Claimed by the Beast(5)

Although the existence of shifters was still unknown by the world at  large, what he and Maddox's team had learned was invaluable information.  Shifters could, in animal form, communicate with one another  telepathically within the pack. Thoughts could be shared when desired.  That alone was interesting but what truly captured Lance's attention was  their ability to heal in a fraction of the time it took a human being  to heal. This was the piece that Lance was focused on. This was what he  needed to work for him.

He'd done some testing on lab rats but he was running both out of time  and out of samples. He only had a few left in his home lab and he would  have to test sparingly in order to have enough to make more of the  serum. He had, however, finally prepared the first dose: one vial full  of the serum he'd formulated that captured the chemical he was sure was  the missing piece of the puzzle.

This was where Eric Maddox had gone wrong. Maddox wanted to breed the  creatures, to control them. To what end, Lance did not know. Well, he  could imagine and he wasn't stupid enough to think Maddox's intentions  were good. What he was doing though was different. If he could cure this  disease in himself, banish Parkinson's from his body altogether, well,  wouldn't he be a hero? Wouldn't he be saving more lives than Maddox took  during the explosion that flattened the complex and effectively ended  his research?

Yes, Maddox had used live specimens. He had only learned that at the  end. Well, was that entirely true though? Hadn't Lance known all along  there would have had to have been living shifters involved? Ones from  whom he could take what he needed? Ones on whom he could test his  discoveries? Ones he could breed?

Lance closed the book and held up the syringe, pressing the air from it.

It didn't matter. Nothing Maddox had done mattered. He wasn't Eric  Maddox. He would never have taken an intelligent creature and held them  prisoner for the sake of research. True, he couldn't confirm where the  samples he'd received from Maddox had come from, but did that matter  anymore? His intentions were good. He would create a cure for  Parkinson's. And he would be strong enough to test it on himself first.                       
       
           



       

He rolled up his shirtsleeve and brought the tip of the syringe to his arm.

He would risk his life for the good of humanity. He was a hero.

Lance pressed the point of the needle into his arm and depressed the  plunger, inhaling sharply at the pain that accompanied the injection of  the serum. When the barrel was empty, the syringe slipped from his hands  and landed first on the counter before falling onto the tile floor as  Lance stumbled backward.

"Professor?"

He hadn't heard the lock turn on the door. Judy walked into the lab. She  was the young student who was more nuisance than help, no matter her  intention.

"Are you all right, Professor?" she asked, looking at him with a strange expression on her face.

She blurred in his vision as he felt the wall at his back.

"I'm fine," he managed, but he felt himself slipping down, his back sliding along the wall until finally he sat on the floor.

"Professor!" Judy called out, rushing to him.

"What's going on?" another of the professors walked into the room just as Lance's vision began to clear.

"It's nothing," Lance said when things came back into focus. He rose  slowly to his feet. "Just tripped." He picked up the needle that had  fallen and stuck it into his pocket before anyone saw. "Thank you Judy,  Professor," he managed. "I've stayed rather late and will go home for a  bit, take a few hours of rest before I have to be back."

He felt the two watching him as he collected his notebook and walked to the door.

"Thank you. Thank you both," he managed, quickly gathering his jacket,  not bothering or even aware enough to take the lab coat off before he  went not to the elevator but to the stairs. He heard them start talking  before the door had closed behind him but he didn't care what they were  saying. He didn't care about them. The serum was doing something to him.  The healing powers came on much more quickly and with much greater  impact than he realized they would. He smiled as he stepped onto the  first floor landing just moments after having entered the stairwell on  the eighteenth floor. He felt strong. For the first time in a long time,  he felt strong. He hadn't realized he'd forgotten the feeling.



* * *



The heat and humidity had tapered off in the last months and New Orleans  was, once again, inhabitable. Marcus opened his eyes and promptly  closed them again. His head throbbed, forcing the memory of the night  before on him. Someone made a sound next to him and rolled over, tugging  the blankets off his naked body.

Marcus grunted and forced himself to look over at the woman he'd slept  with last night. A different one from the night before and the night  before that. She was sound asleep and he took the opportunity to rise up  out of the bed. Locating his clothes, he pulled on his jeans and  t-shirt, found some money in his pocket, and tossed it onto the  nightstand before stepping out the door. He'd paid well for her  services. A shadow darkened his eyes. He had used her long and hard,  she'd earned her money along with her own pleasure. But no matter how  many of these nights he had, no matter how many women he had, how much  drink he drank, she wouldn't let him be. She wouldn't forget him as sure  as she'd not forgiven him for leaving.

But did he deserve forgiveness? He'd come back from the dead only to  leave her again after all the years Rachel had waited for him. Loyally  waited for him.

He muttered a curse under his breath. He hadn't shifted in a long time.  In wolf form, he could hear her calls. He could hear Elijah. And he  wouldn't answer either. He couldn't.

What had happened to him in those eight years had changed him. Made him  hard. Made him even less human than he was. He had become dark, some of  the evil having worn off on him. He was no longer good, if he had ever  been good. It was too long ago to remember anymore.

She deserved a simple, normal, human life. She wasn't a shifter; she was  human. The gene she carried would simply lie-not quite dormant but  anesthetized at least. If he could leave her be, she would have a chance  at a normal life. And he would leave her be. He had decided that when  he had said goodbye.

But damn her! Visions of her still haunted him. The touch of her skin  still on his fingertips. The feel of her lips, her mouth, her hot  tongue. He had left her a virgin and never fully bonded her to himself.  Rachel was free and would remain free of him.

He turned onto Bourbon Street and wandered into the first bar he saw.





Chapter Four





Rachel, Elijah, Clarissa, and Kayla had spent three days at the cabin.  The weather had been beautiful and they had hiked every day and sat by  the fire every night. Talk of Marcus came up, as it always did, but in a  way, Rachel was beginning to accept his absence. Or so Kayla thought.  She wasn't over him and couldn't understand why he wouldn't contact any  of them, but the important thing now was for Rachel to begin to move on.  None of them would entertain out loud the thought that he might be  dead. They couldn't.                       
       
           



       

Rachel had left early yesterday morning and today being Friday, Elijah  had reminded Kayla of their first scheduled maintenance night. Kayla had  been aroused the entire day and she imagined Elijah felt the same. At  half past eight, Elijah had taken the baby, prepared a bottle, and told  Kayla to go get ready. Her inspection would begin in half an hour.

She had showered and shaved herself completely bare, as he liked for her  to do, and returned to the bedroom to find Elijah waiting for her on  the bed.

"Am I late?" she asked, surprised to see him there.

He grinned, one arm draped over the back of the headboard, the other resting beside him.

"I'm early. Baby is fed and sleeping and I didn't want to wait. Well, really, I couldn't wait. Lose the towel," he said.

Kayla's clit swelled with his words and she dropped the towel to the floor.

"You know better than that. Pick it up and put it away."

"Yes, sir," she said, picking up the towel and hanging it up before returning to the bedroom.

He sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. "Come here," he said.

She knew it was time for her inspection and went to stand between his  legs, keeping her feet at shoulder width as he liked and placing her  hands at the back of her head.

He looked at her and smiled. "Good girl," he said, then scanned her  body. "You look good, Kayla. I like your tits swollen like that." He  brushed the backs of his knuckles over one nipple which hardened  immediately. He then ran those fingers down her belly to her shaved  pussy. He paused there and pressed the space just above her clit, making  her want to lift just a little to place herself onto his thumb. He then  put both hands on either side of her pussy lips and spread them open.