Lie to Me (16 page)

“I can’t decide if you’re stupid or desperate.”

Try both
. Afraid he’d see the answer in her face, she looked away, realizing at the same time he sported an erection. “Fighting me makes you hard? You’re
sick
.”

“I’ve been hard since I walked into your office.”

“You’re a slut.”

“Jealous, Kella?” His eyebrows elevated.

She clenched her teeth and glared at him, not bothering to deny her identity. His wet chocolate hair clung to his face and neck, and those ice-blue eyes were hotter than she’d ever seen them. “How’d you get past the access panel in the wall? Only the select have access.”

“I
am
select. I accessed it the same as you.”

Damn her bad luck! His rank gave him a better advantage. It wasn’t fair, but she’d learned eight years ago life was never fair to those who were dreg-born.

His fingers scorched her senses as they slid down her neck and between her heaving breasts. Stone shoved his hand in the pocket of his black leather pants. A white stick that broadened at the head like an ancient razor was removed from his pocket.

“Do you know what this is?” he asked, holding the device up from the tip of his fingers.

Of course she did. Her worst nightmare. “Just let me go, Stone.”

“Can’t, sunshine.”

That fucking endearment again. “You mean you
won’t
.”

“Does it matter?” Stone dragged the back of the R-scanner along the same path his fingers had taken moments ago, but started at her belly and moved upward. “The outcome’s the same.”

Not wanting to see his gloat when he revealed her identity, she turned her head aside.

“I’m curious how much of the real you was altered. Like these”—his fingers strummed across a breast, and she gasped at the intimate heat of his touch—“are they yours or what the V-chip made. You were curvy when you disappeared, but now you’re straight and thin.”

Without any further waffling, he pressed the head of the R-scanner to her neck. A click later and an electrical jolt surged through her, prickling along her skin in wave after wave. She whimpered at the sting that lingered on her flesh.

“Easy.” Stone thumbed her neck, one she perceived as a calming gesture. “It’ll be over in a moment, sunshine.”

Finally, the last prickle faded. Out of the periphery of her vision, she could see the black evidence of her real hair color.

His fingers gripped her chin, and he turned her head. Utter silence as he stared at her. Only the rain made any noise.

“Fuck me.” Eyes wide, he released his hold and sat up. He jerked his fingers through his tangled, soaked hair. Then his gaze lowered. “Why’d you hide this sinful figure?”

“Get off me, you pervert.” She shoved at his chest, but he didn’t budge.

Her reaction got her a face full of Stone Emmerson, so close their noses brushed together and his breath puffed against her face. Kella stilled as the weight of his body pressed her into the earth, and she held her breath so her breasts wouldn’t move against his chest. His hands seized her wrists once again and shifted them to a more comfortable angle over her head, while he used his forearms situated on top of hers to maintain her captured position.

“You’re my wife—”

“Not because I want to be.”

He flinched as if she’d struck him, and then his features hardened. A deadly scowl morphed along his brow, and a tick in his jaw kicked in.

“I thought you were
dead
, mourned you for eight goddamn years, and all along you rejected my protection.”

––––––––

C
onfusion crafted wrinkles across her forehead. At least her reaction testified to her innocence on that score, she’d never intended for them to think her dead. More blame to place at his mother’s feet.

“Why would you think that? I just ran when offered the chance.”

A dull thud of anger pounded at his temples.
Just ran
. Those words were a punch to his pride. That confession hurt worse than he could’ve anticipated.

He forced his jaw to relax before he cracked his molars. They had to talk, figure out how to proceed. He wanted to rail at her and hurt her as much as she’d hurt him. Neither reaction would solve their current problem. The world thought she was dead. That could be solved with a few clicks on the computer and claiming there’d been a mistake. The issue that concerned Stone most...just when he’d thought he was over her, he realized his heart was still very much engaged. Staring at her now, discovering she lived, had him aching to crush her to him and hug her, while screaming at her for hurting him. The contradicting emotions had him reassessing his puppy-love theory.

Sure, he’d realized his teen love for Kella had been nothing more than lust and was easily diffused by meaningless sex and a lot of it. But he’d cared for her, loved her as much as any fifteen-year-old could love another. That emotion had been genuine. The anguish when he believed she’d died had been very real. Eight years later he still felt the pain of her loss. They’d been friends and close. To realize she scorned the safety and freedom he could’ve given her as his wife, offended him. Infuriated him.

Stone rolled off her and stood, staring down at her. She remained on her back in the mud with the rain pelting her. Dirty from their altercation, she was still gorgeous. In youth, Kella owned the fine bone structure that could’ve grown into a fragile beauty, but even then she’d possessed a tough spirit. She’d just demonstrated how physically strong she’d become. Those jabs to his liver continued to smart. And he’d lost her twice in the city. Pure luck had him catching back up to her both times. Of course with her tagged she couldn’t really escape, but he was still impressed by her ingenuity.

Every bit of her cleverness was learned out of necessity because she hated the idea of being his wife more than she craved safety.

The reminder of her treachery renewed his resentment.

“We need to find cover.” He bent, curled his hand around her upper arm, and jerked her to her feet. The rain was turning crimson, and the burn seeped into his clothes. What hit his exposed skin caused a deep ache, like the throb of a smashed thumb.

No matter how angry she made him, he wanted her sheltered. That reality mocked him as a weak motherfucker. A real man would’ve demanded retribution for the way his mother and wife cuckolded him.

“The wreckage.” She pointed at the wasted remains of the plane. “That’s our best bet.”

Stone stared at her a moment, mesmerized by a fat, red drop of water that clung to her sooty eyelashes. For almost a decade he’d thought Kella dead. The proof of his parents’ lies seemed surreal. Had the sting of the rain not been burning his neck and face, he’d have been convinced this was a dream.

Kella rubbed her arms, cringing. “We should hurry.”

“Here.” He slung his jacket off and settled it over her shoulders. She gave him a startled glimpse, but he ignored the obvious questions in her eyes. Without waiting for her, not even looking at her to make sure she followed, he sprinted for the aircraft.

Running into the crimson rain hurt worse than standing in it, and what took less than a few minutes to run, seemed liked hours. At the shelter, he curled his fingers around the latch and yanked. The door opened with a groan. Holding it open with his body, he turned to locate Kella. He spied her leaning into her buggy, and his muscles tensed to go after her, but she twisted away from the vehicle and ran toward the airplane with a couple of backpacks and packages in her hands.

He breathed a sigh of relief that he wouldn’t have to chase her again—for now at least—and stepped just inside the plane to wait for her out of the acidic rain. The wind whipped around the fallen airplane creating a howling noise in the broken windows. Kella staggered from the brutal onslaught of the gust, but instead of aiding her like instinct insisted, he watched and waited for her to tough it out on her own. Proven by her choice to flee him, she’d shunned his support once, so he wouldn’t open himself up for further rejection.

Admiring the curvy lines of her figure, he shook his head. Hourglass figure and heavy breasts, even without her delicate features, she’d still be most men’s wet dream. Under different circumstances, he’d be making every effort to get inside her.

She stepped inside and threw a package at him. It hit him in the chest, and he grabbed the pack before it hit the floor. She tossed another package and a backpack on the floor, securing the other on her shoulder as she leaned just a little toward the doorway. Using her hands, she scooped her hair together and squeezed excess water out of the strands, wincing as she moved her palms along the locks.

“Dry towels and a blanket are in the pack,” she said, her tone business-like.

“The rumors are true. Archeologists are always prepared.” Stone stripped off his shirt and tossed the garment across a grimy bench.

Kella snubbed his attempt at humor, shut the airplane door, and gently removed the backpack from her shoulder. She unzipped the bag and dug that damn kippy out. Retro appeared to quiver in the dimming light, and he wondered if the creature feared the rain same as humans. Discarding the bag, she opened another and pulled out a heli light, clicked a button, and released it, allowing the tech to float to the ceiling of the vessel and drench them in soft light.

“Here,” she said a second before she tossed him a bottle of water. From the banged-up evidence of the plastic, the container had been reused many times. “You should find a washcloth in the pack. Get the crimson rain off you the best you can or it’ll blister.”

“Aww...didn’t know you cared,
wife
.” He mocked her with the title, his bitterness at her defection a tangible burn in his gut.

“I cared...” She dug around in the pack some more, before tossing a ration bar at him and retrieving another bottle of water. “Until you took my freedom away and made me your legal whore.”

He curled his fingers into the plastic of the bag and took his frustration out on it, ripping it apart. “Goddamnit, Mackella, I bought you to save you.”

She sputtered a moment, annoyance plain on her face, and for a second he thought she might launch the bottled water in her grasp at his head. “Forced matrimony is saving me? Gee, Stone, your sacrifice deserves a medal or a punt-kick to the family jewels.”

Interesting suggestion since she hadn’t once gone for his crotch during their scuffle. “It was in name only.”

“Right.” The sarcasm in her voice told him she didn’t believe a word of his explanation. Extra clothes she pulled out of her other pack were as soaked as he was, dripping red all over the floor. “Damn,” she muttered before flinging them across a few of the remaining rotted seats. “In name only, my ass. This wouldn’t have been tattooed on me if it was in name only.”

She yanked his jacket off, wadded it into a ball, lobbed it at him, and turned to expose the left side of her neck. His family sigil marked her skin, and a sinking feeling hit his stomach.

“Had all my hair lasered off from the waist down and my armpits
without my permission
.” He winced, but she wasn’t looking at him. Turning her back to him, she stripped off her shirt, wet a rag and began to wipe down her skin. “Laser hair removal in the delicate areas hurts, almost as bad as crimson rain, so fuck your in name only very much, Stone.”

He’d approved of neither. To mark her in any way against his direct instructions was a treasonous act, and he couldn’t explain why either had been done. He couldn’t pinpoint one person who would’ve rebuked his command that way. Surely his mother wouldn’t have put her through that while plotting her escape.

“I was making the walk of shame to consummate our marriage when Christine offered to help me escape rape and slavery.”

She flinched when he touched her back with his rag. “Be still, I’m helping.”

Kella turned her head to peer at him over her shoulder. Their gazes caught, held, and she confessed, “I don’t regret running from you.”

Stone cupped her chin and angled her head back against his shoulder. He could peer down and glimpse her breasts, but he respected her modesty, and kept his eyes locked on hers. “Your error. I would’ve given you everything. The world would’ve been your oyster. Now you don’t deserve to bear my name.”

“Like I wanted your name.” She elbowed him away and jerked out of his hold. “Mr. Sanctimonious, how would you have reacted if your choice was taken away?”

“I was born Regent heir-apparent.” Stone jerked off his wet pants and underwear, hanging them from a protruding shard of metal. Hopefully they’d be dry by morning. “Not much choice in that.”

“That’s comparing apples to oranges. Your basic right of
freedom
remains.” She wrapped the towel around her chest, maintaining her discretion beneath the cloth as she shimmied out of her pants. Her panties were surprisingly delicate, red, lacy undergarments intended for seduction. It flabbergasted him that she chose such flimsy and feminine apparel when she was a tomboy. “The world is damn sure
your
oyster, everyone bowing to you and compelled to do
your
wishes regardless of theirs. You don’t require anyone’s permission to do anything. You get to choose whom you marry. Who bears your children. You’re free to—”

“
Enough
.” He made a slashing movement through the air with his hand. “Yes, the system isn’t right, and things need to change.” He’d altered almost everything she bitched about in his Quad, but didn’t feel compelled to confess the changes he’d made in her name. That’d only show how besotted he’d been with her. “Going about it your way solves nothing. You broke laws.” Many of them. He feared he didn’t know the half of them. “There are consequences for your activities.”

“Yeah, yeah, just burn me at the goddamn stake.”

He flung his washcloth aside and secured the towel around his waist. Without any clear intention, he marched to her and used her arms to yank her against his chest. Leaning closer to her, he noted the catch in her breath. “Careful, Kella. I still have to account for your whereabouts for eight years. Hide your criminal activities from Regent Jones in Quad2. Keep giving me shit, and I might decide to let James slit your pretty throat”—he dragged a finger across her neck—“and call it a good goddamn day. Or give you to Jones so he can fuck and electrocute you until you’re no longer my problem.” He didn’t mean a fucking word of any of it, but he was just angry enough to let her believe he did.