His Dark Bond Read Free

the female’s soul like she was water and he was dying in the desert. Stale water, yeah, but water nonetheless. He could feel the power flowing through him, the sick ecstasy of feeling, even if they were secondhand emotions. The female coming apart in Nael’s arms thought she’d died and gone to heaven, but she had no clue.
    Zer had been to the Heavens. He knew what she was really missing out on and what a faint substitute the bliss Nael could shower on her was. The Heavens were worth fighting for, worth protecting even if they didn’t want the protection of the likes of him. He’d stop Cuthah no matter what he had to do, because for once in his too-long life he was going to make the right call. Was going to win the battle that mattered.
    This was a race to get to the next soul mate first, winner take all.
    If Nessa St. James was fortunate, the Fallen would get there first.

C HAPTER T WO
    N essa St. James stared across the fake teak desk at the bastard who’d just declared he was shutting down her lab. Putting her out of business. Tears burned the edges of her eyes but, God, she wouldn’t cry. Maybe, if she didn’t blink, the tears would stay put and she could play this out. On the other hand, if she gave in to the urge to sob, she could probably justify punching the bastard in the nose, because, if she were going to be unprofessional, she’d go the whole nine yards. Do something she’d really regret. The dean smiled right back at her, patting his tie into place as she breathed her way through the beginning of a panic attack. The cheerful pink and blue stripes marched straight down the line of buttons on his white oxford without missing a step.
    “Clearly,” she said, “I didn’t hear what I thought I just heard.”
    “We’re closing your lab,” the dean repeated. His gaze dipped south of her jaw and then slid smoothly back up. She fought the urge to check the neckline of her own white blouse.
    “Why?” Don’t panic . She’d worked too long and was too close to the answers she needed to quit now.
    “How long have you been working for us?”
    “Three years.” She was up for tenure next year. He’d promised in her interview that she’d be a candidate for early tenure, wouldn’t have to wait the full six years for her review. His promise had been just one of the many reasons she’d elected to live in M City, to take a position here when she could have worked anywhere in the damned world. They both knew this. So, why was he threatening her?
    “You’re an impressive researcher.” The dean settled back in his chair, increasing the distance between them. His wife had either bought the oxford at the start of their marriage or had idealized her husband’s weight. The cheap cotton stretched over the well-defined start of a paunch. Too much fast food and too much stress; his genetics weren’t coded to handle that double-barreled onslaught. His body’s response to the overload had been to build him a spare tire.
    “Thank you,” she said cautiously. They both knew it was true.
    “And that’s why there may be a junior position we can offer you in Professor Markoff’s new lab. That would be a good move for you,” he continued smoothly, and this time his eyes definitely strayed from her face to the narrow vee of skin exposed by the collar of her blouse. “Given your unfortunate background.” He leaned forward as he delivered his bombshell, folding his hands on the teak desktop. Either he didn’t know her history with Markoff—or he didn’t care. “Your research credentials are impressive, of course, as I’ve said, but most of our business partners prefer dealing with humans.” He licked his lips.
    “You don’t believe I’m human.” She loved her lab, her research. She’d never missed a day of work, and undergraduates actually bothered showing up for her lecture. Plus, she knew just how much money the university had made from her patent on an over-the-counter DNA testing kit. Pee on a