Free CONCEPTION (The Others) by Sarah McCarty

crept in, blocking out the light. Eden dug her nails into his
forearm as she fought the overwhelming weakness, too scared to answer. With a
jarring thrust, he was there in her mind. Incredibly powerful. She tried to
block him as he roved through her thoughts, emotions. To no avail. He was
always one step ahead of her, a gliding alien presence going where he willed
with no thought to her preference.
    “Bohdan?”
    She wasn’t sure if Deuce said his brother’s name or thought
it.
    I am here . And he was, less intrusively, but there.
She thought her head would explode from the pressure.
    Relax . Bohdan whispered the soft mental command.
    Eden grabbed her skull and squeezed, putting everything she
had into expelling them. “Get out of my head.”
    A shot of white-hot agony nearly split her brain in two.
    Immediately, the pressure faded. In the wake of the debilitating
pain came a crippling weakness. She couldn’t support her own weight. Deuce
caught her, cupping her head in his hand, holding her to him as she battled
unconsciousness. Something hot and moist pooled on her upper lip. Her hand
shook as she wiped it away. She knew what it was before she looked. Blood. She
was bleeding the way she always did when she expended too much mental energy.
    “You are very strong.” Bohdan handed her a handkerchief.
    She took it and pressed it to her nose. “Not strong enough.”
    “To block us?” Bohdan raised his eyebrow at her before
shaking his head. “No.”
    Deuce lowered her to the bed. The mattress, softer than his
hard body, didn’t provide the same comfort. He squatted beside the bed,
stroking his fingers over her skull while his gaze searched her face. Pain
faded until even the memory was gone. She was so tired that she couldn’t muster
the strength to complain. If he wanted to feel like a Mack truck had just
driven into his brain, that was his problem. Her hand fell to her side, the
handkerchief forgotten.
    “She will not survive that again,” Bohdan pointed out as if
he were talking about nothing more serious than the weather.
    “I know.” Deuce took the handkerchief from where it had
fallen and folded it before pressing it against her nose.
    “We will need her cooperation,” Bohdan said over her head.
    Eden grabbed for the handkerchief. “I can wipe my own nose.”
Barely. She was so damn weak. “What do you need my cooperation for?”
    “Without help you are going to die.”
    She suspected she was going to die anyway. “That is not a
newsflash. Any clue what’s taking me out?”
    Bohdan handed her a clean handkerchief. “You do not have
enough red blood cells to supply your organs.”
    A flicker of hope she’d thought long abandoned snuck past
her defenses. She took an extra moment to wipe her upper lip. “You’re saying
all I need is a transfusion?”
    “If it were that simple it would already have been done.”
Deuce took the handkerchief from her, steadying her with a hand on her shoulder
as he wiped carefully at her face. Anger simmered around him in an invisible
field.
    She took the opportunity to put a little space between them.
She got as far as the length of his fingers. “Then what are you saying?”
    “Your body chemistry has been systemically altered.” The
smooth linen tickled her lips before Deuce pulled it away.
    “To heal you I need to know how,” Bohdan added with his
soothing calm.
    “So you want to draw blood?” She stuck her arm out. “Run
amok.”
    Bohdan was shaking his head before she finished. “Although I
have my suspicions, I need to know how it was done.”
    “I don’t know. I don’t even know if I could tell you if I
remembered.” There had been too many experiments over the months. Too many
mysterious liquids injected to sort it all out.
    “You do not need to remember.” Deuce touched her temple.
Even that slight touch had her weakened body wanting to lean into him, to let
him take over for just a little while. “The memories are in here.”
    “I need your