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Hours passed. No one came to the door. With each passing second, my hope began to die a slow, painful death.
I’d fucked everything up. I should have never come to the mall. I should have just accepted Ryder, Aarom, Morgn, and Davon as my mates. That I was their breeder.
Instead, now I was the captive of some renegade human faction living in the slums of Atlanta. I was probably as good as dead.
Chapter Eleven
Davon
I groaned, the sunlight burning into my sore, heavy eyes. Every bone in my body hurt, like someone had splintered them into a thousand pieces and I struggled to move because of it. All I wanted to do was sleep, but something was urging me to wake up. Beside me, Morgn was already moving, sounding like he was in equally as much pain as I was.
What the fuck?
I forced my eyelids open and saw my three comrades beside me.
Did we really drink that much whiskey? I was feeling more hungover than I had ever felt in my life. I tried to stand, but my limbs felt weak. I fell back on the couch and groaned weakly.
I was a fucking mess. Morgn and the other guys were never going to let me live this down. Dammit, if my legs would just do what I told them already.
I leaned forward, holding my head in my hands and moaned. I stayed there for a long moment, willing my head to stop spinning. I felt so dizzy.
“What the actual fuck,” Morgn murmured. I lifted my head. He looked just as bad I felt.
“What happened?” I murmured. Ryder and Aarom were still out. Completely. The only ones awake were myself and Morgn.
Morgn squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.
My brain felt like it was beginning to come back to life, each neuron firing and communicating with each other at a level far below my usual. What misery was this?
Gradually, I realized this wasn’t a whiskey hangover. I didn’t feel nauseous, not in the slightest. Whatever has caused this wasn’t booze. I took a deep breath and initiated the com device on my ear. I turned on the full body scan and commanded it to evaluate myself.
I’d engineered the devices for the four of us. A small nanowire was embedded directly into our skulls, allowing it to read our vitals for toxins in the blood or lymphatics, or directly through bone and muscle tissue for injuries. I heard the telltale signs of its clicking, indicating it was reading me. More than once, this com device had saved my ass.
I remembered one time, when we were fighting the humanoid alien race, the Drugans. I’d broken my leg and through the com, we’d set it and wrapped it with special galvanized medical tape in the field. I’d been able to walk without pain in under an hour.
“Toxin detected. Diphenyhydramine-HCl. Suggested treatment of rest and fluids. Alternative course, Nano bot deployment to destroy toxin,” the com said in my head.
“Proceed with Nano bots,” I commanded, my voice sounding weak to me. We didn’t have time to wait for rest.
I heard Morgn mutter the same. I could feel the Nano bots immediately swirling through my bloodstream and within thirty seconds, I began to feel clearer headed. My exhaustion slowly stripped away until I felt like myself again. I sighed with relief. Within five minutes, I felt normal.
I instructed the coms to activate the Nano bots on Ryder and Aarom as well.
After a few tense minutes, they woke up too.
“What the fuck happened?” Ryder muttered.
“We were poisoned,” I said out loud with disbelief.
“Where’s Alaina,” Morgn said as he rose from the couch. I watched him as he walked around the living room and kitchen. He strode out of sight and returned a few minutes later, fuming.
“She isn’t here,” he declared.
“Fuck. It must have been her. She poisoned us. How would she know we were susceptible to Diphenyhydramine-HCl? That’s something the Vakarrans have kept closely guarded for years,” I replied.
She’d poured the glasses of whiskey. Prepared four, just for us. It wasn’t until Aarom had grabbed a glass and given it to her, that she had one. I hadn’t seen her get the glasses, the ice, or pour the whiskey. She’d done it all on her own.
She was a Stryke after all. Smart. Resistant. A fighter in her own right.
