Python's Embrace (Bitten Point Book 3) (12 page)

T
he noxious smell woke her
. She opened her eyes and let out a screech as Princess waggled her butt inches from Aria’s nose and let a second fart rip.

“Why you mangy, smelly bitch!” Before she could throttle the little neck with two fingers, Constantine strode into the bedroom.

“What’s going on in here? What’s all the yelling about?”

“You tell me!” Aria glared at Princess, who sat smugly on the foot of the bed.

“Why are you in such a foul mood?”

“Your dog farted in my face.”

His lips quirked. “I highly doubt that.”

“I’m telling you she just did.”

“How is that even possible? She’s sitting on the end of the bed. Besides, Princess is a lady. She doesn’t get gassy.”

Aria stabbed a finger in the direction of the pooch. “That thing did too fart and on purpose. She doesn’t like me.”

Constantine scooped his little pooch from the end of the bed, and Aria waited for the chastising to begin.

“Poor Princess. Is that lady being mean to you? And in your own room.”

Her jaw dropped.

“Come with Daddy and I’ll give you a nice treat.”

Pivoting, he went to stroll out the bedroom door.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re rewarding that thing?”

He turned back and glared. “That
thing
is my dog, and I don’t appreciate you insulting her.”

With that, he spun around and marched out, and she could have sworn that damned dog wore a smug smirk of satisfaction.

It shouldn’t have irked her that Constantine preferred his dog over her. It shouldn’t have, but it did. And like fuck was she going to accept it.

Flinging the covers back, she stalked after him.

Stark naked.

“Come back here, angel. I am not done talking to you,” she yodeled.

As she entered the kitchen area, he turned around from the front door, which shut with a click.

“Thanks for giving me a chance to get Princess outside and playing along.”

She blinked at him as she dumbly said, “What?”

“Princess is having a hard time accepting her daddy has finally brought a mommy into her life.”

“Mommy?” The word emerged on a faint squeak.

“We’re going to have to be very careful about her feelings while we work on getting her to accept you.”

“Hold on.” She held up a hand. “You mean that entire ‘hey, Aria, woman I fucked like a zillion times last night, is a mean lady, Daddy loves you’ was a bullshit cover story to spare your dog’s feelings?”

He beamed. “Yes. I’m so glad you understand.”

“I don’t, but your complete insanity still hasn’t deterred me from liking you. A little.”

“Don’t you mean big?” The smile widened.

“Was it?” She arched a brow. “I don’t recall. Maybe you should show me again, angel.”

“Any time, my pink-nippled warbler.”

Her nose wrinkled even as she laughed. “Okay, that was really not sexy.”

“Oh, come on, I thought it was a clever play on words.”

She laughed. “No, an awesome play on words is me going woodpecker on you.”

His eyes widened. “Okay, you might be right. That sounds totally awesome.”

“Then why are you wearing so many clothes?”

Knock. Knock. Knock
.

The hard taps at the door stopped Constantine from shoving down his track pants. He frowned. “I wonder why Princess isn’t barking.”

“Someone you know maybe.”

“Princess barks at just about everyone except my nephew. She loves him. Get your sweet ass to the bedroom while I see who it is. Grab the shotgun from the linen closet in the hall, too, would you, just in case.”

Shotgun? With the towels and bedding?

Welcome to swamp country.

“What about you? What are you going to use?”

He shot her an incredulous look. “What do you think I’m going to use as intimidation? Me, of course.” He let his muscles ripple, and he winked.

She doubted he heard her snort over the next firm knock.

“Go before I give whoever is standing there an eyeful.”

“I’m going.” But not because she wasn’t curious. Constantine did get one thing right. Her buff situation was not exactly conducive for greeting people.

Skipping the shotgun in the hall, because firearms weren’t her thing, she hurried to his bedroom and glanced around for something to wear. She could have rummaged through his drawers, yet she found a large T-shirt hanging over a chair. By the looks of it, Constantine had worn it but not deemed it dirty enough yet for the hamper.

She shrugged it on, enjoying the fact it held his scent, all the while listening through the closed door to the soft murmurs of two men. One had to be Constantine, but who was the other?

It must be someone he knows.
Although even she had to admit it seemed strange they’d yet to hear a peep out of Princess. The only time the rodent kept quiet was when she stalked and hunted something. When that dog went on the prowl, she became eerily ghostlike.

Aria had noted the interesting technique when she visited with Cynthia. Princess had a thing for Cynthia’s new boyfriend. She enjoyed silently slinking and then lunging with barks and snarls at Daryl’s ankle. She never actually bit the man, and yet each time, Daryl screamed, “No blood on the rug.”

With the continued silence, she had to wonder,
Is Princess hunting?

She moved to the window overlooking the backyard. Scanning the area, she didn’t see the furball with her pink and rhinestone collar. About to turn away, she noted movement in the foliage at the far end of the yard. She froze and stared as a creature strode from the bayou. A lizard man much like she’d seen before, but she would have sworn the one staring at the house wasn’t the same one that had taken Jeffrey. This one stood taller, straighter, with a gaze more piercing, and still human.

I know him.

The flashback hit her hard and fast, and she slumped to Constantine’s bed, her mind gripped by the recollection.

She woke in a cage. A freaking cage! The one thing all birds hated.

As Aria jumped to her feet, she noted they were bare and that she still wore her workout clothes—even if she never made it outside after breakfast for a jog. Damned cocoa.

She couldn’t help a wrinkle of her nose as the most unpleasant aroma met it. The fabric she wore reeked strongly, the putrid scent of unwashed dog that had rolled in a pile of manure.

But at least she wore clothes, unlike others. Peeking around, she noted other cages, cages with occupants. She couldn’t say people. Not quite, even if some still bore human characteristics. But two arms and two legs—and in some cases, human faces—couldn’t hide the fur, feathers, and extra limbs some of them sported. It also couldn’t mask the madness emanating from them.

What horrific nightmare had she woken to?

Where am I?

A sudden cacophony of sound—grunts, screams, moans, and even a few muttered words—filled the air. “Kill me” and “Kill him” being foremost.

Kill who? The steady thump of feet had her gripping the bars and craning to peek. Someone approached. Someone the other prisoners hated—and feared—with such vehemence.

He soon came into sight. A man, not even an impressive one. The same man who’d loomed over her drugged body.

The bastard who put me in a cage.

He came to a stop in front of her cell. On either side of him, standing as sentinels, monsters.

On the left, she recognized Harold, the dog-like thing that played a part in her abduction and whose stench permeated her clothes and skin.

Someone needs to give him a flea bath and some dental dog cookies for his smell.

The other creature flanking the guy with the fine-stitched loafers appeared humanoid in shape, but that was where all resemblance to humanity ended. Over seven feet, leather-skinned, with giant bat-like wings, he stood with a stoic countenance. His alien features, consisting of a flattened nose, sharp cheekbones, and a ridge atop his head, made his appearance frightening, but it was made more so by his still human eyes.

The man in the loafers chuckled, but she didn’t find it reassuring. “I see you’re admiring Ace. At least that’s what I call him. My ace in the hole when it comes to getting shit done. And our first true success story. Ace used to be a patient here.”

“Patient or prisoner?” she retorted.

“The distinction is irrelevant at this point. Ace is one of our greatest accomplishments. A meld of species in order to create the perfect hybrid.”

Perfection must lie in the eye of the beholder.

She pointed at Harold. “So if Ace is a success, what do you call that one?”

The smile did not diminish. “Are you talking of Harold? Yes, he didn’t quite turn out as expected, and yet, he has his qualities, hence why I keep him. Every genius should have a loyal pet.”

“You’re a sick bastard.”

“Name calling? How rude. Then again, we never were formally introduced. I’m Merrill, the head of this project.”

“Project? This is a crime. An abomination.”

“Only some of our results can be called that. I will admit, since we started live trials, we’ve had a few cases that have gone wrong. We keep them here for study. Science learns from its mistakes.”

“I’ve heard rumors of your mistakes making it out in public. They’re killing machines.”

“Indeed they are, which is why, every so often, we have to let them out or they go quite crazy. The darned things are always hungry, and sometimes only freshly hunted meat will do. I find them useful for taking care of people who might otherwise cause problems.”

“This is insane.”

“You just don’t understand progress. You’ll thank me after we improve you.”

She recoiled, shaking her head. “Don’t you dare even think of it. I won’t stay here and be your guinea pig. You can’t keep me here.”

“Do you really think I’m going to let you leave?” Merrill stepped closer to the bars, the better to smirk at her.

“Let me go! You can’t keep me here.” Panic and fear raised her pulse rate. Her heart fluttered madly in her chest, beating to get free.

“I’m afraid you’re not going anywhere, my fine, rare eagle. Not now. Maybe not ever.” Merrill’s grin widened. “I’ve got so many uses for a girl with your kind of DNA.”

“You can’t do this. I work for the SHC. I’m here on their behalf.”

“I know. Who do you think warned me you were coming? I’ve even gotten permission from them to work on you.”

“You lie,” she claimed. “The SHC would never agree to that. Just like they would never agree to the experiments you’ve been performing.”

“They didn’t just agree. They’ve provided some test subjects. Like you. A nice healthy female in her prime. We’re about to start phase two of our project. Interbreeding. Your hips are a little narrower than I would have liked, but C-sections are all the craze nowadays to keep those pussies tight.”

The blood in her veins turned to ice as his words filtered. “You’re going to inseminate me?”

“Maybe. Or perhaps we’ll try it the old-fashioned way first. Harold would like that, wouldn’t you, Harold? I hope you don’t mind doggy style. As you can imagine, it’s Harold’s favorite position.”

The lolling tongue on a certain dogman dripped. She might have vomited a little in her mouth.

“You’re sick.”

“Not anymore. No one has to be. I can cure everyone.”

“Making people into monsters isn’t a cure.”

“Tell that to my bank account.”

“I won’t let you do this.”

“You can’t stop me.”

During this entire conversation, Ace watched, but said nothing. He said nothing as they brought her for preliminary testing and blood samples. He said nothing when they forced her to call Cynthia and falsely claim everything was peachy keen. Yet, she couldn’t entirely hate him. It was because of him she escaped. He’d left the cage unlocked after bringing her back from a session. Not by accident either. She saw him pretend to lock the door to her cell. Saw his pointed stare at her.

She took advantage and ran, ran fast and hard until she ran into a certain snake and his faithful pup.

The thought of them snapped her back to the present. She had to tell Constantine what she remembered. But of more importance at the moment was the fact that Ace had disappeared from the yard.
Where is he now?

Not knowing meant she should arm herself before joining Constantine.
I should get the gun he mentioned from the linen closet.
Except she didn’t have the skill to fire it. The last shotgun she’d tried to shoot had sent her flying a few feet, to land hard on her ass.

She needed a weapon more her size. Something she could hit an opponent with. But what?

She scanned the room and didn’t spot a baseball bat or lacrosse stick. Not even a lamp to whack someone with. In that split second while she scanned her options, her gaze landed on the perfect item. She grabbed a sock from the floor and, while in motion, snagged keys and a small trophy of a dog that said, “1st in show.” She stuffed the items into the sock and wound the open end in her hand.

As she opened the door of his bedroom, the sounds of a scuffle, along with vicious snarls and barks by Princess, came to her. She paused, gripped by indecision.

What should she do? She could hear the thumps and grunts of a fight. Would one puny sock really make a difference?

Perhaps she should, instead, run for help.

I’m not a coward.

And she wouldn’t let him face whatever threat she drew to him by himself. The sock in her hand began to swing.

Stepping into the living room, she stopped dead instead of throwing herself into the fight. Her stillness didn’t stop her cotton weapon from moving back and forth like a pendulum.

Shock at the visitors reminded her of something Merrill had said, that crucial tidbit about the SHC warning him of her arrival. Except only one person had known she was coming.