Claimed by the Beast(25)

"You sure it wasn't a dream?" he asked.

She flipped the visor open and glanced at her reflection, combing her  fingers through her hair and rubbing her face. She hadn't worn make up,  needed a shower, and most of all, was desperate to brush her teeth.

"No," she said. "It wasn't a dream."

"What did you hear exactly?"

"It was more a feeling. He was afraid and then angry. It was different  than the last times though. It was more clear, more human in a way."

"You can only hear us when we shift, right?" Marcus asked.

She nodded.

"What do you mean then, ‘more human'?" he asked.

"I don't know exactly, it was just …  different somehow. More clear-that's the only way I can say it."

Marcus didn't say anything for a minute. "Could you communicate with him?"

"I didn't try. It was the thought that woke me up and then it was gone."

"You were asleep, Rachel. Maybe it was just a dream?"

She looked at him and shook her head.

"We're about ten minutes from my house. Let's get home, get out of the  car, stretch our legs. I'll call Elijah and we'll get the next step of  the plan coordinated. I'd like to stay here as long as possible rather  than running, but I'm not sure that will be possible."

Rachel looked around her, more than curious at where he had been living  the last year. "What are you thinking we're going to do?" she asked.

"Well, the way I'm looking at this is we've got two problems: Lance Weston is one and Wayne Labs is the other."

"I just want to say one thing about Lance. I know he kidnapped me and  who knows what he would have done if you hadn't come in time, but I know  he didn't want to hurt me. I know it, Marcus. He is sick himself. He  was trying to do something good. And maybe if I gave him an egg, maybe  he could do the research he needed … "

"What are you talking about?" Marcus asked, pulling the car to the side of the road.

She looked at him, realizing what she was saying.

"He said he was out of samples. He was going to take an egg. I don't  know how this works but he wanted to use stem cells for research, create  what he needed, fix the serum so he wouldn't shift anymore, and then  market the drug to cure Parkinson's."

Marcus inhaled a breath loud enough for her to hear. His lips tightened.  "He would make a specimen out of you," he said. "Don't make the mistake  of thinking he is a good man, Rachel. He is evil, just like the rest of  them."

She searched his eyes, seeing them shut down a little and realizing what  she had said probably had triggered emotions and memories from those  eight years when those scientists had done just that-used him and Collin  as specimens. Taking what they needed, keeping them prisoner, killing  the family.                       
       
           



       

"I'm sorry," she said, reaching out to touch his hand. "I understand."

He only nodded and turned away, pulling the car onto the road. The next  sound she heard was one he couldn't hear. She squeezed her eyes shut and  turned to look out the window.

"What is it?" he asked, not missing what was happening.

She covered her face with her hands, tears forming in her eyes. "He's so  angry," she said. "I want it to stop!" He was hurting someone. Killing  them. She could feel the violence of the creature, feel its rage.

This time when Marcus pulled to the side of the road, he climbed out of  the car and was beside her in moments, lifting her out of the car and  holding her to him. Holding her so tight she couldn't move as the  creature's thoughts and emotions pillaged her mind, the rage growing,  piquing, and then finally, after what she thought was hours, it slowly  subsided and then was gone altogether.

She pulled back and looked up at him, realizing she had only once seen  Marcus in a rage in wolf form and that had been the other day. The day  he had rescued her. She knew they killed, of course she did. But she had  never felt it like this before.

"It's so much more intense than with you or with Elijah," she managed, exhausted by the emotions.

"Let's get home."



* * *



Marcus drove to his house, which was on a quiet street with only a few  houses on it. The creature was coming for her, he knew it would. If  Lance Weston had any control over it, it wouldn't kill her, at least not  until Weston had taken what he needed from her body. That thought made  him sick, using her like a specimen, like he had been used. He fisted  the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white. His plan was to  leave Rachel at his house while he returned to help Elijah track down  and kill the creature and then find a way to get to Dennison, but now,  he feared he wouldn't be able to leave her alone. What if it could track  her through her thoughts? What then?

"This is my house," he said, squeezing her hand.

"It's cute," she said.

"It's not cute," he said, smiling. It wasn't. It was little more than a  broken down, forgotten home he had been able to rent cheap. He had done  some work on it in the year so the inside was in better condition than  the outside, a part of the deal with the old woman he had rented it  from. It was on the outskirts of town and backed into the woods so he  had a lot of privacy. He had never brought women back here. In fact, no  one had set foot in this house but him in the last year.

He parked the car and they climbed out. He watched her as she took in the house, smiling.

"Come on, it's too dark to see anything now."

She went to him, sliding her hand into his. He squeezed it, appreciating  the gesture. He thought back to the night and to her spanking. This  little gesture showed she trusted him. Maybe she had even forgiven him.

"The living room isn't much, but the kitchen is in slightly better  condition. Bedroom is here," he said, leading the way back. It was only a  two bedroom house with a living/dining room and an eat-in kitchen so  the grand tour would take all of two minutes. "The guest room is  unfurnished," he said, opening a door to let her peek inside. "But this  is the best part."

He led the way to his bedroom where he had a large, king-sized bed with a  head and footboard he had carved out of log. It was a heavy, unique  piece and completely masculine.

"Wow," she said, sitting down, testing the mattress. "This is great."

"Wait, best part is coming," he said, taking her hand and leading her to the large bathroom.

"Oh, wow," she managed when she stepped into the completely redone  bathroom. He smiled. He had taken the old bathroom and converted it into  a luxurious space with a bath big enough for two, a separate shower,  and vanity.

He ran the bath, testing the temperature of the water before wiping off his hands.

"Get undressed and just relax. I'll be in to join you in a bit. Let me just call Elijah to let him know we're here."

"Okay," she said, smiling. She was trying to hide how upset she had been just a few minutes ago but he knew better.

He took her face in his hands and forced her to look up at him. "It's  going to be okay. You're safe and we're going to survive this. Look at  us, Rachel. We're survivors."

For a moment he thought she would break down again but she managed the  tears that filled her eyes and smiled, hugging him. "I love you."

He held her to him, cradling the back of her head. "I'm not going to let anyone or anything hurt you, baby."                       
       
           



       



* * *



Rachel lay with her head resting against the back of the tub, her body  submerged beneath the water, the only sound that of the drops of water  that fell now and again from the tap. Humidity clouded the bathroom and  her body felt soft and completely relaxed. She barely noticed when the  door opened and closed. In fact, she was startled when she heard the  water begin to drain and opened her eyes to find him standing in the  bathroom, watching her.

"Stand up," he said, taking a towel and drying his arm before he pulled his shirt over his head.

She swallowed, his powerful body doing things to her, making her want  him. Slowly she stood, the cool of the air after her too hot bath  chilling her momentarily. Her nipples pebbled and goose bumps covered  her, but he didn't hand her a towel. Instead, he pulled up a stool and  sat down, gesturing for her to step out.

She squeezed the moisture from her hair then let it fall down her back and did as he said.

He made no secret of looking her over and she noticed how his jeans pulled tightly over his crotch.

"Turn around," he said.

She did slowly, her pussy swelling in anticipation.

"Spread your legs and bend over, put your hands on the edge of the tub."