Therian Prisoner(42)
“I lied.” She turned back to the computer, considering the conversation ended.
Her sister wasn’t so easily put off. Nehema moved into the room, careful to remain out of reach. “You don’t have to be a slave to your genetics. We can—”
“We are all slaves to our genetics. Don’t be naïve.”
“Did you…” Nehema fiddled with the cuff on her blouse, looking anywhere but at Zophiel. “Did you kill or just feed?”
“You know the answer. Why are we having this conversation—again?” She pushed back from the desk and crossed her legs. Generally Nehema’s perpetually bleeding heart was little more than a nuisance. But sometimes, when “that” look came into Nehema’s eyes, she could be persistent and single-minded.
“If you just try a little harder, I know you could—”
“‘Try not to be what my father made me?” Zophiel laughed. If only it were that simple. “When the hunger first came upon me, I honestly tried to wait it out. I starved myself until I was so weak I could hardly move, but the compulsion grew stronger and the pain more intense. You know what they say, Nature will find a way.” She uncrossed her legs and scooted to the edge of the chair. “Why don’t you ‘try’ accepting what Mother made you?”
Nehema’s nose twitched and her jaw clenched as the barb found its mark. “I have learned to control the beast inside me and you could too.”
“No you haven’t.” Zophiel pushed to her feet, enjoying the conflict so obvious in her sister’s expression. “You assuage your shame by ‘rescuing’ helpless females, most of whom are traumatized by your actions.”
“They can only be saved as long as they remain latent. As soon as their demonic natures are released, they are as damned as their men.”
“Demonic nature?” Zophiel arched her brow. “I know a thing or two about demons, and the nature released in Therians has an entirely different source.”
Nehema clenched her fists and took a deep breath, likely counting to herself in an effort to regain her composure. This was a tired argument, one they’d had countless times before. It always ended with Nehema in tears and Zophiel infuriated.
“We were talking about last night.” Nehema’s voice was tight and thin. “Where did you go and who did you feed from? Each time you indulge these urges, you risk exposing us both.”
“Aah, the true source of your concern is revealed at last.” She moved to the front of the desk and leaned her hips against it, resting back without sitting on the desktop. “As I remember it, you were the one who suggested I make contact with one of the backers, so I’m not sure why you’re throwing a fit now.”
“I suggested you speak with one of them, not engage in a feeding frenzy.”
The corners of her mouth twitched as she remembered the thrilling rush of energy generated by that frenzy. “I was careful, sister dear. No one saw me and my new blood slave will not tattle to his friends.”
“Did you choose Milliner or Roberto?” Nehema rolled her eyes and answered her own question. “You like them strong and handsome. Of course it was Roberto.” She took two anxious steps toward the door then whipped her head back around. “Did you learn anything helpful?”
“He likes it fast and hard.”
“You’re disgusting.”
Deciding she’d tormented Nehema long enough, Zophiel motioned her toward the desk. “Roberto and that whorish doctor altered protocols and deviated from the master plan. I wasn’t able to decipher exactly what they did or how much the other backers knew, but it made me curious enough to dig deeper.”
Nehema approached cautiously, hands shoved deep into the pockets of her cardigan. As usual she looked frumpy and old. If Nehema didn’t accept an energy transfer soon, Zophiel would have no choice but to force-feed her. Or watch Nehema die. And life without her sister was something Zophiel wasn’t willing to face. It didn’t matter that Nehema was a world-class pain in the ass. She was the only thing in this godsforsaken world that meant anything to Zophiel.
“The cats captured Carly when they liberated the mountain lab,” Nehema reminded her.
“I don’t think ‘captured’ is the right word. The cats stumbled across Carly during the raid and Carly—being the opportunistic slut she is—blithely switched sides.”
“So who else would have this information? If the cats are protecting Carly, we’re out of luck.”
Suddenly it was “we” again. Zophiel smiled. “Carly’s new protectors are a serious complication, but I’m always up for a challenge.” She turned the hand-drawn map on her desk around so they could see it. “I didn’t put too much stake in Osric’s map until today. First, I don’t trust him completely. Second, we haven’t had a risk worth taking.” She pointed to the complex near the center of the map. “This is the cat sanctuary. Osric is convinced there are tunnels branching out from under the main building.” She pointed out three of the five houses arranged around the sanctuary. “Erin, Kyle and a bear-shifter own these three houses. Osric wasn’t sure who owns the other two or which Therian owns which house.”