“Don’t bother praying,” the child whispered. “If you pray, they get mean. And He doesn’t listen anyway. You know He doesn’t.”
“Then don’t pray,” she warned her, furious. “Keep your damn mouth shut.”
Dawn was angry with the child and she wasn’t certain why. Why would the kid want to pray? Why call out to a God that didn’t listen, that didn’t protect the Breeds? He hadn’t created them, why should He care if they lived or died? If they survived or lived without nightmares?
The little Breed female laid her head against the bars of the cage, dejection and hopelessness surrounding her as Dawn felt her chest clench with pain. She moved closer. She wanted to comfort her, even though she knew there was no comfort she could give. She was a step closer when the girl’s eyes opened again.
“Did you see his eyes?” she whispered. “I looked as he hurt me. At his eyes. Just at his eyes. I want to remember them forever so you can rip his throat out. Remember his eyes. Remember, Dawn, we’re going to kill him dead. We’re going to tear out his throat and bathe in his blood. We swore it. Remember that, we swore it.” Agonizing pain, a brutal, animalistic growl of rage and helplessness, filled the room as the words slammed into her.
Dawn jerked back. She remembered that vow. As that knowledge tore through her brain, light and color, the ground beneath her and the world around her, shifted in a dizzying array. Suddenly, she was being restrained, cruel hands gripping her arms and legs as she fought and bucked.
Her eyes jerked around, staring at the dark shapes. They wore black masks, black shirts. They were hiding themselves, but she could see their eyes. She could see them and she could smell them and she was going to kill them.
She bared her teeth and snarled, enraged, the animal inside her tearing at her mind with vicious claws as it sought escape.
“I smell you,” she screamed. “I smell you. I see your eyes. You’ll die. I’ll kill you.”
She was screaming at one. Just one. As he moved between thighs that were restrained by steel. His lips curled into a smile as he worked his pants loose. And she stared into his eyes.
“I’ll kill you.” Demented, enraged, a haze of bloodred fury filled her senses as he came over her and she knew the pain he would bring to her. Not just to her body, but to the soul they said Breeds didn’t have.
“You’ll have to find me first.”
A second later she began to pray. Fear filled her, dark and oily, sliding over her senses as she felt that first touch.
“Oh God. God save me…God save me…”
“God doesn’t care.” His smile was cold, triumphant. “When are you going to accept that? God doesn’t care about what isn’t His. You’re not His. You’re ours—”
She came awake. Her eyes jerked open, staring into the enraged, agonized gaze of the man she loved more than her own life.
“Wake up, damn you!” He shook her shoulders, his face tight, savagely hewn, his eyes tormented as she stared back at him.
Her body was stiff, the fragmented memories of the dream almost, just almost, receded. She could almost remember. She could still taste her own fear, hear her own prayers and the answer she had been given.
And as she stared into Seth’s eyes, she knew he had heard. He knew. He would have heard her prayers. She knew she prayed in her sleep, where she refused to pray while awake. She didn’t pray, because she knew He didn’t listen.
But Seth did. He had heard her and he had brought her back from the dream. He had kept her from her screaming. He had kept her from feeling the pain. She knew that in a distant part of her consciousness. She might not remember the dream, but she knew the pain she always awoke to. Until now.
“Hold me.” Her voice was harsh, desperate. “Don’t make me be alone.”
But he was already gathering her closer, the muscles in his powerful arms flexing around her as those prayers, a child’s prayers, echoed in her head.
“You’ll never be alone again,” he whispered at her ear. “Don’t you know, Dawn? God sent me to you. Tell me what to do, baby, just tell me what to do.”
“Just hold me.”
She wasn’t shuddering, she wasn’t praying. She held on to him like a lifeline and felt a coil of dread begin to unravel in her soul. Because she remembered the eyes, and she knew, knew, somewhere at some time, she had seen those eyes again.
Seth stared into the dimness of the room and felt Dawn slip slowly back into sleep. He still rubbed her back in slow, easy circles as he held her tight to his chest, his heart racing furiously. Terror had clenched his heart when she had jerked out of his arms, her arms and legs slamming to the bed as though jerked in place by some unseen force. And then she had begun praying. Distantly, he remembered hearing the rumor that Dawn never prayed. She never attended the religious services provided for Sanctuary, and refused to be in the pastor’s presence. She was one of the few that claimed God hadn’t made Breeds and He hadn’t adopted them.
But she prayed in her dreams. In a child’s broken voice, hoarse with pain, she prayed in her dreams. God save me…
And he knew what she had pleaded to be saved from. She had prayed to God as they raped her, and they hadn’t stopped. They had hurt her, over and over again. She had been taught in those labs that she didn’t have a soul. That she was created by man, not by God. That God had no interest in Breeds. A child suffering through what she had suffered through, how could she help but believe it was the truth?
His little Cougar Breed believed God had abandoned her. And then everyone else had as well. Callan had left her to Dayan’s insanity and then Seth had left her to the mating heat. Dawn had known only betrayal, only pain.
And yet here she lay in his arms, relaxed, sleeping deeply. Seth had demanded monthly reports on Dawn after he left her. For years, he had called Jonas personally, making certain she had everything she needed, providing what he could to make her safer, more comfortable. And through those years he had gained some information on her. He knew she often woke the estate with her screams, until the past few years. He knew most nights she didn’t sleep at all. She dozed through the day, sometimes she napped in the forest. She made few friends, she trained religiously, and the male Breeds within the compound lived almost in fear of her. Jonas hadn’t mentioned why. Dawn had been amused at the accusation, her gaze glittering with laughter. He saw glimpses of a prankster in her, a smart-ass if ever one had been born. A strong, stubborn, determined woman, far different than that shadow of a broken child that he had glimpsed ten years before when his chauffeur had mauled her br**sts and called her a Council plaything. And now here she lay in his arms, more a lover than any other woman who had ever touched his body. But still plagued by the shadows of a past that she refused to remember, and the God she believed had deserted her.