Page 112 of Shared Omega

And as if on cue, I feel another sudden constriction of desire in my core, where Kane’s hot flesh is still knotted tightly inside mine.

CHAPTER 35: DOG

Footfalls in the corridor rouse me out of my meditative state. There is a metallic sliding sound, like a sword being drawn from a sheath, and a painfully bright rectangle of light appears in the pitch darkness in front of me.

In the column of light that angles in through the opening, I can see my claustrophobic cell. Four concrete walls, not even wide enough to stretch my arms.

A pair of woman’s lips appear at the opening.

“Dog, are you awake?”

The voice is small and soft. I recognize it immediately, along with the familiar scent. It is Corrie Hines. She assisted Dr. Frostgrave in my psychological conditioning. Actually, “assisted” isn’t the right word. She was the one with all of the expertise, while Frostgrave simply took all of the credit.

“Where is Sloane?” I growl. “What have you done with her?”

I’ve repeated those questions a hundred times since we were captured. In fact, they are the only words I’ve uttered. I’ve asked the guards. I’ve asked Frostgrave. Every time, the answer is the same. Silence.

But this time is different.

“She’s alive,” Hines whispers.

In a heartbeat, I’m on my feet. My head thumps against the too-low ceiling, but I don’t feel any pain at all. On the contrary, a wave of energy surges through my body, brought on by this good news.

She’s alive. Sloane is alive.

“Where is she? Is she okay?”

The lips move back from the slot, startled by my sudden burst of energy and the sudden proximity of my voice. I detect a strong scent of fear from the other side of the door.

“Dog,” Hines whispers. “I want to remind you that I have full control over you. If you make any attempt to attack me, or even to touch me, I only need to say the words ‘stand down,’ and you will immediately obey.”

I grunt in acknowledgement.

“How could I forget?”

The slot closes, plunging me back into pitch blackness. But the darkness is short lived. A moment later, the door of the cell gasps open. The fluorescent brightness of the white-walled institutional corridor is nearly blinding after hours confined to my lightless cell.

Before me stands Corrie Hines. She is a small woman, smaller even than Sloane. She is dressed in her usual white lab coat. A pair of glasses are perched on her nose, and her dark hair is pulled back into a bun.

The scent of fear emanating off of her is extreme. She’s terrified of me, as she should be.

So why has she opened the door to my cell?

“Remember what I said,” she whispers in a trembling voice.

I nod.

“I won’t hurt you, Hines.”

She swallows hard before darting her eyes one way and then the other down the length of the hall. Then she motions for me to step out and follow her.

“Come on,” she whispers. “We have to hurry. I’ve jammed the security systems, including the cameras, but if we run into a random patrol, everything will be ruined.”

She races down the corridor, her simple flats ringing on the hard linoleum floor. I stride after her, my bare feet silent as a cat’s. My walking pace is enough to keep up with her running.

I could kill this woman easily. A quick motion of my arm. A twist of her neck. It wouldn’t take much. She wouldn’t have time to utter her precious little command to stop me.

But I hold back.