by Tate James
Yep, there it was. Asshole.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I snapped, whipping around to face him. “You’ve saved my life once, and I said thank you.”
“Twice, actually. I’m the one that saved you from the kidnappers. You’re welcome.” Sarcasm marred his tone, despite his smile.
I swallowed my frustration, refusing to take his bait, and stomped down the hill. Unfortunately, I wasn’t looking where I was going and hit a bad rut, pitching head first into a ditch before a pair of strong arms grabbed me by the waist and set me back on my feet.
“See what I mean,” Austin snarked. “Now that’s three times.”
I gritted my teeth. Stupid Kit, not looking where you’re going.
“Now you say, ‘Thank you for saving my life, Austin.’”
My jaw clenched so hard I thought I might break it as I ground out the words, “Thank you for saving my life, Austin.”
“Three times,” he added smugly.
“Three times,” I spat. “Now do you mind letting me go?”
Austin looked down and appeared shocked to see his hands still firmly encircling my biceps. He dropped me like a hot potato then jumped across the ditch to where Caleb waited for us with an amused expression on his face.
28
Scattered around living room, we each had a stack of the stolen files to read and sort through. It was worse than slow going. To my utter dismay, a good portion of the files I’d grabbed were heavily redacted or referenced other documents that we didn’t have. No matter how resolutely I tried to focus on the papers in front of me, I couldn’t escape the fact that I’d killed someone tonight. I hadn’t even batted an eyelid over doing it either; I had acted on impulse and barely even registered what happened until we were in the car on the way back and I’d begun trembling, my adrenaline surging once more. I didn’t say anything. The guys were all experienced in this field, and I didn’t want them thinking I couldn’t handle myself, especially after the scene with Austin in the woods. I could. I just needed to quietly get through my emotional breakdown first.
Thankfully, Wesley announcing he’d found something pulled me out of my internal guilt trip. Thank God. I rushed over to where he perched at the kitchen island and tried not to snatch the file out of his hands.
“What is it?” River asked, looming over my shoulder.
“This first page is a copy of a letter sent by a Dr. Samuelson to someone by the name of Dupree. It reads:
REGARDING THE RECENT BREAK OUT IN THE WASHINGTON TESTING FACILITY. IT IS NOW CONFIRMED THAT TWENTY-SEVEN TEST SUBJECTS HAVE ESCAPED WITH THE ASSISTANCE OF SEVERAL EMPLOYEES WHO DISAGREED WITH OUR LESS CONVENTIONAL METHODS. OF THOSE TWENTY-SEVEN, TWELVE HAVE ALREADY BEEN DETAINED OR TERMINATED, HOWEVER THE REMAINING FIFTEEN HAVE NOT BEEN FOUND. THIS INCLUDES TEST SUBJECTS 37, 82, AND 113. FINDING AND RECOVERING THESE THREE IS, OF COURSE, OUR PRIMARY OBJECTIVE, AND WE UNDERSTAND THE IMPACT ON OUR EXPERIMENT IF WE WERE TO LOSE THEM. WE HUMBLY ASK FOR AN INCREASED BUDGET ALLOWANCE TO CONTINUE OUR SEARCH AND RECOVER THE SUBJECTS.
I paused, flipping to the next page. “The response simply reads, ‘Granted.’”
I set those two pages aside. The rest of the folder included files on the twenty-seven escaped patients. The first few I skimmed through had a red inked stamp of DECEASED across the person’s photograph. Some of the patient numbers were in the thousands, which gave me a chill to think about how many people might have died in this experiment.
Quickly flipping through, I searched for the three specifically mentioned in the letter: 37, 82, and 113. I pulled them from the stack but froze at the photo for patient 37.
It’s me… Or it would be, if I had been alive some thirty-odd years before, as per the date stamp on the bottom of the image. Her hair was shorter than mine, cut to sit above her shoulders, and her eyes were green as opposed to my ice blue, but other than that it was like looking in a mirror. I scanned all of the information listed, despite the redactions. Patient 37 was a female of indeterminate age, but she entered the program in… 1882?
That wasn’t possible. The photo was in color and dated only thirty years before. The girl looked to be my age, not more than twenty. It must be a typo. Her physical characteristics listed her as being only five foot three and of slight build. In a section labeled “attributes,” all of the information had been blacked out, but it looked like a long list.
There wasn’t much more of any use in the file. Trying to curb my disappointment, I paged through to find patients 82 and 113. Both were men, but again there seemed to be a discrepancy in the intake date versus the photo date. All three photos were dated the same day, so they must have done an update across all the files on that day. The intake dates were different—patient 82 came into the program in July 1911. Patient 113 arrived October of 1946. Neither of those seemed any more possible than patient 37 being admitted in 1882. Both men looked a similar age, maybe in their early to late twenties.
I returned to staring at patient 37 again, the file clutched tightly in my shaking hands when I heard a curse from Caleb. He’d picked up the patient files I’d discarded and begun looking through them.
“What?” I snapped a little more abruptly than I intended, but the adrenaline overload from the night’s activities had me badly on edge. Austin peered over his shoulder at the file and released a grunt of surprise before snatching the page and handing it to me.
“Kitty Kat.” Caleb frowned. “Isn’t that Mr. Gregoric?”
I studied the picture in my hand, and sure enough, our newest teacher stared back at me from a paper labeled Test Subject 897. Once again, dated thirty years before. I stared wide-eyed at Caleb and handed the picture to Lucy, who sucked in a breath.
“I have no idea what to make of this.” I groaned, rubbing my face with shaking hands.
“I guess it means you’re not the only one that can heal yourself,” Wesley commented, earning everyone’s attention.
“How do you mean?” I frowned, uncertain of the connection.
Wesley shrugged. “Well it stands to reason if your body can heal injuries, it can probably heal all the associated effects of aging too. After all, growing old is just our body deteriorating.”
A very valid point, but by that reasoning, did that mean I would never age? The train of thought hurt my head, and I rubbed my face again, the quivers in my hands now radiating up my arms. Lucy must have noticed because she gave me a nudge.
“Why don’t you go for a run or something?” she suggested quietly, giving my hands a pointed look. “I need to head back to school anyway. Someone needs to feed that fucking fox of yours; I keep finding him sitting outside your window.”
“Use the gym,” River interrupted. “I don’t want you outside alone just now.”
I couldn’t argue with his unspoken reasons. Nor did I want to argue with Lucy. I gave her a quick hug before leaving the others, and I headed down to the basement gym. I needed to burn off my fear, my mad… my whatever the hell I was.
29
After fifteen minutes of barefoot sprinting on the treadmill, I didn’t feel any better. My brain couldn’t seem to switch off and kept circling around and around between watching myself shoot that guard, to Finn punching his fist through a man’s chest, to Mr. Gregoric’s picture in a thirty year old file, and finally, to the girl who could be my twin. If anything, my adrenaline continued to build with no relief, despite having already healed all the injuries I’d acquired during our escape.
A big hand reached over the top of the machine and hit the shut off. The belt slowed me to a walk, and I stared at Cole’s stormy face.
“Let’s spar,” he suggested gruffly. “I think you need something more mentally challenging than running right now.”
Dressed in soft gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt, he appeared to have already showered. Yet his idea sounded like exactly what I needed.
“Wesley noticed while watching the cameras that you got surprised from behind a couple of times,” he commented
with a thread of anger as I followed him to the mats.
My cheeks burned with embarrassment that my inferior skills had been noticed, but I nodded tightly.
“Let’s work on that then.” He positioned me with my back facing him then paused. The stance left me uncertain when the attack would come. Without warning, he lunged forward and pinned my arms from behind in his vice-like grip, similar to how one of the guards had done earlier in the night. I reacted with the same move.
We continued this for a while, with Cole correcting my moves to make them more effective, and I pulled my punches so as not to actually injure him. It worked better than the treadmill, but my mind was still racing and the images kept playing on a loop.
Caught up, I failed to concentrate on the lesson Cole was trying to teach, then the next thing I knew I was flat on my back. The air whooshed out of me, and his solid form pinned me.
“Pay attention, Vixen,” he ordered as I tried to suck in air. Necessity demanded a snappy retort, but he hovered over me. His face was so close to mine. His tightly coiled body pressed against the length of mine. My gaze darted to his mouth. Before I could second guess the desire, I closed the gap between us and pressed my lips lightly against his. He froze, and I panicked.
Shit, what have I done? Where the hell did that come from? Oh my god, I have totally misread this situation!
Thankfully, he interrupted my mental flagellation and kissed me back fiercely, pressing me into the mat then gripping my face in his huge hands.
I groaned as the energy I’d been trying to burn off surged again, hotter this time. The sudden rush of hormones made my actions more frantic, and I yanked Cole’s T-shirt over his head, exposing the beautifully illustrated body I’d only caught a small glimpse of at the cage fight. My wildness seemed to rub off on him. Even as I ran my excited fingers over his torso, exploring the ridges of countless scars, he tore my tank top in two, right down the middle.
I gasped, unaware tearing clothes like that actually worked in real life, and he even paused a moment as though surprised himself.
“Sorry,” he muttered, dropping the ruined garment, and I grinned, oh my God, he is so fucking hot.
“Don’t be.” I breathed.
Renewing my fevered exploration of his body, I used a little extra strength to push him roughly, rolling us over until I was on top and giving me a fleeting sense of satisfaction at being in control. His pupils dilated, and the next thing I knew I was in the air, legs still wrapped around his thick waist as he rose in one smooth motion then slammed us against the wall. I didn’t even mind losing control again; the fight for the upper hand was driving me crazy. He deftly flicked open the clasp on my bra then palmed my breasts in his huge hands. When he rolled my nipples with surprising gentleness, it amped up the wildness rushing through me.
I pushed him back a fraction and dropped my feet to the floor. With eager hands, I pushed his loose sweatpants down and was immediately rewarded with the eye opening sight of his equipment.
Fucking hell!
Sucking in a pleased gasp, I wrapped my hand around his massive cock. I stroked firmly, and he groaned low in his chest. Our teeth clicked slightly as his mouth claimed mine once more, his tongue thrusting in deeply and exploring every bit of my own. It wasn’t enough though, and I fumbled with the button and zipper of my jeans before desperately peeling them off. I had barely finished yanking them off my feet before he had seized me once more with his huge calloused hands, gripping the backs of my thighs, pinning me back in place with his hips.
“Oh fuck,” I moaned as his hard length ground against my hot, lace covered pussy. He grabbed the edge of my panties as if to rip them too, giving me an amused smirk.
“Cole! Don’t you dare,” I snapped, meeting his sexy granite gaze. “I don’t have enough underwear here as it is, and I like these.”
“I could buy you more?” he teased, his hot breath caressing my skin as he kissed a path along my neck, but he left the fabric intact. Instead he nudged it aside and eased two thick fingers into my already soaked core, eliciting another breathy curse from me. Holy hell, is he trying to kill me?
“Shit, Vixen...” He groaned, as though equally as lost in the heat as he pulled his fingers away only to flick his thumb over my pulsing clit. I reached for him desperately, pulling his hips closer and lining his cock up with me, clenching my legs tighter around his waist and using my hips to push the broad tip of his shaft just inside.
“Fuck, fuck!” he swore, pulling back out and dropping my legs, only to bury his face against my shoulder.
“What?” I asked, not sure what could possibly be wrong right now. “What’s wrong?”
He released a pained groan, his hard length sandwiched between us while my fingers were holding tight to his muscled sides. “We can’t.”
“Huh?” I frowned, my brain still lost in a haze of arousal.
“I don’t keep condoms in the gym, and since I didn’t exactly come down here for this...”
He pulled his face back from my neck, giving me a pained look, and I couldn’t prevent a little laugh escaping at the sheer torture on his normally stoic face.
“Why,” he asked menacingly, “are you laughing right now?”
I tried to squash a smile as I met his gaze and bit my lip. “I have the implant, and I’m clean. If you are too then...”
He looked dumbfounded, so I took his fingers and guided them over the small rod under the skin of my arm. It took a moment for my words to sink in, and then a feral grin lit up his face. In one smooth movement, he spun me around and planted my palms against the rough wall. This time, he did tear through the fragile lace of my panties, and my hips jerked at the hot contact of his hands. Next time, I was sticking with cotton. Or chain mail.
Cole’s lips pressed once more to my neck, sucking and biting as his rock hard length breached my entrance, slowly at first as my muscles stretched to accommodate him, and then he drove into me, tearing a satisfied cry from my throat. He paused, as though he was checking that I was okay, but I wiggled impatiently and he began to move.
Feeling a bit like I was possessed, I bucked against him, meeting each thrust and whimpering in need until he snaked a hand down and teased my already swollen clit. The added stimulation pushed me over the edge into bliss; my muscles clenched and dragged more gritty curses from Cole, which he silenced by clamping his mouth onto my neck and biting hard as he climaxed himself. The sharp pain of his bite seemed to prolong my own ending, and I quivered, my eyesight darkened at the edges and hot sweat slicking down my spine where his chiseled front was pressed.
After an eternity, I panted back to reality and rested my forehead against the wall, my whole body jelly. Cole’s strong grip was the only thing holding me upright. He reluctantly withdrew, turning me to face him, and draped my arms around his neck as he gave me a tender kiss. Butterflies seemed to erupt in a flurry of wings within my stomach at the gentle press and sweep of his lips across mine; it was just such a stark contrast to our frenzied fuck against the wall. We remained like that for a while, my face resting on his broad chest and his head resting on the wall above my shoulder, and I ran my hand down his back, my fingers stroking over the raised lines disguised by his colorful illustrations.
“What happened here?” I whispered, running my index finger back and forth across a thick, ragged one near his shoulder that had an almost matching scar on his front. It was cleverly woven into the scales of a huge black and green dragon, which continued over his shoulder and onto part of his back.
Cole puffed out a sharp breath, his skin tensing under my fingers, and his stubble grazed my neck as he shook his head slightly. “Another day. It’s not a pretty story.”
I didn’t push him, knowing all too well about ugly stories. Spent, I yawned. The void left behind after the overwhelming energy always left me exhausted, and my eyelids were now drooping heavily. Cole must have heard my yawn because he eased away from our cozy embrace, and braced me against the wall. It took him a
moment to scout the room for our discarded clothing. My destroyed shirt wouldn’t cover anything, but he had the grace to look a little sheepish before offering me his T-shirt for me to wear instead.
“Sorry,” he apologized, eyeing the fabric as if a bit surprised by what he’d done.
“Don’t be.” I grinned. “That was seriously hot.”
He barked out a laugh and pulled on his own sweatpants. “Go shower; the rest of us will have to do a debriefing and report to our superiors to explain the casualties tonight.”
A chill ran down my spine at the mention of casualties. I had contributed to them.
“What will you tell them...? About me?” I asked hesitantly, suddenly understanding they might be forced to out me for my life of crime.
Cole shook his head reassuringly. “It’s up to River, but I’m pretty confident he will leave your involvement out of it.”
I let out the nervous breath I’d been holding and then started up the stairs with Cole’s hulking form close behind me. Right as we reached the top, he grabbed my hand and tugged me back around to face him, sealing his lips to mine in a searing hot kiss.
“Get some sleep. Take my bed,” he said, breaking away and slipping past me into the living room where everyone was still gathered.
30
River
How long were these things meant to take? Maybe I should go down there… I clenched my jaw and gritted my teeth, knowing I couldn’t. Cole had already beaten me to it, the bastard.
Kit had looked really rough before she went down to the gym, and concern for her was clouding my brain to the point that I was barely hearing anything Wesley was saying. I knew she had needed to burn off her spiking adrenaline, but she had been down there for over an hour already. Surely that was enough time? I could only hope Cole was keeping a close eye on her and wouldn’t push her too hard right now.
