Know Thine Enemy (19 page)

The worlds from which they came were too different, and she wasn
't foolish enough to think otherwise.

For the first time in her life, she wanted. She wanted something for herself
—something tangible. Something worth fighting for.

Ryker was it. Overnight, he
'd become her cause.

Her gut ached
, and her heart twisted.

Trust her to fall for a demon.

* * * * *

He couldn
't help himself. God knew he'd tried. Yet, with her taste in his mouth, her scent around him, his mind replaying her gasps and moans, the way she jerked and thrust against his face—he had to find relief.

Ryker slumped against the wall of his cell, panting hard, his hand milking his cock. Whatever had possessed him back there, he didn
't know. A need to take her away, give her something, convince her, even fleetingly, that they were the only two beings in existence. Her eyes haunted him—the helpless look on her face when she realized she responded to his touches, and the visible loathing she experienced as a result. He saw it all. He felt it. And he'd needed to ease her shame.

He
'd needed to give her something she could hold.

Whatever came next was anyone
's guess. Ryker had been mostly convinced Briggs wanted him to plunge inside Izzie's hot little pussy today, but the second she came down from her orgasm he'd been escorted out. Back to the smaller cell, back to his prison. Soon, Briggs would come in as he had the night before. He would give Ryker a bag of blood for dinner, then stake him in the back and have his assistants wash him off. Clean him in preparation for tomorrow's test.

Did they do the same with Izzie? The thought of some perverted intern running his hands over Izzie
's naked skin had the beast in Ryker's chest ready for a fight.

Mine.

Ryker shuddered into orgasm, pulling hard on his dick and sending the ceiling a spiteful glare. "Hope you enjoyed the show!" he shouted.

Briggs did not reply, but
Ryker felt him watching.

Next time . . .
God, Ryker had no idea what would happen next time. His fangs today had itched to sink into Izzie's supple flesh. Taste her, take her, inject her with the natural high his bite provided, and fulfill his need to dominate her. All in one move.

Vampire
's bites were addictive to most. Three bites would complete the transformation—three simple bites to create new children of night. Ryker hadn't tasted a woman he cared about since Caroline, and even then, Caroline had been a child, and he'd loved her for very different reasons. After her death, he'd promised himself never to repeat the mistake.

But then again, he
'd never foreseen a complication like this.

Beyond initiating the first step of the transformation, vampiric bites provided a rush unlike anything a normal junkie had tasted
—infused strength and energy, and a sense of delirium that made groupies of unsuspecting donors. The effects wore off after a while, and Ryker had always been careful never to bite the same human more than once.

He would never force his fate on others
. He'd chosen this, and he'd never deny the choice to someone else. Biting Izzie could be dangerous if he didn't watch himself. The bite might well fuel her with enough strength to break free—which made the thought all the more tempting—but whether she'd possess control of herself or her actions was anyone's guess. She might wind up getting hurt . . . or worse.

Regardless, Ryker
's desire to bite her, to sip her blood, was selfish and for the wrong reason. He just needed her to know to whom she belonged. And therein lay the danger. If she didn't hate him for what he'd done already, she'd assuredly hate him for taking her choice away.

One bite. One little bite. It won
't turn her.

God, he wanted it badly. She was his. And she, these scientists, her demon hunter friend, and the world needed to know it.

He just hoped he could control himself.

Chapter Eleven

"We're going to try something different today."

Ryker barely heard him, more occupied with the bag of blood he had sucked between his teeth. Feeding times were becoming more sporadic
, and, over the past few hours, he'd felt like his stomach had been eating itself in absence of blood. Just as he reached the point where chewing off his arm seemed a good alternative, Dr. Briggs entered the cell and tossed a day's worth of food into his waiting hands. Ryker typically wasn't one to guzzle down his dinner, but he likewise hadn't gone so long between meals since the war.

"
Mmhmm," Ryker murmured, licking his lips.

"
You know you're going to see Subject Beta again, correct?"

He nodded absently. A couple days had passed since the last experiment, and while he
'd done his best to mask how anxious that made him, something told him the good doctor knew all. Perhaps that was why Briggs had kept them apart as long as he had.

"
Excellent," Briggs mused. "Well, because of the wild success of our last test—and your enthusiasm in participating—my associates and I were wondering how you and Subject Beta might react if you were completely unobserved."

Ryker frowned, glancing up.
"The fuck does that mean?"

"
Exactly what you think it means. When you see her, it will be without an audience."

"
Without."

"
Yes."

"
What makes you think we'll perform if you're not threatening to take the rug out?"

Briggs shrugged.
"Call it a hunch."

Ryker studied him for a long moment, his brow furrowing. This wasn
't right. The doc wasn't the sort of guy to give if something wasn't in it for him—and time alone with Izzie was definitely a huge something. "The fuck you have planned?"

"
Pardon?"

"
What is this? A joke? Some stupid jab at making us comfortable—"

The doctor chuckled and waved dismissively.
"Don't be foolish. Why in the world should we care if you're comfortable?"

"
Then what the fuck do you have to gain?"

Briggs shrugged.
"Based on how well you two have responded to each other, the amount of what we could gain is insurmountable. This is a simple bonding experiment. Who knows what doors that will open? Body language doesn't lie. And, even if this yields no results, we certainly don't have anything to lose."

Ryker considered himself fairly good at reading people
—he'd been around long enough to know when someone lied, bluffed, or neglected to mention something he'd have to know. Yet looking at Briggs, certain as he was the bastard wasn't being upfront, he couldn't pinpoint exactly what he had in mind. What lay ahead. Or what to expect when he saw Izzie again.

There was no sense arguing. One way or another, Briggs held the ace, and Ryker would follow as long as Izzie was the doc
's to gamble.

Once she was in the clear, though, once he
'd figured a way to get her out, all bets were off.

* * * * *

Izzie's hands itched to remove the blindfold, but Briggs had told her to wait until instructed, or else he would reschedule this event with a different partner. As it was, she knew this give-them-privacy thing was an act. Away from the prying eyes of their captors, away from the unforgiving lights and the endless hope of a tomorrow that never came, the promise of time alone with Ryker was both invigorating and terrifying. She had no idea what he'd think, and, though living in the middle of whatever silent game they had going had driven her mad, the alternative—learning what he thought of her and her lack of bite to match her bark—was almost worse.

It had been two, maybe three, maybe a million days since she last saw Ryker. Since she offered herself to him, mostly in compliance with what the researchers wanted, but also in need of something she hadn
't recognized within herself. Facing him was inevitable, but something she wasn't sure she wanted to consider without the cushion of supervision.

In the meantime, Izzie couldn
't see a thing, and the floor wouldn't stop spinning. She hadn't moved from her seat on the mattress, but still the ground refused to stand still.

She hadn
't been drugged before. After everything, there seemed little point in dosing her to get her to comply—she'd spread her thighs with nothing resembling a fight, and she knew the next time wouldn't be much different.

Her legs buckled.

Oh shit.

"
Oh shit."

It was amazing how infrequently she
'd thought of sex before. Now, every time she closed her eyes she saw Ryker. Ryker's lips and magical hands that knew just how she liked to be touched. Ryker's voice provoking her, talking her to orgasm. Ryker's intent gaze devouring her, making her feel like anything but a test subject.

And every time she thought of him, her legs wobbled and her skin tingled, and she felt warm and wet in all the right places.

Now she'd be alone with him.

Alone.

Izzie shivered, pressing her thighs together. Briggs might have drugged her to keep her focused on sex, but he really didn't need to go any trouble. The second Ryker stepped through the door she'd throw herself at him.

A door suddenly opened, and the air fell thick under the weight of a familiar sigh.

"Is that you?" she asked.

"
Izzie?"

God, his voice. His voice did things to her she wasn
't sure she really believed. "Are they . . . ."

"
Said we're alone. Why are you blindfolded?"

"
They didn't want me to see where they were leading me."

Izzie climbed to her feet when she heard him take a step in her direction
. She did her best to ignore the twirling room.

"
I'm gonna take it off," Ryker said. "Need to see your eyes."

"
They told me not to."

"
They can stuff it."

In seconds he was beside her, his trembling hands running up her arms until his fingers tugged away the fabric.

Izzie kept her eyes closed, her body shaking hard with doubt. His nearness did a number on her resistance. There were things she needed to say—things they needed to discuss. They might not get another chance like this, and even if it were a trap she'd be an idiot not to seize this opportunity. But damn, it was hard to focus—hard to keep her mind on anything but the gentle way he touched her, how his lips tugged on her clit, how his hands palmed her breasts.

"
We gotta . . . ." she heard herself say.

"
Open your eyes, sweet."

"
No." Izzie shivered and leaned forward, her hands finding purchase on his forearms. "They—they gave me something."

"
What?"

"
Some drug."

Ryker inhaled sharply.
"When?"

"
I don't know. Maybe it was in my food."

He swore.
"Fucking bastards."

"
They want us to—"

"
I know what they want us to do."

"
Ryker—" When she felt it safe to look, the room spun wildly, and she couldn't hold herself upright. But Ryker was there—his gaze intent upon hers, his expression set with concern and something else she couldn't name. Everything felt hazy and unreal.

Izzie sighed and slumped against him.
"I'm hot."

He laughed nervously.
"I'll say."

"
All over."

"
Izzie—"

"
We need to talk, don't we?"

"
Are you okay?"

She pursed her lips, tears stinging her eyes.

"No," she whispered. "I'm not. I'm hot and I need—this isn't me, you know."

"
I know."

"
I don't know where I am."

Ryker
's lips found her brow. "We'll find us a way."

"
I'm hot."

"
You keep saying that."

"
And I feel . . . ." Izzie blinked and wiggled, warm fluid gushing between her legs. "Can you . . ."

"
What do you need, precious?"

"
Touch me."

Were those words her own? She wasn
't sure of anything anymore.

Ryker swallowed audibly.
"They're not watching. I won't do anything if you don't—"