by Lizzy Bequin
I decide to start with that.
“Where are we going?”
“This car is hot. The guy we stole it from doesn’t have his phone, but he’ll be contacting the police sooner or later, and then they’ll be on the lookout for us. Plus there’s a bullet hole in the windshield, and our headlight is out. It’s not a great look.”
He rolls down the driver side window and spits a big bloody loogie out into the street.
“Sorry,” he continues, rolling the window back up. “Anyway, there’s a garage nearby where I keep a car stashed in case of emergencies. Assuming that location hasn’t been compromised, we can switch cars there and then get the hell out of the city.”
“Where would we go after that?” I ask, looking around in the back seat.
There are some dry-cleaned shirts hanging in their plastic sleeves. I undo my seatbelt long enough to turn around and grab one. As I turn back around, I see Conway’s eyes quickly shifting from my naked butt back to the road.
Was he seriously just checking out my ass? At a time like this?
“I have a small cabin up in the Catskills.” he says. “Nobody at the company knows about it. We’ll lie low there until we can figure something out.”
I free the dry-cleaned dress shirt from the crinkly clear plastic and start putting it on. At least this way, I won’t be completely naked. It’s not like Conway hasn’t seen every inch of me already, but I don’t like feeling so exposed.
“The company?” I ask as I button up the shirt.
Conway nods.
“I’m a mercenary for an elite security detail called the Alpha Initiative. We work exclusively for Omicron Corporation, taking care of their dirty work.”
I’ve heard of Omicron before. They’re a huge multinational corporation involved in all kinds of controversial biotech projects.
“So you’re a corporate hitman?”
Conway shrugs.
“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”
I turn down the heater a little bit, now that I’m not completely nude. My butt still feels exposed and naked, and the soaked-through seat cushion is still super uncomfortable. Hopefully that garage Conway mentioned isn’t far.
“So what does Omicron want with me?” I ask. “I’m just a girl from a small town.”
The rain has stopped, and Conway turns off the wipers. He reaches across and opens the console. After rummaging for a moment he finds a small dingy hand towel, which he uses to wipe the blood of his neck. His ear has stopped bleeding, and the wound is hardly noticeable now.
“That’s the million dollar question, sugar.” I hate it when he calls me that. “To be honest with you, I don’t have a clue. One thing is clear, though. You definitely are not just another ordinary young woman. For one thing, look at what’s happened to your body. And don’t forget your, you know…needs.”
Is that what this is all about? Am I some kind of mutant freak, and Omicron wants to study me? Not cool.
My damp hair is stuck to my neck and shoulders, and it’s soaking the collar of the shirt. Luckily, I’ve got my hair tie around my wrist where I put it when I was showering. I pull it off my wrist and bite the hair tie between my lips as I pull my hair into a ponytail.
Conway slows the car and leans forward, cocking his gaze upward to scan the roofs of the nearby buildings.
“We’re here,” he says, “The garage. I’m just going to take a lap around the block to make sure it’s not staked out.”
He goes slow, his sharp eyes seeming to penetrate every shadow and take in every detail of the surrounding buildings. I know I probably shouldn’t distract him at a time like this, but I’m getting impatient. Despite all of the answers he’s given me, I just feel even more confused as to what the hell is going on.
“You still haven’t answered my first question,” I mutter, my lips pinched onto my hair tie as I use both hands to pull my hair back into a wet pony tail.
“What was that?” Conway asks, his voice trailing off as he continues to scan his gaze over our surroundings.
“What are you?”
He smirks again as he completes his lap of the block and pulls up in front of a large garage door, putting the car into park.
“Yeah, that’s a little harder to answer.”
CHAPTER 14: CONWAY
We swap cars at my garage in the city, ditching the shot-up Volkswagen in favor of the 4Runner that I’ve been keeping stashed there just in case of a shit-hits-the-fan situation like the one I’ve just found myself in.
On the drive upstate, Amrita asks a lot of questions, and I do my best to answer her truthfully.
I tell her all about my Alpha conditioning. How the Omicron Corporation scientists used the Alpha serum to mutate my body, making me a living, breathing killing machine. Super dense bones that are as hard as solid steel. Enhanced senses, including a heightened sense of smell for tracking. Increased speed, agility, and strength. And of course, the real kicker, which is my accelerated healing.
There’s not much point in trying to hide it at this point. She can clearly see that not only has my bullet wound stopped bleeding, but the hole has already started to shrink and close.
I also tell her that my memory has been wiped as part of my involvement in the Alpha Initiative.
“Doesn’t that make you sad?” she asks quietly as we follow the winding highway north toward the Catskills. “Like, your whole life is just gone.”
“Not really,” I tell her.
She sits there in the passenger seat, still wearing nothing but that guy’s business shirt. Her smooth bare legs are sticking out and looking so delicious that it’s hard to keep my mind on the road.
“I don’t really think about it like that, I guess,” I say. “Maybe my life before the Alpha Initiative was worth forgetting. Maybe I did some things I don’t want to remember.”
She just crosses her arms and frowns out the window at the shadows of the trees blurring past. My fingers twitch on the steering wheel, itching to touch her again. To feel the soft cushion of her perfect, plush lips.
“I still think that sounds pretty sad,” she mutters.
Eventually she shuts her eyes and drifts off into a light slumber, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
There was one question she asked me that I’m still trying to figure out.
Who was trying to kill us back there?
My first thought is Kruger. He came back to murder me out of pure resentment for beating his ass after he tried to go after Amrita. It’s the second time I’ve gotten in between him and a woman.
But somehow that just doesn’t add up.
Sure, we Alphas use rifles to snipe our targets sometimes when the mission calls for it. But if this attack was purely motivated by personal resentment, I have a feeling that Kruger would have come at me with his teeth and claws. He might have still ambushed me, but he would have done it close-quarters. That’s more his style.
Turning off the main highway, I go about a mile further than necessary and pull a U-turn through the median just in case someone is following me. Looks like we’re in the clear. I go back and take the turnoff that leads to my secluded cabin.
As the 4Runner jostles and bumps along the rutted, unpaved road cutting through the dark forest, my mind drifts back to the question of our attacker.
I’m not ruling out Kruger, but I need to consider all the options.
The one at the forefront of my mind is that I’m getting fragged. The suits in charge of the Alpha Initiative have decided, for whatever reason, that old Conway has outlived his usefulness, and it’s time to retire him.
I’ve seen it happen to other agents. Hell, I’ve been the one to pull the trigger on more than one occasion.
But that still doesn’t quite fit. If they wanted to get rid of me, then why all the secrecy surrounding the girl?
I glance over at her. She’s slouched in the passenger seat, her sleeping head bobbing lightly with the bouncing of the vehicle. A lock of her hair that was tucked b
ehind her ear shakes loose, stroking her cheek as it falls, and her eyes flutter. I reach over and gently brush it back, my fingertip heating at the touch of her soft skin.
She looks so peaceful and innocent like that, and an intense surge of protectiveness swells in my chest.
So much for keeping things objective.
The operation has gone out the window, and I’ve basically gone rogue at this point. But I’m the kind of man who needs a mission. Without some kind of clear goal to be working toward, I’m lost. Luckily, I’ve got the girl.
She’s my mission now. My sole purpose, my reason for being, is to keep her safe at all costs.
But what does Omicron want with her? I know that she’s special. Hell, she’s every bit as special as I am. She may not have claws or accelerated healing, but she’s very definitely something more than human.
And as I inhale the warm fragrance of her ripe body, the scent of her filling the cab of the vehicle, I can’t shake the feeling that whatever she is, she was made just for me.
She’s my other half, my complement. Soft and warm in all the places where I’m cold and hard.
I figure Amrita is going to be hungry whenever she finally wakes, so I stop at a fast food drive thru on the way and pick up a whole mess of cheeseburgers and fries. That should hold her over for tonight, and my cabin is stocked with enough food for a couple of days since I have a fridge and freezer that run off solar panels that I installed near the cabin on a rocky outcrop that gets plenty of sun.
By the time we reach the cabin the moon is already settling low in the sky, its silver light filtering through the tops of the evergreens. The 4Runner crunches to a stop on the gravel drive beside the small, one-story wooden structure situated at the top of a slight hill.
Damn, it feels good to be out here, away from the city.
This is the only place I ever feel truly at home. And this time I have company.
“Amrita,” I whisper softly, “We’re here.”
I go to shake her, but she looks so damn sweet and peaceful, I decide not to wake her. Instead I carry her inside, her head against my shoulder as she mumbles in her sleep.
CHAPTER 15: AMRITA
Hungry.
I sit bolt upright in an unfamiliar bed. But the scent that is soaked into the covers is all too familiar. The room is drenched in total darkness, and it takes my groggy brain a full minute to even figure out where I am. This must be Conway’s cabin in the woods.
The space is dark. The only illumination is the faintest trace of moonlit seeping in around the sides of the drawn blinds on the windows.
He’s somewhere in the room sleeping. His scent is strong, and his loud, rough breath is heaving in and out like the sound of a hibernating bear. Outside the crickets are singing. It’s a comforting sound.
Hungry. So hungry.
I sniff the air, and the scent of food wafts to my nostrils. Meat. Fast food of some kind. My sense of smell seems super acute for some reason, and I figure it must just be because of how insanely hungry I am right now.
Kicking off the covers, I quietly lower my bare feet to the hardwood floor of the cabin.
As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I can just barely make out some shapes and forms in the cabin. It seems like it is pretty much just one smallish room with some furniture and cabinets and shelves around the walls.
In the middle of the floor in front of me there is a big shadowy lump. As I step a little closer, I can feel the intense warmth radiating off of it, and I see that it is slowly moving up and down in time with the sound of the heavy breathing.
It’s Conway.
He’s sleeping on the floor. He let me have the bed all to myself. That’s…not exactly what I would have expected from him.
The possibility of escape flashes across my mind. I could probably sneak out of the cabin right now without Conway hearing me. But then where would I go? I don’t really have a clue where we are right now, other than that it’s somewhere in upstate New York.
I suppose I could just run in one direction until I hit civilization. But Conway will probably realize I’m missing and come looking for me. He’s a hell of a lot faster than me, and he can track my scent. I wouldn’t make it far.
The memory of my recurring dream flashes through my mind, and I shiver.
I clutch my clothing around my chest and gasp a little as I feel the plump bulge of my enlarged breasts. It’s kind of like when you look in the mirror after you’ve recently gotten a drastic haircut, and for the briefest moment you are surprised by the unfamiliar person staring back at you.
Only this change is way bigger than a haircut. And I have a feeling it’s permanent.
I heft my boobs in my hands, testing their weight through the fabric of the stolen dress shirt that I’m still wearing—my only article clothing now.
“Where were you a few years ago?” I quietly whisper as I give my breasts a squeeze.
All during my middle school and high school years, I was super sensitive about my flat chest. All of the girls around me were growing in that region, blossoming into young women, and I saw the attention that they were getting from the horny young boys. Meanwhile I was being left behind, forever to look like a little girl in my mind.
Well, not anymore.
My tummy makes a grumbling complaint, snapping me out of my little reverie and reminding me that I’m freaking starving right now. Where’s that food?
I step around Conway’s sleeping body, sniffing the air
Following the food scent to the end of the cabin, I find a little alcove that must be the kitchen area. Even in the darkness, my eyes seem to have adjusted pretty well, and I’m able to make out the stove and cabinets and small table.
But even more than that, I feel like I’ve acquired some new sixth sense that helps me feel even more of the details of the room without even touching them. It’s almost like the sounds and vibrations are enough for me to map the surface of my surroundings. Weird.
No time to wonder about that now, though. My tummy feels like it’s gnawing on itself with hunger. It rumbles once again.
“Okay, okay,” I whisper softly to my belly
I’ve found the food. A grease-stained paper bag sitting on the small kitchen table. Careful not to wake Conway, I ever so quietly place my butt into what feels like a sturdy, handmade wooden chair, and tuck my face into the top of the bag, inhaling deeply.
Hours-old, half-stale fast-food hamburgers and fries. Right now, I’ve never smelled anything so delicious in my life.
I do my best to keep the ruffling of the paper sack and hamburger wrappings to a minimum as I ravenously dig in. The first burger is gone in two bites, as I shamelessly stuff it into my mouth. Right away, I get to work on another. For this one, I go a little slower, taking my time to savor it.
After that, I wolf down a third burger just for good measure.
Once I’ve eaten my fill, I release a sigh of satisfaction, feeling totally stuffed and sleepy again. I stumble across the cabin, careful to swing a wide circle around the place where Conway lies sleeping.
But as I’m about to crawl back into bed, I pause. I turn around and look at the sleeping man.
My teeth worry my lip as I listen to the slow, steady sound of his breathing. I shouldn’t want to be close to this man. He’s a criminal, and from what I’ve seen during our short time together, he has the instincts of a predator. Plus, he has now dragged me out to his secluded cabin in the woods. That’s totally a serial killer move, right?
And yet, he has not tried to harm me. In fact, he’s gone out of his way to protect me. He even gave me a gun as a sign of his trust. Well, temporarily at least.
I shouldn’t want to be close to him, but at the same time some deep-seated primal instinct is telling me that snuggled in his protective embrace is where I belong. His body offers life-giving warmth and safety. And something else much more than that, which I’m unable to define.
Unable, or simply unwilling.
Dropping t
o my hands and knees, I crawl toward him, and I give in to the irresistible urge to breathe in his strong scent. Lowering my face until my nose is close to his messy, tousled hair, I inhale deeply, letting his scent fill my lungs.
I sniff his shoulder, catching a stronger whiff of his odor that is leaking out through the edge of the blanket wrapped around him. The scent saturates me. It is a gruff, masculine, coppery musk with a tang of minerals and salted herbs. Half man and half beast, but one hundred percent male.
Something throbs deep inside my lower abdomen.
Lifting the edge of his blanket, I see that he has bandaged the wound on his chest where the bullet exited his body. Being extra careful not to disturb his bandages, I wiggle my body underneath the covers with him.
I tell myself that I won’t fall asleep with him. I will only indulge my need to be enfolded in his scent for a minute or two, then I’ll climb back into bed.
However, I have underestimated just how possessive Conway can be, even in his sleep. He mutters a few somnolent sounds, and drapes his powerful arm around me, dragging my body close to his, until my back and rump are perfectly fitted into the scoop of his curled form. It doesn’t seem to bother him at all that I’m pressing against his bandaged chest.
Enrapt by him this way, I can’t deny how perfectly we fit together, my soft body conforming to his hard muscles like water in a vessel.
We were made for each other.
I push that thought out of my mind for the time being. I can’t let myself forget that he’s my captor, and a very dangerous man. But for now I can’t help feeling that bundled in his protective arms is the safest place to be.
And so, snuggling against him under the covers, his hot, steady breath stirring my hair ever so lightly, I drift off into a deep and dreamless sleep of total comfort and satisfaction.
CHAPTER 16: CONWAY
I awake just before the crack of dawn to find Amrita sleeping soundly in my arms.
Her warm, fertile scent was the first detail I became aware of before I even opened my eyes. Then the soft press of her rounded flesh squeezed tightly against my body, her ribcage expanding and contracting in tune with mine, our breath synchronized.
