I’ll ram this stick up your ass and light your balls on fire.”
“Please.” He nodded, spit blood at her feet and let out a long, shuddering sigh. Everything he knew, everything he was, lay a heartbeat away, separated from his conscious mind by the curse of the transformation and this time, he knew how to get it all back.
Unfortunately, she didn’t understand. She shook the weapon at him and her voice broke. “I mean it. I’ll—”
“Do it.” He made a truncated grab for her hand and in self defense, she jammed the still hot end of the shock-stick against his shoulder. The gut-wrenching charge knocked him back against a tree hard enough to rattle his skull and clear his mind of the blood curdling rage that had gripped him.
When the agony subsided, he looked up at her and smiled.
* * * *
Lea stepped back. She charged the shock-stick once more and brandished it at Damon, unwilling to admit the satisfied smirk on his face scared the hell out of her.
He looked as if he liked the pain she’d caused him.
Bloody and bruised, his shirt and pants torn and dirt covering every exposed patch of skin, he resembled a convert. Had he changed into something almost completely inhuman, like Troy? Was it too late to save him, too?
“One more,” he said, his voice a deep, tortured croak.
“No. I’m not going to—”
“You have to. One more!”
The vehemence in his tone terrified her. If she didn’t obey, he’d force her to, and then, she didn’t know if she’d be able to stop. Her hands shook, but she thrust the weapon toward his other shoulder and fired.
His scream tore through her, and she dropped the shock-stick. She scrambled back, putting a meter of soggy jungle moss between them.
When his muscles relaxed, he met her gaze, and this time his eyes were clear and full of regret.
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he said and once again his voice rode over her raw nerves like warm honey.
She sank to her knees. “How did that... why did that work? You were becoming one of them.”
“I don’t know, but it did. I can think again, but fucking hell, I’m sore.” He moved stiffly to haul himself up from the ground, and Lea rushed forward, ducking under his arm to steady him.
“I’m sorry...” This second apology came out as a strangled whisper. The words were foreign to Damon Cantor.
“It wasn’t you.” She stared at the weapon which still dangled from her hand. She’d felt the transformation herself, the primitive desires that had begun to replace her logical thoughts. Would she be able to survive this horrendous cure? “Damon—”
“No.” Though he still leaned on her heavily, his response was swift and strong. “You’re still okay. You don’t need it.”
“But I will.”
“We’ll be off world before that happens.”
“What about Troy? Do you think it will work on him?”
He shrugged, angled her back toward the trail they’d blazed through the jungle. “It’s worth a try.”
* * * *
Damon fought the urge to steal sidelong glances at Lea as they headed back toward the clearing where they’d left Troy.
He wasn’t used to shame, hadn’t felt it in years...not since he’d been on Ambrax the first time. He’d done exactly what he’d vowed never to do when he’d left here. He’d relived that time and he’d become what he feared most.
And yet, Lea walked beside him, her head high, her arm around his waist, offering her support without question. He would never have expected that from a Company spawn, in fact he’d never have expected it of any woman he’d ever met.
When they stumbled back into the clearing that had been their overnight camp, Troy still lay at the base of the big tree. His wrists were bloody from struggling against the tight strips of cloth that bound him. It appeared he’d attempted to chew through the binding and now, exhausted, he glared at them both as they approached.
This wouldn’t be easy. If only it were Mojar tied before him. Damon
“Please.” He nodded, spit blood at her feet and let out a long, shuddering sigh. Everything he knew, everything he was, lay a heartbeat away, separated from his conscious mind by the curse of the transformation and this time, he knew how to get it all back.
Unfortunately, she didn’t understand. She shook the weapon at him and her voice broke. “I mean it. I’ll—”
“Do it.” He made a truncated grab for her hand and in self defense, she jammed the still hot end of the shock-stick against his shoulder. The gut-wrenching charge knocked him back against a tree hard enough to rattle his skull and clear his mind of the blood curdling rage that had gripped him.
When the agony subsided, he looked up at her and smiled.
* * * *
Lea stepped back. She charged the shock-stick once more and brandished it at Damon, unwilling to admit the satisfied smirk on his face scared the hell out of her.
He looked as if he liked the pain she’d caused him.
Bloody and bruised, his shirt and pants torn and dirt covering every exposed patch of skin, he resembled a convert. Had he changed into something almost completely inhuman, like Troy? Was it too late to save him, too?
“One more,” he said, his voice a deep, tortured croak.
“No. I’m not going to—”
“You have to. One more!”
The vehemence in his tone terrified her. If she didn’t obey, he’d force her to, and then, she didn’t know if she’d be able to stop. Her hands shook, but she thrust the weapon toward his other shoulder and fired.
His scream tore through her, and she dropped the shock-stick. She scrambled back, putting a meter of soggy jungle moss between them.
When his muscles relaxed, he met her gaze, and this time his eyes were clear and full of regret.
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he said and once again his voice rode over her raw nerves like warm honey.
She sank to her knees. “How did that... why did that work? You were becoming one of them.”
“I don’t know, but it did. I can think again, but fucking hell, I’m sore.” He moved stiffly to haul himself up from the ground, and Lea rushed forward, ducking under his arm to steady him.
“I’m sorry...” This second apology came out as a strangled whisper. The words were foreign to Damon Cantor.
“It wasn’t you.” She stared at the weapon which still dangled from her hand. She’d felt the transformation herself, the primitive desires that had begun to replace her logical thoughts. Would she be able to survive this horrendous cure? “Damon—”
“No.” Though he still leaned on her heavily, his response was swift and strong. “You’re still okay. You don’t need it.”
“But I will.”
“We’ll be off world before that happens.”
“What about Troy? Do you think it will work on him?”
He shrugged, angled her back toward the trail they’d blazed through the jungle. “It’s worth a try.”
* * * *
Damon fought the urge to steal sidelong glances at Lea as they headed back toward the clearing where they’d left Troy.
He wasn’t used to shame, hadn’t felt it in years...not since he’d been on Ambrax the first time. He’d done exactly what he’d vowed never to do when he’d left here. He’d relived that time and he’d become what he feared most.
And yet, Lea walked beside him, her head high, her arm around his waist, offering her support without question. He would never have expected that from a Company spawn, in fact he’d never have expected it of any woman he’d ever met.
When they stumbled back into the clearing that had been their overnight camp, Troy still lay at the base of the big tree. His wrists were bloody from struggling against the tight strips of cloth that bound him. It appeared he’d attempted to chew through the binding and now, exhausted, he glared at them both as they approached.
This wouldn’t be easy. If only it were Mojar tied before him. Damon
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