Perfectly Toxic

by Kristine Mason

  Which meant Jim would die. Even if his heart could survive the drug and treatment, she’d kill him. The man served no purpose to her. Now that his face had been cleaned, he was as ugly as the woman in the picture.

  She turned and stared at Rodney’s back, drifted her gaze lower and remembered gripping his ass last night while he fucked her. Actually, she’d have Rodney kill him, just like he’d murdered Troy. Excitement filled her stomach. She had the urge to touch herself. God, how she’d loved the way Rodney had come to her rescue and had fought Troy. She could have done without Troy nearly choking her to death, not that he would have succeeded. She’d come to the room with a razor in her pocket, just in case her plan had fallen apart. Fortunately, it hadn’t. Troy had also proven that A-Line and psychological torture was a maddening combination. She had taken a normal man and had turned him into a bloodthirsty animal. Too bad she hadn’t been able to control her creation.

  Memories of the way Rodney had wrapped his belt around Troy’s neck, how he’d slammed the man’s head against the wood floor, then smothered him, played in her mind. The torture crossing Rodney’s face when he’d realized he had murdered a man. She grinned. That he could be like her.

  Now that had been something special.

  As she walked past Rodney, she purposefully brushed her breasts against his back. When he stiffened, her grin broadened. She went to the TV, turned it on, then the DVD player. After she hit PLAY, and the screen came to life, she faced Rodney. “Do you think he’s strong enough?”

  Rodney finished taping Jim’s eyelids open by wrapping a layer of duct tape over the surgical tape keeping the man’s lids from closing, then around his head. After trial and error, they’d learned this was the best method, aside from toothpicks. Rodney, out of concern that his patients might accidentally poke themselves in the eye, had disapproved of that idea.

  “I’m honestly not sure,” Rod said. “He has to be about twenty pounds underweight. I didn’t want to upset you last night, but I also noticed his hands were trembling yesterday. Now his entire body has the tremors and his heart rate is elevated.”

  She’d been so damned angry about Noah’s escape, then furious when she’d realized Jim was practically nothing but skin and bones, that she’d dismissed the man from her mind, and had let Rodney give him the first, small dose of A-Line without her presence. She stared at Jim, at the sheen of sweat coating his face, the way his body shivered. Yep, Jim was going to die.

  She stepped closer to the raised bed and checked the straps around his ankles. “You like alcohol, Jim?”

  The man grunted. “Rodney, be a dear and remove the tape?”

  Rod rolled his eyes and tore the duct tape from the man’s mouth. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, panic lacing his raspy voice. “Please let me go. I won’t tell anyone.”

  “Do you like alcohol?” she asked again. “Shot of whiskey, gin, vodka? Or maybe you’re not into the hard stuff and stick to beer or wine.”

  Jim licked his lips and stared at her with bulging, bloodshot eyes. “Whiskey.”

  “Would you like some now?”

  “Yes,” Jim sobbed as tears streamed down his face.

  She nodded to Rodney, who muffled Jim’s cries with the strip of tape. He then turned on the recording device. Once her recorded voice filled the room, she stepped into the hall and waited for Rodney. When he closed the door behind him, he shook his head. “Unless we continue with mild doses, Jim’s not going to make it. I’m worried about shocking his system and sending him into cardiac arrest.”

  “Do you want to take him back to the shelter?”

  He turned away and walked toward the room housing the sexy test subject. “It’s bad enough we don’t know where Noah is, or what condition he was in when he escaped.”

  Interesting. She hid her excitement. “What are you saying?”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “You know exactly what I’m saying. These people can’t leave, which means I won’t allow any more inside this house.”

  He wouldn’t allow? “But we still have plenty of time.”

  “I don’t care. I’ve killed one man, and we have no idea if Noah has gone to the police or if he’s dead in the woods.” He slammed his hand against the wall, then turned on her. The fury in his eyes ignited her lust. She loved when he was angry, loved it when he warred with his morals, how he fought his cravings and the urge to join her on the dark side. “I want to blame you for this, for everything that’s fucked up in this house.”

  “Go ahead. You’d be right. It is my fault. My sickness created this situation. If you remember, I coaxed you into experimenting on people.”

  He grabbed her by the arms and gave her a hard shake. “Your sickness isn’t your fault,” he said, his eyes softening slightly. “And you didn’t coax me into anything.” He shoved her against the wall. “Do you think I didn’t know what you were doing when you suggested drugging homeless people? Do you honestly think that I’m that gullible and simple-minded?”

  Oh, no. For the first time in years, her chest tightened with panic. He couldn’t be onto her. Not yet. She wasn’t finished, not even close. Her heart sped. A wave of dizziness blurred her vision. When she went slack, Rodney helped her to the floor.

  “Adeline, honey, what’s wrong?” he asked, concern in his tone.

  “I’m so sorry, Rod. You know I don’t think you’re a stupid man. I love your mind.” All true, except the apology. But she knew Rodney, knew what her man needed to hear, that he needed to see she could have a small amount of regret and empathy. He needed a glimmer of hope and a sign that she was…fixable. “I’m so scared you’ll give up on me and leave,” she said, and that was the truth. No one knew her better than him. No one but him loved her, and she’d hate to have to kill him if he ever tried to leave her.

  He cradled her against his chest. “I could never leave you. There’ve been moments when I’ve wondered what my life would be like without you in it. Would I have chosen a different career path?”

  She inhaled his spicy aftershave and clung to the front of his shirt. “Or a different woman?” she asked, curious as to how he’d answer. Rod could’ve had any girl he chose. Fit and muscular, he had a great body, thick dark hair, gorgeous eyes, and a sexy smile. She’d seen the way women looked at him, and couldn’t blame them—even if she’d wanted to slice out their eyes.

  He kissed the top of her head and stroked her back. “You’re the only woman I’ve known. I can’t imagine being with another.”

  She hid her shock. While she knew Rod had been a virgin when they’d had sex the first time, she had assumed that he’d hooked up with a couple of girls during college. She supposed it made sense, though. The man had high moral standards. If he’d cheated on her, the guilt would’ve eaten him alive.

  “And you’re the only man who’s touched my body,” she lied, and looked up at him. “If you love me, why do you deny me?”

  He glanced to her lips, then to the hallway floor. “I’m tired of this same argument.”

  “Do you regret last night?” she asked, and rubbed his chest.

  “No. I only regret being too weak to resist you.”

  “I have needs.” With her head clear again, she pushed herself from the floor. “If you want to keep denying us both, then maybe I should see if our test subject would be willing to give me physical satisfaction,” she taunted him, hoping to drive him over the edge of depravity. “He’s young, attractive. I doubt he’d turn me down, and I’m sure he’ll be able to get me off.”

  The fury in his eyes returned. He quickly stood and shoved her back against the wall. “Don’t you dare.” He grabbed the front of her blouse and tore it. Buttons fell to the floor as he undid his pants. “No one touches you but me,” he said, ripping the button and zipper of her shorts, then pushing them over her hips. “If I find out you’ve fucked him, I’ll kill him and beat you.”

  When he thrust himself inside her, she decided she just might have to let Rodney catch her with the
ir subject after all. She’d loved watching Rod kill for her, but would be thrilled to see him murder out of passion and pure jealousy.

  “You wouldn’t beat me,” she said on a groan, and envisioned him taking a paddle to her ass. “And you’re not a killer.”

  Holding onto her hip with one hand, he grabbed her mouth and drove himself painfully deeper. “I killed for you once,” he said, his eyes possessive and dark with hatred. “I’ll do it again. Don’t test me.” He moved his hand from her face, held onto both her hips, then with a grunt, pulled away and spilled himself across her stomach. Breathing hard, he staggered back and righted his pants. “Clean yourself up. I’m going to take care of the subject.”

  She stared at the door Rod had closed behind him, and used the shredded blouse to clean her stomach. She was good with the impromptu fuck, but to leave her unsatisfied was just wrong.

  The son of a bitch would pay for his little show.

  ****

  Liam pulled at his restraints and squinted against the harsh light. Once the room came into focus, and he realized the man from yesterday had returned, he momentarily relaxed. The man had been clinical and had said little. While that should have him on edge—and it did—the woman worried him even more. There was something in her eyes. Something sinful. A mischievously evil promise that he had no doubt she would deliver.

  “People are expecting me,” Liam said. “When they realize I’m missing, they’ll come looking for me.”

  The man turned to him and Liam suddenly wished the woman, Madeline, had come to the room instead. The man’s eyes narrowed with hatred and rage. “They won’t find you.”

  He swallowed, but his mouth was too dry to gather spit. “What are you going to do to me?”

  “More of yesterday. A lot more.”

  The drug, the videos, the voice. “Is this part of the government’s plan? Or is this your way of torturing me to find out what I know? Because if that’s the case, you’re better off killing me now. I won’t talk.”

  The man studied him for a moment, and wrinkled his brow. He glanced to the IV, then back to him. “Is your vision blurred?”

  “No.”

  He picked up a tiny flashlight, pressed his fingertips to Liam’s eyes, then forced the lids open. He shined the light in his eye. “How old are you?”

  “I’m sure you have that information, so cut the bullshit, small talk.”

  He set the flashlight near the heart rate monitor, which pinged faster. “I wouldn’t have asked if I knew,” the man replied, lowering the monitor’s volume.

  “Tell me your name and I’ll answer you.”

  “Roderick.”

  Liam’s stomach tightened when Roderick snapped on a pair of latex gloves. “I’m twenty-nine.”

  “And your name?” he asked as he checked the IV bag and tubing.

  “Not until you tell me why I’m here.”

  Roderick ran a finger along the underside of Liam’s forearm, near the crook of his elbow, then tied a tourniquet. “I’m going to break you,” he said.

  Oh, God. “The woman said the same thing, but that’s not an explanation.”

  Roderick looked at him, and Liam swore he saw a brief glimpse of betrayal in the man’s eyes. “Madeline? When did she come to you?”

  In the darkness, he’d lost track of time. “I’m not sure.”

  He raised the needle. “Remember, or this will go into your eye instead of your vein.”

  “I swear, I don’t know,” he said, staring at the needle.

  “Was it the middle of the night?” The veins along the man’s neck grew taut. “Answer me,” Roderick shouted, and brought the needle closer to his face.

  Liam flinched. “I have no idea if it’s day or night now. Please believe me.”

  “Tell me your name.”

  “Liam.”

  Roderick eased away, then after giving Liam’s arm a tap, he pressed the needle into his skin. “This is nothing but a saline drip to keep you hydrated. If you have to urinate, hold it. I will supply you with a bedpan.” Once he had the IV taped in place, he picked up a roll of duct tape. “I’m sure you remember this from yesterday, correct?”

  “Please don’t do this. If you want me to watch the videos, I will. You don’t have to tape my eyes.” Please, God, not this again. Panic welled in his chest as utter helplessness enveloped him like a smoldering, hot blanket.

  “Sorry, Liam, but I do.” Roderick cut a piece of tape. “Look to the ceiling.”

  Liam stared at the tape. “Yesterday you used surgical tape.”

  “I know, that was to make you more comfortable. Today, I’m not interested in your comfort. Now look to the ceiling or I’ll physically torture you.”

  “This isn’t torture?”

  Roderick smiled without humor. “Not. Even. Close.”

  His heart hammering, Liam quickly looked to the ceiling. He tried his damnedest to be strong, to fight the tears, the fear. But he couldn’t stop from shaking. His throat tightened and thickened with phlegm. The tears blurred Roderick’s calm face. When the tape tugged his left eyelid back, terror settled on his chest, knocking the air from his lungs. He couldn’t breathe. He gasped and fought the restraints at his wrists and ankles.

  “Calm yourself, Liam. Almost there,” Roderick said, as he took the eyelashes along Liam’s right eye between his gloved fingers. “Just a little panic attack. Once the tape is in place and you’ve been administered A-Line, you’ll be in a better place.”

  Wheezing, trying desperately to drag in a deep breath, Liam’s eyes had already begun to burn. His right cheek and lower lid twitched involuntarily as Roderick finished applying the duct tape. When the man stepped away to retrieve the entire roll, Liam finally filled his lungs. He was strong. He could endure this. If he was going to survive and tell the world what the government was doing to its citizens, he had to maintain hope.

  “Why didn’t you scream?” Roderick asked as he wrapped more tape around Liam’s head, securing his eyelids in place.

  “What good would it do?”

  “True.” Roderick set the tape on the monitor in exchange for a syringe filled with clear liquid. “Except I was rather looking forward to your cries.”

  Liam shifted his gaze to where Roderick pressed the tip of the syringe next to the IV in his arm. “What are you giving me?” He winced when the syringe pierced his skin, then sucked in a breath when the liquid shot into his veins.

  “I told you. A-Line.” He removed the syringe. “You were given a quarter of this dose yesterday to see if you would have any kind of allergic reaction. Since you’re healthy, today you’re getting it all. Soon enough, you’ll start to feel the effects.” He stepped back, then turned on the TV. When he moved away from the television the images of a man having his bound hands beaten with a mallet filled the screen.

  Liam turned his head, then sobbed with frustration when he couldn’t close his eyes. The torture was too much to bear. How could he last? How could he be strong?

  His sister’s face filled his mind. Kiera always knew the right things to say, the right things to do. Peace settled over him as he imagined her soothing voice. His fingertips tingled. His lips grew numb. Heat radiated from his ears and he pictured smoke coming out of them. The thought made him smile.

  “Feeling better?” Roderick asked, his voice muffled, distant as the man placed a leather strap around his head, forcing Liam to face the TV.

  “My ears burn.”

  “The others complained of the same side effect,” Roderick responded. “But it passes within minutes.” Madeline’s bewitching voice suddenly filled the room. “Listen to her voice, watch the TV and don’t fight what’s happening to you.”

  Oh, he’d fight. He’d find a way to fight his way out of this hell and expose the sick bastards.

  Roderick’s face blocked the television. He stood so close, Liam could see the pores in the man’s skin. “After I break you, I’m going to fix you.”

  “Why fix me at all?” he ask
ed, and swore he could count each individual eyelash Roderick possessed. Such a strange thing to notice, and yet the clarity intrigued and excited him.

  Roderick grinned. “So I can kill you.” He drew back, tore a piece of tape from the roll, then slapped it over Liam’s mouth.

  When the man left the room, turning the lights off before shutting the door, Liam tried to look at anything but the TV. Only he could still catch glimpses of the horrifying footage from his peripheral vision. Plus, moving his eyes without blinking created a dull ache in his eye muscles. Forced to watch the screen and listen to Madeline’s voice, he began humming, trying desperately to block her from his mind.

  Something moved in the shadows. He darted his gaze from left to right. Saw nothing.

  “Do you feel it moving inside you? The ache festering in your chest like an infected wound? It claws at you, begging for release.”

  Madeline’s seductive voice eased the paranoia. He understood she wasn’t talking to him, and was lucid enough to know this wasn’t an attempt at subliminal stimuli. But a form of hypnosis? Maybe.

  “There are no rules,” Madeline continued. “Only the sweet satisfaction of having the power over life and death. Of knowing you can decide who will live and who will die. How they die. How will they die? What will you do to them?”

  He stared at the TV, watched as someone in a HAZMAT suit hosed off a nude man. Except water wasn’t coming out of the hose. As blisters bubbled along his skin, the man screamed without a sound. But Liam imagined it. The high-pitched cry pierced his ears, along with Madeline’s words.

  “Will you cut them? Watch their blood spill. It’s a beautiful shade. So sticky sweet. Can’t you taste it?”

  As the man’s silent screams echoed through his head and the flesh fell from his skin, the only thing Liam could taste was revenge. The images on the TV played but he didn’t see them. He saw Roderick, dead, a bullet wound in the center of his forehead. He saw Madeline. Her slender neck arched. His hands wrapped around it.

  Tears trickled down his cheeks. They might break him, but not before he broke them first.