would have relished the thought of sizzling the Braxan healer’s insides, but this would be barbaric. Even if it worked. If it didn’t, it would be murder.
He held his hand out to Lea. “Let me do it.”
She didn’t argue, but her fingers shook as she handed him the weapon.
Troy howled, a sound of rage and fear that curdled Damon’s blood. He’d never forgive himself if this torture didn’t work.
He wanted to say something, a warning or apology for what he was about to do, but that would only prolong it, and in his current state Troy wouldn’t understand anyway. Slightly nauseated, Damon steadied himself. He straightened his back and locked his still weak knees to keep himself from falling over. After a deep breath, he activated the shock-stick and, ignoring a small tinge of regret, he pressed the crackling tip of the weapon against Troy’s ribcage. The convert’s wild howl morphed into a desperate, pain-filled scream.
Behind Damon, Lea cringed and shrank back, covering her mouth with trembling fingers.
To Damon’s amazement, Troy’s yowling ceased. Drool slipped from his slack lips, but the acknowledgment was unmistakable. “P-lease...an—another.” His first coherent words gave Damon some hope. Troy understood.
After a moment’s contemplation, he complied. He shoved the live tip of the shock-stick against Troy’s furry chest and activated it, cringing when the man/beast screamed in agony once again. Then he backed away, leaving his unlikely victim panting and writhing on the jungle floor.
After a moment, Troy calmed himself and raised his head. “Th-thank you. One...one more.”
Damon stared. This was unreal. “Can you handle it? Your insides are going to fry.”
“I...want my life back. I need to get home to m-my wife.”
“You knew, didn’t you? You knew this was a cure for the transformation.”
Troy closed his eyes. “Th-they don’t want anyone to know. One more...p-please.”
Damon stepped forward again. He’d never felt remorse at using a shock-stick on anyone before, least of all someone who was asking for it, but it made his insides churn to think of the pain Troy was willing to endure to regain the use of his higher brain functions. “All right. You asked for it.” He touched the weapon to Troy’s side and fired. The man’s deep, guttural scream tore through the night like a hot blade.
After three blood-curdling rounds with the shock-stick, Troy was completely coherent. He offered his hands to his captors and Lea drew her blade and set him free.
* * * *
Troy rubbed his wrists and ankles for a moment, then his head shot up, and his eyes connected with Lea’s. “Please tell me, is Darya still...?” His desperate question brought tears to her eyes. She grasped his hands in hers and nodded.
“She’s doing okay. I put her in the medical center before I left. She’s getting the finest care.”
A familiar cloud passed over his green eyes. He’d been a proud man, reluctant to accept her financial help even when Darya’s savings dwindled to the last credit. The only way Lea had been able to convince her sister to accept a small fraction of what the Company used to pay her was if Lea called it a loan.
“How long have I been here?”
“A little over two months now. What do you remember?”
“I remember all of it.” Troy shook his head, then his gaze dropped self-consciously to Lea’s feet. She wondered about his sudden interest in her shoes, then realized they were all she wore.
Her cheeks heated when she recalled Damon tearing her shirt from her. Troy had watched it all. She studied her shoes as well.
Damon must have sensed the reason for the lull in their conversation. To Lea’s surprise, he peeled of his own shirt and handed it to her. “I’ll find your pants,” he said with exaggerated nonchalance.
She slipped on the garment and boldly met Troy’s gaze, hoping they could both forget the awkward recollections. “What really happened between you
He held his hand out to Lea. “Let me do it.”
She didn’t argue, but her fingers shook as she handed him the weapon.
Troy howled, a sound of rage and fear that curdled Damon’s blood. He’d never forgive himself if this torture didn’t work.
He wanted to say something, a warning or apology for what he was about to do, but that would only prolong it, and in his current state Troy wouldn’t understand anyway. Slightly nauseated, Damon steadied himself. He straightened his back and locked his still weak knees to keep himself from falling over. After a deep breath, he activated the shock-stick and, ignoring a small tinge of regret, he pressed the crackling tip of the weapon against Troy’s ribcage. The convert’s wild howl morphed into a desperate, pain-filled scream.
Behind Damon, Lea cringed and shrank back, covering her mouth with trembling fingers.
To Damon’s amazement, Troy’s yowling ceased. Drool slipped from his slack lips, but the acknowledgment was unmistakable. “P-lease...an—another.” His first coherent words gave Damon some hope. Troy understood.
After a moment’s contemplation, he complied. He shoved the live tip of the shock-stick against Troy’s furry chest and activated it, cringing when the man/beast screamed in agony once again. Then he backed away, leaving his unlikely victim panting and writhing on the jungle floor.
After a moment, Troy calmed himself and raised his head. “Th-thank you. One...one more.”
Damon stared. This was unreal. “Can you handle it? Your insides are going to fry.”
“I...want my life back. I need to get home to m-my wife.”
“You knew, didn’t you? You knew this was a cure for the transformation.”
Troy closed his eyes. “Th-they don’t want anyone to know. One more...p-please.”
Damon stepped forward again. He’d never felt remorse at using a shock-stick on anyone before, least of all someone who was asking for it, but it made his insides churn to think of the pain Troy was willing to endure to regain the use of his higher brain functions. “All right. You asked for it.” He touched the weapon to Troy’s side and fired. The man’s deep, guttural scream tore through the night like a hot blade.
After three blood-curdling rounds with the shock-stick, Troy was completely coherent. He offered his hands to his captors and Lea drew her blade and set him free.
* * * *
Troy rubbed his wrists and ankles for a moment, then his head shot up, and his eyes connected with Lea’s. “Please tell me, is Darya still...?” His desperate question brought tears to her eyes. She grasped his hands in hers and nodded.
“She’s doing okay. I put her in the medical center before I left. She’s getting the finest care.”
A familiar cloud passed over his green eyes. He’d been a proud man, reluctant to accept her financial help even when Darya’s savings dwindled to the last credit. The only way Lea had been able to convince her sister to accept a small fraction of what the Company used to pay her was if Lea called it a loan.
“How long have I been here?”
“A little over two months now. What do you remember?”
“I remember all of it.” Troy shook his head, then his gaze dropped self-consciously to Lea’s feet. She wondered about his sudden interest in her shoes, then realized they were all she wore.
Her cheeks heated when she recalled Damon tearing her shirt from her. Troy had watched it all. She studied her shoes as well.
Damon must have sensed the reason for the lull in their conversation. To Lea’s surprise, he peeled of his own shirt and handed it to her. “I’ll find your pants,” he said with exaggerated nonchalance.
She slipped on the garment and boldly met Troy’s gaze, hoping they could both forget the awkward recollections. “What really happened between you
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