Gabriel blinked away the phantom voices, shut out the easy laugher. Pushed the sudden stabbing pain in his soul to a dark corner of his mind until it was back to a steady ache in his psyche. He shrugged. “Just do, is all. Computers have rules that make sense. I can figure out how things work, look into the belly of the beast, and rearrange its innards. I can alter it into something completely different, without killing it.” Shining laugher it those bright eyes. Cut short. Brutally silenced. “Machines I get. Other things tend to be more complicated.”
“So what did you study?”
“Why so curious all of a sudden?”
She smiled; the first genuine smile he’d seen on her face. “Part of the job description,” she said. “Need to match a cat to you so it’ll work.”
“You’re looking for a cat that fights with swords and likes computers? Good luck.”
Amelia laughed. “Aim high and settle.”
“Never,” he said, a little thunderstruck by this quicksilver change in her. She was done with her dinner now, and she’d propped one foot on the edge of her chair and the other on her desk. Her chair was leaned back as far as it would go and every time she bobbed back and forth, Gabriel expected the front wheels to come up off the ground. “Why would you want to set yourself up for disappointment?”
She shrugged, her eyes still bright with contentment. Or was it happiness? “I think it’s less depressing to dream and hope, even if you end up disappointed. Otherwise, you’re just a grouch, settling from the start because you think you’ll never find that perfect thing anyway.”
“Well, if you put it that way.”
Amelia bobbed again and the front wheel came up for a second before she leaned forward and made it drop back down. “Speaking of matches,” she said, “I need to put you in the scanner.”
“More fancy tests?”
“Oh, there will be a lot more of those. Back in the chair, please.”
The chair with the manacles.
Gabriel sat while she turned on another machine and took her e-pad. She adjusted her glasses higher up on her nose. “Why do you wear those?” Surely a scientist of her caliber could fix something as simple as nearsightedness.
“They serve a dual purpose of making me seem threatening and vulnerable at the same time,” she said distractedly.
Her immediate answer surprised him, but as he considered it, yeah, it made sense. The first image most people probably had of Amelia was a stern-faced woman in a lab coat with glasses perched on her nose. Mad scientist came to mind, which wasn’t far off the mark. But without those glasses, no matter how smart, she would be at a huge disadvantage in a physical altercation. No doubt that dichotomy confused people enough to give her an edge.
Gabriel grinned. Clever, clever woman.
A moment later, a holographic image of him appeared between them. It was a perfect replica, except it had no clothes. Then his skin disappeared, displaying the muscles. Creepy. The muscle layer was the next to disappear, revealing his organs.
“My what nice innards you have,” Amelia said.
“All the better to impress you with.”
She chuckled, but was already distracted, looking more at her e-pad than the projection. “You had some damage to your organs. Looks like your kidney took a beating.”
More than once.
“Lungs look good, heart is strong.”
“Thank you,” he said.
The image changed, now showing only his skeleton. “Very few damaged bones,” Amelia said. “That’s interesting, given your occupation.”
“Guess I’m just lucky,” he said bitterly. Gladiators fought to kill, not wound. They used blades and spears, not fists unless there was no other option.
The projection zoomed in on his skull and it became the size of Amelia’s desk. Then it was his brain slowly spinning in mid air. “No structural anomalies,” Amelia said. “But then, insanity often doesn’t show up on brain scans.”
Gabriel frowned. She was back in efficient researcher mode, distracted and talking purely for the benefit of her subject, sitting in the chair. He didn’t like it. What happened to the smiling, happy Amelia from a minute ago? “Can you zoom in on other body parts with that thing?”
“Of course,” she said. “Why? Is there a particular area of concern?”
“You could say that. I am concerned about some muscles I haven’t been using much lately. You know what they say. Use it or lose it. And I really don’t want to lose these.”
She lowered the e-pad to glare at him. “You just want to see your penis blown up to three feet.”
Gabriel did his best not to laugh, but his voice came out choked when he said, “It wouldn’t be too much of a stretch.”
“Please,” she muttered, going back to her notes. The image changed again to display his nervous system. “You think I haven’t heard that one before? Besides, it’s not muscles that make you go hard.”
“You’re right,” he agreed. “It’s more strategically placed fatty tissue. Soft skin, plump lips…”
She tapped her stylus against the e-pad. “It’s blood flow.”
“No, I’m pretty sure I never got hard during a fight. That’s something a guy would notice.”
Amelia blinked at him. “What? That’s not what I meant.”
“Well, unless you plan on putting your theories into practice, maybe we should focus on something else. My balls are blue enough as is, without you teasing with all your scientific pillow talk.”
She sputtered. “I wasn’t, I … you started this!”
“And since you won’t let me finish, I’m changing the subject.”
“Oh, by all means,” Amelia said, “please finish. But do me the courtesy of waiting until I’m out of the room.” She turned her back on him and headed for the door, her lab coat billowing righteously behind her.
And Gabriel couldn’t let it go. He shot to his feet caught her in the hallway, and had her pressed against the wall before he knew what he was doing. God, she smelled so damn good. He felt her tremble when he nuzzled in her hair to get more of that scent. His dick turned hard as steel and his shoulders shuddered. “You think that it’s easy?” he said, not recognizing his own voice. “A good rub down, get off and get on with my day? What if I want more than that?”
“Yesterday you had a gun pointed at me,” she said. She was very still, barely breathing, but Gabriel felt tension in her. Fight or flight, doc? “Today you pulled a knife out of your shoe. Now, what, you’re going to try to seduce me?”
“Would you blame me if I did?”
“I don’t know what you could get away with in Rome, but out here rape is a crime.”
He was scaring her. Gabriel pushed away enough to look her in the eye, but couldn’t make himself release her completely. “I never took an unwilling woman to my bed. They always sought me out.”
“My, it must have been wonderful for you there. It’s a wonder you ever wanted to leave.”
His hands fell away from the wall and he stepped back, effectively shut down and impressed as hell by her strategy. Amelia didn’t waste words. She struck where she could do the most damage. Fight or flight? She was free now, but she wasn’t fleeing. The woman, so much smaller than him, so much weaker, stood her ground before him like an equal. No, a superior. She’d judged him to be her lesser.
Gabriel couldn’t blame her; he’d proved himself to be little better than the animal he was paying her to make him into. It shouldn’t have mattered. But it did. Her opinion of him mattered. Gabriel wanted her respect, at least. He’d spent too much time being regarded as a piece of meat. Here, with Amelia, he craved having her treat him as a man.
“I apologize,” he said. “I was out of line.”
“Way out.”
He nodded. “Way out.”
Amelia regarded him in silence for a moment.
“Am I forgiven?”
“I want you to unlock the door,” she said. “There are supplies I need. Things I have to pick up
myself.”
“Can’t do that. You’d run as soon as that door opened.”
“Just where do you think I’d go? This is my home.”
“My guess? As far from here as you could get.”
*
In the past, Amelia had only ever understood Stockholm Syndrome in the context of a psychology textbook. As part of her studies, and her training in New Alaska, she’d been required to gain a deep understanding of the human psyche.
Now she was about to get a giant heaping of personal experience on the subject.
But the lines were blurred here. Was Connors her captor, or an eccentric employer who liked to micromanage and keep close tabs on his employee? For the price he was paying, did she have grounds to complain? After all, she’d agreed to this.
Was he a good guy, or a bad guy? He had the wherewithal to kill her many different ways, with instruments or with his bare hands, and yet he hadn’t hurt her. Subdued her? Yes. Disconcerted her? Constantly. Made her hot and bothered? Far more than she was comfortable admitting, even to herself. But whenever push came to shove, she’d drawn blood, and Connors backed off.
And he cooked for her.
Of course, this could all be a ruse to lull her into willing submission, but why go to all that trouble now, when she was already doing what he wanted her to?
Did she want to get away from him? Absolutely.
But she also wanted him to tower over her again as he’d done a second ago, and coax him to kiss her. Tristan had his Dara. Hailey had found her Jeremy. What was so wrong with Amelia? Why did she have to be alone? It wasn’t fair.
And now here was Connors who … well, okay, so he might be batshit crazy, but he also seemed to have trouble keeping his distance from her. What was more, he was letting her set the pace.
If Amelia wasn’t careful, if she let her guard down too much, she might end up doing something very ill advised. And it would be all her doing. Her fault for not being vigilant. She’d done that before, and her sister had nearly died. Amelia knew what was at stake, and yet the prospect of letting her guard down, letting the chips fall where they may, had never been as appealing as it was right now.
She was so damn tired of being strong all the time. Putting up a front to hide any weakness. Was she crazy to consider letting loose for a while?
“Listen,” she said, hoping she sounded less frantic than she felt. “I need to get some air. I can’t stay locked in here twenty four seven.”
Those perceptive eyes of his searched her face. “Then I’ll go with you,” he said.
“Won’t you get into trouble if you show your face?”
“Not unless you cause a scene,” he said, unconcerned.
“That’s a lot of trust you’re putting in me.”
Connors shrugged. “You already hold the scissors, Morta.”
Amelia frowned. “What?”
He looked at her as if she’s slapped him. “You’re kidding, right? You don’t know who the Fates are?”
She crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow. “Do you know what deoxyribonucleic acid is?”
Connors nodded. “Point taken. The Fates personify destiny,” he explained. “Three women who control all living things, even the gods. Greeks, Romans, even Normans had some version of them. In Roman myth, Nona spun the thread of life, Decima measured its length, and Morta cut it.”
“So, in essence, you called me Death. Mors, mortis, post mortem…”
“Well … yeah,” he said, looking like a little boy who’d been caught in a lie. “But think of it as a compliment.”
Amelia gaped. “In what way can Death possibly be regarded as a compliment?”
He sobered and met her gaze dead on. “If I had to choose between a death at the hands of the Romans or yours, I’d choose you in a heartbeat.”
Chapter 7
It was dark, already late, but when Gabriel looked up at the sky, he couldn’t see a single star. In Rome, all the houses lit up at night and the scent of burning oils and firewood filled the air. But outside, the streets were always dark and, looking up, Gabriel could see a vast eternity of glittering gems. Nothing better to remind a man of his insignificance than the stars.
Amelia walked fast. She wasn’t trying to get away from him, or get in front of him; it was seemed like her natural pace. She walked with purpose and direction, as if this outing had a time limit.
“So where are we going?”
She was leading them out of the industrial district with its block-like warehouse monstrosities into a bright, perpetually busy corner of the city made up almost entirely of squat little houses somehow attached to skyscrapers behind them. It wasn’t like the shopping malls he’d briefly entered and very quickly left again when he’d first arrived here. The shops in this area were all small and crammed with things he had no name for. Stalls were set up outside with merchants hawking food and who knew what else. Everything that could be cooked or burned was for sale, be it animal or plant, and a rich steam-slash-smoke combination clogged the air until Gabriel found it hard to breathe.
Artisans? Not quite. More like family owned businesses, selling imports from their place of origin. So this was the international district. The guy who’d delivered the groceries earlier had mentioned it. It amazed Gabriel that so many merchants could thrive here this way. Everything was so cramped there was no room for signs or advertisements of any kind. Every merchant sold only what he could make appealing to the people passing by. If not for the skyscrapers and sophisticated roadwork beneath his shoes, Gabriel would have thought he was back in Rome.
“There are some things you don’t buy through computers,” Amelia said. She wove through the throngs of people so nimbly he was having trouble keeping up with her. It didn’t help that he was a head taller than everyone around him. While the crowds could meet Amelia’s gaze and move out of her way, they showed no such consideration to the faceless pillar of flesh following in her wake.
When she stopped at an intersection, waiting to cross the street, he caught her hand in his. “So I don’t get lost,” he explained when she looked up at him with surprise.
The crowds moved again, and the two of them were swept along to cross the street. Amelia headed for the edge and Gabriel stayed close, hoping his size would intimidate people into making room for them. It didn’t. There wasn’t really room to make.
Then they were in front of a doorway and he had to duck his head low to enter. Inside, the shop was dim and hazy with incense smoke that made his eyes water. Carpets overlaid each other all over the floor, there were giant wooden chests set up haphazardly, filled with odds and ends. On the shelves against the walls were jars of things he couldn’t identify. It was probably safer not to try.
Amelia cleared her throat. “You can let go of my hand now.”
The biggest jar held something that looked like a white root in the shape of a human. It reminded him of mandrake, but this was much bigger and so detailed he could make out fingers and toes. Was it artificial? “I’d rather not,” he said, unable to look away.
“Here,” she said, “hold on to this, instead.”
Gabriel stared at the wooden statue she gave him. It was some kind of monkey thing, sitting with its hands on its up drawn knees, and in between them was a massive dick, pointed right at Gabriel’s forehead. “What the…” He dropped the thing and wiped his hand on his shirt.
When he tore his horrified gaze away from the statue to ask if she was trying to give him a heart attack, Amelia was gone. “Amelia!”
“Over here.” Her voice sounded smothered.
“Where is here?” He weaved between an armored statue and a dried up mummy.
“Right here,” she said, appearing from behind a bookcase. She was holding a mesh bag and a carved wooden box.
“What have you got there?”
She shrugged, taking her loot to the shop owner. “Stuff,” she said.
Two minutes later, they were out in the melee again and Amelia was pul
ling him across the street into an alley away from the crowds. Gabriel breathed a sigh of relief.
Until they emerged out of the other end into an even bigger one. By then, he had no idea where they were anymore, or how to get back. If she left him there, it might take him a week to find his way to her lab again. He had a feeling these crowds never lessened.
The next store they entered was more of a green house. Three long tables stretched end to end across the space, all covered in dirt and plants. There were planters on the ground, too.
“Molly?” Amelia called. “Oh, Mooollyyy!”
“Millie?” a female voice called back. A second later a scarf-covered head popped up among the flowers. “Millie!” The woman cried and got to her feet to come greet them. She looked like a mole. Thick glasses sat on her tiny, sharp nose, making her eyes look enormous. Her thin lips were pulled into a surprisingly brilliant smile, which might have made her pretty, if she wasn’t covered in dirt.
“Millie?” Gabriel frowned. He was ignored.
Molly the mole rushed forward and embraced Amelia. Both of them laughed and cooed; clearly this was a reunion of some sort. “Where have you been?” Molly said. “One massive order to Torrey and then nothing for months!”
Amelia ducked her head. “I’m sorry. I had sort of a family emergency.”
“Oh,” Molly said, and that tiny non-word carried a world of understanding. “Everything okay now?”
“Oh, yeah!” Amelia nodded eagerly. “Brilliant, actually. I’m working on another project now.”
Molly held up her hands. “Wait, let me guess. You got swept off your feet by mister Hunkypants over here and decided to bring him home, and then you realized you house sucks so you finally decided to take my advice and do that expansion for the garden.” She grinned. “How’d I do?”
“Uh, well…”
“That’s exactly right,” Gabriel chimed in, starting to like this Molly. He put his arm around Amelia, ignoring her sputters to turn his charm on Molly. “We met on a techies forum, can you imagine? Her picture didn’t nearly do her justice.” He shook his head at Amelia in admonishment. “Bowled me over the first time I saw her. I knew she was brilliant. But brilliant and beautiful?”
Blood Debts (The Blood Book 3) Page 6
