by Lynn Graeme
Not just any woman. This woman.
But he shouldn’t respond, not after what she’d just told him. It was sick. Didn’t matter that he’d lusted after Terris even before she’d told him about her leg. He couldn’t keep doing it now. It would be like Terris throwing herself at him after he showed her his missing hand. He would’ve scorned her had that been the case.
Liar. You’d take her any way you could get her. In multiple positions.
Her legs were pale and smooth without being too slender. Her thighs were the perfect size and shape to wrap around a man’s hips, cushioning him with each thrust. Jamal could already imagine the light indentations forming on her soft flesh, a delectable result of pressure from his rough, eager fingers.
It took several moments for the sight to register, but once it did, it jarred Jamal out of his lewd thoughts. He stared at the false limb, the interloper, the thing that should’ve had no place on the beautiful woman before him.
Her left leg matched its mate in curves, but where her right knee met her thigh in a smooth, uninterrupted flow, her left leg had a thin taupe-colored line dividing the joints. It arched in an upside-down U two inches above the knee socket, with a faint thumb-sized crosshatch on the lower edge of her outer thigh.
Jamal stared in dumbfounded silence. If Terris hadn’t mentioned it, he would never have suspected anything of that delineation above the knee. A casual onlooker hurrying past might’ve assumed the line was an old scar—perhaps from childhood, but hardly worthy of note. Nor was there any discrepancy in skin tone between calf and thigh, or between left leg and right. They looked exactly the same.
The leg didn’t look like it belonged on a mannequin. Instead, it appeared soft and pliable, suffused with rosy warmth from the inside out. Like living flesh. It even moved like living flesh. It struck Jamal just then that Terris’s gait, when she’d paced across the room, had been smooth and even. Not a single limp, no stiff steps or unusually heavy strides.
Hell, there wasn’t even a distracting plasticky odor to betray that limb. He hadn’t even suspected she was wearing a prosthesis.
How… ?
Jamal didn’t realize he’d spoken the word aloud until Terris answered, “It was a long time ago.”
He stared at her, disconcerted, until he realized she’d assumed his question was about how she’d lost her leg.
The question rasped from his throat: “Was it an accident?”
Terris’s smile faded ever so slightly. She shook her head.
Jamal didn’t know which emotion to process first. Anger, confusion, outrage, an oddly jarring note of protectiveness… . So he went with his default: anger. It was a familiar cloak that fit him well enough.
But his fury wasn’t directed at her. It was for her. He wanted to shove off this bed and go after whoever had done this to Terris, make them pay for hurting her. Recompense in blood.
“Who—” Jamal stopped in mid-sentence as he came to the only conclusion he could. He bared his teeth in a snarl.
The factions.
It had to be one of them. Terris wouldn’t be the first human to be targeted by those groups of extremist shifters. The factions blamed humans for all the oppression they’d gone through leading up to the war, and even though shifters now received equal rights to humans, the factions were determined to make every human pay for their past suffering.
Over the course of his work with the Council, Jamal had seen countless atrocities wreaked by faction members in the name of vengeance. They lashed out with violence and aggression that went too far even by shifter standards, ranging from sinister threats to repeated harassment to coordinated torture.
Jamal didn’t want to think of Terris suffering at the hands of those monsters. Terrified, tortured, losing her leg… .
Fuck.
Jamal didn’t even realize he’d unsheathed his claws until he felt them pierce his palm. He uncurled his fist and saw the puncture marks beading with blood.
Terris gave a sharp indrawn breath. Before Jamal knew it, she had his hand cupped in hers and was pressing to it a folded piece of linen she’d appropriated from the mounted cabinet next to his bed.
“Honestly,” Terris muttered as she sat beside him on the bed. “Anyone ever taught you to count to ten before unleashing your claws?”
“That’s a death knell in my line of work,” Jamal retorted. “Hesitate and you’ll have fangs buried in your throat. Look where it’s gotten me.”
She winced. “Point taken. Still, no reason to hurt yourself.”
“Shifters heal quickly. This’ll scab over in no time.”
“Not when your system’s already suffered as much abuse as it has.”
“Fine, I’ll try not to splay myself open. Annoys the nurses anyway.”
A reluctant chuckle escaped her, as light as champagne bubbles. Jamal made a half-hearted attempt to smother the pleasure he felt at the sound.
“I’m sure they’ll appreciate the effort, considering you’ve been running them ragged all this time.”
“You’re assuming they’re kind, merciful old souls who lovingly wipe their patients’ brows and coax them back to the land of the living. They’re hard-ass trolls who relish in payback.”
“Oh, the indignity of having to be kind to your caretakers. Let me guess: payback takes place during inopportune moments, like when they’re giving you your sponge bath, for instance.”
“Bet you’d do a better job at it.” Jamal flashed a wicked look. “Wanna volunteer?”
Terris pursed her lips, but Jamal spied a hint of a smile she couldn’t quite repress. He felt triumphant at the achievement. He also felt like an idiot for wanting her approval in the first place. That’s not what she’s here for.
She didn’t blush again, much to his disappointment, though there was a spark of amused challenge in her eyes. She inspected his palm, then disposed of the cloth in a hazardous waste bin in the corner of the room. Jamal was surprised when instead of returning to the chair, she reclaimed her seat beside him on the bed.
“It’s not a bad thing, you know, picking your battles,” Terris mused. “Whether with nurses or with annoying interlopers such as myself. Think of it as shoring up what precious resources you have left.”
“Hell, woman, I’m not on my deathbed,” Jamal grumbled. “Just crippled, that’s all.”
“That’s not a nice word.”
“Fuck nice.”
“You know, I recommend an hour of meditation and inner reflection every morning. Yoga would work wonders on your sweet temperament.”
Jamal swiveled an incredulous scowl at Terris, then spotted the teasing twinkle in her eyes. The corner of his mouth tilted up despite himself. “I’m not one for downward dog.”
“Ah, yes, that irrepressible feline pride.”
His smile curved even more. Damn. He was actually enjoying this.
For some reason, that wide, red smile didn’t grate on him as much anymore, though he’d still like to smear her lipstick with his own mouth. Perhaps absorb some of that sugared almond scent she’d tried to scrub off, which still lingered and teased at the edge of his senses. Teased almost as much as the woman did herself.
She was pretty and put-together, but not once had she ever condescended to him. Rather, it’d been the other way around. Jamal had been the one to mock and jeer at her with slitted eyes, yet Terris had taken it all with a light-hearted shrug and smile.
She confused him. Maddened him. Remained unafraid and unintimidated by him, unlike most civilians he was acquainted with. Cheerful in the face of his anger, spirited at his attempts to subdue. Yoga indeed.
Most of all, she distracted him. Too easily, in fact. That didn’t sit well with Jamal—he prided himself on his fierce, intense focus. That and his brute force. It was what he was known for among his comrades.
But now he remembered they were supposed to be talking about her leg. He was supposed to find out who’d done it so he could reap vengeance on Terris’s behalf. Yet she’d smoo
thly directed his attention away with teasing smiles, making him forget her own quiet revelation. She’d done it so expertly that Jamal realized she must’ve had plenty of experience on how to guide the conversation away from herself.
His smile faded. He allowed his gaze to trail hungrily down the silky line of her hips, sliding down the long length of her legs before backtracking and settling on the left. She followed his gaze.
“Full of surprises, aren’t you?” he murmured, not a trace of mockery in his tone.
Terris made no reply. Then, as if coming to a decision, she shifted that leg closer to him. She even adjusted the hem for a better view.
“Would you like to feel it?” she asked.
Chapter Three
Jamal nearly swallowed his own tongue. The back of his neck went hot. A single word rasped from his suddenly dry throat: “What?”
Terris’s cheeks turned a delicate pink. She cleared her throat. “I just thought you might want to see and feel the prosthesis before signing up for BioSynth.”
He stared at her, uncomprehending. “Are you saying you’re wearing a BioSynth leg?”
Terris nodded.
“But you’re human.”
“This is the original prototype. They needed a human control subject, so I volunteered. I was their first experiment.”
“What?” Jamal struggled to sit up. “Bloody bastards made you—”
“No, no.” She pushed him back. “I told you, I volunteered. Practically leapt at the opportunity, in fact.”
“You’re telling me you volunteered to undergo all that pain, the operations and the cutting open and experimentation that you yourself were trying to warn me away from?”
She colored. “I wasn’t warning you away. I was just … warning you.”
“So that my eyes remained open.” Jamal glared. “Were yours?”
“If you think I’m giving you a hard time now, my boss was even worse. He was reluctant to let me get so directly involved. I managed to persuade him, though.” Terris gave a self-deprecating smile. “And I was a pretty demanding test subject.”
Jamal bit off a curse.
“Keep in mind that I didn’t have to go through half as much testing as the shifter participants do, since there’s no need for my leg to shift. Using me as a preliminary control subject, our team analyzed the results, confirmed we could infuse the DNA, made adjustments, and then developed the technology to integrate the prosthesis with shifter needs. Hence the purpose of the trials now: I’m wearing the human prototype, now we’re working on the shifter prototype.”
“I can’t believe you asked to be experimented on.”
Terris shrugged. “I’ll confess to being a little selfish. It was as much for me as it was for the greater cause. I was already missing a leg anyway and needed an upgrade.”
Jamal shot her an incredulous look.
Terris patted just below the taupe line bisecting her thigh. “As you can see, we can match your skin tone if you’re concerned about cosmetic reasons.”
“Do I look like I give a fuck about cosmetic reasons?”
Terris sighed. Then Jamal caught sight of movement by the door and glanced up.
Benson, one of his nurse-tormentors, poked his head in. “We noticed it sounded a little too quiet. Everything okay in here?”
From this angle, Terris’s body hid her leg from Benson’s sight, but Jamal saw her hand drop to push her hem down anyway.
Jamal scowled at the nurse, but Benson didn’t look at him. He had eyes only for Terris.
Terris smiled brightly. “Yes, I’m still alive, thanks.”
“You sure? I can call for reinforcements.”
The jackass was flirting with her!
“Doc Rai’s getting off surgery, so she’ll be with you soon,” Benson continued. “Holler if this one gives you problems again.”
“‘Again’?” Jamal snarled. “I haven’t even started.”
Benson snorted. “In that case, I’m impressed by your willpower.” With a wink at Terris, the man vanished.
Terris turned back to Jamal. “Where were we? Oh, right. Hit me with your best questions. Employ that caustic wit of yours. I’ll tell you what I can, and what I can’t I’ll wait until you sign a confidentiality agreement before revealing specific details.”
“I’ll sign it now.”
“You sure?”
He motioned impatiently.
Terris retrieved a folder from her case and handed him two sets of documents and a pen. Jamal impatiently flipped to the last page of the first set to sign it.
“You should read it so you know what you’re agreeing to.”
“I believe I got the gist: shut up and don’t breathe a word about our super-secret project.”
Terris frowned. Jamal ignored her and signed both copies, one of which Terris placed on his bedside table for his own records. She reclaimed her seat and adjusted her hem again so he could see.
Jamal stared, unsure what to say or do. The upper end of her prosthesis hid any obvious scarring on her thigh. It appeared smooth but for a slight depression in that crosshatched spot on the outside of her leg. Was that where she pressed to remove it in exchange for a newer model? Squeeze and twist to pop it loose like a childproof cap?
Hell.
Jamal tried to remain analytical, searching out visual discrepancies between the flesh above the line and below it. The other part of his brain, however, reverted to base instincts. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from that creamy expanse of skin. And she had invited him to touch it.
“Questions?” Terris inquired primly.
He answered by smoothing his hand over her leg.
Jamal felt her body jolt to attention under his touch. Terris stared at him, her eyes so wide and blue. His hand tightened and squeezed in response.
Ostensibly he was supposed to be feeling for the difference between real and artificial, evolution and man-made, nature and science. But all that faded from the forefront of Jamal’s consciousness. All he could register was the silky smoothness of her flesh, the way her softness yielded so willingly to his callused fingers. The way her warmth melded into his.
It felt too intimate stroking her this way. Like a lover requesting permission, asking for acquiescence. Coaxing into submission. Demanding the word yes.
Silence loomed long and powerful between them, stretching out like fine threads ready to snap. Jamal looked up to find Terris with her breath caught in her throat, her body as still as stone. The air took on an electric charge, awareness sparking wildly between them. It became a living creature, reaching out and wrapping its tentacles around Jamal’s lungs, injecting its spikes into him as it tightened its hold—a pulsing, visceral entity linking him directly to Terris, stealing both their breaths.
His body, trapped and stranded in this cold bed, purportedly too battered and injured to move, grew hot and alive. Voracious, relentless hunger stirred into being. Hunger for her.
Jamal shifted his weight so that the damnably thin sheet at his waist didn’t betray the blatant desire tightening his groin. It was in vain, of course—he could feel himself rising, wanting, physically seeking her out. Heat snaked up his spine in long, sinuous whorls. He felt on edge with need, and he didn’t do need.
Terris was an unwanted temptation taunting him with what he didn’t want—wasn’t supposed to want. Yet the traitorous craving wouldn’t let him be.
As close as Terris sat, all Jamal would have to do was cup his other hand behind the back of her head and pull her in for a kiss… .
You don’t have another hand, an inner voice reminded him. Not sly or mocking, simply curt. Brutal. Unsympathetic, merciless, just as he himself was.
She made him forget himself too easily.
Jamal shoved back that burning rush of desire with a snarl. He forced himself to concentrate on the real reason Terris was here. The only reason she could ever be interested in his misbegotten company.
With renewed focus, he honed in on her leg. The prot
otype, she’d called it, for what might turn out to be his only chance at resuming his role as Council agent, if only he’d let himself hope.
Fucking four-letter word, hope.
There. A deeper flex of his fingers revealed the telltale signs, indistinct to the naked eye but perceptible to the most sensitive and attuned of touches. The skin along Terris’s calf, while just as soft as the rest of her, was a little too smooth due to the lack of hair follicles—an indelicate subject for a woman like her, no doubt, but the truth. There was no rigid resistance when Jamal ran his finger along that taupe line, but he felt the flesh spring back a little too quickly when pressed. And then there were two tiny protrusions just below her kneecap, twin bumps that could’ve easily been mistaken for bone.
“How did it happen?” The words scraped through clenched teeth, hoarse and gravel-rough.
Terris still stared down at where he caressed her thigh. Then she came back to herself with a jolt. “That’s your question? Not ‘how does it work,’ or ‘did it hurt’? Not ‘what makes you so sure it’ll work for shifters’? That’s what everyone asks.”
“Was it one of the factions? Which one?”
“It wasn’t a faction.”
“Tell me the truth!”
“I am telling you the truth!”
“You don’t have to be afraid. Not anymore.”
“I’m not—”
“I’ll hunt them down for you. I’ll make each and every one of them pay.” A rictus grin spread across Jamal’s face, his eyes glinting cold with deadly promise. “Punishment for convicted faction members is death. They won’t live to see the light of day.”
“Stop it. It happened a long time ago. There’s no use getting angry about it anymore.”
“Why not? You have every reason to be angry. Hell, I’m angry for you!”
“You’re always angry,” Terris said dryly.
“Someone has to be! Fuck your zen yoga and your pretty smiles. You didn’t lose your leg—somebody took it from you. They ripped it away from you like they did my hand. Did they leave you bleeding on the ground as well, writhing in pain? Feel angry, dammit. Shout and scream and rage at the fucking bastards. Just feel something.”
