She clenched her fingers on the marble top. “Give it back. You had no right to steal a part of my body without my consent.”
“You can’t have them back. I need them.”
She swallowed, almost too afraid to ask, but she had to know. “What for? More evil experiments?”
“Just as a back-up.”
“A back-up for what?”
His thumb brushed over her cheek. “For if my cloning fails.”
“Cloning?” She choked on the word. “I thought you were in the business of communications.”
“It’s so much bigger than that.”
“Who do you want to clone?” Then it dawned on her. Of course. He was self-centered enough. “Oh, my God. You want to clone yourself.”
“You make it sound like the worst sin on earth.”
“Vanity is a sin. So is greed.”
He laughed. “Always so dramatic, but that’s part of your appeal. So intense. So emotional.”
She battled to hold onto reason. “For cloning you need an ovum.” She stared at him in horror. “You want to use my egg to clone yourself?”
“If I was going to do it the old-fashioned way, then yes. I’d need to implant stem cell properties in your egg to simulate cloning, but with my latest technology I don’t need an egg. I just want to make sure I have some in storage in case.”
“In case of what?”
“In case there are no more females left, and something goes wrong with my process.”
“No more females left? Why are you talking like this?”
“Eventually, the human race as we know it will disappear.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“It doesn’t matter how I know. What matters is that I’m prepared.”
“Why me? Why not one of the many other women you sleep with?”
“Adam was yours, and he was the perfect son for me. Despite all your holiness, there must be some dare in you to have given birth to such an exceptionally strong male with acute leadership qualities.”
“Adam took after his father.” It was a lie. She didn’t know where Adam had gotten his cruel streak from, but the urge to give Godfrey a defiant remark was too great.
“It doesn’t matter after who he took. He was still half of you. I’d rather have that than nothing if I have to put Plan B into action.”
“Plan B? You’re scaring me.”
He inched closer. “I’m so brilliant I scare myself.”
“That wasn’t a compliment,” she forced from numb lips.
“No matter. I took it as one.” He flashed a bright smile. “Now, where is my painting?”
Her stomach clenched. “It’s not finished.”
“Let’s have a look at it.”
“Not yet. Give it another week.”
He didn’t heed her as he walked to her studio. The scent of oil paint and turpentine wafted from the room when he opened the door. Before, the smell held a promise of creation. Now, it only felt raw. Too sharp on her nose. He approached the easel, stripped the sheet that covered it, and studied the three by one-yard canvas. She wrung her hands together as she tried to read his expression. As always, his face was an unreadable mask until he turned back to her, the corners of his mouth drawn down.
“No,” he said flatly, “it’s not the same.”
“I’m trying,” she exclaimed. “No two paintings will ever be the same.”
He shook his head. “All you have to do to be free is get it right.”
“I’m trying, damn you!”
“Put the right emotion in it, and maybe you’ll succeed. Look at the eyes.” He cupped the air around the canvas. “They’re hard and cruel, the lines of the mouth unforgiving.” He picked the photo from the corner of the easel. “Here the eyes are enigmatic, spirited. Intelligent. This one,” he lifted the photo, “is ethereal, whereas this one,” he slammed a palm on the canvas, “is unattractive. Ugly.”
“I’m not a copy artist.”
“I’m not asking you to copy it. You painted this goddamn portrait.” He flicked the photo at her. “Now do it again.”
She drew in a shaky breath. “Maybe you should look for someone else, someone better than me. You’re asking the impossible.”
“Maybe, but think of it like this. If it’s impossible you’ll never be free. Get it right, and I’ll let you walk away.”
“Forever?”
“Yes.”
“The tracker?”
“No tracker.”
“You’ll give me a divorce?”
“Yes.”
“And you won’t…” she swallowed, “kill anyone?”
“No killings.”
She pinched her eyes shut. “I’ll try.”
She opened them again to see him carrying the failed portrait from the room under his arm. She remained in the studio until she heard the bang of the back door.
For good measure, she counted to ten before daring it back to the kitchen. It was bright and empty. Only the fragrance of the chicken dish remained, reminding her of the man who’d cooked it. Rushing to the panel on the wall, she activated the alarm and slumped against the door to gather her strength. She took only a few moments to center herself before extracting the phone Cain had given her.
He wasted no time answering. “Olivia?”
“You just missed him.”
Chapter 5
Cain’s voice remained even, as if Olivia had just told him it was going to rain tonight. “He was at the house?”
Olivia wiped her burning eyes. “He just left.”
“I’m on my way.”
“He watches the house.”
“I know.”
The line went dead before she could tell him to be careful.
Cain shouldn’t see her like this. Shame burned hot in her gut, as if she was responsible for her husband’s warped actions. She went upstairs to clean up. Sagging against the bathroom wall, she blew out a breath. Then she faced the mirror. Her lip was split and there was a bruise under her hairline on the side of her head. Turning, she studied her back. Her skin was chaffed and scraped, but there were no major injuries.
She swallowed two painkillers and dragged herself into the shower. Afterward, she sprayed disinfectant on the scrapes and pulled on a pair of cotton sweatpants and a T-shirt. She dabbed a gel on her lip for the swelling and used foundation to hide the bruises. As she applied blush to her colorless cheeks, the brush shook in her hands.
Godfrey was a psychopath. He was Jekyll and Hyde. She could never trust him, but could she trust his enemy? There was no doubt Cain was only using her to get to her husband. She was nothing but collateral damage, but Cain was her only shot at breaking the bonds Godfrey had tied her with. Would Cain honor his promise not to kill her? Letting her live was a risk. What would she have done if she’d been in Cain’s shoes? The only logical conclusion was staring her in the face, hard and cold. She was on her own.
She was scarcely back in the kitchen when the alarm deactivated with the familiar electronic sound. The door opened to reveal Cain on the step. Despite the hour, he looked fresh and awake. His gaze swept over her, scrutinizing her with unmasked attention. He shut the door and reactivated the alarm. In two strides, he was in front of her, laying his hands on her shoulders.
His dark eyes turned stormy. “He hurt you.”
She sidestepped him, shaking off his touch. She couldn’t deal with sympathy for the fear of breaking down, and now was a time to be strong. “He can’t be far.”
“My team is on the lookout. Do you have any idea where he’d go?”
“No. He doesn’t have a house here, at least none I know of.”
“Did he say when he’d be back?”
“He never does.” She leaned on the counter. “He’ll be back, though.”
He stroked his fingers over her cheek. “Let me check you out.”
She shivered at the touch. “I’m fine.”
The darkness of his expression intensified. “You’re not.”
“What do you care, anyway?”
He took her hand, but she pulled free.
“Olivia.” He caught her wrist when she tried to turn away.
“What else do you want from me, Cain? I’m already giving you the information you came for.”
“Give me a thought.” When she remained quiet, he searched her eyes. “Just one thought.”
“Why?”
“I want to know what’s going on in your mind. I want to know you.”
Maybe there was a way of keeping safe from Cain. If she fed him one thought at a time, she could keep him at bay while dealing with Godfrey herself, and have time to escape before he killed her.
“All right,” she said slowly.
She made a conscious effort to lift the barrier she’d placed on her mind, giving him a glimpse inside the intimate detail of her head, her most current thought being that he looked impossibly imposing as he stood in her kitchen with his white clothes against the backdrop of the black night showing through the window.
Heat replaced some of the cold fury showing on his face. Inhaling sharply, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. Warmth surrounded her. In the confines of his strong arms, she felt soothed and secure despite her doubts about his intentions.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered in her ear.
Maybe not tonight.
“Neither tomorrow,” he said.
She gave a start when she realized how accurately he’d read her mind and pulled up the barrier to shield her thoughts.
He sighed. “You locked me out, again.”
“Thoughts are meant to be private.”
His hands slid down to cup her hips. “It felt right. I like to be connected to you in that way.”
She turned her face to the side. “Don’t say things like that.”
He nuzzled her neck. “You’re telling me not to speak the truth.”
“Exactly.”
She didn’t want to hear he was going to kill her, but she wanted a lie even less. Neither did she want to be attracted to him. What had happened the night she’d woken up with him in her room never should’ve. If he hadn’t touched her, she could’ve denied her body’s reaction to him, but his fingers had forged a bond that was now tied to her heart. It was an undeniable connection that made her skin tingle with heat whenever he was near. He’d claimed her body and made her desire his. She wasn’t going to give him her mind, too.
“Fine,” he said after a long moment of silence. “It makes no difference. It won’t change what’s wrong or right.”
What was wrong and right in this terrible situation? Was betraying Godfrey right? Was killing her husband wrong? Did two wrongs make a right? Her morals were a cesspool of confusion. She was so far lost, she’d never find her way back to redemption.
“This is right?” she asked, motioning between them.
A battle raged in his eyes, but he didn’t answer. Yes, he knew they were sinning. If he didn’t say anything, it was because he wouldn’t commit the sacrilege of butchering his conscience, too, for the sake of justifying adultery.
The grip of his fingers tightened on her hips as the fight continued to reflect in his eyes. Finally, he straightened, putting an inch of distance between them. His hands fell from her hips to clench at his sides. The loss of his heat and the comfort of his arms were shockingly intense.
When he finally spoke it was gentle, but he couldn’t mask the strain in his voice. “Take off your clothes.”
A ripple of warmth ran over her at the command. It was hard to replace the pleasant feeling with deliberate guilt to give her enough strength to deny him.
“No.”
“I won’t touch you intimately. I just want to check your injuries.”
“I said I’m fine.”
“Let me see for myself.”
“Why?”
“I’m not leaving here without knowing you’re all right.”
Scared that she’d give in to the desire that made the dead spot in her heart beat with an upsurge of blood, she used impatience as a shield. Jerking the T-shirt over her head, she dropped it to the floor. Her sweatpants followed.
“There,” she said. “Happy?”
“Almost.”
Before she could anticipate the move, he lifted her onto the counter. Her reaction to his touch was sinful and immediate. Willing it away didn’t stop the hardening of her nipples or the contraction of her womb as his thumbs brushed innocently over her middle. A mixture of anticipation and dread made a glowing feeling spread from her womb to her toes as he removed his jacket, but he only spread it out on the surface and shifted her on top to protect her from the coldness and hardness of the marble.
She sat quietly while he tipped her head from left to right and ran his hands over her arms. She held her breath when he trailed his fingers down her back, tracing the scrapes and bruises. When he’d examined her from head to toe, he straightened with a thunderous expression. More turmoil raged in his eyes.
“I’m going to kill him, Olivia.”
“So you’ve said.”
His jaw bunched as he gently outlined the bruise on her temple. “How long has this been going on?”
She averted her eyes. The shame wouldn’t let her go. Somehow, Cain knowing that she was married to a monster felt more invasive than his fingers inside her body. She’d long since owned the shame and made it her own. It was a part of her she didn’t want Cain to see.
“Answer me,” he said softly.
“This was a first.”
“It will be the last.” He gave her a haunted look. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“I didn’t have a chance. He overpowered me.” She hopped from the counter and pulled on her clothes.
Cain watched her with quiet broodiness. “What happened this time that made it different?”
“I don’t know.” She dragged a hand through her unruly curls. “I did find out he’s been collecting my ova.”
If his expression had been dark before, now it was blacker than the devil himself. His lips thinned. “What?”
“He said he needed it as a backup in case his plan to clone himself doesn’t work.”
“Over my dead body. I won’t let him use you or anyone else in his evil experiment.”
“You were right.” Her body sagged as she admitted the truth. “He killed those poor people for their stem cells.” She looked at Cain with futile hope. “Tell me it’s impossible. Tell me his experiment can never work.”
“I can’t lie to you.”
“You have proof?” she challenged.
“Yes,” he replied quietly.
“Tell me.”
He didn’t answer.
“Tell me!”
“It’s better you don’t know.”
“No.” She closed the distance between them, stopping short of the hard wall of his chest. “You want me to play a role in ending his life. You owe me the truth.”
“It’s not because I want to keep information from you. It’s for your protection.”
She gave a wry laugh. “I think I’m beyond protection.”
“No.” He gave her a pointed look. “You’re not.”
“You mean as long as you’re stalking me.”
“Watching you.”
“Is there a difference?”
He opened his mouth, but hesitated. After a strained moment, he said, “There are worse things than being watched.”
Such as being killed, he meant, but she didn’t voice it, because there were things much worse than being killed.
“Have you eaten?” he asked when only silence prevailed. “I owe you dinner since I never finished that chicken.”
“I don’t have an appetite.” She wiped a hand over her brow. “I just want to go to bed.”
“All right.” His deep voice was husky. “Let me take you.”
“Not tonight. I don’t think I can handle––”
“I’m just going to hold you.”
/> Using her hesitation to his advantage, he swept her into his arms. By the time she got her bearings, he was already carrying her up the stairs.
“Cain, I––”
“I’m not leaving you alone. Not tonight.”
“I’m not your responsibility.”
For a second, his step slowed. “No, you’re not. Not legally, if that’s what you mean.”
“Then why are you doing this?”
He looked down at her. “The complicated answer, or the simple one?”
“Let’s start with simple.”
“I want to take care of you.”
“The complicated answer?”
He seemed to weigh his words. After a moment, he said, “I don’t know.”
“That’s your answer?”
“It’s honest.” He entered the bedroom and lowered her onto the bed. “What would you prefer I answer?”
She averted her eyes. He was right. She wanted the truth.
“That’s what I thought,” he said.
Kicking off his shoes, he spooned behind her. “Try to sleep. It’s important that you rest. I’ll watch over you.”
“Why are you doing this?”
His voice was sleep-sexy, tugging at a deep, dark place in her belly. “You fascinate me. I want to know everything there is to know about you.”
“What is so fascinating?”
“Your paintings, for starters.” His arms tightened around her. “Will you show me what you’re working on?”
“No,” she said quickly. “That’s private.”
“All right. I can respect that.”
“Why would you want to see my paintings?”
He lifted up on one arm to gaze down at her. “Your work is amazing. You’re insanely talented.”
She squirmed under his praise. “I don’t like to talk about my work.”
“Don’t talk, then. Try to get some rest.”
The emotional and physical strain was catching up with her. Her escape mechanism had always been sleep, but she was afraid to close her eyes.
“I’m not going anywhere. Promise,” he said as if he’d just read her mind again.
“Thank you, Cain.”
It was good to know his name. To say it was even better.
Sometime during the night, Olivia woke from pain. For a few moments she lay quietly, rather embracing the physical ache than moving from the warmth of Cain’s arms. It didn’t matter that the safety was an illusion. For now, he provided the comfort she desperately needed on a physical and emotional level.
Man (Seven Forbidden Arts Book 9) Page 9
