Her body reacted beautifully to every stroke, but he became aware that she wasn’t in the most comfortable position. He grabbed a stack of clean towels and, lifting her, shoved them behind her.
She smiled. “Thanks.”
“Welcome,” he replied, his mouth against her nether lips. He lifted her legs, draping them over his shoulders, then slipped a finger inside her wet channel, then another. And as he sucked and licked her clit, he gave her one orgasm after another. Her heels were digging into his back as she tried to clench her knees. When he sensed she was coming down from her initial sexual hunger, he pulled her hips closer to the edge of the washing machine. Straightening between her legs, he pushed into her. She was tight but slick. He held her thighs as he pumped. Her hands were spread wide over the enamel surface of the machine, trying for a grip she couldn’t get. He owned their entire joining. When he felt his own release near, he thumbed her clit again, holding still, waiting for the waves of her passion to break free.
So close. So very close… He gripped her hips and pulled her against his hips, pumping fast, feeding her hunger as he answered his.
They came together in a crescendo like he’d never felt before and doubted he ever would again. As it ended, he reluctantly withdrew from her. She was sitting up, leaning her weight on her wrists as she stared at him. He touched his fingers to her cheeks.
She shook her head. “It’s like I know you. Like I’ve always known you.” Tears slipped down her cheeks—emotional spillover from their explosive joining.
He was going to have to steal this memory too. He caught the back of her head and pulled her forward, kissing her lips, tasting her tears. I love you. Never forget that, even as you forget everything else about us. Always know that you are loved.
With that, he put himself back together, then helped her off the washer and fetched her panties. He compelled her to go into the powder room next to the laundry room. He couldn’t steal her memories while he looked into her beautiful blue eyes.
Concentrating, he did the deed, taking this last moment from her.
He was invisible to her when she came out of the bathroom. She seemed both flushed and pale, shaken to her core. She straightened her dress and finger-combed her hair, then squared her shoulders and returned to the group.
Merc did not go back. He obviously couldn’t be in close proximity to Ash without completely losing control—not the experience she’d picked at all. Merc glared at Bastion as he made his way through the kitchen.
Bastion stared back. When Merc had passed, Bastion grinned as he said, “You have heel marks on your shirt.”
Merc hissed a breath, then leaned against the open kitchen door, watching Ash in the courtyard. “I’m going to die.”
“No you aren’t. “
“People die of broken hearts.”
“Lautaro didn’t. You didn’t, after Tina. Mutants don’t die of broken hearts.”
Merc stared at Ash a moment longer. “She won’t remember tonight or anything from before. Don’t make a big deal about me missing dinner. Remind the Ratcliffs that Ash needs her blood drawn.”
Bastion waved him off. “Go ahead. Run away. Return to your miserable-ass norm. It is fine. We will all carry on without you.”
Merc did just that. He went up to his room and paced angrily across it.
This was going to be the nature of his existence for the rest of Ashlyn’s life. He’d better get the fuck used to it.
35
Ash set her purse in the back seat of her car. Monday seemed to have come too fast. She still felt a strange, lingering mood from her night out with the girls at Summer’s fort. She loved Summer’s new friends. And Ash loved how happy her friend was.
What she was feeling wasn’t jealousy, per se, just a persistent sense of loss, which made no sense. She hadn’t lost anything. Or anyone. Both of her friends were doing well, though Kiera was still battling the strange issues with her clients.
There was just some big piece missing from Ash’s life, and since she didn’t know what it was, she didn’t know how to resolve it.
Her parking spot at the office was occupied. Of course. There were no assigned spots—it was just part of her routine to park there. It was out on the fringes of the big lot, so she got in extra steps. And it was nicely positioned to take advantage of the afternoon shade.
Oh well. Not like it was her only parking option. She turned into another spot, feeling off kilter. She shook it off, gathered her things, and went up to her office.
Her regular Monday morning meeting was about to start. Why that irritated her, she didn’t know. Everything was bothering her today.
She took her coffee, a pen, and pad of paper, and went into the meeting room. Everyone was chatting about their fun weekends. Though they used quiet voices, the collective buzz was loud. To make matters worse, the smell of so many people gathered in a small, closed space clogged Ash’s nose. She looked around, wondering which among them hadn’t bathed, then realized she could distinguish the scent from each individual person, their soaps, perfumes, aftershaves, shampoos, hair products, skin lotions. It was weird and overwhelming. Maybe her sensitivity to touching things was moving into her other senses.
God, she was a freak.
Ash took a seat closest to the door, praying it would stay open once the meeting started. She focused on taking long, calming breaths in, pausing for a count of several seconds, out. Repeat. She breathed through her mouth so that she wouldn’t be smelling everyone.
Her boss came in and started the meeting. Ash looked at his throat as he talked, watching his Adam’s apple move, watching the skin of his neck move over the flesh of his throat. She could even see the faint pulsing of blood in his neck.
Everyone gave their individual updates. When it was her turn, she managed to contribute her information as if she weren’t falling apart.
When the meeting was over, she was the first out. Safely retreating to her office, she closed her door, finally feeling a slight easing of the oppression that was closing in on her.
Geez, if this kept up, she was going to need special counseling.
And a straitjacket.
She sat at her desk and tried to focus on her work. It was harder than normal. Her back was starting to ache. So was her throat. She held her forearm against her forehead and thought she might be starting with a fever.
She had a bottle of Tylenol in her desk drawer. She took a couple of those and was able to get through the rest of the day with some level of efficiency. It was a relief when the day was over.
She got into her hot car, feeling achy and cold. Hell, she was definitely coming down with something. At home, she took more Tylenol, then made herself a bowl of soup. She managed to eat half of it before crashing in bed.
The next morning, she was barely able to brush her teeth, but she managed that. She had no leave left to take a few days off to deal with her cold. She had to go into the office.
She stopped on the way to get a daytime cold reliever. She was standing at the cashier when a man standing by an endcap caught her attention. He was tall, with straight blond hair and blue eyes. Fear rippled along her spine. She’d seen him before. He was the guy who’d been standing outside her office building, looking up at her window.
Creep.
She paid for her things and left, hurrying to her car, relieved that it was broad daylight. She’d be able to see if he followed her onto her office campus.
He did not.
Carrie came into her office with a stack of folders and set them on her desk. She frowned at Ash. “You okay, Ash? You’re looking a little gray.”
“I’ve got a bug.” Ash held up the cold medicine she’d just taken.
“You should go home.”
“I should. But I don’t have any leave left.”
“Want anything? I could bring you a cup of hot tea.”
“Thank you, no. I have what I need.”
Carrie nodded toward the window. “That guy’s out there a
gain.”
Ash knew who she meant before she even went over to the window. Sure enough, it was him. He smiled at her, but it wasn’t really a smile, just a baring of teeth, like a dog growling.
You’re mine now. Let the change happen.
The words appeared in her head, as clearly as if he were standing next to her speaking them. Ash turned and checked out her room. Only Carrie was there.
“What’s wrong?” Carrie asked.
“Didn’t you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
Ash shook her head. Maybe she was so ill that she was delirious. Hallucinating. Except Carrie saw the creeper too.
“Nothing. I’m losing it.”
When Carrie left, Ash looked out the window. The guy was gone. If he kept making appearances, she’d get with site security to make sure they knew she may have picked up a stalker. If that didn’t work, then she might have to go to the police.
She sat at her desk and looked at her computer. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t make sense of what she was seeing. She put her head down on her folded arms. Everything about her was beginning to hurt. Her toes and fingertips. Her jaw and teeth. Her neck. Her ribs.
She shut her eyes, thinking a couple minutes’ rest would let the meds kick in, but the next thing she knew, someone was touching her shoulder.
She lurched to her feet and backed away, but realized it was just her boss.
“Hey. Sorry to scare you. Carrie said you were sick. I think you should go home.”
It sounded like he was speaking through water. She tilted her head, trying to understand them.
“Go home. We’ll call and check on you tomorrow. Don’t worry about the leave. You can work a couple weekends to make up the time. Take care of yourself first.”
Ash didn’t move. He opened some of her desk drawers, searching for her things, then found her purse and keys, which he held up to her. “Let’s go.” He took her arm and gently led her out of the office.
Ash sent a look around at the people she worked with. They looked curious, confused, concerned. She didn’t care about them. She didn’t care about anything.
“Carrie,” her boss said. “I’m going to drive Ash home. Follow us so you can give me a ride back.”
He walked Ash to where she usually parked, but that other car was there. And that blond guy was in it. Windows up, in the sweltering early summer heat.
“Where’d you park?”
Ash didn’t answer. She couldn’t take her attention from her stalker.
“Never mind. I see your car.”
When they reached her house, her boss gave her things to Carrie, and between them, they managed to get Ash inside her kitchen.
“Look, take some meds, get some rest, and we’ll check on you in the morning. If you aren’t better, we’ll get you to the emergency room. This could be some weird tropical bug you brought back with you.”
Ash tried to respond, but her throat was so dry that she sounded like she was growling at them. Scared them both, she could tell. She turned and walked into her living room, leaving them to let themselves out.
Touching her forehead, she realized her fever was spiking. She managed to pop a few more Tylenol, then grabbed a washcloth, which she soaked in cold tap water.
That wasn’t cold enough. She tossed it on her bathroom counter and cupped her hand in the cool stream of water. Splashing it over her face, she felt a few seconds of relief—until she looked at herself in the mirror. Her face was paler than she’d ever seen it. The skin around her eyes was dark. Her eyes were bloodshot. She winced, looking at herself, and realized her gums were bleeding.
She stumbled backward, banging into the shower door. She stepped into the stall and turned the water on cold. She was still dressed, so it soaked her clothes, ruined her shoes. She slumped to the floor.
She should call him. He would know what to do.
But who was he?
Merc woke abruptly. He’d only had a couple of restless hours of sleep after his encounter with Ashlyn. A single knock sounded on his door, then someone came in.
Guerre.
He pulled the blackout shades wide. Merc braced himself on his elbows. No way would Guerre wake him like this for anything less than earth-shattering. And right now, that earth-shattering had something to do with Ash.
Merc threw off his covers and went into his closet to dress. “Tell me,” he ordered Guerre, who followed him in.
“She’s sick. Real sick. She’s got a high fever. You need to bring her out here.”
Merc poked his head out of the tee he was pulling on. “Why is she sick? From that damned bite?”
“Not sure, but the Ratcliffs can run more tests on her. Just bring her out here so we can get her stabilized.”
“Roger that.” Merc shoved his feet into his boots. “Tell Liege where I am.”
“Will do.”
It was midmorning when Merc got to Ash’s house. After his most recent run-in with her at the fort, when he couldn’t keep his hands—or his body—off her, Merc had insulated himself from her. He had to if he was going to set her free. Shit, he had to if he wanted to draw a full breath. Thank fuck Guerre was still attuned to her.
He entered through her side door, calling out her name.
No answer.
He felt her. She was definitely here. He went down the hall to her bedroom and heard the shower running. He poked his head around the bathroom door. “Ash?”
She was sitting on the floor of the shower, her face turned up toward the stream of water. The chill in the air and the fact that she still wore her work clothes meant something was very wrong.
Merc, Liege said into his mind, Acier is on his way over to drive you and Ash out here. Keep her still and quiet.
What the fuck’s happening?
The Ratcliffs have the results from her latest labs. She is definitely mutating.
What kind of mutation?
Not like ours. Not like Summer’s. She’s becoming—he paused—a ghoul.
Oh. Fuck. Merc hit his knees on the bathroom floor. Oh, God. If the change didn’t kill her, he would have to. That particular mutation strain was a death sentence. It always destroyed its host. Even if she survived the change, she wouldn’t be Ash any longer, but a monster under Flynn’s control.
There was no antidote.
He crawled into the shower and shut the water off. “Ash? Baby? You there?”
She opened her eyes. Blood pooled in her lower eyelids. Her lips moved, but no words came out, no sound at all, and he could see the blood in her mouth. She coughed, spewing red spittle on her white shirt.
Merc wept as he pushed her wet hair aside. She caught his wrist and pressed it to her face, rubbing her teeth against his skin as if readying to bite him.
He compelled her to sleep. He’d just lifted her from the stall when he heard the side door open and slam shut. Acier rushed to help. He looked as crushed as Merc. He stood back and let Merc pass.
Merc pressed her close to his body, and though he tried to separate himself from the emotions ravaging him, he couldn’t stop the sob that broke free.
In his arms was the woman who was his heart. She still breathed, but wouldn’t for long.
Acier put a hand on his back and guided him through the house and out to the black SUV in the driveway. He held the door open for Merc to lift Ash in, then climb in after her.
Merc broke. He scooped Ash close, rocking her as he wept. When they reached the fort, Nathan met him at the gate with a gurney. Merc refused to give Ash up. He carried her inside, over to the elevator, then down to the Ratcliffs’ lab. Only then did he set her down.
He wiped his tears away. “The changes are starting.”
Joyce was removing Ash’s clothes. She put restraints on her neck, wrists, waist, and ankles. After that, she covered Ash with a warm sheet and got an IV started.
Merc held Ash’s limp hand through it all. “Tell me there’s something you can do, doc, to slow this down. Stop it. God, r
everse it.”
Nathan brought over a stool for him to sit on. Merc put his face against the back of Ash’s wrist. Guerre set a hand on his shoulder, pouring a sense of ease into his energy.
Joyce hung up a saline bag. “She won’t feel pain, Merc. We can at least do that for her.”
Wait! Stop! Liege’s shout reached them moments before he ran into the room. They all looked at him expectantly. “Santo said there is another way.” Liege looked from Merc to the Ratcliffs, his face full of worry. “It’s not a guarantee. It may kill her too, but we have to try.”
“What did he suggest?” Joyce asked.
“Desanguination.”
Oh hell. They were going to kill her to save her. “How could that work?” Merc asked.
Joyce and Nathan exchanged a long look, that very question probably in their silent communication.
“It would remove the Omni mutation, which, until this week, has stayed dormant. Those mutations have too great of a head start if we were to try to flush them out by a flood of our own mutations. But if we were to remove a significant enough population of them, we could have a shot at reviving her with our less destructive modifications. It could work.”
Merc shook his head. “She’ll die in the process. You can’t remove her blood and think she’ll survive long enough to receive a transfusion. Even Guerre couldn’t support her through that.”
Liege came over to stand with Merc. “She’s going to die if we do nothing. There isn’t time for other options. The genetic modifications are already at work.”
There is another way, my friends. Flynn’s voice spilled into the room like from a loudspeaker. Give me Guerre. I’ll give you the antidote.
There is no antidote, Liege responded.
There is. But sweet Ashlyn’s life is on the line—there’s no time for debate. Perhaps I underestimated your affection for her.
Merc glared at Liege. In their secure group link, he said, Yeah, no. This has already gone too far. But even if there was a chance, we can’t lose Guerre.
Agreed, Acier said. Flynn knows Ash is as good as gone. He’s just fucking with us.
O-Men: Liege's Legion - Merc Page 34
