by Kim Knox
Vyn pushed at her memory, trying to remember if men in N-District always behaved this way. Vague images rose, but nothing like Paul Cross. She stepped out of the bath. He wrapped the towel around her, the hard strength of his arms holding her tight to his chest.
She willed herself to breathe as his lips brushed her ear, the heat of his mouth on her skin hurtling her thoughts back to the simulacrum. His scent warmed her, wove around her, caught her in such an unexpected way that she didn’t move, didn’t want to. She swallowed, her mouth dry. “What is this?”
“I believe you’re attracted to me.”
Chapter Five
Vyn felt the heat rise under her skin to burn her face. She was relieved he couldn’t see her mortification. “I live with skanks. I don’t get prime flesh very often.”
“So it would appear.”
She pulled herself free, taking the towel with her, and turned to face him. “What’s the Box?”
“The First Family don’t believe in exotic names.”
He was very good at answering questions she wasn’t asking.
Vyn tucked the towel firmly over her breasts. The damp air brushed her skin and, after the heat of the bath, she shivered. Wet tendrils of her hair dripped water over her shoulders. The Box. It was something of which the Fomorians were ignorant. She’d certainly never heard of it and she had Ossian’s sharp ear. Practically nothing escaped him.
She frowned. “Do you think I’m a hacker?”
“You’re a very specific one.”
Vyn snorted. “And you said you know everything about me. I don’t hack.” She grabbed another towel and wrapped it around her head. “I play with code, refine it. If you want to break security, find someone with a death wish. That isn’t me.”
Paul took her arm, his fingers hot and strong against her skin, and guided her into the bedroom. “‘The Box’ is a euphemism. It’s more than a detention centre. Those replaced and vanished are…stored there. You, and these—” he traced his thumb over the thin white lines swirling over her bicep, and her skin tingled, “—are the key to getting in.”
He pointed to the bed. “Sit.”
Vyn dropped to the edge, the mattress firm under her thighs. They stored the vanished? How was that even possible? Her thoughts twisted, imagining how the Corporation could hold so many against their will. She winced. Her mind had to go to a particularly unpleasant place. To the extreme edge of technology. Mind-shock. Thoughts, a brain caught in a trap, held, frozen, looping as the body aged. But mind-shock was a myth…just like simulacrum.
“I play with glamour. That’s my skill.”
Paul walked across the room on silent feet. He opened drawers and pulled out clothes. “I don’t need your skill so much as what you are.” He handed her a long-sleeved T-shirt and loose trousers. His fingers traced the pattern of scarring across her shoulder, a light touch that flushed heat under her skin and made her very aware of wearing only a towel. “What they made you into.”
Her mouth was dry and her heart drummed. “And what’s that?”
His dark eyes held her, the flicker of unknown emotion shifting there. “It’s not magic, demonic or otherwise. Your scarring forms an organic circuit. You’re a key.” His thumb teased down over her collarbone, and her nipples peaked, her body choosing to ignore his impossible words. “You can open the Box. Free my brother.”
She caught his hand against her skin. She had to think. “I’m a circuit?” Unconsciously her fingers tightened around his, and she willed her breathing to remain even and steady. There’d been whispers, theories, but the price of living, breathing circuitry, of laying it into flesh… How many had died before her? “How did you find out?”
“A month ago I was assigned to you by the CEO’s office. I’m your guard…at a discreet distance.” He sat next to her, easing his hand from her skin, but his fingers remained laced through hers. A short smile lifted his lips. “And I worked it out.” He looked down at their linked hands. “As, I think, had Liam.”
Questions bubbled up inside of her. Her guard? She had a guard? Was the CEO protecting an asset? And why, if she was so very important, had the Corporation thrown her out into S-District?
“How long?” She pressed her lips together, the wild rush of emotions twisting her insides. She wasn’t certain whether she wanted to cry or laugh hysterically. Her whole life wasn’t what she thought it was. “How long had the other guard watched me?” She paused. “And why was he removed—did he work it out too?”
“I don’t know. I was called in because a skank gang took out your previous guard.”
She heard the undercurrent in his voice, his doubt. If he’d been senior security, like Paul, then whoever it was could easily have taken on a bunch of untrained skanks. “He was vanished too?”
“Vyn, I don’t know what’s going on. Something is shifting in the Corporation. Something that does involve you.”
He still wanted that grab for power. Holding her would force all parties to have to deal with him. She looked around the smooth-walled bedroom, expensive and immaculate. Just like every other house so close to the hill. “Why was I expelled from here?”
Paul lifted her hand, his other covering it. His touch warmed her, eased some of the tension, the fear from her flesh. His gaze held her and her brain blanked. Should she be surprised that the attentions of an attractive man would take her mind off her troubles? And there was something about this particular man that pierced her to the core. She was sure he was very used to lust at first sight.
“You drew too much attention. Your illegal activity was a screen to remove you. Better to put you beyond the reach of those wanting to use you.”
“Attention.” That pulled a smile from her. “I was shunned in the cold-world and wore glamour from head to toe in the Mind tiers. Believe me, no one was interested, or knew me.”
“Liam talked about you.” He was pulling the conversation back to his brother. The supposed reason she was there. His thumb stroked along hers, a disconcerting touch that ran a shiver deep into her flesh. “A few days later I had to call a stranger my brother.”
“And you think Liam’s in this Box?” She turned the clothes over in her lap, unfolding and refolding them. “I can understand the Corporation being reluctant to…dispose of executive family members. But Fomorians? We—they—aren’t worth the effort, surely.”
He released her hand and stood. “My concern is with Liam. He’s there. Frozen.”
“And what would you do with him?” Vyn made herself ask the question and not feel the emptiness of her hand. She tugged the towel from her head and scrubbed it over her damp hair. “It’s not as if he could resume his old life.”
Paul frowned and his gaze burned with a quick anger. “I have contacts outside the Corporation. He will have a new name, a new life.”
“For you too?”
“Perhaps.”
“And what do I get?”
A dark smile lifted his lips, the ceiling light a halo in his hair. “You get to keep your secret.”
She frowned. “My secret?”
His gaze flicked back to the bathroom. “You created a simulacrum.”
Vyn froze, the towel a tangled mass on her head. He knew? How could he know? Her heart pounded, her mind shooting off in every direction. He’d been stalking her. He knew the layout of her flat, her drop boxes, and there was a hint of him knowing so much more about her. Had he been in her flat, been through her things? There was that little thrill again. Watched her?
She closed her eyes and tried to focus her thoughts. How he knew wasn’t important. That he knew she’d broken the secret to the simulacrum was. She opened her eyes and held his. There was little point in denying her crime. “What now?”
Paul rubbed his hands together, the sound hard and dry in the silence of the room. “Something about the organic circuitry in your skin needs the simulacrum. I’m not a gear-head.” He looked away from her, frowning. His fingers locked. “Lose the towel.”
&n
bsp; Vyn blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Naked. In the bed. Now.” He strode away from her, back into the bathroom. There was the quick sound of water and he returned to the bedroom a few seconds later. His smoke-smeared face now had the wet shine of a quick but thorough wash. He tugged at his tie and shucked off his jacket, letting it fall to the floor. “I said now.”
Chapter Six
“I’m not…”
He kicked off his shoes, and his trousers hit the carpeted floor. “I don’t want to have to explain you. Not to him.”
A door banged somewhere below them. Vyn bit back a curse. She ripped away the towels and scrambled under the smooth sheets. It would be mortifying…if everything to do with Paul Cross didn’t hold the sharp possibility of her dying anyway.
“Paul?”
A man’s voice, one that sounded vaguely familiar. Vyn pulled the sheets up, obscuring half her face. Her knuckles whitened, fisting the smooth cotton. It was a voice from her past…and then her heart turned over. She mouthed the name “Liam.” Her gut twisted. Not Paul’s real brother, his replacement.
“Yes,” Paul muttered, and she shivered as he climbed into the bed beside her. The mattress dipped and the unfamiliar brush of his bare skin ran a fast ripple of goose bumps over her flesh.
His large calloused hand skimmed her spine, jerking her against his hot body. Vyn closed her eyes, her mouth temptingly close to his collarbone, the urge to taste him trapping a groan in her throat. She tried to ignore the press of him, refusing to think the word, to acknowledge that he grew hard against the softness of her belly.
“Relax, Vyn.”
His breath brushed her ear and another shiver ran through her. He smelled of the cedar-and-apple soap, mixed with the hint of smoke and his skin. She could relax…if he would simply stop moving his hands over her body. The action was not soothing.
“I said relax.” His low deep voice, the unexpected heat and promise in it, curled her fingers into fists against his shoulder blades. “It’s not going further than this.”
“Paul?” Liam’s voice echoed, was louder, closer.
Paul rolled her, his thigh pushing between hers. He ghosted her mouth with his lips and a quick, hot ache burned up from her belly. Her fingers trembled as she loosened them and teased a slow, uncertain touch over his warm skin. “Or maybe it is.”
Vyn arched into his body, involuntarily, stupidly, but she hadn’t been lying—she didn’t get to see, get to touch men like him. And even as a possible enemy thumped up the stairs, she couldn’t ignore her opportunity. Her fingers teased across the firm curve of his cheek. She squeezed and Paul let out a soft groan. “You seem willing.”
He laughed and his hips rolled against hers. “Perhaps.”
“Paul?”
Vyn froze. Liam was in the room. She willed herself to breathe, the heated air under the covers burning in her lungs.
“You busy?”
Paul let out a low growl, and the sound rippled through her. “What do you think?”
“I thought you were on duty.”
Paul deliberately traced a hand down over her ribs, the slow heat breaking another low moan from her. Damn him. Was it a part of his act for his false brother? She didn’t care, not with the play of his fingers over the crease of her thigh. “Then why are you here?”
“The off chance.”
With his weight supported on one arm, his fingers teased across her mons. In the shadowed darkness under the sheets, Paul held her gaze. She could almost feel the heat, his hunger, reminding her of the club and those few stolen moments. Fire bloomed in her chest and she gasped. Had he known she was the pneumatic blonde?
Paul strung kisses across her jaw. “I am busy here.”
Liam was silent for too many strained heartbeats. Did he suspect something? Was he spying on Paul as the brother he replaced? The memories were a blur, and she’d found herself in S-District soon after the arrival of the false Liam in college, but would he remember her, remember her skin, and wonder why she was suddenly there?
“He hasn’t gone.” Paul whispered against her ear, the sensation twisting her body against his. “Moan for me.”
Vyn closed her eyes. She should be embarrassed, horrified…but she wasn’t, not even as his fingers trailed over her skin, promising to dip deep into her wet flesh. Her breath caught, her promised moan little more than a desperate squeak.
“Is that all you can do?” Paul’s question burned under her skin, matching the heat scorching up through her belly as his fingers teased over her clit. Her following moan was involuntary and she felt his sharp grin against her ear. “Much better.”
“Is this what you wanted?” There was an undercurrent of sarcasm to Liam’s voice. “To find her and fuck her? It explains why you’ve gone above and beyond your duty to guard her.”
Paul stilled. “What?”
“Vynessa Somerton.”
Vyn bit her lip, her sudden fear twisting the desire surging through her body. She clutched his arm, the steel strength of his muscles offering a strange comfort. Her voice was little above a hoarse whisper. “How does he know?”
“What’s that, Vyn?” The sarcasm had ramped up. “I’m Liam Cross. I’m an arts lecturer. How could I possibly know what my security service brother does?”
“You’re not Liam.” Paul ground out the words, the pressure in his voice revealing an old fury. He eased away from her, slow and somehow lethal, peeling back the sheets from his body. Vyn grabbed at them, keeping herself covered.
“Seven years.” Liam laughed and, as he stood just beyond the doorway in the soft glow of the ceiling lights, she saw him transform into an even greater stranger. Slip into the man he truly was. “Seven years before you boiled over to challenge me and fuck up your life.”
Paul stood, unconcerned that he was naked, his body loose, relaxed. He flexed his fingers and rolled his neck. “Were your orders to watch me? Find out if Liam had let something slip?”
“Amongst others.” Liam moved on silent feet, circling him, his gaze fixed on Paul. He wet his lips. “I’ve been anticipating this day. Matching my skills against yours.”
“I’m ready for that.”
Vyn pulled in a tight, nervous breath. What the hell had she fallen into now? Paul’s survival was now bound up with hers. She had no doubt he was a very competent fighter, but Liam was an unknown. Her memory was vague, blurred. In college, he’d acted the role of a laid-back artist, concerned only with painting. The faint aroma of linseed oil had clung to him, as if to add authenticity. In reality, his training could easily rival or surpass Paul’s.
Her gaze darted to Paul’s crumpled shirt and jacket on the floor by the bed. Were his weapons still in their holsters, caught up in the fabric? She had to admit she hadn’t been watching for guns as he did his quick strip.
She shifted her backside against the mattress, praying that it wouldn’t creak, that the—
“Stay!” Paul jabbed an arm out at her, his gaze never leaving Liam.
Vyn froze, her fingers fisting the sheets. She’d relied on herself for too many years, had stayed alive for that long… She blinked as realisation hit her. Had the security personnel assigned to her down the years played a large part in her survival? There was a whole new layer to her life that broke the surety she’d built around herself.
“So commanding.” Liam’s laughter was low and bitter. “Doesn’t it get tiring, Paul? I’ve had it for seven years.” A smile touched his mouth, deepening the lines on his face she didn’t remember. “And I’m tired of it.”
“Really?”
Paul moved with him, mirroring the other man’s body, a lethal and liquid grace that tingled fear through Vyn. Liam’s body echoed his smoothness. They were matched. The tension between them arced, was almost palpable, and she had to sit and watch and not move. Her toes curled into the mattress, her heart beating hard. Curses ran through her head. This wasn’t her. She’d always acted…or had that illusion.
“I had to put u
p with the stink of oils, the inane drivel of artists and gallery owners, self-absorbed and over-privileged adolescents.” A dark smile twisted his mouth. “The fucking of young, impressible girls. That lessened the annoyance. Especially when they wanted that extra mark…”
Paul snorted. “Am I meant to be disgusted? You’re a lecturer. Fucking the students is expected.”
Vyn pressed her hand to her mouth as Liam pulled out a pair of shock-weapons from holsters tucked under his jacket. Small and sleek, their low whine cut an edge through her teeth. She winced. Paul seemed unmoved.
“I thought you wanted a fight?”
“Maybe I lied.” Liam’s twisted smile deepened. “Occupational hazard.”
He sprang forward. But not at Paul.
Vyn shrieked, scrambling back up the bed as one of his shock-weapons surged power, the stink of the cauterised silk burning across her senses. Her heart thumped. Her spine hit the headboard and a whoomph of air escaped her. Shit.
Liam swore, his face harsh. Something glittered in his eyes, and it ran a chill through her…but Paul blocked him. In a burst of movement that she couldn’t quite follow, he drove Liam back. One weapon bounced, sparking across the carpeted floor. The other flew into a wall.
With hard hands, he shoved him back and Liam staggered. Paul flexed his fingers and his breaths were quick but slowing. His bare skin gleamed in the light.
“Your fight’s with me. Always has been.” Paul’s low growl skittered through Vyn and she curled up against the headboard, her fists tight in the still-smoking sheet. It was a timely reminder of who and what he was. “She’s not your concern.”
“Her?” Liam held her gaze, his cold determination stabbing into her. Paul moved, something quick and sharp, and it jerked Liam’s attention back. His head tilted. “Don’t want me looking too hard?” His dark smile deepened. “I know who she is. And I’ll fuck her before I hand her over. Take her, make her scream. The CEO only wants her breathing. Sane wasn’t a requirement.”
