“Even as a leader, I’d appreciate your wisdom,” Nemo said. Orson made a face of displeasure before walking away.
“Better to give the most annoying job to the most annoying person,” he mumbled as he went.
“Well, there we go,” I said.
“I don’t want to fuck him,” Nemo quickly told me.
“Right. That’s a convincing thing to blurt out unprompted,” I said. He nodded. I blew out a breath. I felt lighter, but nervous.
“We’re going to get Baz back, right?”
“I promise you that we’ll find him,” Nemo responded. “I’ve never had big dreams. I just want all of you safe, and in my bed.” He smiled. “And fuck me if you lot aren’t the hardest to accomplish that with.”
“We are a little difficult, aren’t we?” I asked, slipping into his lap. His arms wrapped around me. Immediately, I relaxed.
“You should be grateful I’m so strong.” He buried his face in my hair, breathing in the scent. “A normal shifter could never manage you three. I’ll get Baz back. And I won’t threaten to leave ever again. Each one of you chose me now. I’ll die before I let us part again.”
“Then we’re on the same page,” I said, pulling back to look him in the eyes. “There is no life without all of us in it.”
20
SAMPLES
BAZ
My head spun, and I lost my balance—the go-to warning of theoh-so-enjoyableoxygen dips. I dropped to the floor. It was second nature after several weeks. Damien would press the deprivation button on his phone every time someone came to get samples, feed me, clean up, or do any other possible thing. I was hoping to develop auto erotic asphyxiation just to keep things upbeat.
By the time I lay down on the hard floor, I was already gasping for air. My eyes slid to the oxygen meter on the wall, watching the red numbers slowly crawl into the 80s. My heart fluttered wildly behind my ribs, trying to pump more oxygenated blood to my organs.
The confusion wasn’t myleastfavorite part about slowly suffocating, but it was definitely annoying. Without enough oxygen, I could barely think. I struggled to keep up with what was going on, even though it was the hundredth time this had happened. The door opened and promptly shut. A blind scientist shuffled into the room, wearing a respirator and a full-body cleanroom suit. I looked at the tank strapped to his back. No one came in here without their own oxygen supply. All my brainpower went to clutching onto consciousness as he used my gasps to locate me.
Once he found me, he dropped beside me with his basket of needles, beakers, and tubes. The thick extraction needle pushed into my neck, and I inhaled, deep and desperate. The man was efficient, but it never felt fast enough. The oxygen wouldn’t go back up until he was done and out the door.
Several tubes were filled. He took precisely the amount of blood determined as the maximum allowed for each day. It was just enough that I remained mildly anemic without ever recovering. Ironic they’d bleed me dry when the vampire I’d been fucking hadn’t. I’d come to realize Bree barely took anything at all from me. A splash on the tongue, just a taste to soak in.
The edges of my vision went black. We were hitting the dangerzone. Five minutes. That’s all they got unless I passed out early. After five minutes, brain damage was risky, and Damien wanted me weak, not defective.
If this scientist guy didn’t hurry, I was going to lose consciousness, and if that happened, they couldn’t extract all the samples. Which meant someone else would have to come back later, and I’d be slowly suffocating on the floor an extra time today.
All the extractors they sent in here were blind. It kept them safe from unintentionally looking me in the eye and dying on the spot. I couldn’t tell the difference between them. I’m sure there were easy tells, but when your brain is operating at bare minimum power, and the room is spinning, the finer details of my needle-wielding captors went unnoticed. Hell, I didn’t even really know if it was a man.
The extractor pulled the needle from my neck. Cold ointment was wiped on, sealing it immediately. His hands linger there a moment, his gloved thumb circling the closed wound longerthan necessary. His fingers slid up from my neck, tracing my jaw on the way to my mouth.
These people got handsy sometimes. Nothing blatantly overt, especially when they used their hands for sight, but I could tell. Even with their special gloves, in all its many layers, lingering could lead to enough exposure for a fatal venom poisoning. And yet some chose to flirt with that option and lose.
Extractors: zero.
Baz: Uh, eight?
I couldn’t remember exactly how many had died, but this guy was on the way to death, too.
“You’re too slow. I’ll get the rest of the samples,” Damien said. I turned my head, seeing him in the glass room next to mine. He’d been observing the entire process, like a pet owner at the vet. I continued to gasp for air.
The extractor peeled my lips back, exposing my teeth. His gloved finger pressed against my gums for a moment, flirting with disobedience.
“That's enough … he’s turning blue,” Damien added. The extractor finally pulled back. I managed a smirk at Damien, despite suffocation. Yeah, sure, my blue lips are the reason you’re calling him off. Not the fact that he was about to kill himself.
The extractor collected his equipment and got up. I watched my door open. A small burst of oxygen came into the room. Not that my lungs could tell, but the oxygen meter by the door showed a slight increase. My focus stayed there as I began to grow nauseated, waiting in distress for the numbers to go back up.
