“I am not mistaken, am I, sir?” Alise asked, with a knowing smile, as if she were quietly laughing to herself.
“I am not registered as a supernormal, and I do not wish to be,” Kranzler said. “If you repeat what you just said in front of anyone else, I will kill you.”
“Your secret is safe with me, sir, forever. But it does not matter to me whether you are registered, only that you do possess a power like mine. Imagine our powers combined into a child...a son...he would be the son of a supernormal S.S. officer, a true Aryan of the future. Imagine it!”
“We could not raise him as our own,” Kranzler reminded her. “He would belong to the Reich.”
“I know this better than anyone,” Alise said. “I do not wish for a family—the Reich is my family, the Party is my family. I wish to do this as my gift to the Reich, my act of devotion. I want to personally present the Fuehrer with the first child of this project, the first of a generation of German supermen who will conquer the world.” She approached him, taking his hands, her gray eyes locked on his. “Do you not want the same? Do you not want me?”
Kranzler wanted it all. He wanted a son who could lead armies and destroy every enemy in his path. Though he rarely indulged in fleshly pleasures, he wanted the young, pretty Aryan girl currently offering herself to him. It was difficult to think of anything but his own desire when her hands were on him.
“You must tell no one,” he whispered.
She placed her hands on his broad shoulders and rose up to kiss him. Kranzler lifted her up onto his desk, and she lay back on her elbows, smiling at him with a surprised look in her eyes.
“Here?” she asked.
“It may take several attempts.” Kranzler, an efficient man, lowered his black trousers just enough to free himself, already erect from her repeated touching. He turned her onto her hands and knees and bent her over the desk, then flipped her long black skirt up over her hips. She wriggled her ass in her white silk panties and laughed, until he reached a wide, muscular hand into the space between her legs.
“These aren’t regulation undergarments for women,” he said.
“And how would you know that?” She smiled back at him over her shoulder.
He grabbed her expensive, inappropriate underwear and ripped it away, leaving her bare. She gave a shocked little gasp as he stripped her, and then another as he pressed his fingertips against her.
“We should hurry,” he said. “I have a busy schedule.”
“Go ahead. I’m not here for romance.”
Ward entered her, and she bared her teeth and shrieked in pain. She was golden, a beautiful daughter of a wealthy nobleman, while he’d grown up as a dirt-poor peasant with calloused hands from tending his father’s sheep, and he was old enough to remember when the difference between peasant and noble truly mattered, before the Great War. It gave him pleasure to make her suffer. He grabbed her long blond hair and pulled hard, getting another scream from her.
“You’re a good German girl,” he said as he took her again and again. “You should lie in my bed every night.” He slapped her ass, hard enough to leave a blood-colored handprint.
She snarled at him, baring her teeth, which only aroused him more.
“I can see your past,” Ward said, squeezing her waist in his large hands. “So many flirtations with fancy little aristocrat boys. Many of them...consummated.”
“You don’t care about my past,” she whispered. “You love me.”
“I do,” he said, then he shoved her face down against his desk and pinned it there with his hand, raising her hips higher so he could slide more deeply inside her. He deposited his seed quickly and backed out. She lay on his desk, naked from the waist down, looking battered, a look of disgust in her cloud-gray eyes.
“Make me a son,” he ordered as he buckled his belt. “Fix yourself up. We have a lot of work today. We can do this again tomorrow.”
He closed the door as he left the office.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Tommy lay on the bed in his room, smoking cigarettes and watching an A-Team rerun on some satellite channel. Smoking wasn’t allowed inside the base, except for one specially ventilated room, but he didn’t care. He didn’t think they would throw him out for it.
In the past few days, he’d learned that using his power raised his body temperature by a degree or two and heated the air around him. It caused an explosive spike of activity in a part of his brain called the right temporal lobe. He’d been meaning to look up brain parts to figure out what the hell that meant, but he wasn’t provided internet access. The underground research facility had a small science library, and he could probably find out there, but he hated libraries and kept putting it off.