Skin Tight (18 page)

Rowan trembled because the other man’s words summoned such a powerful picture. He had envisioned it so many times—she’d be waiting naked when he slipped into her apartment. She’d beg him for sexual initiation.

His penis stirred, hardening at the mere idea of Gillie’s virgin blood. Could sex with her heal the sick as well? He’d wondered, but he had never brought it up to the board because they would auction her virginity off to the highest bidder, some syphilitic old husk. Rowan would never let anyone else touch her.

“Perhaps not,” he said tightly, “but your life is in my hands. I recommend you show a modicum of self-preservation and refrain from provoking me.”

“Ah.” There was a wealth of satisfaction in T-89’s voice. “So you admit I’m right. Good of you. That’s ammunition.”

Belatedly, Rowan realized he’d shown weakness, not advisable with an enemy who wasn’t exactly human. He couldn’t let the man provoke him further. Rowan released a lever, sending a flood of gas into the cell. The man struggled at first, eyes bulging as he realized he was losing control of his motor functions and his intimidating abilities. Then Rowan tapped the intercom button that connected him to the charge nurse while leaving the one to the cell live. “Nurse, send Silas to discipline subject T-89.”

“Right away, Doctor.”

Though he had work to do, it could keep for a while. He was going to enjoy this.

 

 

Gillie froze at
the knock on her door. The only person who ever visited her was Dr. Rowan, but she would’ve sworn it was too early for him. The man lived like a vampire, working all night, sleeping all day. She wouldn’t be surprised if he did slash people’s jugulars to maintain his creepy immortality.

With great trepidation, she opened the door—if she didn’t, they’d come in anyway. To her surprise, it was Silas, escorting some man she’d never seen before.

“One hour,” the orderly said, and then he was gone.

Gillie closed the door. Her heart beating too fast, she took in the stranger with absolute befuddlement. He stood just less than six feet tall, and he was pale, like her. Chestnut hair, green eyes. On closer scrutiny, she saw he bore bruises on his arms, and more on his back, most likely, if he’d been disciplined.

That made him a test subject, just like her.
God, please don’t let it be some mating agenda. If they expect me to breed with him, I’ll kill myself.

“Do you speak?” he asked at length.

She shook herself out of the near panic. “Of course.” Though it had been a long time since she’d met anyone new, she extended a hand, trying to be polite. “I’m Gillie. Nice to meet you.”

Humor crinkled the corners of his eyes. He had a weathered face, as if he’d once spent a great deal of time outdoors. The sun-kissed hue that had led to the lines had long since faded, however. “You, too, Miss Manners.”

“I don’t mean to be rude,” she said in a rush. “But . . . who are you? Why are you here?”

“That’s a deep question for a new acquaintance.”

She felt heat rising in her cheeks. “I didn’t mean you should define the purpose of your existence. I meant—”

“I know what you meant. I’m here because they turned me into a crazy beast, and then they snapped me up on the streets a few years back. Now the doc’s done something to my brain, something that left me going,
Holy shit, I wish I were dead,
only I’m not, and I wanted to make the best of this fucked up situation.”

Gillie sat down. “I still don’t understand. They never let me see anyone.”

“There’s nobody sane down here for you to talk to, besides the staff.” He reassured her by taking the chair opposite. If he was meant to mate with her and he only had an hour to get the job done, surely he’d be more aggressive. “And that’s debatable.”

A reluctant smile curved her mouth. “Yes. That’s certainly true. So you’re here . . . for company?”

“Is that okay?” He hesitated. ̈I also demanded a visit to piss off Doc Rowan. He seems to think he holds your title.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” She tried to control her revulsion, but he saw it.

Maybe because of the cameras, he didn’t acknowledge the revelation. “Do you have anything to drink?”

Gillie could only think,
Holy crap, my first houseguest.

“Of course. I should’ve offered. I can make tea or coffee, if you like. I also have some oatmeal cookies I made this morning.”

“You bake in here?” His astonishment wounded her, as if she’d surrendered everything by wanting to make the best of things.

“Yes, I’m a collaborator,” she said, feeling wretched. “Do you want the cookies or not?”

“Tea and cookies in hell.” He shook his head in wonderment.

“That about sums it up.” Relieved that she wouldn’t have to fight off a determined rapist—a worry each time Rowan came in—Gillie got up to make the refreshments. “You never told me your name.”

Pure hatred flashed in his green eyes. “They call me T-89.”

“Do you remember who you are? Do you have a family?” She put the kettle on, nearly weeping with the pleasure of human contact after so long.

“The T stands for Taye. I’m sure of that. The rest . . .” He shook his head, gazing at his clasped hands. “Only bits and pieces. I think I might have a family out there, but I’m not positive. I’m pretty sure they’d given up on me long before I was taken.”

“I’m sorry.”

Was that true of her as well? Gillie knew a pang, wondering whether her parents had accepted the tale of her death. Did they have more children thereafter?
Did they miss me at all?
With the ease of long practice, she banished the darkness. Living in the present kept her sane.

He shrugged. “It’s all scrambled now. Doesn’t matter whether I was a crazy bum, begging for spare change and tin-foil for a hat. I doubt my family would want me back, if these flashes I get are true.”

“Well, Taye, I’m glad to have you here. I didn’t think I’d ever see a friendly face.”

Shadows lurked in his jade eyes. “Nor did I. Mind if I use your bathroom?”

“No, help yourself.”

By the time he’d finished, she’d laid the table with cookies and hot tea. He joined her. Gillie had always thought it funny they gave her two chairs, until the day Dr. Rowan sat down across from her. Since then, she’d lost some of the joy she took in doing small, everyday things for herself.

“This looks fantastic.”

In truth, the cookies were a bit overdone, and she’d gone wrong somewhere else in making them. The raisins had soaked up all the moisture, so instead of being rich and chewy like her mom’s, these turned out dry and crumbly. But perhaps with the tea, he wouldn’t notice.

“You’re being polite.”

He broke a cookie in half and took a big bite. “Not at all. I haven’t had any sweets in a long time. I used to . . .”

“What?”

“Like marzipan, I think. Or was it peanut brittle?” His eyes went distant, as if all the neurons weren’t firing in sync.

Just how safe was she with him? Gillie eyed him warily. Sure, she knew about the cameras, but this guy could do some damage before help arrived.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised. “I just . . . can’t remember certain things. If it makes you feel better, one condition of my visits is that I’m never to touch you.”

Because she could envision Rowan laying down such terms, she considered that a mixed blessing. Still, she didn’t want him to feel unwelcome. Anyone was better than the mad scientist.

“It does, thank you.”

“I think I haven’t seen my reflection in a while because when I looked in the mirror earlier, I didn’t recognize my own face.” His conversational tone belied the grief in his gaze. “Does that ever happen to you?”

Tell me I’m not alone,
his eyes begged.

Gillie shook her head, wishing she were a better liar. She had no comfort to offer a man who found a stranger in the mirror; she could only change the subject. “Silas said we have an hour?”

Taye nodded. “Today and every day hereafter. I made it a condition of my cooperation.”

“If the question doesn’t strike you as too forward—”

“What can I do?” Wisely, he guessed she wanted to know his ability.

“I’m curious.”

“I’m drugged, so I can’t show you, but . . . I manipulate energy. I absorb it, displace it, and discharge it. Energy is never created or destroyed, but I can transmute it. They’re interested in finding out what, exactly, that entails and what my limits are.”

“They would be. Sadly, they don’t need me willing,” she said softly. “It just makes life more bearable.”

He cocked his head. “So they can use your gift, even if you don’t want them to?”

While he ate, she explained. She’d never imagined she would have anyone to confide in. Even knowing they were listening to every word, it was still a relief. Sympathy shone in his gaze by the time she finished the story.

“Jesus, that’s . . .” He curled his hand into a fist, as if that spoke for him better than words. “Well, I can only say—I don’t know how you’ve borne it.”

“I’ve thought of dying,” she whispered. “They think they’ve eliminated everything I could use to harm myself, but I have a few secrets. Sometimes I still think of it.”

Before he could reply, a knock sounded at the door. “Time.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Taye said, eyes on hers. “Take a hot bath and try to relax.”

That seemed like such an odd and pointed instruction that as soon as they left, she went into the bathroom. With something like hope dawning in her heart, Gillie read the note he’d scrawled on a scrap of toilet paper:

After such an
amazing night, Mia had every right to expect he wouldn’t do a runner like someone else’s guilty husband. Instead, half-alert, she heard him slip from the bed as if he were trying to be surreptitious about it. That startled her into full wakefulness.

He stood for a few seconds beside the bed, and she could actually feel him gazing down on her. She tried to feign sleep. His tread sounded as he moved away, heading down the stairs. Mia waited until the door clicked before leaping from the bed.

Fury motivated her. She’d comforted him, dammit. For a brief, shining moment, all the ice that surrounded him had melted. Then he had proved himself human yet again when he pulled her out of the dark and rubbed her back. There was warmth inside him, a good heart. He cared that he’d hurt her. That glimmer of light left her longing for more.

She dressed in a hurry, grabbed her keys, and headed out after him. The sky had lightened to a gauzy blue, still gilded at the edges. His Infiniti was already angling toward the highway. She made a quick decision, jogging toward her car. Mia was careful to keep the building between her and the road. If he spotted her in the rearview mirror, she doubted she’d find out where he was really going.

It’s not jealousy,
she told herself.
It’s self-preservation. I have to know what he’s hiding and whether it’s going to come looking for me like it did before.

At the highway, she had to guess which ramp he might’ve taken. East to Maryland or west to West Virginia. “Coin toss it is.”

The quarter she flipped told her to go east, so she pulled onto the highway, merging with the light morning traffic. This might be a colossal waste of time. Still, she sped up, thinking she might get within sight of his vehicle if he wasn’t driving too fast. She needed to be careful, however. If he caught sight of her, there would be hell to pay.

Good thing a blue Ford Focus is the closest thing to a generic car.
She’d spotted two similar models on the road already.

She turned on the radio and tried to pretend her behavior didn’t border on stalkerish. But she couldn’t let things continue without knowing more about him—and he wasn’t likely to confide in her. Another woman might’ve taken that as a sign to steer clear. It only made Mia more determined to put an end to his mysteries. They might not be enemies, but she knew he didn’t trust her, either.

 

 

An hour later,
Mia sighed. This was a waste of time. Who was she kidding? She wasn’t trained for surveillance. Half an hour ago, she’d thought she glimpsed his G37 in the distance, but she hadn’t wanted to draw near enough to confirm. Grouchy—and hungry—she stopped looking for him and started seeking somewhere to eat.

A billboard promised a hearty country breakfast, so she kept a lookout for that exit. But in passing the next off-ramp, she spied a silver Infiniti making a left turn at the bottom. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Her heart pounding like mad, she drove on to the next exit to circle around. That would put her about ten minutes behind the other vehicle—just as well; he would notice a closer tail.

At last she pulled off the highway and made the turn, following in his wake. This had to be among the top ten most humiliating things she’d done, right up there with snorting strawberry milk in junior high. The nickname Mia Snotter had stayed with her until graduation. But at least there were no witnesses to this particular low.

This road led into a small, picturesque town called Dun-ham. Mia drove across a covered bridge, wondering where she would end up. There were a number of brightly painted, historic barns along the way.

Well, maybe she’d spend the day antiquing, after she found out where he’d gone. She liked old furniture, not that she ever acquired any. But if she ever bought a house, she’d love to fill it with shabby old things that just needed a bit of care to make them lovely again. Mindful of speed traps, she drove slowly, and the sight of a police car sitting on a side road rewarded her vigilance.

She was scanning for any sign of Søren when she spotted something else. Though the exquisitely manicured lawn looked like it belonged to a private estate, the small sign out front said it was something else: “Whispering Pines.” The parking lot in front offered more insight. If she had to guess, she’d say this was a very exclusive nursing home or long-term care facility. Despite its beauty, the building seemed too still and quiet, as if all the sorrow within the walls had permeated the stones.