Chapter One
Lyra caught the wave of a hand out of the corner of her eye and turned, placing two fresh mugs of beer on the worn wood of the bar top.
“Thanks, gorgeous. Keep the change.”
She nodded, smiled and moved on to the next patron. The lights were bright above the bar, but nothing compared to the multitude of flashing strobes illuminating the dance floor. She hated those and refused to work anywhere but behind the bar because of them. They threw off her vision to the point she became dizzy. She set a martini in front of a cool blonde and handed the man with her an expensive bottle of imported beer, taking the money he held out then moving again. She snagged two more bottles of beer, American, and delivered them at the end of the bar.
It was crowded, not unusual for a Friday night, but the bar was surrounded, people standing three deep in most places as they clamored for their favorite beverages. Fruity mixed drinks, sours, shots, and never-ending demands for beer. The counter was sticky with spilled drinks cleaned by only cursory swipes of a cloth as orders were taken and filled. When the crowd thinned, there would be time to do a more thorough job.
She worked by rote, gaze everywhere as she moved around her end of the bar. She wove in and out of the other bartenders as they pulled down bottles and passed them along the bar, falling into the rhythm that had become second nature to her over the last year. She’d stayed here far longer than she’d expected. She’d learned the hard way never to tarry in one place for too long. There were bad people out there, and for some reason, she seemed to attract them.
Once, she’d thought things couldn’t get worse than they were when she’d been a part of the foster care system. That had been hell, struggling to fit in without calling too much attention to herself. Kids were brutal, or so she’d thought at the time. Fighting had become second nature. No one liked a freak, and she had oddity on lockdown.
She’d expected a different world once she was on her own. If anything, she’d learned adults could be even meaner and crueler. Fighting was no longer about shutting down bullies. It was about staying alive.
She was reaching for more glasses when a hand grabbed her arm. She flinched away, unable to avoid the contact but shrugging it off as quickly as she could. She hated to be touched, hated the feeling of another’s skin against hers. Because of that, it was a good thing she was a fast healer and rarely required any medical attention. It was also a good thing she’d never developed a sex drive.
“What’s a matter, honey? Just trying to get your attention.”
The man who’d touched her was drunk and obviously using the bar to stay on his feet. She shook her head, lifted her hand and caught the attention of Nathan, one of the club’s bouncers. He was there instantly, taking the guy roughly by the arm and leading him away.
“What the fuck!”
The rest of what he was most likely screeching was lost to her as he turned away, propelled toward the exit by Nathan’s hand around the back of his neck.
“You okay?” Cassidy asked, moving into Lyra’s line of sight.
Lyra nodded, rolling her shoulders and rocking her head back and forth. Something was off tonight. There was a tingling under her skin that she’d done her best to ignore, but the longer the night wore on, the more intense it became.
She took a deep breath and reached for a beer, popping the top off on the inside edge of the counter with practiced ease. Before she could fall back into her routine, her gaze was drawn to the entrance where a man had just stepped inside. He was big, much larger than Nathan’s six-foot-five-inch muscular physique. This guy made Nathan look small. His shoulders filled the doorway, stretching the cotton of his T-shirt snug across his wide chest and broad shoulders.
He wore no coat to ward off the chill of the Chicago winter. His dark hair was dusted with snow that was already melting. She watched his gaze move around the room and wondered almost jealously who he searched for. For the first time in her life, she felt lust. Raw need hit her belly and left her breathless. Who was he?
She wasn’t the only woman watching him hungrily, and she took pleasure in the way he ignored the females who were brave enough to approach him. He was giving off some serious leave-me-the-fuck-alone vibes. One woman tried to touch his chest, and a rumble of anger roll up Lyra’s throat. As if he sensed it—sensed her—the man’s head jerked her direction. His gaze caught hers, and he inhaled as if he could scent her from across the room. His eyelids drooped, giving him a sensual appearance as his lips curved up.
She watched those lips, her gaze centered there and shook her head in confusion when he mouthed one word at her.
Mine.
He took a step, and the floor seemed to shake beneath her.
Her gaze was torn from him as something else materialized, someone else. In the back of the club, on the other side of the dance floor a man took shape. He held something and almost seemed to be in a daze. Then his glance met hers. He oozed power, confidence, and she fought the desire to fall to her knees before him. Some part of her knew he wasn’t real. He couldn’t be. So, what the hell was wrong with her?
Come to me.
Her eyes widened as the voice filled her head. It seemed to ricochet, bouncing around until it resonated inside her. She opened her mouth, but there was no sound to make. Her hands shook, and the beer bottle she’d held slipped free. Her normally quick reflexes were gone as the bottle hit the floor at her feet and shattered. She felt the spray of beer but couldn’t take her gaze from the man. Then it clicked in her head. She’d heard the words and understood them. How had she understood his words? Maybe she’d been able to read his lips? She couldn’t think, couldn’t seem to focus. So she concentrated on his physical appearance instead.
It must be her night for prime specimens. His skin was a creamy shade of mocha, his hair a mix of browns and blondes with a hint of red. There was an aura of…calm…surrounding him. She fought the urge to cross to him, to brave the crowd and strobe lights and follow his command. Yet there was no sexual pull for him, unlike what she felt for the one at the bar entrance. This one made her think of…family…and emotions she’d learned no longer existed after she’d lost her mother.
The way the patrons seemed to move through the man near the dance floor showed Lyra he wasn’t really there. She needed to pull her focus from him. She flicked her gaze toward the other man, and found his gaze centered on the spot where hers had just been. Did he see the apparition, too? Did the two know each other? Were they connected in some way?
One of the other bartenders jostled into her, and she felt the crunch of glass under her feet as she was bumped forward into the bar. Cassidy said something, but Lyra was helpless to follow. She had to move, to go. The need to run clawed franticly at her throat. She wasn’t safe here. Not anymore. The room suddenly seemed filled with danger, and she wasn’t sure if it was one of the men, both of them or something else she was picking up on. She only knew she needed to go.
Her gaze circled the room again. The man who’d been near the dance floor was gone, completely swallowed up by the normal Friday night crowd. The other one wasn’t an illusion though. He still filled the doorway, not appearing to have moved much farther into the club than he had when her gaze had first been drawn to him. His face was still turned toward where the vision had been, as if he couldn’t seem to figure it out. That made two of them.
She shook it off, tearing the apron from her waist and tossing it haphazardly under the counter before turning and flipping up the end of the bar then letting it drop back into place behind her. She kept her eyes forward, ignoring everyone around her. She couldn’t breathe. She needed fresh air. She craved it like a junkie in need of a fix.
The club’s usual aromas, the scents of booze, sweat, and sex, tickled her nose, but there was something else, something that made her pulse race. She quickened her pace, the need for air becoming more and more urgent. She caught Nathan moving in her peripheral vision and gritted her teeth as she forced herself to walk into the throng of bodies grinding on the dance floor. All of the exits were on the other side of the club. The giant still filled the main one, so she made her way toward the back and the exit that opened into the alley. It was mostly used by employees, and she prayed no one would be out there now.
She hunched her shoulders, cringing away from the flashing lights as she wove through the crowded throng dry humping on the dance floor. The brush of others was unavoidable. Hands reached for her, eagerly trying to pull her into a dance she didn’t want. She evaded, twisting and turning, fighting the burn in her muscles as the instinctual part of her she kept so carefully caged fought to surface. Her mother had told her to always keep it locked inside, that giving in to the pull of whatever it was would get Lyra killed. Instead, her mother had been killed in a hit-and-run, leaving Lyra completely alone.
Come to me.
The words continued echoing in her head, overwhelming her mind. Loud. It was too loud in her skull, and it hurt. She panted, gasping for air to suck into her lungs as she stumbled out the door and into the cool night. Her skin was hot, and the snow almost sizzled as it hit her flesh. She made it to the corner by the large, metal trash bin before she heaved up what little she held in her stomach. Her skin felt as if something were clawing at it…from the inside. She’d finally gone over the edge and lost her fucking mind.
Unease prickled along the back of her neck, and she jerked up, spinning around and bending her knees to lower her center of gravity. Four men stood in the alley around her, and she wondered if the two others she’d spotted inside were part of this group. They elicited no sense of need, sexual or otherwise, from her though. Cold, dark eyes, filled with calculated intent, greeted her at every turn.
If she were a different person, maybe, she’d speak to them. Ask their intent. Then again, if she were a different person, she doubted they’d be here. She’d run across men such as these before. It was the look in their eyes, the cold cunning, the promise of pain. She didn’t know why they always turned up where she was or what they wanted from her. Every instinct in her body warned her that letting them take her would be bad.
She took in their placement around her, their stance, and sought out the weakest link amongst them. There was always at least one she could take by surprise. Some men never expected her ferocity. Whether it was because they thought her weaker as a female or because they assumed they were unstoppable, she didn’t care. She had no clue what they were fighting for, only what she was against them. For her survival. She didn’t question how she knew that, but it resonated inside her with a bone-deep clarity.
Lyra took a deep breath, pulling the smell of them into her lungs. There it was. The stink of sweat that gave away the nerves of the one closest to her. Maybe, the others should have warned him to keep his distance. He’d just handed her an advantage.
She made peace with the fact she’d be bruised and sore come morning and dove in, not waiting for them to attack. She struck the knee of the man closest to her and heard the snap as he went down. Without pause, she took him by the neck until she felt the give and watched the flare of surprise in his eyes before his life dimmed away. One down, three to go.
She felt no remorse for the life she’d taken. She’d learned the hard way there were times it was kill or be killed. The first time she’d been attacked, she’d let them all walk away. They’d tracked her somehow and nearly killed her before she’d taken them out. She’d been certain she would die. Instead, she’d awakened two days later with her wounds healing. Sore, bruised, and barely able to walk, she’d forced herself to move in case more attackers showed up. Such had been the story of her life from the moment she’d been on her own.
She thrust those thoughts away and focused on the men in front of her now. She had to take care of them and get the hell out of there. These guys were average in height and weight. If the giant from inside came back here, she wouldn't stand a chance against him. She swore she heard a growl and froze for a moment. What the hell was going on?
More men spilled into the alley, and she felt the sizzle of fear along her spine. There were too many. She’d never confronted this many at once. Two of them came at her. She dodged hands, landing punches and kicks, but they were protecting themselves, most likely alerted by her first strike. She finally managed to sweep her leg and knock one of them on his ass when she felt a crackle along her skin that had her body seizing. She hit the ground hard, screams of pain locked inside her, blood trickling from her bottom lip where she’d bitten into it.
A man walked into her line of vision. Unlike the rest of them, he wore a coat, hat and leather gloves. He squatted beside her, nudging her over with his foot. He detached something from her then tossed it aside.
“Nice job, Wyatt. I wasn’t sure a stun gun would work on them, but it appears those alterations you made have managed to incapacitate her. Smart idea to launch the probes. So much better than the darts.” He glanced down at her, and she felt fear at the way his pale green eyes seemed to delve into her thoughts. “Did he fry all those kitty senses, or can you understand what I’m saying?”
Kitty senses? The man was crazy.
“I want to make sure you…”
She blinked then tried to refocus on what he was saying.
“…I have planned for you. I’ve been tracking you. That’s what we do with animals. We hunt them. Then we kill them. But you bring an added bonus. I rarely take part in the torture anymore. I leave it to my second in command. But you’re different. Every scream I rip from you will be like music to my ears. Maybe, I’ll cut you open and begin dissecting you while you’re pinned to my wall like a fucking bug. See what all that animal biology does for you.”
Animal biology? The man was even crazier than she was.
“Don’t worry. It won’t be quick. I need to keep you alive for a little while. Just until they come. You’re the key to me getting what’s mine returned to me. Through you I’ll bring that fucking bitch of mine to her knees. I’ll kill you then I’ll kill that brother of yours while my girl watches and begs for your lives. Then she’ll be where I should have put her from the beginning. Tied to a bed to be fucked and bred. If any of the men can stomach her now that she’s been mauled by that animal she’s taken up with.”
Brother? Fuck! He had the wrong person. Lyra didn’t have any family. She had to get away, and if she could take out a few more of them while she was at it, all the better. She couldn’t help people she didn’t know, but she could at least eliminate some of the players this lunatic had with him. She wiggled her fingers, her muscles finally starting to ease.
“She's coming around, Mr. Blane. Should I hit her again?” the one called Wyatt asked from just above her.
Blane shook his head and removed a hypodermic from his pocket. He uncapped it and held it up so she could see.
“There’s a sedative in here. That’s the good news. The bad news is there’s also a little something to poke at that beast you have inside you. I’m going to make it roar with pain.” He leaned down farther, and Lyra felt a sharp sting as the needle pierced the vein in the side of her neck. “You’re going to help me destroy that fucking pride. I’ll watch them fall, one by one, until there’s not a damn one of you left.”
He stood, tossing the evidence of what he’d used on her in the direction of the trash bin.
“Get her and be quick. The van is around the corner. Hurry before that Costas mongrel gets out here. The others won’t be able to keep him contained inside for much longer.”
Costas mongrel? It was Lyra’s last thought before the world faded away.