Page 30 of The Quoram Effect

“He’s not coming.”

“No,” I whimpered. “He must be able to feel this…feelmethrough our bond.”

“Not this time.” A silvery shimmer rippled across his face as he scowled down at me. “The Q comedown blocks the bond at both ends. He can’t sense anything in the same way you can’t.”

I slumped forward against the wall, the cool silk scattering the heat for a brief moment. But the beast thrashing inside me quickly upped the temperature, shooting an inferno of fiery pellets through my chest.

Somehow, through the exhaustion, I held my crumpled position, focusing on the despair and agony raging through my body and mind; driving it deep into the bond bridging me to my rejected Damson.

Please feel this, Torz. I need you. Gods, I need you. I promise this is the last thing I’ll ever ask of you. Please help me…

A knock on the door jolted my laboured breaths. At first, I wondered if I was hallucinating, but the rhythmic thud repeated, heavier this time, and a sigh of relief stretched a small smile across my dry lips.

“See? It’s him,” I said, looking back at the Damson God. But the taunting deity was no longer standing before me. Apart from the light flicking from the media screen, the area was dark and empty. I was alone.

Is this a bad dream?I thought. With so many elements of confusion clattering about in my mind, it was possible this was a feverish nightmare.Gods, I hope it is.

When the urgent knocking came again, I disregarded the wish of waking up in my lonely bedroom with its flaking pink flowers painted on the ceiling, and lunged myself forward. After crawling the handful of metres to the exit, I reached up, fighting the dizziness, and floundered with the latch.

The ornate wooden door slid open, and a stream of bright light assaulted my eyes. Exhaustion tugged on the little strength I had left, and I slumped back onto my heels. With my body propped up against the wall, I narrowed my vision, trying to make out Torz’s face.

Was he angry? Concerned? Gods, I just needed to see him.

I reached out, and the silhouette of a man stepped closer before squatting down in front of me. As I frantically blinked back the haze, the image of my handsome Torz was abruptly replaced by a roguish-looking man with short blond hair and callous eyes.

“What do we have here?” he rumbled, amused.

My hand darted out to push the stranger away, but his fingers snapped around my wrist, startling me.

“There’s someone who wants to see you, little puss.”

As I fought the heat and disorientation, he hauled me to my feet. The warmth of two bodies flanking me shot terror throughmy gut as my lifeless arms were slung over a dual set of broad shoulders. My bare feet dragged along the carpet as walls and hallways shot by—too fast for my mind to decipher. Foggy images of the hotel foyer came and went, then an empty elevator, followed by dark, eerie corridors and the foul stench of sewage.

I tried to keep alert, tried to tear my arms away from whoever these men were, but the fever raging within me had physically weakened me, distorted my vision, and slowed every response. Worry screamed and echoed about my scrambled mind, but I could do nothing more than murmur inaudible words. Even the savage monster demanding another hit of Q had quietened, as if this new turn of events had sobered it up, leaving me a mess of melted putty in hands belonging to people I didn’t know.

Persistent footsteps drummed a beat in my head as lights flickered along the walls. Peering ahead, trying to gauge where I was, nausea from the forward momentum crept upwards, and I quickly slammed my eyes shut. In the next breath, my spongy arms were released, and I collapsed onto the solid ground.

The room spun as I glanced up, my body shaking fiercely. At least four dark figures milled about the small space, their attention on me. One bent down in front of my crumpled form, his familiar face blurring in and out of my temperamental vision.

“You’re looking a little worse for wear, Lieutenant.” The gravelly voice shuddered through me. I recognised it. I recognised him. And as my mind slowly caught up, adrenaline surged down my legs. He was…he was…

Oh shit.

Words failed me as I stared in horror at Nikos Russo’s sardonic grin, then at his thugs looming behind him in the dark, dingy room.

“I’m shocked.” Russo’s deep chuckle ricochetted through my troubled brain. “I always thought Benoit would keep his pet in better condition. But judging by the purple hue to your eyes,someone’s had a little fun with my favourite drug.” He tutted, tilting his head in mockery as I caught the sparkle of violet-tinted hair near his temples. A memory sprang forward—Torz telling me Russo was Quoram-born.

“It must be true.”

“Oh dear. You really are a mess.” Russo stood, turning to a table propped against the opposing wall—or was it a transport trolley? “Shall we make you feel a little better?”

Not following his meaning, I frowned, still struggling with the eerie light, the vile smell, and my blurred vision. I swallowed down the trepidation, only to jolt back when Russo appeared in front of me with a syringe clasped between his fingers. My breaths became erratic as he held it up, a glowing droplet emerging from the nib.

“No.” I tremored, a new wave of dizziness flooding my brain. Panic barraged shards of dread through my chest as my heart hammered out of control.

He inched closer, and I pushed him away, pathetically, like a child trying to move a steel pillar. The next thing I knew, heavy arms held my body in place, fingers digging into my wrists, restraining them. I squirmed, attempting to free myself, but the sharpness of the needle piercing the inside of my arm confirmed my failure.

My thoughts jumped to Torz, to his disappointment in me. How would I explain this to him? I’d tried to resist the pull to another dose of Q. I’d wanted to fight it for him. This wasn’t supposed to happen.