The surprise of her tears turned to confusion fast as he listened to her words. She didn’t make much sense. What does that even mean? He wasn’t sure.

“I’ll get over it if you come out of this healthy. You have to fight, 880. You need to know that life is worth living. It’s worth the risk. Look at what I did trying to save you.”

He waited for her to explain that but she didn’t speak for a long time. He wanted to know what she’d done for him.

“You’ve got to come out of this.” More tears wet his skin. “I have a feeling that I’m going to be in really big trouble over stealing you from the NSO. They will probably lock me up and throw away the key.”

She’d stolen him? How? Many questions filled his mind, quickly developing into hundreds. How had she taken him from his cell? How had she escaped in the first place? Why had she burdened herself with him? She didn’t feel big enough to carry him.

He couldn’t remember anything past the day 46 had been murdered. His rage had taken hold and he’d attacked the bars. He’d refused to give up trying to reach the humans who’d killed her no matter how much he’d damaged his body.

One thing became clear. This female wasn’t his enemy. At least he hoped that was true. She could have been forced to try to lull him into a sense of trust only to calm his rage at their captors. They’d need to find a new way to control him if they still needed him.

The fingers of his left hand actually fisted and he squeezed. He wasn’t going to allow the female to know he was regaining the use of his body. He’d remain meek, wait for the perfect moment when he was stronger and strike then. Their captors would pay for what they’d done to him, 46, and the female at his side.

She yawned and nuzzled her cheek against him where her head rested. He knew when she drifted to sleep as her breathing slowed. His left foot moved.

Chapter Four

Allison forced her excitement down. 880’s foot had twitched again when she’d given him another sponge bath. He had ticklish feet. His penis had also jerked when she’d had to shift it to clean him. Of course that could have happened when he was at Medical at NSO Homeland. Destiny might not have reported it, thinking it was meaningless or embarrassing. No-movement reports should mean that he was completely unresponsive.

She dried 880’s body, covered him and finished the morning routine she’d kept for the past few days. His color seemed better. It might just be wishful thinking, but she’d take it. In a few days she’d have to use that disposable cell phone to call the NSO to pick him up.

They’ll pick me up too. Fear gripped her hard. She had risked her career, her medical license, and far worse. They could send her to prison for a few years at the very least for kidnapping or a judge could put her away for life since any transgression against a New Species might be deemed a hate crime.

New Species were protected. They’d been given special status after hate groups had attacked them and a worldwide outcry had been made. The public had watched as Fury—one of the New Species—had taken bullets meant to kill his fully human wife. Things like that tended to piss off people. Fury and Ellie living together had been huge news and their romance was often commented on since they continued to thrive.

She personally knew the couple and could state with ease that they were deeply in love and happy. Envy welled over how close they seemed and how well matched they were despite their different backgrounds. Love had conquered all in their situation and it was romantic. They’d had a baby boy she personally adored when he was brought to her for his checkups. Salvation was the spitting image of his father and living proof that some things had a happy outcome.

“I’m going to take these towels and washcloths outside to let them dry in the sun and dump the trash.” She tucked the blanket more firmly around his waist, left his chest bare, and hoped he was comfortable. “It’s getting warm, isn’t it? That storm blew away and left us some nice sunshine.”

He didn’t answer and it was depressing. Her hope faded daily that he’d ever open his eyes. She’d tried to save him by following her hunch that scent could reach him but he would have shown some improvement if it were that easy. A loud sigh passed her lips. She grabbed the trash bag next to his bed and the pail of water with the discarded washcloths.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” The statement made her bite back a snort.

It was a beautiful day as she walked out the back door to reach the side of the house and the special trash can she’d brought for medical disposal. She dumped the bag inside it and paused in the yard. She carefully hung the towels and washcloths on the clothesline to dry. The place didn’t have a washer or dryer but it did have a huge tub in the mudroom for hand-washing items and a long rope strung out between trees for drying.

A soft hum left her parted lips as she finished her chore. She missed music. Birds flew overhead, startled from a nearby tree, and she smiled as she headed back toward the house. She was almost to the back door when movement caught her attention. She turned her head and gasped.

Four large men wearing black outfits rushed at her from behind the shed. Their faces were covered with black ski masks and they clutched big, scary guns. More sound came from behind her but she didn’t have time to glance back. Terror struck and a scream burst out before one of them reached her.

A big body hit her in the chest, pain exploded through her from the brutal tackle and she slammed hard into the ground with a lot of weight crushing her. The air was knocked from her lungs, cutting off her scream and making breathing impossible. Her attacker rolled over before she recovered.