by Ava Benton
The refrigerator was almost full. How much did they need? I had no way to contact anybody, which was just another layer of torment. How could I get them what they needed when I didn’t know where to deliver it? How long did they think the blood would stay good? They had plenty, depending on what they planned to do with it. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know their plans.
All I cared about what Tommy. What were they doing to him? Where was he? Did he miss me? Oh, God, did he think I had abandoned him? The one thing I had promised both him and myself that I would never, ever do. The thought of him wondering what happened to Aunt Cari and why she hadn’t come for him yet was worse than anything else. Like a knife to my heart. Or a machete.
What were they telling him? What sort of story had they put together to explain away where I was?
Maybe they’ll call today, I told myself as I pulled through the sliding gate and drove down the road leading to the facility. It was just after six in the morning, the sky only starting to lighten up, and there were already over a dozen cars by the south entrance.
Who were these people, and why did they never go home? I had never been in contact with any of the other scientists. Just the security guard by the door and the nameless employees who brought food for Cash and came in to clean up his area. It was like working in a vacuum. Sometimes I felt like we were the last two people on the planet. Little flights of fancy were easy when I was sleep-deprived and half out of my mind with panic.
I followed my usual route inside, down the hall, into the lab. After nearly a week, I didn’t have to think about it anymore. My feet did the work for me, while my brain was elsewhere. What were they doing to Tommy? Would they call today?
The lab was dark. Cash wasn’t even up yet.
I flipped on the lights and slid out of my jacket, which I’d have to switch out for a coat if the temperatures kept dipping as they did. It would be Halloween soon. I was supposed to spend it with Tommy. He was going to dress up like Batman—the costume hung in his closet, where I’d hung it after we went to the mall. Was that only last weekend? It might as well have been a lifetime since then. I’d been distracted, too, thinking about Mary’s phone call and what a new job meant for me. I was so stupid. I should’ve been more concerned with Tommy, soaking in every minute with him. God, how much time had I wasted, thinking about other things when I should’ve been focused on him?
I sat at the workstation and lowered my head into my hands. It throbbed with every beat of my aching heart. How long could a person last on only a couple of hours sleep a night? Broken sleep, at that. Sometimes I didn’t even get out of my clothes before I crawled into bed.
There was work to be done. I had to do something, anything, to keep from going crazy. And if I kept thinking about my nephew, there was no other possible result. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail—did I even brush it this morning?—and gulped some of the coffee I’d bought on my way in, before logging into my machine.
At least the work was going well. I’d be ready to start testing antidotes soon, maybe in another day or two. It was surreal, all of it, having to go on with my work and care about the results when my life was in ruins around me. Investing myself in the outcome when so little of me was available to invest.
That was unfair, too, because what I was finding was so interesting. I wished I had the mental and emotional bandwidth to devote to it.
He was a miracle of human engineering. No, not human, of course. Sometimes I forgot how different he was. His blood was fabulously unique. No wonder someone wanted it. The cells hardly aged at all—which boded well for those who wanted to use it, I reminded myself when I fretted over the age of the blood as it sat in refrigeration. It wouldn’t spoil for a very long time. Maybe not ever. After several days, slides of the first samples I’d drawn were just as fresh as those I’d taken four days later. Completely interchangeable. No signs of molecular breakdown.
The implications were many. How old was he? If he didn’t age…
I should’ve learned more about shifters going into the assignment, but I hadn’t wanted to draw conclusions before I started the analysis. There was a lot of speculation about them, that much I knew. False assumptions might lead me down the wrong path, even if I decided to ignore what I read.
“Good morning.”
I looked up to find him standing in the doorway. Yes. A miracle of engineering. Just another thing I wished I could enjoy a little more. Instead of my pulse racing because of his unspoken power, the natural energy coming from him—the way I had that first day—it picked up out of guilt. I could hardly look at him anymore. He had no idea the part he played in any of what I suffered. He didn’t even know I was suffering.
Yeah, keep telling yourself that. The mocking, chiding voice in my head wouldn’t let me get away with lying. A blind, deaf person would be able to tell I was in over my head, and Cash had much stronger instincts than a human. I knew that much for sure.
He saw through me every day. He treated me like a wounded animal he needed to give space to. He watched me carefully, he spoke quietly. There was no way he didn’t know something was up.
I wanted to tell him. I might feel at least a little better if he knew why I was hoarding his blood. I wasn’t hurting him, so why did it bother me so much? Because the whole thing seemed shady. Dangerous. People who went so far as to steal a child weren’t going to use shifter blood for wonderful, helpful purposes. They weren’t likely candidates for the Nobel Peace Prize.
So, I had no choice but to do what I’d been doing for days. I tried to smile and started feeding him lies.
“Good morning. How was your night?”
“Longer than yours, apparently.” He checked his watch. Did people still wear watches? “You only left around six hours ago. Maybe seven.”
“Are you keeping a record of my activities?” I couldn’t help but feel a little sour. I didn’t need the reminder.
He winced. “Sorry. I’ll make a note not to care.”
And that only angered me further. “I don’t need the passive-aggressive quips, either.”
“What happened to you?”
I didn’t look at him, even when he sat across from me. I could see him in my mind’s eye, however. Straddling the backless stool, leaning over the table with his forearms crossed. Staring at me. He did care. I could feel it, and it broke my heart because I wanted so much to tell somebody. It wouldn’t help, of course, but it might make me feel a fraction better, take some of the weight off my shoulders. Lift the crushing pressure off my chest.
Tommy’s face flashed in front of me. His sweet, innocent face. That beautiful, golden hair and blue eyes that were at once so trusting and so wise and so innocent. The way he lit up when he found his Batman costume. He’d wanted to wear it when we got home, and I had said no. I didn’t want it to get ruined. I should’ve let him wear the damn thing. Tears prickled behind my eyes and I felt suspiciously close to crying.
It took a deep breath to get past it. When I was sure I could handle myself, I murmured, “Nothing that has anything to do with you. I’ll be fine. And I didn’t know it was a crime to work hard.”
He was quiet for a while, and I snuck a glance at him over the laptop screen. His handsome face looked pensive as he ran a hand over his short, neat beard.
I was never a huge fan of facial hair, but his worked. He could probably get away with just about anything.
“I never said it was a crime. I was only concerned. I hope you don’t think you need to work around-the-clock for my sake. I’m not in that big of a hurry.”
His concern was touching. Damn it, why couldn’t he be a jerk? I wouldn’t have hurt so badly for him.
“What’s the hurry in the first place?” I asked. “Just out of curiosity.” And a strong, deep urge to change the subject.
It was his turn in the hot seat, and he didn’t look pleased. “Does it matter?”
“I was only curious. Is a sort of allergy to iron such a problem for you? Why?”
&n
bsp; He sighed, moving around like he was uncomfortable. “It’s a long story.”
“I have all the time in the world.” I packed up the tray with blood draw supplies, which he eyed warily.
“More blood?”
“More blood.”
“You’re sure about that?”
I grimaced. “Who’s the chemist here?” It was tough enough to lie without him asking questions. “Does it make you weak or tired when I take all these samples?”
“No…” He looked offended that I would even ask such a question. “A few tubes of blood per day isn’t going to affect somebody like me.”
“All right, then. I don’t see there being a problem.” I met his eyes and my heart sank. God, why couldn’t he be a jerk? I sighed. My shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m being a bitch, and it’s not your fault. I’ve been under a lot of stress. Please, don’t take it personally.”
“I never said I did.”
Too proud to admit that I was injuring his fragile male ego. Some things didn’t change, whether a man was human or shifter or whatever.
I managed to keep my head down while drawing more blood, so he wouldn’t catch my smile at his male pride.
The thought of the rest of the blood waiting in the refrigerator wiped the smile from my face.
11
Cash
“I ought to tell you something before I try this.” I looked up, all around, judging the height of the ceiling and width of the room. If the antidote worked on the first try—which I doubted, but stranger things had happened—I didn’t want my head shooting up through the tiles and into the ductwork.
Carissa checked the shackles, tested the locks. “What’s that?” she asked, distracted. Only partly listening.
“We’ve never talked about what I shift into when the change comes over me.”
That stopped her. She froze, small hands around my much larger wrists. I didn’t mind the contact.
“That’s right. We haven’t.”
“Would you like to know, so you aren’t terribly surprised if it should happen in front of you?” And bless her, she thought it over. That analytical mind.
“I had assumed you were a wolf, or tiger. Or a bear, even.” Her eyes searched my face for a hint of the truth. “Is that it?”
“No.”
“None of those things?”
“None of those things.”
She chewed the inside of her mouth, thinking it over. “A lion.”
“No.”
“A giraffe.”
I threw my head back as my laughter filled the large space. “What makes you think of that?”
“I noticed the way you’ve been looking around, like you were judging the ceiling’s height.”
“Fair enough. But no. And not an elephant,” I added when she opened her mouth.
It snapped shut again.
“I’m out of ideas, then.”
“Perhaps it’s for the best.” I didn’t want to frighten her. No one knew of us, saving Mary and the girls back at the cave—not just of us, my family, but of dragons on the whole. We were thought to have disappeared from the face of the earth. Some doubted we’d ever existed at all.
We hadn’t died out. We’d only gone into hiding.
“You’re not going to tell me?” she asked, and I could’ve sworn I saw the hint of a pout.
Was she flirting? No, it couldn’t be. Whatever unspoken thing had come between us still sat there, as unyielding as ever. But a ghost of a smile danced around the corners of her mouth.
“It’ll be better as a surprise,” I decided with a lighthearted wink.
Better to keep things light, when the reality was much darker. I still wasn’t sure whether or not I trusted her. If she weren’t always giving me furtive looks from the corner of her eye. If she didn’t look away the moment our eyes met. If she’d answer questions with more than one or two words.
If she didn’t look as though she were about to shatter like a piece of fine crystal at the slightest touch.
What was it about her that nagged me so? It wasn’t as though she’d threatened me or given me a reason to doubt her sincerity. She was never anything but courteous, saving that one dust-up we had when I made the mistake of asking if she felt well.
I had kept my questions to myself after that, which was against my nature. If any member of my family had acted so unpredictably, I’d have given them hell for it and wouldn’t stop nagging until I got an answer which satisfied me.
So what was it about her that tied my tongue? I wondered as I watched her inject a syringe filled with what she said was an antidote. She could kill me at any moment, or render serious harm. The thought did little more than flit around the corners of my mind before it was gone. I couldn’t believe she was capable of such a thing. I wouldn’t believe it.
“There. A few minutes for the serum to make its way through your system, and we’ll get started.” There was color in her cheeks for the first time in a week.
“You’re excited by this, aren’t you?”
She shrugged with a rueful smile. “This is as close as I ever come to real excitement in my work, I guess. Finding out if I was on the right track all along. Knowing that I was right—when things actually work out, of course. It’s sort of like that scene in Frankenstein. You know what I mean. When the monster first comes to life.”
“Of course. It’s alive, it’s alive.”
“Right,” she smiled. “I can see how old Frankenstein got so caught up in his work and lost his mind a little. When you work, and you work, and there’s a single goal on the horizon, you tend to shut out everything else. It’s all-consuming. You might even lose your grip on what’s happening in your life, or the world at large. Your work is all that matters. You have to prove to yourself that you’re smart enough or capable enough to reach your goals.”
“What are your goals?”
“My goals?” Her eyes took an unfocused quality as she stared off into space, just above my head.
She was miles away from me by now, I knew. I wished I knew where she went—it seemed like she needed help. She wasn’t happy, there, at any rate. Her eyes went watery for a moment, until she blinked hard.
When she opened them again, she looked more herself. “My goals include watching you shift into whatever it is you shift into. I want to watch you shift with those shackles on.”
The dragon wasn’t satisfied. He claimed she was lying. Wanted me to tell her so. Would that I could. The dragon didn’t understand nuance, subtlety. Wanting to be sure not to hurt somebody who was on my side.
If she walked out and refused to come back, we’d be at square one—and there would be no guarantee of her keeping her mouth shut about us, either. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. An old adage, and a true one. We’d live in concern over her for the rest of our days.
I let it pass. She would never open up to me. Perhaps it was better she didn’t—once we were apart, I wouldn’t have to think about her anymore. Wouldn’t ask myself questions. Was she well, was she feeling like her old self again, was she happy. Did her troubles ever end, or had they only gotten worse. The less I knew about those troubles, the easier it would be to forget about her.
Now I was the one who was lying; the dragon grumbled inside my head.
I had never met a woman who worked her way into my soul the way Carissa had without so much as lifting a finger—but I knew my dragon would make life hell for me. He would remind me of the way she smelled, the way her pulse had quickened when she saw me shirtless and sweating. The way she’d grown flustered and averted her eyes. He knew she wanted me, and I knew we both wanted her. And she was going to slip through my fingers like sand, no matter how I tried to close them against her escape.
She cleared her throat, and the wall dropped between us again. “All right. I think we’ve given you enough time. Let’s see what you can do.”
It occurred to me that I should’ve taken off my clothes before attempting a shift. T
he image of how she would react to seeing me in front of her, completely naked, brought up a grin I tried hard to disguise.
“You’re ready?” I asked.
“Ready for anything.” Which was why she clasped her hands together and chewed her bottom lip until I was sure her teeth would break the skin.
She thought she could handle whatever she found because she was vaguely acquainted with a shifter in Florida. It was quaint.
I closed my eyes and allowed the shift to come over me. Yet instead of the usual feeling of relief, as the caged beast inside me released itself and stretched its legs—and wings—after a long imprisonment, there was resistance. Like trying to break out of a jar or bottle with thick glass, pushing and straining and struggling against it so I could breathe again, fly again, be again.
The dragon roared, and a cry of frustration escaped my lips and filled the room.
It was too much. I gave up, shoulders falling, beads of sweat lining my brow. “No go.” When my eyes opened, I found her staring raptly at me.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know. Nothing to be sorry about.”
“It’s a start. Only a start. You know I’ll keep working on this.”
“I know you will. You’re Dr. Frankenstein, right? A little setback isn’t enough to discourage you.” I held out my wrists, the heavy shackles all the heavier because of what they represented.
She came to me with the key held out in one hand and a sad smile on her beautiful face.
“Wow. Dr. Frankenstein. I guess I’ve been called worse.”
We both chuckled as she unlocked the iron cuffs, then set them aside.
I didn’t think before I did it. If I had, I wouldn’t have moved. It might have been the dragon guiding me, still at the forefront of my consciousness, a little closer to the surface than normal. I reached for her, closing my hand around her wrist like the shackles had just been around mine.
