Ezekiel raked both hands through his hair. "There's a part of me that wants to go into that place and kill them all for this. The idea that someone would do such a thing to a baby sickens me. On the other hand, I have this need to take out threats to my family, and that includes you, Wyatt. That child in there is a ticking bomb. We both know that." He gestured toward Pepper. "And this one. She's pure poison. I can feel her working us all against each other."
"Zeke." Wyatt sighed and sank down onto the floor, his back to the low-slung couch Pepper rested on. "You could no more kill a baby than you could kill Malichai. Nor could you kill a helpless woman. You're tired. I'm tired. This is all one hell of a mess."
"Yeah. I know. But that baby is a little freaky. On the other hand, I just wanted to pick her up myself after I heard what the woman said, and hold her close. That's not like me."
Malichai nudged his brother with his foot. "You used to hold Mordichai and me at night and rock us back and forth and tell us stories."
"I did not," Ezekiel denied hotly. "I told you to shut up and go to sleep."
Malichai handed his brother a cup of coffee. "There's a pot of some kind of fish stew on the stove and it's good. Don't listen to him, Wyatt. He's a master storyteller. He can do all the voices and make the stories come alive. He'll be a great babysitter."
"Go to hell, Malichai. I never told you a story in my life."
Wyatt grinned at him, suddenly knowing things were going to be all right between him and the others, even with Pepper sitting between them all. "Ezekiel. The big bad wolf. You did. You did tell him stories. I always know when someone's lyin', and you're lyin' your ass off right now."
"Yeah, well, both of you can go to hell," Ezekiel snapped.
"Boys." Nonny raised her voice from the next room. "This young'un is still awake and can hear your foul words. I have a bar of soap ready and waitin'."
Ezekiel went to the door and peered into the darkened room. "Sorry, Grand-mere. I have a problem when someone starts harming babies. I feel like I have this rage inside of me and there's nowhere for it to go."
"Don' you worry, none, Ezekiel," Nonny said. "You and my boy will get those other babies out of that place and when they're safe, I have no doubt you'll go back there and read 'em all from the good book."
Ezekiel studied the small child curled up in Nonny's arms. She was very small with her mop of wavy dark hair and fair skin. Her eyes were different, yet almost familiar to him. He was certain he could see a hint of the snake - and something else - something that pulled at him.
He turned back to Wyatt. "I didn't think, when I signed up for the psychic enhancement program, how they ever arrived at the engineering. The experiments that would have had to go before us."
"We were told it would make us enhanced, better soldiers as well as stronger psychics," Malichai said. "We skimmed a bit over the genetic parts of it, mainly because that's not our field of expertise."
Wyatt didn't have that excuse - and worse - he hadn't considered the experiments either. How had they come up with the perfect cocktail to enhance muscles, hearing, eyesight and to make them so much stronger and faster? No one ever got it right the first time. There were always mistakes.
What had Pepper said? She denied being like him. She was one of the mistakes. The children had been slated for termination. Had she been as well? Was that what Wilson Plastics really was? A disposal site? They could do their last experiments out in the swamp, kill whatever had been created and use the ocean and swamp to get rid of the bodies. A thought struck him. If they cremated the bodies on site, they wouldn't even have the issue of hiding their tracks.
"We're goin' to have to get inside that compound," he told Ezekiel and Malichai. "We need to see for ourselves what's goin' on."
Chapter 4
He was dreaming. He had to be. The night sky was strewn with a million stars and he floated through them, drifting with the scent of jasmine filling his lungs. Candles flickered among the stars and the stars spun until they became small, fragrant flowers, thousands of them, falling on his face and bare skin.
He turned over, a slow, lazy roll that had him against the softest skin he'd ever felt in his life. She was there, smiling at him. Sultry. Sensual. Her long hair sliding over his body, inflaming it more as she crawled over top of him, her full breasts teasing the muscles of his chest.
She was hot. So hot. He wanted her more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life. He would have done anything to have her. She leaned close, her mouth nearly on his. He could feel the warmth of her breath.
"Are you awake?"
Of course he wasn't awake. Hot, sexy women didn't crawl all over him, teasing with hands and teeth and tongue.
"Wyatt?" Her teeth nipped his earlobe. Her tongue dipped into it. "Wake up."
Hell no. He wasn't waking up. He caught at her waist, her small, tucked-in waist fit perfectly into his large hands. His hands came together, and she was gone.
"Wyatt? Are you awake?"
Her soft voice came out of the night and moved over his skin like the caress of fingers. His body reacted with an instant savage ache, reminding him it had been a very long time since he'd been with a woman. It didn't help that she'd haunted his dreams with that body of hers. And her voice. He'd always been susceptible to a certain type of voice. When Joy sang, most any man would follow her anywhere. He had to admit, although he didn't want to, that Pepper's voice was even more enthralling.
He rolled over and stared up at the ceiling, breathing deep to rid himself of the giant hard-on for a woman who had been snake bit. She'd held a knife to his grandmother's throat. She was one of Whitney's experiments - failed experiments at that. She was too much of a lure not to be all about sex. That meant she wasn't a prize by any means. He was just that damned hard up. "Yep." And he'd probably be for the rest of the night thanks to her.
"I can't seem to slow my heart down. This part always scares me."
Damn the woman anyway. Now he felt like a first-class jerk. She was suffering real pain and his foul temper had kicked in just because she could stir him up with three little words - "Are you awake?" Now that would conjure up erotic images for any man. That voice. The knife. Her body. What the hell did one expect? He wasn't a saint. It hadn't helped that he'd been dreaming about her.
"Breathe slow." He nearly groaned aloud. Great advice. Breathe slow. What kind of a doctor was he? She was reaching out to him, needing help, and he couldn't move because if he did, his body, still as hard as a rock, might shatter into a million pieces.
He tried not to think about what she'd look like without clothes. Or what she'd feel like, skin to skin. What the hell was wrong with him? He detested women. They were sultry creatures bent on a man's destruction. She was just proving to him that he'd been right about them all along.
He didn't want to talk to her and soothe her, he wanted to strike out at her. She was going to be a handful. He knew that. He knew every man in the bayou was going to be panting after her. Damn her to hell, he knew what was coming. "You sing, don' you? Your voice, you can use it to seduce, right?"
There was a small silence. His tone had been harsh. Accusing even. He took a breath and let it out, willing his body to stop. Willing his mind to forget everything Joy had said to him. Willing himself not to hear those sensual notes in Pepper's voice.
"Yes."
He hadn't expected her soft admission. Or the way he felt the small confession slip inside of him, spreading through him like bubbles from the finest champagne. "So what? You were engineered to be the secret sexual weapon? The one used to lure the enemy close so you could stab them through the heart? That's why you have that skin? That body? And that voice? Nature and a fuckin' scientist gave them to you?"
Again a small silence. He felt his own heart accelerate. He stared up at the ceiling, his cat's eyes able to count every knot in the wood.
"Yes."
His lungs filled and refused to continue. He ached. Everywhere. It was all he could do not to op
en his jeans and find some kind of relief. "What went wrong? Why did they change their mind and start usin' you for snake bait?"
He was being a bastard. An utter and complete bastard. He knew it, he just couldn't stop himself. He wanted to punish her for being a seductive woman - one that could put a spell on a man without even trying. He wanted to punish her for his own weakness.
"They overlooked one important detail," Pepper replied softly. "One serious flaw in their plans for me."
"I can't see any mistakes," he admitted.
"They gave me the body, the voice, and even the sexual need. It's like a hunger that won't stop, but they forgot to take away my free will. They forgot that I might not want to crawl all over a man, using my body to seduce him and then just give him a little love bite straight into his carotid."
He drew in his breath sharply, trying not to groan. The thought of her naked, sliding up any man's body but his was just a little too much. The idea of her biting any other neck but his was just as intolerable. And that said volumes about his present state of mind. "You said no? Even though you've got cat DNA. You must go into heat."
"All the time. Serious heat." She didn't laugh. She sounded sad. Filled with sorrow. Despair.
"Why haven't Ezekiel and Malichai had the same strong reaction to you as I have?" He'd seen the look on their faces, but they had both been able to walk away. He couldn't. Wyatt knew had they not left him to it, he might have turned dangerous - even to his friends.
"I was careful. I tried to keep my guard up and protect them. You shouldn't be feeling it either. I must have slipped up when I got so sick."
Her voice was killing him. He was grateful he couldn't see her. Lying in the dark next to her, he couldn't stop the erotic images from flooding his brain. He gritted his teeth and forced more air through his burning lungs.
"Did you use this particular gift to escape?" He didn't know why he had to ask - or why he sounded so filled with contempt - so jealous. But it was there, swirling inside him, a black cloud of rage that told him he needed a reprieve from her. From the sexual web of her voice.
"You know, Mr. Fontenot, I don't want to talk to you after all. I've gone through this alone before and I'm certain I will again. I don't need someone around me who believes he's so much better than I am."
He felt her movement before she actually moved. The energy it took wasn't all human. Clearly just sitting was difficult - and painful. Agony twisted through his body. Ripped him in half and sawed at every muscle and joint. He couldn't breathe, and this time it had nothing at all to do with sex. His body nearly convulsed with the pain. His heart pounded, his pulse accelerated and he broke out into a sweat. Thunder roared in his ears.
Recognition came slowly. He should have known all along. He was a damned genius, yet he hadn't figured it out. He'd tied them together when he'd merged his mind to hers. His dreams were her dreams. She'd admitted whoever had enhanced her had wanted to use her as a sexual weapon and they'd found a way to kick up her drive until it was an outrageous hunger and need.
She had been the one suffering because of their close proximity, even in spite of the venom. Maybe because of it. She wasn't fully in control.
"Lie back down, Pepper." Wyatt used his "doctor" voice. "I'll get you something for the pain."
"I have to use the bathroom - and I don't take painkillers."
He sat up gingerly, waited for his head to explode a couple of times and then pushed himself into a standing position. "What happens when you take painkillers?"
"Anything that lowers my inhibitions is not acceptable."
His breath slammed out of his lungs at the thought of Pepper with him and with lowered inhibitions. It was still dark in the room, but he could see her with his night vision. She lay back against the sofa, struggling for every breath. Her skin almost glowed, it was so flawless, even though she was pale beyond imagining. Her hair fell in a cloud around her face, dark and rich, inviting a man to bury his hands in it.
He could see her breasts rising and falling as she fought to draw air in and out of her lungs. Her mouth, a perfect fantasy mouth, drew his attention. Her lips were slightly parted, and once again images filled his mind. He cursed softly under his breath. She lifted her long lashes and her dark eyes met his - only they weren't dark anymore. They were the star-filled sky he'd floated through in his erotic dream, a sultry invitation to another world. He had the feeling if he was ever foolish enough to allow himself to take one step, one kiss, one touch into that world, there would be no going back.
"I'll help you to the bathroom."
"Just point the way," she suggested.
He wished he had earplugs in. Her voice was the perfect weapon against a man, and clearly the pain wasn't allowing her to mask the enhancements at all. He was just grateful his friends were asleep and nowhere near her. Merging with her had been a mistake. He felt possessive of her, so much so, he feared the connection between them could get someone killed.
"You'll fall on your face." He didn't wait for more protests, what was the use? He'd helped to get them into this situation, and she couldn't help what she was any more than he could. He reached for her. She closed her eyes. He knew why the instant he touched her.
The sensation of silk and satin slid over him. Into him. Need crawled through his body in a slow, desperate burn. He picked her up and cradled her against his chest. He'd walked through a hail of gunfire with a friend over his shoulder, he could carry a featherweight a few feet to a bathroom.
He tried not to feel the way her body melted into his or the silk of her hair brushing over nerve endings, setting them on fire. She really was the perfect weapon. She could feel seductive even when she was so ill. He couldn't imagine what she would be like when she was perfectly healthy and wanted to seduce a man - but he found himself a little desperate to find out.
He took her into the small, very tidy guest bathroom closest to the parlor. Nonny had insisted on a bathroom for guests. She had a private bathroom upstairs and a much larger one for all her grandsons to share growing up, but she had been very vocal about needing one just for guests. He couldn't blame her. The downstairs bathroom the boys shared had always been in a state of chaos, although if it got too bad, Nonny would hand them all cheap toothbrushes and tell them to go to work.
The guest bathroom was charming and always smelled sensational. Nonny used a mixture of flowers and herbs to create the scents she used throughout the house. The moment they both inhaled, some of the terrible need faded, giving them a bit of a respite.
"My grand-mere is the real genius in the family," Wyatt said, attempting normal conversation. He set Pepper on her feet. "Can you really do this by yourself? I am a doctor. I'd do my best to be impersonal." He had to admit the truth. Stripping her down would be anything but impersonal, but he'd give it his best shot.
"I'll have to ask her what blend she used. I watched her coming into the wonderful piece of swamp with all the wildflowers and herbs planted together, and she always knew exactly what she wanted. She fascinates me."
"You're goin' to fall on your face if I let go of you, aren't you?" He dropped his hands to her jeans and unzipped them, not looking at her face. "I'll turn away." He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her jeans and stripped her, forcing himself to keep his gaze to himself. Still, his thumb brushed bare skin along her hips and thighs, and he knew he would carry that sensation for a long time in his body.
"This is humiliating," she said between clenched teeth. "I'm never going to be able to look at you again."
"That's too bad, woman, because I intend to be lookin' a lot in your direction," he said. The declaration slipped out before he could stop it, and he knew he was in trouble.
"Wyatt." Her voice was soft.
He didn't turn around, keeping his back to her like he promised, but the way she said his name, all soft and silky, a husky, sensual whisper of pure seduction, a lure he couldn't get out of his head. No matter how hard he tried to control himself, his body still re
sponded to her voice. He sent up a silent curse that he'd been born so susceptible to sound.
"I'm not a woman you can ever get mixed up with. I don't even know what part of me is real anymore. I don't want to hurt you. The moment I'm back to full strength, I'm taking Ginger and leaving. I have to find a way to get the other two babies out and find a safe home where I can protect them."
"We're goin' to help you get those babies out of there," Wyatt said. "And we'll talk about the rest. How hard are they goin' to come lookin' for all of you?"
She flushed the toilet and he felt her move, staggering to her feet. He whipped around and steadied her, his hands on her slim waist. The moment his hands touched her silky bare skin, his cock reacted, an urgent, wicked demand involving pain as he grew hard and thick, nearly bursting the material of his jeans. He didn't care. He didn't move his hands, just let the heat from all ten fingers sink into her, branding her with him.
She gasped. Even as sick as she was, as weak as she was, she felt it too. He could tell by the shiver that went through her body. He knew women. He knew when one was attracted to him. There was satisfaction in the knowing. He forced air through his lungs.
"Don' fall," he cautioned.
Wyatt waited until she felt steadier and then he tugged up her clothes, fastening them as she leaned into him and washed her hands in the sink, all the while studiously avoiding looking at him.
Pepper swallowed hard. She had to tell him the truth. He had to know what he was up against. She often was desperate for sex, but not like this, not in direct reaction to a man. She knew what she felt for Wyatt Fontenot was dangerous to her. Wyatt wasn't a man to be controlled. He took control. It was in the way he walked. The set of his shoulders. The stamp of his mouth.
Heat flared in his eyes when he looked at her, and something else. Something she'd never seen before but recognized as possession. He wanted her. That wasn't anything new, but the way he wanted her was.
"Dr. Thomas Braden, the head of this company, has several scientists working for him in France. That's where the children were created, born and worked on. I was an orphan and brought up in the school there. Braden is the one who decrees when an experiment has to be terminated."