“Subjects? Is that what I am to you? Some kind of lab rat?”
Anger was gathering inside him, threatening a storm. “I wish you were. I never would have been drawn to you, never would have lain with you.”
She let out a scoffing bite of laughter. “You’re even colder than I thought. Here I was, all moon-eyed, thinking I was falling in love with you. I had no idea of the man you really were.”
“That’s because I’m not a man. You’d do well to remember that.”
“That’s it. I’m out of here.” She stormed off, but her anger supported her only so far. Her knees gave out and she started to crumple to the ground.
Logan caught her and pulled her against his body, hating the immediate reaction she caused. He’d had her only moments ago and yet he was already aching to slide inside her again. He could smell the scent of their bodies mingling, becoming something darker and more intoxicating. The muskiness of his seed was deep within her, and any Sanguinar or Slayer who met her would know in an instant that she was his.
Not that she wanted to have anything to do with him. The way she was twisting the truth about made it seem ugly and sinister. Project Lullaby was nothing like that. It was necessary.
He needed her to see that. To know it. She didn’t understand the kind of suffering they endured, because if she had, she wouldn’t have been so quick to judge him. They didn’t kill people. They worked themselves sick ensuring that their subjects were happy and healthy.
The scales were even. And soon, she would know it, too.
Chapter 24
Logan’s hold on Hope tightened and he pressed his hand to her temple. She could feel his anger vibrating through his body, but that was just too bad. She didn’t have time for him or any of his tricks.
She tried to pull away but his grip was too tight. She willed one of those surges of adrenaline-induced strength to fill her, but nothing came. A second later, all thoughts of struggling evaporated.
A strong, solid presence filled her, and she recognized it easily. Logan.
Normally, she felt a gentleness surround him, but not now. His presence was draped with purpose, like a man on a mission.
“Feel,” he ordered.
And she did. She was swept up in a wave of memories and sensations unlike anything she’d ever felt before. There was hunger. Mountains of it. So much that it ate away at her sanity, making her cry out in agony. Her belly churned and nothing could fill it but ancient, powerful blood.
But there was none to be had. A hopeless desperation descended on her, driving strength from her limbs and the will to live from her soul. She was so hungry and yet there was no more food. There would never again be more food. She was going to die here, now, and it couldn’t come soon enough.
Hope pleaded for death to take her, to end the relentless gnawing in her guts and the weakness that robbed her of the ability to do more than sit and stare, helpless and useless, while people around her died.
She couldn’t go on like this. What was the point of living if all that life had to offer was hunger and weakness and death?
And then she felt it, a faint stirring of hope, a dim light gleaming on the horizon of her suffering.
Blood. Rich, powerful blood. She could make it, grow it. It would take time. Centuries, perhaps, but for the first time in memory, there was a chance.
Hope reached for that chance, grabbing onto it with both hands. It slipped through her fingers, intangible and insubstantial. It flitted in her vision, teasing her as it darted around, never fully in sight.
But she could have it. She could have that blood. All she had to do was one little thing: Create families.
It didn’t sound so bad. Surely, she could find people who would love each other, people who belonged together, who would be happy together. The search would be hard, but the reward would be survival. She would hold each new life in her arms and cherish it for the blessing it was. It would never go hungry. It would never die of disease or sickness. She would be there, right by its side, seeing to its needs.
She had plenty of money, so that was no issue. None of her children would live in poverty or squalor. She’d see to it that they got a good education and made a place for themselves in the world so that when the time came, they, too, could help create a new and precious life.
And while she knew she’d have to take their blood to survive, she’d be careful about it. She’d screen them for disease and heal any injuries she found. She’d imbue them with long lives so their cells would not age and die as a normal human’s would. She’d do everything in her power to see them happy.
All she needed in return was the power to help them—the power only their blood could give her. It didn’t seem too high a price to ask. After all, if she didn’t do this, the dark things in the night would find them and eat them. If she wasn’t strong, she couldn’t keep them safe, and she desperately wanted to keep them safe.
As the idea sank in, she turned it around, looking at it from all sides. It didn’t seem nearly so terrible as it had before. The faces of dozens of people filled her head—all of them had been touched by the Sanguinar. They’d been paired up; they’d been fed on. None of them seemed to show any signs of abuse or neglect. They were . . . happy with the arrangement.
Who was she to say they weren’t?
Hope felt Logan’s presence release her, and with a little pang of regret, she let him go. The images he’d shown her were still a part of her, as was the memory of that hunger. If he’d endured that kind of torture, it was no wonder he’d been desperate to find any means necessary to escape it.
But what if all that mental hocus pocus was just a lie? What if he’d planted it to sway her opinion? “I want to talk to them,” she said.
“Talk to whom?”
“The people you’ve manipulated.”
He flinched at her wording, but she didn’t back down. She couldn’t. If she let up even a little, she knew he’d find a way to break through her defenses.