Page 17 of Stolen By the Wraiths (Rift Wraiths #1)

T he corridor exploded into chaos. Security forces poured from every access point, moving like they'd done this before. Not regular facility guards—these were specialists with gear I'd never seen. Electromagnetic pulse weapons, neural disruptors, and restraint devices that hummed with nasty energy.

"This way," Alix shouted, her scanner already mapping routes while plasma fire scorched the walls. She moved like she was born for this, turning her tool kit into a weapon as she triggered lockdowns that sealed doors behind us.

I stepped between her and the incoming fire, dropping the first attacker and grabbing his rifle.

The weapon felt right in my hands as I put down two more before they could set up.

But for every one we dropped, two more appeared.

They weren't trying to kill us—every shot was for capture, every move designed to take us alive.

"Extraction team," I realized, ice forming in my gut. "They're set up specifically for bonded pairs."

"The research wing," Alix called back, steady despite the chaos. "If we can reach detention, maybe we can free the prisoners. Create enough mess to?—"

Something hit her mid-sentence. A neural disruptor, designed to screw with the pathways that kept our bond stable. She stumbled, crying out as static tore through our connection, making it feel like her emotions were being ripped away.

"Alix!" I abandoned cover to reach her. The separation was agony—not pain I could fight through, but a catastrophe that tore at my very essence, making thinking nearly impossible.

She fought the disorientation, her hand finding mine even as the weapon's effects shredded our bond. "I'm okay," she gasped, though I could feel the interference like acid in my system. "We need to?—"

The stun net hit us both. Bio-reactive energy that sent electricity racing through our bodies. But worse than the paralysis was what it did to our connection—cutting it completely, leaving me blind to her for the first time since we'd bonded.

For one terrible moment, I caught a fragment—her voice, raw with pain, calling my name. Then nothing. Silence where she should be.

I fought the restraints, everything narrowing to her face as the team moved in. She was struggling too, her eyes locked on mine even as paralysis spread.

"Don't let them separate us," she managed through the static, barely audible but carrying absolute conviction. "Whatever they do, remember—I choose you. Always you."

The dart hit my neck before I could respond. I felt her take the same hit through our fading connection. As consciousness slipped away, the last thing I saw was Alix being lifted by people in hazmat suits, her eyes still on mine with desperate love and unbreakable determination.

Then darkness, and agony I'd never imagined possible.

I woke with molten metal in my veins.

The cell was polished metal walls and environmental controls designed to crush hope. None of that mattered compared to the agony ripping through me.

Separation. Forced, violent separation from my mate.

The pain was indescribable. Not physical trauma I could endure, but a biological catastrophe striking at my core.

Every cell screamed for Alix's proximity, her scent, the completeness only she could provide.

My skin burned for her touch—not just comfort, but the claiming contact that marked her as mine.

The memory of her beneath me, crying out as I drove into her, made the separation a thousand times worse.

My body's chemical signals went haywire, leaking distress signals in waves.

The cell's air grew thick with territorial musk and desperate need.

Somewhere in the facility, alarms were blaring.

The ventilation couldn't handle the chemical overflow from my biological crisis—the raw scent of a mated male cut off from his female.

Every breath reminded me of what I'd lost. Her taste was still on my tongue from hours ago, the memory of claiming her so thoroughly she'd screamed my name. Now I couldn't even sense her properly, and my body was shutting down like an addict deprived of essential drugs.

But underneath the torture, something persisted.

Faint, damaged, but there—the bond itself.

Strained to breaking but not severed, a lifeline stretched across an impossible distance.

Through the static of separation trauma, her presence was faint warmth somewhere in this place. Alive. Unbroken. Still mine.

That was the only thing keeping me sane.

The door opened, admitting a human female, middle-aged, wearing sterile medical gear that screamed authority. She carried herself with clinical detachment more horrifying than sadism.

"Subject designation T-Prime," she said, consulting a data pad like I was interesting bacteria. "Remarkable. Your biochemical output is causing discomfort to others three levels away."

"Dr. Jannika Hessler." She introduced herself like we were meeting at a conference instead of a torture facility.

"I've been studying your species' bonding mechanisms for years, but this is my first genuine bonded pair.

When Venturi confirmed the primary assets were en route, I must admit, I didn't expect the data to be so. .. perfect."

My hands clenched against the restraints. "Where is?—"

"Your mate?" Hessler didn't bother to look up from her notes. "Safe enough."

"If you've hurt her?—"

"I want to understand how this works before I make it better," she cut me off like I hadn't spoken. "Natural bonding is so... messy."

She moved closer with a scanner. "Tell me about the feedback mechanism. How does proximity affect your balance? What triggers the cascades during intimacy?"

My jaw clenched so hard it ached. "Go to hell."

"The claiming behaviors are particularly interesting." She ignored my response completely, making notes. "The territorial marking so central to your species."

"I said?—"

"Your bonding event was extensively monitored." She flipped through data like she was discussing the weather. "Environmental filters captured pheromonal spikes during your... encounter. Your partner showed remarkable adaptation."

I jerked against the restraints. "You were watching us?"

"Monitoring, yes. The data was quite illuminating."

My vision went red. "You're going to die."

"Fascinating." She didn't even look up from her notes. "Protective instincts persist despite obvious distress."

"When I escape this place?—"

"You won't." She finally met my eyes, calm as discussing lunch plans. "This facility is designed specifically for bonded pairs. Your emotional attachment becomes quite the liability."

I pulled against the restraints hard enough to make them creak. "You don't understand what you're dealing with."

"Don't I?" She tilted her head. "Your people got lucky—stumbled onto something amazing by accident. I'm fixing the flaws, making it work the way it should."

"That's not love. That's slavery."

"I prefer 'evolution.'" She smiled like she was teaching a slow child. "Your species stumbled onto something remarkable. I'm perfecting it."

She leaned forward, her scanner recording with mechanical precision. "The human will give us valuable information about adaptation. I'm particularly interested in how much pain separation causes."

Her casual discussion of torturing Alix made something break in my chest.

"The way her body responded to your output during bonding was remarkable," she continued with clinical interest. "Full synchronization in hours. Most impressive was the pleasure response integration—how her nervous system adapted to find satisfaction in submission to your territorial marking."

She was talking about the most sacred moments of our connection. The way Alix had arched beneath me, begging to be claimed. The way she'd responded to my dominance with complete surrender that had nearly driven me insane.

"You're going to die," I said with absolute conviction. "When I get out of here, I'm going to hunt you down and tear you apart for even thinking about touching her."

"Predictable vocalizations," she observed, unaffected. "A textbook example of protective instinct overriding rational assessment. We'll want to quantify that during our experimental phases."

"What experimental phases?"

Her smile was the most chilling thing I'd encountered in years of dealing with monsters.

"Breaking and reforming your bond, of course.

Understanding how to break genuine bonds and substitute artificial ones.

The human female will provide excellent data on adaptation to modified Tsekai biochemistry.

I'm particularly curious about pain tolerance during forced separation and how quickly we can condition new bonding responses. "

"How to sever natural connections and replace them with controlled alternatives." She stood, brushing off her lab coat. "The human will provide excellent data on adaptation. I'm curious about how much agony separation causes."

She paused at her notes. "Our success rate with cortical reassignment in primate subjects was already seventy percent. The neural plasticity required is quite remarkable once you understand the pathways."

My blood turned to ice. "You've done this before."

"Of course. How else would we perfect the technique?" She looked genuinely surprised by the question. "Though I admit, interspecies bonding presents fascinating new variables."

"You touch her and I'll?—"

"You'll what?" She looked genuinely curious. "Tear me apart? Strip flesh from bone? Yes, you mentioned that." She made another note. "The protective vocabulary is quite limited, isn't it?"

I wanted to explain exactly what I'd do to her, in precise, graphic detail. Instead, my throat worked soundlessly.

"We'll begin once you've fully experienced separation trauma." She moved toward the door. "Baseline data needs to be complete. Two guards will place a suppressor collar in an hour."

"What does it do?"

"Creates artificial static in your bond connection.

Not severing it—that would be counterproductive.

Just making it painful whenever you try to sense her presence.

" She paused. "Oh, and don't bother hoping for rescue.

Your crew is being hunted. Even if they weren't, your emotional connection is a significant liability in escape scenarios. "

The door sealed behind her, leaving me alone with separation agony and the promise of worse to come.

But as I struggled against restraints designed for my species and strength, something unexpected filtered through the chaos.

Not just Alix's presence, but focused determination mixed with something else—the memory of how she'd felt in my arms, how she'd responded to my touch, how completely she'd given herself to me.

Even separated by distance and interference, the echo of her satisfaction was tangible warmth, a reminder that her body still carried the memory of being thoroughly claimed.

She wasn't just fighting back—she was fighting as my mate, with all the strength and cunning that came from belonging to someone who'd die before letting harm come to her.

An hour later, the guards returned. Two humans in protective gear, accompanied by a technician carrying what looked like an oversized collar made of bio-responsive metal. The thing hummed with electromagnetic energy that made my markings itch.

"Subject cooperation is not required," one guard announced. "Resistance will result in additional restraint measures."

I didn't resist. Not because of their threats, but because fighting would accomplish nothing except delaying whatever plan was building in Alix's brilliant mind. They secured the collar around my throat, and my world exploded into new dimensions of agony.

The device made every attempt to reach for her feel like fire racing through my skull. Worse, it interfered with the intimate awareness that let me feel her satisfaction, her arousal, the way her body still responded to the memory of my claiming even while separated.

But even through the interference and chaos, something persisted. Not clear communication or emotional sharing, but the fundamental knowledge that she was there, she was mine, and she was fighting to return to me with the same desperate need consuming me.

The guard shift changed twice, marking at least eight hours of agonizing separation.

The collar created constant low-level discomfort that spiked into agony whenever I tried to reach for our connection, but worse was what it cut me off from—the intimate awareness of her body, her satisfaction, the way she carried my claiming marks with pride.

But gradually, something else began filtering through the static. Focused determination that could only be coming from Alix. She was working on something requiring intense concentration, and the sheer force of her will was strong enough to penetrate even the collar's interference.

More than that, the echoes of her arousal were faint warmth in the static—not immediate physical desire, but deeper satisfaction from being thoroughly claimed by a male worthy of her submission.

Even separated and tortured, her body remembered it belonged to me, and that knowledge sent strength through my battered system.

Whatever Hessler and her team thought they understood about Tsekai bonding, they'd failed to account for the most important factor.

Genuine love couldn't be controlled, suppressed, or defeated by technology.

Neither could the kind of claiming that went beyond biology into territory they couldn't measure or replicate.

They thought they were studying a biological process. What they'd actually captured was something far more dangerous—a connection forged by choice, strengthened by complete physical surrender, and made unbreakable by mutual possession that transcended mere emotion.

The collar continued its painful feedback, but I endured it with savage anticipation. Because through the torture and chaos, Alix's determination was bright, focused fire. She was coming for me, and when she arrived, I would show Hessler exactly what happened to anyone who threatened my mate.

The separation had been agony. I would make sure our reunion was an apocalypse for anyone standing in our way.