As to his prognosis? Shitty as fuck. While Thomas didn’t understand all the fancy technical terms they threw at him, he did clue in to what they wanted to do.

Take his leg. Claimed they had no choice.

The infection is getting worse. If we don’t do something, and gangrene sets in, you could die.

Wouldn’t death be preferable? Without his military career, Thomas had nothing and no family to fall back on. His drunken mother and his abusive stepfather might as well be dead; he’d never go back. While he did have some savings, it wouldn’t last long, and his disability pay would barely cover essentials.

Worse than living impoverished, Thomas couldn’t stand the stench of failure. The one thing he’d been good at, the life that gave him meaning, all gone because of a stupid injury that wouldn’t heal.

Thomas refused the amputation and instead asked to be considered for the MAID program—the Canadian governments euthanizing program for those looking to end their pain and suffering—and they goddamn well said no. Said it was too soon after the accident for him to make such a final decision. Tried to convince him that living as a one-legged gimp wouldn’t be so bad.

Fuck them.

Thomas began plotting ways to end his life, most of which proved unfeasible given his situation. Like flinging himself out of the window… He couldn’t even get out of bed. If he could somehow get his hands on a needle, perhaps he could inject an air bubble into his IV. Maybe trick a nurse into giving him an overdose? Could he drown himself with his glass of water?

He’d not yet finalized his death plan when a grizzled older man wearing the bars of a general walked into his room.

“Sir!” Habit had Thomas immediately saluting.

“At ease, soldier.”

“Yessir.” Thomas remained tense though. Why the visit unless to discharge him in person, cast him away because he no longer served a use?

“You are Sergeant Thomas Dawson.” Without waiting for a reply, the man continued. “I am General Davidson, and I’m here because I have a proposition for you. My understanding is you are quite the patriot and more than anything would like to continue serving your country.”

“I would, but I’m afraid I’m not currently much use.” Thomas scowled at his bandage-swathed leg.

“Actually, you’re the ideal candidate for a very special project I’m working on.”

A baffling statement to make. “I don’t understand how I can help, sir. I can’t move from this bed, and now that the infection has set in and not responding to drugs, the doctors aren’t offering me much hope.”

“What if I could?” said almost slyly. “I’m in charge of a very special project, top secret and in need of volunteers.”

“To do what? I can’t see as I’d be much good for anything. I ain’t a guy who can work behind a desk.” Computers remained an enigma. “Not to mention, the months, maybe years, of rehab docs say I’ll need if they take my leg.”

“What if I told you the leg didn’t have to be chopped off. What if I could make you whole again? Not just whole, but better.”

That tiny flicker of hope? Thomas squashed it right quick. No way was he letting it blossom because life had a way of snuffing his happiness. “What are you suggesting? Some kind of experimental treatment?”

“Yes. Now, keep in mind what I’m about to tell you is of the utmost secrecy. Can I trust you to keep your mouth shut?” The general held his gaze. Intent. Laser focused. Cold. If Thomas blabbed, this general would end his suffering. But what if this man could actually fix his leg?

With nothing to lose, he might as well hear what the general had to say. “I won’t tell a soul, sir.”

“Better not or you’ll miss out on the serum. A project I’m spearheading created something with rather remarkable properties.”

“A healing potion?” Thomas interjected.

“Oh, it’s more than that. It can heal but also make you into a better soldier. Stronger. Faster. Virtually unbeatable.”

A snort escaped him. “Sounds like the plot of a movie.”

“No movie, sergeant. Science. But given we’re trying to keep it quiet, lest our enemies try and steal it, we can’t exactly openly advertise for volunteers to participate in our trials. However, as you know, in the military, we can bypass certain rules such as offering the chance to participate to those in our ranks.”

Thomas would have sworn no such rule existed. “Gonna use me as a monkey to see if it works?”

“Yes.”

The flat and seemingly honest reply almost discomfited. The general kept offering unflinching truth. What if he spoke truly about his potion? “This serum can fix my leg?”

“It will.”

“There has to be a catch.”

“There are side effects.” The words emerged slowly.

“Such as?”

“The worst that can happen is you die.”

Which might happen anyhow, either from the spreading infection or Thomas figuring out how he could slit his wrists without a knife.

“And the best-case scenario?”

“You become a super soldier.”

Return to active duty? Not be a failure? Have purpose again? Death or life. He won either way.

“I’ll do it.”

Three simple words that led to him being whisked from the hospital to a new location built out of concrete with most of the levels underground. Initially, Thomas got placed in a room almost identical to the one in the hospital, minus the window. Not that he cared about the view.

The weeks after his relocation proved to be a blur of pain as his leg worsened, oozing pus, the streaks of red indicating the spreading infection. However, that agony paled in comparison to the doses of the general’s supposed miracle serum. They began the protocol the day Thomas arrived, injecting him with a crazy large needle full of toxic-looking sludge.

Lucidity proved scarce. Hours, days, weeks, blurred together. The battle within his body trebled. He burned with fever. He froze. Convulsions racked him. He wasted away but didn’t die, the ultimate torture. So much for the general’s optimism.

Sleep came only via heavy sedation, his only escape. Why couldn’t he just stay knocked out? He hated waking to the screaming of his nerve endings and the throbbing of every cell. And then, one day, he opened his eyes and realized, I’m not in any pain.

It had been so long that he thought for sure he dreamed. He lay a moment, staring at the ceiling overhead, concrete with grills inset for air circulation and heat. Fingers clawed at the sheet, and it ripped. Flimsy fabric. Thomas braced his hands and sat up in bed, his gaze noting the blanket pulled over his lower body. Despite the dual humps, he had to check to be sure. To see if he still had his leg. Or had he been outfitted with some kind of robotic leg? Which would actually be kind of cool.

Rather than counting, Thomas ripped the sheet away from his body and gasped.

My leg. It’s perfect. The skin unblemished and its natural dark tan color instead of bubbling and oozing. The missing chunks filled in.

It worked. He’d been cured!

Thomas leapt from the bed, only belatedly realizing he should have taken it easy his first time. A fear unfounded as his foot hit the floor and his no-longer-ruined leg bore his weight. He squatted, feeling the muscle protest a bit, given its recent lack of use but nothing a little exercise wouldn’t fix.

He jogged in place. Did jumping jacks. Laughed when the door opened and the general walked in.

“Sir, it worked!”

“I knew it would,” the general replied, looking pleased. “Strong specimen like you, you were ideal for the test.”

His chest puffed. “I’m ready to resume my duties, sir.”

“Not so quick, soldier. We need to run some tests first. Make sure we document the results.”

Initially, Thomas participated without hesitation. Running on a treadmill. Giving blood and tissue and fluid samples. But it didn’t take long before he chafed at his restrictions.

“Why am I being kept locked in my room?” he asked as Dr. Levy, the guy who’d designed the serum, listened to his heart for the umpteenth time. A room, he should add, that reminded him of a prison cell with a narrow cot, a toilet with built-in sink, and nothing else. Not even a window.

“All patients are kept confined.”

“Why? I’m healthy. Ready to resume my duties.”

“Not yet,” the doctor’s murmured reply. But he never explained why.

Raring to be doing something, Thomas posed the same question to the general when he came for a visit. “When can I leave this place? I’m ready to be deployed.”

“You won’t be leaving anytime soon,” the general advised. “We’re not done with the protocol.”

“What do you mean? I’m healed.”

“Healing is only a side effect. The protocol’s main purpose has yet to manifest in you, which is very disappointing.”

Thomas frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“I told you, we’re working on making super soldiers. Animals who can tear through our enemies without the need for weapons, who repair damage without a doctor or even a Band-Aid.”

“So what if I’m not extra strong or fast? I’m able-bodied and willing.”

“Which isn’t enough,” snapped the general. “And here I had such high hopes for you. Thought you might finally be the one to succeed, but you’re a failure like the rest, Thirty-nine.” The use of his patient ID number and not his name hit like a cold slap.

“Maybe I need more of the potion.”

“I’m not wasting any more time and resources on you.”

“Then what happens now?” Because the general had indicated he couldn’t leave. But if he was such a failure, why keep him?

“For now, you stay in this room since Levy hasn’t yet given up hope.”

“Stay here.” A flat reply. “For how long?”

“Until you die.” The general dropped that bomb as if it wouldn’t shatter.

Rage filled him. Hot, encompassing, a fury unlike anything he’d ever experienced.

He would have lunged at the general had his body not suddenly begun cramping. Every muscle in his body seized and burned. He hit the floor, writhing and moaning. A buzz filled his ears that muffled the shouts.

When the pain stopped, Thomas found himself lying on his belly, panting.

“Holy shit. What is he?” someone gasped.

He pushed himself to his knees then upright, his balance skewed by a weight on his back.

“Well, well. Look who finally showed himself useful.”

The general’s words had him whirling and snarling, the viciously animal. It startled, and he went to grab his face, only to catch sight of his hands, now a dark stone gray in color. Fingers thicker than moments ago, coarse hair sprouting from them, and tipped in claws. Fucking claws.

“What did you do to me?” His voice, deep and guttural, surprised.

“Brought out the beast in you. In this case, bat, I guess.” The general grimaced. “Unexpected and not ideal.”

“What are you talking about? This is wildly unexpected but fascinating. Our first subject with wings,” Dr. Levy announced, reaching behind Thomas to stroke the things jutting from his back.

My wings.

Fuck me.

A freak who would never have a life.

“You bastard!” Thomas roared, lunging for the man responsible.

But they were ready for him. Needles from the techs he’d been ignoring plunged into his flesh, sending him into oblivion.

A place he preferred to his prison cell.

A cage built for a monster.

It left him less than cooperative. It took killing two techs for them to avoid contact with him completely. He spent his days utterly alone. He saw no one. Spoke to no one. Once a day, his room would fill with gas and knock him out. He’d wake to find a meal left behind. Some of them still alive.

Needless to say, his time as a prisoner messed him up. The delirium hit often. As did the rage. But in between those moments, cold clarity would settle and he plotted what he’d do if ever released. Planned who he’d kill.

The general? That went without saying.

Dr. Levy? Oh, he’d get torn apart too.

Everyone who took part in this project? Dead.

But Thomas didn’t plan to stop there. The general had created more than one monster, meaning, even after his death, his legacy lived on. Hence why when patient Thirty-nine, formerly known as Thomas, did end up escaping from his cage, he set himself on a mission.

Cleansing the world of aberrations.

Chapter 1

Yuri

Yuri had found the woman he wanted to marry. The one who would bear his cubs. Who set his pulse racing and his loins on fire. A woman immune to Yuri’s allure. Unheard of.

He met Takhi when she infiltrated a secret facility—AKA a top-secret science lab in Russia experimenting on people—to rescue a friend. Immediately, her looks captivated, but Takhi’s ferociousness was what Yuri truly found admirable. How many women would kill someone and then drag their body around so they could use their face to fool facial recognition scanners? Who could blame him for becoming entranced?

After the escape, Yuri gave her his best and most successful panty-dropping smiles. Found opportunities to flex. Boldy declared his intentions, “I will make you my wife.” To which Takhi scoffed, “In your dreams, Fozzie.”

A kitty with claws and he wanted nothing more than for her to stripe and mark him.

Alas, she remained standoffish, so imagine his surprise when she volunteered to travel with him. If he lied to himself he could believe she did so because of her stifled passion for his excellent physique. Alas, it likely had more to do with the fact he’d mentioned he planned to hunt for more of the experimental labs that posed a danger not only to him but his sister, her lover, Idris—who’d defiled his pure and innocent sibling—and the other shapeshifters he’d met. Nice bunch of people who didn’t deserve to be used and abused by mad scientists and a general gone rogue. A general they’d yet to locate.

Pity he’d not been at that lab in Russia when they escaped. At least Dr. Levy, the evil scientist behind the protocol, died. Horribly too. Some vampiric thing that swooped from the sky and tore him to pieces. One problem down, a general to go.

Where would Davidson have gone? Takhi, with her mad hacking skills, had been doing some digging into both Levy and Davidson and thought she’d found something. Hence why they found themselves in Greece, staying at a hotel about an hour’s drive from Athens. Staying in separate rooms, he might add. Takhi, who kept their funds tight-fisted, insisted, even as he pointed out the money they’d save sharing a bed.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The pounding at the door could only be one person.

My sweet and delicate kitten.

Now he could have just left the bathroom with the hot water running and answered the door naked. However, that might be putting his tender man bits at risk. With a towel wrapped around his hips, Yuri answered the door with a smile.

A scowling Takhi pushed past without ogling his magnificent abs once. He’d never met someone so determined to fight her attraction.

“Just in time to join me for a shower,” he stated with his best panty-dropping grin.

“Not the time for jokes. We’ve got a problem.”

“What’s wrong? Is Svetlana okay?” He’d left his sister in the care of Idris, a decent enough bear; however, if he’d let a single hair on her head be harmed… Yuri would make him into a rug.

“She is, for now, but everyone needs to be careful.”

His lips pinched. “Why? What’s happened?”

“The remaining people we rescued from the lab in Russia are dead.” When Takhi and the others had infiltrated the secret lab to rescue Idris, they’d also in the process saved Svetlana, Yuri, and another dozen or more people who’d been kidnapped for experimentation. It had been decided to release them to return to their homes since they showed no signs of having been affected by the protocol, likely because they’d not received enough doses. They’d also been warned to keep their mouths shut.

“Oof.” Yuri blew out a breath. “The KGB is cleaning up loose ends.”

“Does the KGB tend to rip apart people with claws?”

His brows raised. “Seems more likely one of the released patients went rabid and killed the others.”

“There are no clues to the culprit, but I have a sneaky suspicion who might be the culprit.”

It hit Yuri before she could even say it. “Patient Thirty-nine.” Part man. Part bat. All monster. He’d glimpsed it as it swept Doctor Levy—the lead scientist of the project—off his feet and murdered him. Apparently not the first time this man-beast had torn someone to pieces.

“Bingo. Seems like it wasn’t content avenging itself with Levy. It might be going after everyone involved in the project, victims included.”

“Meaning none of you are safe.”

“Neither are you.”

“Why me? I was already a bear and barely in their custody,” he exclaimed.

“If this thing is hunting by scent, then guess what?”

It might come after Yuri, too. Let it. A bear against a bat? He liked the odds. He also liked the opening it gave him to say, “I guess we should start sharing a room, you know, for safety.”

Takhi snorted. “In your dreams, Fozzie.”

Yes, she did play a huge role in his dreams. His fantasies… Now, if only she didn’t treat him with such disdain when awake.

Or did she play hard to get? He could have sworn at times he saw smoldering interest.

“Would you get your mind out of the gutter?” she huffed.

“Just thinking of our next move.”

“Really? Shouldn’t you be directing all your blood to your brain then?” Her gaze dipped to the tenting towel around his waist.

“What’s the expression, two heads are better than one?”

She snorted. “I’m going to see if I can get more information on the victims. Come find me in the dining room when you’re decent.”

“I’m always perfect,” he stated to an already closed door.

See how fast she fled? Definitely fighting her attraction.