. “For the boon of royal blood, that is.” He leered at Cyprus, who frowned deeply in return. “The one you carry with you may be one of hers…and is not fully human.” “Tell me something I don’t already know,” Cyprus drawled in response, holding out her right arm, the blood capturing the old one’s attention. Almost as if he had been hypnotized, he moved closer to the blood offering, his eyes never leaving the still-dripping wound.

***** “Just…just let me go!” Jason growled, his eyes taking on an eerie sheen that gave all three men pause. Duae stepped back, but intensified his stare on the human…human? “So you can go and cause a ruckus?” Quat snapped. “I don’t think so.” Before he could make a move to stop Jason, the human in question took one step back, his eyes flashing bright red before he charged. Without thinking, Duae shoved Quat aside, creating an opening that the man took without a word, speeding his way toward the balcony. “Duae!” Quat roared, but the words “not human” ghosted through his mind and eased his anger. “Kind of mindless,” Tria added, nodding in Duae’s direction. “I’ve been getting that feeling from him a lot lately, especially since Cyprus calmed the crowds.” “Like his brain was switched on, or parts of it,” Duae added, silently. “Like there was a thought in that dumb blond head to begin with,” Quat said and sneered, turning to follow. “Exactly.” Tria chuckled. “There wasn’t a thought in his head. It was just…pure anger.” “Berserker,” Duae sent, and all three men shuddered. “Berserker madness.” After a pause to consider this, all three men ran for the balcony, intent on stopping Jason Giles…and learning more.

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Chapter Seventeen “Incoming,” Quin said and laughed as he lifted his head and sniffed at the air. “And it’s moving rather quickly.” Unus turned in the direction Quin was staring, and was immediately almost bowled over by a streak of black and blond. “Shit!” he hissed, before throwing himself at the speeding object…which turned out to be one dazed and confused Jason Giles. “Oh, hell,” Quin said on a groan, racing over to throw his weight on top of the struggling man. But Jason paid them no heed. One thing ran through the dark recesses of his mind.

“Kill…kill…kill…” His eyes were glowing a bright red, and his instincts screamed for him to break free, to get to her, to save…her. His arms flailed, and inhuman grunts flowed from his throat as he struggled and fought. “Calm yourself,” Unus growled, but his words seemed to mean nothing to the insane young man. In fact, Jason seemed to fight harder, growling, extending his hands like claws. Losing his patience, Unus opened his mouth, a set of long, black fangs descending, a low grumbling in his chest a warning that went unheeded. Indeed, Jason Giles paid it no attention. Jason Giles was acting rather deranged, and…Jason Giles no longer…smelled…human. “Stop him!” Unus heard as three sets of footsteps pounded in his direction. Unus tore his eyes away from the spitting, crazed non-human to see three sets of confused eyes…just before they all barreled into him, breaking his grip on the human.

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Feeling this moment of freedom and instinctively knowing that it would not last long, the thing urging Jason onward lurched his body clear of the tangled limbs and chests. Within seconds, Jason was scrambling away from the pile of bodies and sprinting with inhuman speed toward the plateglass doors. With a growl of triumph, he tore them open…then began to scream his anger.

***** The sound of the glass door opening caught Cyprus’s attention, but the inhuman bellow of rage that threatened to shatter the glass caused her to jerk around, tearing her wrist away from the gaping maw of the suckling gargoyle. Her jerky motions caused the creature to instinctively bite down, so when she pulled away, she left a great portion of her flesh behind between the sharp, daggerlike teeth. It was this sight that sent what little humanity Jason Giles had left running through his veins retreating into obscurity. Just a creature of pure instinct now, he attacked. “No!” Cyprus screamed out, as Jason leapt at the stone monster that was attacking his…his Mistress. Human fingers curled into claws, human teeth bared like fangs, he threw his frail, alltoo-human body at the great stone vanguard, knocking it off balance before he began to pummel its unforgiving stone surface. But human teeth and human claw were no match for heavy, unyielding stone. Jason’s fingernails tore from their moorings, his teeth cracked while chomping and tearing at stone flesh. His blood ran red across the hard surfaces…yet still enraged, he did not give up. He would destroy those who dared attack what was his! This thing would die…or he would die in the attempt. The old stone vanguard backed off when the soft human threw itself at him, but it took another step back as the human actually managed to move him. He looked up, confused, at Cyprus Reid, who stood there in shock as her human mole tried to gnaw the gargoyle’s arm off. He grunted as a few of the blows actually managed to hurt! He looked down into the glowing red eyes of Cyprus’s erstwhile defender and knew that without a doubt this human was no full human. He retreated another step, tossing his head to hold back his own personal guard when the second statue began to move forward. “Cyprus --” he began, but his words were cut off as the rest of Cyprus’s esteemed Coven burst into the blood-scented night.

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They took one look at the attack, at Jason’s and his defense of Cyprus, and exploded in varying degrees of exasperation or anger, but no one moved when Cyprus collected her thoughts and stepped forward. “Stop!” she snapped, her eyes narrowing as she tossed her hair, crossing her arms over her heaving bosom, ignoring the blood that now splattered across the front of her dress. Jason appeared to not have heard her as he attempted to gouge the vanguard’s eyes out, one of the few vulnerable places on a warrior when in his transformed state. “He is not human!” Quat spat, moving forward, wanting to put himself between Cyprus Reid and the unknown thing that Jason Giles had transformed into. “I said stop!” Cyprus growled again as her men surrounded her, staring at the shocking sight of a human taking on a Guardian and actually moving him with his relentless attack. “STOP !” Cyprus sang the word, her head back, her arms thrown out, her voice sounding high and sharp in the night, instantly stilling everyone who heard the ringing sound. Even a few bats fell out of the sky at her ringing command. “He is attacking me, my lady!” the vanguard hissed, hunching over to protect his more vulnerable spots. Moved by a human, he thought in shame and disgust. Saying nothing, Cyprus moved from behind her wall of men, her steps determined and rapid. She reached Jason Giles and gripped his shoulder. Instinctively, he turned on her, his teeth bared, his bloody hands curled into claws. But the instant her eyes met his, he stopped spitting and growling. His mouth slowly closed, his fingers gradually uncurled, and the red began to fade from his eyes. He left off attacking the stone gargoyle and slid to his knees before his Mistress. Cyprus reached out, her still-bleeding wrist pouring her blood over his chest as her hands caressed his face. Jason began to purr. “Stop,” she whispered, leaning close to him, placing one delicate kiss on his forehead. The others watched, silent and alert, as Jason seemed to sigh, then wither, collapsing to the ground at her feet. The tension around them eased as Cyprus carefully lowered his head, kneeling herself until she found herself sitting on the ground, Jason cradled in her lap, her blood covering them both. After a moment of silence, she looked up at the shocked Guardian, a frown in place on her full lips. “For that bite of flesh, you owe me considerably more,” she snapped, staring down at the torn wrist, face twisted in annoyance.

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“I-I,” the stone guardian stammered. “I-I di-didn’t…I…” “You owe me a boon, old one.” Cyprus suddenly grinned, her own fangs descending, making her look demonic and dangerous, a deadly and beautifully insane combination. “And for that bite of royal flesh, you will pay handsomely.” His proud stone shoulders slumped as he swallowed deeply, taking down that bite of sweet flesh and blood. “Royal flesh is a sweet poison.” He nodded his head in agreement, his honor allowing him to do nothing less. “It’s not like you spit it out.” Quat rolled his eyes at the old stone gargoyle. “So glad you see things my way,” Cyprus said with a nod, and then looked down at her lap full of the unconscious Jason Giles. “Now what to do about my little spy.” She sighed. Looking up at her men, she inquired, “Suggestions?” And when Quat opened his mouth, she cut him off. “And no, we will not be tossing him over the side of the building and claiming an accident.” Quat’s jaws snapped shut, and he stepped back, allowing someone else to make a suggestion. “First, we get out of here,” Unus said, a puff of black smoke ringing his head, a sign of his true state of mind. “Then we can handle the rest at the hotel.” “Any suggestions on how we do that?” she asked, looking down at her ruined, bloodsoaked dress. Without a word, five jackets were removed, and she found herself with a face full of black silk and cotton. Chuckling, she reached for the largest, Unus’s, and slid it over her shoulders, effectively covering her dress and most of her body. Then she looked down at Jason, a problem not so easily fixed as he was covered in blood and bruises. “I shall ferry him to your hotel safely, my lady,” the old Guardian offered. Seeing no other easy option, Cyprus nodded as she gently stroked the damaged face of her little spy. “I wouldn’t be all that angry if you dropped him on a downdraft,” Quat sniped, rolling his eyes as he donned his jacket again, then winced as Unus swatted him on the back of his head. Then the lights flashed around the building, a subtle reminder to return to their seats. “Perfect.” Cyprus grinned. “The final act. We can leave when the musical starts again.” “Yes,” Unus agreed, taking a deep breath and composing himself before nodding to the old one to take Jason’s limp body.

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Stone fingers carefully lifted the slight human as Unus assisted Cyprus to her feet. “Do not abandon him on my balcony.” Cyprus voice was dark as she stared at the old one, ignoring his guard who moved to stand beside his master. “My wrath…is something your own coven would never forget…or recover from.” “I understand, my lady.” The old one nodded before he lifted wide, silken wings and launched himself from the balcony, his guard trailing behind. “So,” Cyprus said. “I believe that we shall skip the final act…in lieu of things more entertaining.” “If you can call this entertainment,” Quat grumbled. “I found it entertaining.” Quin chuckled. “You find everything entertaining.” Tria snickered while Duae nodded his agreement. “It’s because he is young and innocent.” Quat waved a hand dismissingly. “I am just guessing what our little human will do now.” Quin smiled. “Or should I say our little Berserker.” “Policy was to kill them on sight.” Quat entertained the notion, waiting to see if anyone agreed with him. “We will most certainly not be killing this one,” Cyprus snapped, tossing her hair and stomping over to the small bench to retrieve her glove, which she wrapped around her wrist to ease the flow of blood. “This one is mine.” She grinned, her fangs still extended. “This one is ours.” “Oh, boy,” Quin quipped. “One of us!” “Creator, help us all,” Quat whimpered. Choosing to ignore the banter, Unus said nothing, but when the ringing tones of the final act began to fill the silence, they all stealthily made their way to the exit. It was a quiet trip home, all of them thinking about what this new development would bring.

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Chapter Eighteen The night air was cold. No, that wasn’t supposed to be right, Jason thought, his brain sloshing around the back of his head. It was summer. The night air was supposed to be warm, if not downright hot! But it was cold whipping past his face in his uncomfortable bed… No, it was swinging. It was a hammock. He was in an uncomfortably hard hammock. No, that wasn’t right, either. The air conditioner was on full blast, though. That would explain the odd sounds of traffic and the wind in his hair. He had to turn the AC down… Traffic? Forcing his eyes open, despite his headache, Jason squinted at the traffic passing below. Looked like a bunch of trailing lights at the speed he was flying, he thought, closing his eyes again. He must remember to fly a different route, he thought. The lights and the sounds were an irritation…

Traffic? Jason hissed as his eyes flew open, and he tried to jerk upright…only something wrapped around his chest prevented it. But once his eyes were fully open, he wanted to slam them shut again! He was not in a hammock or in a building, but his pale ass was definitely flying! He was facedown in the stone arms of a… He turned his head and stared in shock as a twisted stone face peered down at him.

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“Boo!” it huffed, and the last thought through Jason’s head, beside the fact that his scream sounded very girly in nature, was that someone had some serious explaining to do.

***** When Jason next opened his eyes, he discovered that he was lying on a chaise lounge in what appeared to be the world’s largest bathroom. He groaned as he tried to lift his head, his brain still sloshing around back there, but he forced himself to move anyway. “I would not do that, were I you,” an amused voice warned him. It was a pretty voice too, all soft and feminine with just a bit of passionate roughness. It was a voice he was all too familiar with. “Cy…Cy--” He attempted to speak, but a warm finger was pressed to his lips, halting his words. “Remain quiet, Jason Giles,” she informed him. “Your body has taken quite a beating.” “W-who?” “I’m afraid you did it to yourself, you stubborn man,” the voice chided. “How?” he asked, his voice growing stronger as his blurry vision began to clear. “By attacking an immovable object with an unstoppable force.” She chuckled. “Something had to give, and the more fragile of the two bodies, not a knock at your determination at all, mind you, gave way.” He looked up, and her smiling face flowed into sharp focus. Cyprus Reid was kneeling over him, dressed in a thin silken robe that barely covered her full, rounded breasts. Her golden eyes were dancing with mirth as she ran her fingers over his face. “Do you remember anything?” Screaming,” he breathed, settling back against the soft pillows that layered the lounge. “You…you screamed?” “Several times, Mr. Giles,” she said. “And not for the reason I usually request soundproofing in my quarters.” Jason snorted, then groaned as a sharp lance of pain pierced what remained of his gooey brain. “Shh,” she admonished again, running her fingers over his face. “Allow me to attempt a healing.” As the word healing penetrated his brain, he realized that besides his head, a great portion of his body was throbbing painfully. His mouth, for example.

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He ran his tongue along his swollen gums, only to stop as the pain caused his body to shudder, and the taste of blood filled his mouth. Blood… “There was a lot of blood.” “Most of it mine, I assure you,” Cyprus said. “Well, until you decided to pulverize stone with your bare hands and your teeth.” He slitted his eyes, glaring at her, but stopped as a soft blue light began to pulse from her stomach. “If you were fully human, Mr. Giles, I would not be able to effect a healing. But it looks like it will be possible.” As she spoke, the blue light flowed from her center to her hands, the hands that were gently caressing his face. Before he could work up the energy to be scared or shocked or frightened, the blue light touched his face, and a cool, tingling sensation replaced the pain. He felt the heat and swelling in his gums recede and the sharp edges of his teeth round out. Soon, the tingling spread to his eyes and to the back of his head, easing the pain he was experiencing and allowing him to relax more into the pillows. “Your poor hands,” she moaned, lifting one of them to his eye level. He winced as he saw them. They were a bloody mess, torn in places to the bone with more than half the nails torn off or broken in the middle. Cyprus lifted that bloody paw to her lips, placing a kiss on each finger before the blue light enveloped them as well. As the light faded, he was not surprised to see that his hands were perfectly healed. “I must be dreaming,” he spoke out loud. “No,” Cyprus said, lifting his left hand and giving it the same treatment. “You’re not.” H closed his eyes for a second, only to open them again as a cool cloth began to wipe over his face. His memories were coming back as his pain eased, and he was not liking what he was remembering. “It was…feeding on you, biting you!” he hissed, his eyes glowing just a bit red as he reached for Cyprus. “No, I was offering it a boon,” she corrected, the cloth in her hand hanging forgotten as gold eyes turned to meet blue. “I know what I saw!” he snapped. “It was attacking you, and the others…they were just letting it happen.”

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“Why do you care so much?” she asked, eyes narrowing as she pulled against his grip on her upper arms. “Why do you care, Mr. Giles? Why do you care when you were sent here to destroy me?” “You are mine!” he growled out, his mind being taken over by that unknown force again. But this time, it was rather more painful. He hissed through his teeth as he released her to grab at the front of his head. “Your mind’s pathways are opening up, adapting to the blood that flows within your veins,” she explained, pushing him back into a reclining position, placing the cloth over his eyes. “You are going to have a headache for some time to come.” “You…you are no half-breed experiment. You…you are not human,” he cried out, curling up in a fetal position as the pain threatened to blind him. Again, he felt the cool, healing light touch his face, and the pain receded enough for him to uncurl. He looked up at her, wary but strangely…unafraid. “More or less.” She sighed. “More alien than you and less human all the way around.” “Me?” “You are not human, Jason Giles,” Cyprus said. “It was one of the main reasons I didn’t fry your brain days ago.” He opened both eyes at this, sitting up, glaring at the female now perched on the edge of the lounger. “You are not an experiment. You are not human,” he reiterated. “Correct.” “And your men, they are not human.” “Correct again.” “And now you are telling me that I am not human as well?” “Yes, you are getting it.” “Lady” -- he smiled charmingly at her -- “you are cracked.” That sent her into peals of tinkling laugher, laughter that brought an instant smile to his lips despite the new situation in which he now found himself. “If you are through,” she said, dropping the robe to show that she was still wearing the remains of the gold dress underneath, “I will explain a few truths to you.” “This ought to be good,” he said, waving a gracious hand toward her. “By all means, please, explain away.” “Well, I guess I should start with you…” “It would be easier.”

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“Half-breed experiment, indeed.” She snickered. “Well, then, when I say you are not human, I do not mean that you were dropped here from a distant planet.” “Oh, I agree.” He nodded “I distinctly remember having both a mother and a father. And all those childhood memories are not pure fabrication.” “Of course not!” she said with a sniff. “Those were all true! You have…had…a mother and a father. It was one of your ancestors who dropped here from a distant plant.” “Do tell.” He arched one eyebrow. “War, Jason. Your people were warriors in the midst of a battle for the existence of this very planet. Though sometimes,” she added softly, “I wonder if this dump was even worth saving.” “Not to interrupt the maudlin thoughts, but can we get back to my alien ancestry?” he asked. “Geez, that sounds like an adolescent romance novel or an after-school special, madefor-TV family movie.” “Well, it does,” she acceded with a chuckle. “But your ancestors were not the squishy, huggy kind. They were creatures of pure malevolence that bred with the early humans and helped develop a violent, warriorlike society.” “Spartans?” he asked. “’Cause I have the movie in DVD if you are interested.” “Not that ancient.” She sneered. “But they were very warriorlike.” “And they begat my ancestor who evidently begot me, give or take a few centuries, am I right?” “They escaped the slaughter,” she hissed, her eyes glinting red as her voice deepened. “They hid amongst the humans, mating and interbreeding when they discovered that escape was impo