Kevin gagged and turned away. “Please, don’t.”
“Don’t what?” David tugged at the laces and began looping them around the eyelets. “You were the one throat fucking me.”
“I said stop!” Kevin suddenly squared his shoulders and glared at him.
David froze and stared at him open mouthed. “Really?” He quickly tied the boot then pushed up from the mattress. He stepped closer to Kevin and gave him the once over. “You can play it however you want, Princess. But we both know what happened here tonight.” He stepped aside and reached for the door. “And other than your little mental breakdown, I enjoyed myself. Don’t ruin an otherwise good time by pretending you weren’t here.”
He reached for the doorknob just as his lights went out and his body crumpled to the floor.
Kevin stood breathlessly over him, a hammer in his hand.
“Like this.” Simon held the arrow in his hand and his fingers fumbled with the end as he tried to straddle the string with the nock.
“They are returned.”
Simon leaned to the side and stared out the door of the store. He smiled as he saw the small army of Quee tentatively walking across the parking lot.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” He pushed away from the checkout counter and handed the arrow to the man he was attempting to teach. “Keep practicing.”
He quickly pushed his way through the small crowd and out into the parking lot. Clyde stepped forward and nodded to him. Simon didn’t miss the dried blood around his mouth and running down his neck and chest. “You killed their leader?”
Clyde nodded and turned to present the Quee he had acquired. “They come.”
Simon pulled Clyde aside, his hand gripping his boomstick. “Are you their leader now, Clyde?”
The tall hunter stared at him a moment then slowly shook his head. “You lead.”
Simon slowly smiled. “That’s right, Clyde. I lead.” He stepped around the taller man and stared into the crowd. “How many hunters?” He watched as a half dozen men slowly made their way forward.
“Still strong.” Clyde stated firmly as he stood beside him.
Simon nodded and stepped closer, his eyes probing each man. “I’m going to turn you into warriors. Fighters.”
“Who are you?”
Simon turned to see a young woman with a nearly bald head staring at him. He gave her an easy smile and reached out to cup her chin. “I’m your alpha. Your king.” He turned and faced the rest of the crowd. “I’m the leader of this pack and I intend to turn each and every one of you into fighting machines.”
Simon stepped aside and waved them toward the entrance to the store. “This way. Your training begins now.”
Chapter 16
Hatcher groaned as the sunlight reflected into his eyes. He rolled over violently and pulled the covers over his head. With a huff he tossed his bedding to the floor and groaned as he sat up. “I really hate mornings.”
He staggered to the small bathroom and blinked at his reflection. He slowly leaned closer and noticed the stubble on his face was beginning to show grayer than he preferred. He sighed as he leaned back and stared at his once black hair. Streaks of silver weaved through the mess and Hatcher groaned again.
“No wonder I feel so damned old.” He reached for his toothbrush and shook his head at his reflection. “Because I am so damned old.”
He quickly went through his morning routine, taking care to drag the dull razor carefully across his skin. He removed the whiskers and splashed cold water across his face, hoping it would help wake him up.
He quickly dressed and stepped out of the tiny efficiency apartment and trudged toward his office and the high octane wake up juice that his body was screaming for.
He pushed open the door to his office and found Roger already there, pouring over the security reports. “Another quiet night.” He tossed the summary to Hatcher’s desk then reached for the coffee pot. “I’m reluctantly hopeful that the grand majority of the Zulus have starved.”
“Reluctantly hopeful?” Hatcher lifted his own mug and watched as Roger filled it with the fresh brew. “With a cure blowing on the winds and you’re hoping the grand majority of the human race has starved?”
“You know what I mean.” Roger sat down gently and gave him a knowing look. “You and I have one thing in common. We don’t trust that this first attempt will actually work.” He sipped the coffee then placed the mug on the security console. “With Candy expecting, I’d like to hope that as many threats as possible are taken off the table.”
Hatcher inhaled deeply of the aroma before sucking down a large swallow, scalding his tongue. “I won’t go so far as to say that I wish the Zulus dead…not if there’s a real chance of saving them.” He caught the look that Roger shot him. “But I will say that if the cure works, that it’s a real cure. Not some band aid that just makes them more docile or less of a threat.”
Roger leaned back in his chair and slowly shook his head. “Cured or not, I don’t know that I’d feel truly safe being around them.”
It was Hatcher’s turn to switch the table on him. “What of Patricia? Seems to me you were a big proponent of us giving Trevor and her shelter here.”
Roger’s face tightened. “That’s different. She’s a kid.”
“And the young can infect and kill just as easily as the adults.”
Roger sighed as he leaned forward. “She’s different.”
Hatcher nodded. “Indeed, she is. But if the cure
