The dim sound of a feminine laugh soothed some of his rage and had a calming effect. It was a memory. He grabbed hold of it, trying hard not to lose sight of her. Delicate, pale hands rose, showing him her palms as the flashback became more vivid.

“Don’t, 466. You’re making my stomach hurt.” She had a musical voice. Soft. Sweet. Sexy. His dick hardened instantly, nearly drawing his focus away from her to fixate on the sexual hunger it stirred.

Her hands dropped flat on the desk and she leaned in, still smiling directly at him. “You made that up to see how gullible I am.” He wanted to kiss those lips. The urge to lunge at her, grab and pin her on the flat surface was strong. Her clothes were thin, easy to tear off. “We’re supposed to be telling each other the truth, remember? That was funny but fiction.”

“Maybe.” The emotion attached to that word came through. Amusement. He was playing with her. “The truth is I actually lay in bed last night thinking about you.”

Her features shut down all emotion. “Don’t.”

He moved around her desk and crouched, so close he could pick up the scent of her arousal. His fingers itched to free her hair to see how long it would be.

“Did you think about me? Did you touch yourself?” He hoped she’d say yes. He wanted to be the one to touch her though.

“Go take your seat.”

She was shutting him out and he didn’t like it. He turned the chair despite her attempt to stop him by gripping the edge of the desk. Her strength was no match compared to his and the sight of her legs in that short skirt was something he hadn’t expected. They were smooth, shapely, and beautiful. She gasped, her eyes widened, and her breathing quickened.

“I’d rather share yours.” He reached out after releasing one side of her chair, his fingertips gently stroking her knee. So soft. He inhaled and knew his senses weren’t deceiving him. She wanted him too but she wouldn’t admit it. “Spread your thighs. Let me in.” He licked his lips. He could eat her up. Wanted to. Needed to.

“You know we can’t do this.” Panic flashed in her eyes. “Please don’t.”

He sniffed—no fear. No, she wanted him too. Why wouldn’t she give in? He’d make it so good for her, for them both. She brushed off his touch, locked her knees together and reached for the buzzer on her desk.

“Don’t make me push the alarm. Please, 466.” It was the pleading desperation of her tone that stopped him, made him straighten and step away.

Rejected. Again. It hurt. He hurt. His dick ached from the need to take her. His body responded to the emotions and feelings that surfaced with the memory.

Agony shot through him and the haze returned. He howled, prowling the confines of the cage. Rage built. He needed out. To run. He needed…something. No. Someone… He tried to remember who but couldn’t. A snarl tore from his throat.

Chapter Four

Joy studied Moon as he paced his cell. He was distracted, snarling and agitated. A howl had fractured the quiet of the room when she’d stepped out of the elevator. He immediately focused a viciously angry gaze on her before he turned and ignored her completely. She swallowed, slipped off her shoes, and slowly approached.

“Moon?”

He didn’t even glance her way. It made her wonder what had happened since she’d left. Did he remember grabbing her throat? Threatening to kill her? Maybe he thought she’d come for retaliation in some form. Mercile employees would have.

It would be suicide to get too close to him at the moment so she walked to the chair Rusty had brought and sat. She crossed her arms over her chest as she watched him, hoping he’d calm or grow tired. The guard upstairs had told her that Moon had eaten an hour before. The new chains attached to his arms and legs dragged on the floor. That factored a lot into his state of mind. She’d bet her career on it.

“Can you understand me?”

He didn’t even pause his back-and-forth pacing. One arm shot out though the bars and the chain attached to it slammed into them. The sound made Joy wince.

“They had to do it. Do you understand? Everyone here is trying very hard to help you.”

Moon ignored her but he snarled again and paused, shaking each of his legs to make the chains jangle. Her focus fixed on the restraints when he held still. It appeared the Species had wrapped leather bands around his wrists and ankles then placed the metal shackles over them to protect his skin. He began pacing again, dragging the chains, and let out a tormented howl.

The sound was haunting yet terrifying at the same time. So much rage. Joy didn’t blame him. He’d been locked inside a cell in a dimly lit basement. She’d argued to have the lights turned up but the officer had shaken his head.

“He gets worse if we make them brighter. He seems to like the dark better. It’s the predator inside us.”

Joy couldn’t argue with that logic and had let it drop. Moon had shed his humanity after the dart attack. The animal side of him would prefer darkness if he couldn’t run free. There wasn’t any good news yet from the medical staff either. No cure had been found and the doctors were still clueless about what drug concoction had caused him to turn feral. Whatever his attacker had done, it hadn’t dissipated. She had hoped it would wear off and he’d return to normal but it hadn’t happened.

“Moon?”

He continued to pace, yanking on his chains every few feet, and threw out the other arm. The chains hit the bars. It was obvious they were making his condition worse but Justice North had made the decision and he was in charge.