“We engineered a pheromone that triggered your change. However, now it appears you can change without exposure to it. And, as you may be aware, your drive to mate is extremely strong-- ”
“You’re afraid of what I might produce, if I do mate,” Tarik said.
“As scientists, we have a responsibility to protect the purity of the human gene pool.”
“Which is why you shouldn’t have done this in the first place.” He wasn’t about to tell Torborg it might already be too late to protect the gene pool, since the rubber had failed.
“I have men searching for the woman, Abigail Clumm. She’s in Anchorage. We’re checking hotels. She must be brought in immediately and examined.”
They knew? What would they do to her? A flash of heat shot through his body. He had an overwhelming compulsion to protect Abby, his woman, even though he understood Torborg’s reasoning. “Leave her alone.” Even to his own ears his voice had become an inhuman growl.
For the first time since he’d stepped foot in the room, Torborg showed fear. The bitter scent wafted to Tarik’s nose. It stirred the instincts he’d struggled to control since changing back to a man earlier. He felt his muscles tighten. His heart race. His breathing quicken. The tingling in his bones started building. Soon it would change to pain as they stretched and broadened.
Seeming to realize what was about to happen, Torborg’s eyes widened. He pounded on the door. Three loud bangs. “I don’t want to kill you, Tarik. But if I must…to protect everything we’ve worked so hard to accomplish, I will.” He backed himself into the wall next to the door and knocked again.
Tarik wanted to jump on him and tear the man to pieces for what he’d done. It was wrong to play with people’s lives like this! To think his life’s research might be twisted and abused. Used to manipulate men, women, children. Ruin lives. For what purpose? It couldn’t be good.
The pungent scent of fear billowed off Torborg’s skin now, like great plumes of wretched smoke. Tarik backed away from the man as far as the room would allow. Still, he knew what was about to happen. He couldn’t stop it.
The pain swelled until it blinded him. Muscles stretching and pulling. Bones reshaping. Tarik screamed, but the sound that came from his mouth took the form of a loud, angry roar.
Torborg spun around and started pounding on the door. “Open this door, dammit!”
It nearly killed him, but Tarik forced himself to resist lunging forward and ripping Torborg’s throat out. He knew he could kill the man. It would be so easy. In a sense, it would be so satisfying.
His mind was still working, somewhat. The drives of the beast muddied his thinking. The door flew open and he saw his chance.
Escape first. Find Abby. Protect Abby.
He literally trampled Torborg as he charged for the door. The man crumpled on the floor beneath his feet, mid-scream. Tarik barreled past the guards, who he suspected were taking aim at his back. His drive to find Abby pushed him forward. He ran to the elevator. Couldn’t work it. His fingers had shortened. Found the door to a stairwell was propped open. He ripped the door off the wall and threw it at the guards shooting at him. That stopped them.
Minutes later, he charged out of the building and ran for his life, only one thought remaining in his mind.
Find Abby.
* * * * *
Some moron was banging on her hotel room door. Dammit, she hated hotels! She never could sleep in one. People were so rude, stomping down hallways, screaming kids, knocking on the wrong doors. Argh!
Sleep. All she wanted was some sleep. It shouldn’t be too much to ask.
Abby covered her head with the pillow and made an attempt at ignoring the idiot out there trying to kick in her door. It couldn’t be Katie. She was still out in L.A. She’d checked. Several times. The strike hadn’t ended yet.
“Go away, you’ve got the wrong room!” she shouted when he didn’t let up. Had to be a guy. No woman would be so stupid. Yeah, yeah, that was a sexist comment. She was in no mood to be politically correct. The friggin’ jerk didn’t stop.
“Dammit!” She threw the pillow against the wall, ripped the covers off herself and stomped to the door. Leaving the security chain in place, she pulled open the door a couple of inches and giving the big, stupid lug standing in front of the door her meanest glare she said, “You’ve got the wrong room, asshole. Get. Lost.”
“Abigail Clumm?” the man asked.
Not answering, she gave him a once-over.
He wasn’t anyone she recognized. Didn’t have on a uniform. She doubted he was a policeman. And even if he was, what would he want with her?
Still, despite her anger and resentment at having been dragged out of her bed, her curiosity got the better of her. “Who’s asking?”