Authors: Gena Showalter
I shook my head. All of those
things,
creatures, living weapons…yet…“Why haven’t I ever heard of these people before, Rome? Why does
no one
know of them?”
“PSI is damn good at its job, that’s why. We make sure the world remains ignorant about the paras. About scrims. About all of it.”
Dear God. “Scrims?”
“Scrims are supernatural criminals. Vincent is a scrim because he inflicts unnecessary pain, he kills when he could lock away, and he enjoys doing it. But he also captures and controls other scrims—in fact, he’s captured more than anyone else and any other agency, so the government caters to him. They allow him to live, turning a blind eye to his experiments.”
It was too much to take in, almost unbelievable. “Are…are scrims born or made?”
“Some are born, some are made. The more experiments are done, the more scrims are born. It’s a vicious cycle.” His expression softened. “What I told you about the prison is true, too. Château Villain, as we’ve affectionately dubbed it, is very real, and you won’t like it. A sassy little thing like you would end up as Venom’s bitch.”
“Venom?”
“She used to work for Vincent. Her saliva has deadly toxins, and if she kisses you…”
I swallowed.
“Vincent is one of the reasons PSI exists. Fixing the catastrophes he and his brotherhood of assholes cause is a full-time job.” Rome canted his head, considering me. “Do you remember that big warehouse fire in Chicago last year? The one that killed forty-two people and was blamed on faulty wiring? Lie. Vincent was testing the four-elements formula. Like I told you, several people burst into flames.”
I shuddered, and felt the vibration to the bone. “Why does he want people to control the four elements? Why kill them for it?”
“Think about it. He can cause a drought, then, if the price is right, he can save everyone with a rainstorm. He’ll make money from it, exploit it, kill people with it. Control people with it.”
My God. My mouth dried a little more with every word Rome spoke. If my hands hadn’t been bound, I would have covered my ears so I wouldn’t have to hear anymore. There was a villainous world out there I’d once thought could never touch or affect me. How wrong I’d been. I mourned the loss of such innocence.
“I’d already placed special locks and bolts on the doors and windows of your apartment,” Rome said, “so the assailant shouldn’t have been able to bypass them as silently as he did. He was good, and he was determined to get to you. Whoever else Vincent sends will be even more so.”
“What did you do with the man’s, uh, body?” I asked.
“I took care of everything and even cleaned your place. No reason to concern yourself with the details.”
I was kind of glad he didn’t elaborate. That was all I could handle at this point. Clandestine activities so were not for me.
Why had I ever despised my safe, normal,
average
life? More fool me.
Rome offered me another bite of eggs, but I shook my head. My stomach was now knotted and clenched, threatening to rebel. “I’m not feeling so hot,” I said softly.
There was a long silence, then, “I think you’re ready to hear the proposition I have for you.” He settled on the stool beside me and turned mine so that I faced him.
At first I kept my gaze on the open gape of his collar. I liked looking at him a whole lot more than I liked thinking about bad guys and evil plans. Against the stark black of Rome’s shirt, his skin looked deeply tanned, worshipped by the sun. A thin smattering of black chest hair peeked through. Not enough to notice without staring, but enough to tantalize. What would it feel like if I traced my hands over his chest? Allowed my fingers to roam, explore…indulge?
What are you doing, you idiot?
I could not let myself be attracted to him. Him, a man who had just admitted to killing someone. A man who’d been okay with knocking me out. No matter how sexy he was, I. Could. Not. Desire. Him. Right? Right. Even though he’d saved me from a murderer, I didn’t know if I could trust him fully.
“Belle?”
I blinked, snapping out of my internal conversation. “What?”
“I don’t think you’re listening.”
My gaze jerked up to Rome’s face. He was watching me, a curious glint in his bright blue eyes. Several strands of inky hair had fallen onto his forehead. He should have looked boyish. He didn’t. Danger radiated from him too fiercely. Danger…and seduction. He looked like every woman’s most private fantasy, a god just roused from bed and eager to return.
We decided not to think that way, remember?
“What were you saying?” I asked.
He rolled his eyes. “I was telling you that you were fired from the café, so you no longer have an income. You should have heard some of your phone messages from Ron.”
I sucked in an angry breath, not liking that Rome had listened to messages meant for my ears only. “Did my dad call?” I asked through gritted teeth.
“Yeah,” he answered, without hesitation and unapologetically. “We had a nice chat. He’s a little miffed at you for not mentioning me, but he’s glad you’ve finally found a man who will put up with your smart mouth. And he wanted me to know that you do have a sweet side, which I’ll apparently find if I stick around and search hard enough.”
A haze of red flashed over my eyes. “You
talked
to my dad?”
“Yes. Your friend Sherridan, too. She wanted to know why you haven’t called her in the last few days, and asked if you were mad at her about the twins. I told her you’ve been expending your energy trying to win me over, and she told me to tell you to wear black leather and carry a riding crop. Interesting girl. Is she single?”
Oh, this was too much! Did my childhood friend and the man responsible for my creation not think it was weird to chat with a strange man I’d never talked about or introduced them to? So what that Rome had been in my apartment and answered my phone. For all they knew, he could have sneaked inside with every intention of killing me. Wait…
“Anyway,” Rome said with a wave of his hand, “you might love them, and they might love you, but I’m all you’ve got right now. I’m the only one who can help you.”
The grim warning washed away my anger and brought fear. Cold, very real fear that froze the tips of my fingers. Since anger caused flames, it made sense that fear caused ice. Too quick on the emotional trigger, Rome had said. He was right. About everything. “What should I do? Hide?”
“No. You have no experience in that arena. You’d be caught before you reached the end of the block. No, what you need to do,” he said, tapping his finger against the counter, “is get OASS off your back. The best way to do that is to find the scientist who created the formula. Dr. Enrich Roberts.”
I stared at Rome, incredulous. “That sounds great, but how am
I
supposed to do that? I have trouble finding my keys.”
“I’ll help you. Maybe he can reverse what’s been done to you. If not, well, we can trade him—or pretend to trade him. His life for yours. I can’t actually let Vincent have him again. He convinced the good doctor once that working for him would benefit the world. I can’t take the chance of Vincent convincing him a second time.”
What I got out of Rome’s speech: There was a chance I could be me again. Normal, average me. The thought was intoxicating. Wonderful. Heady. Except…a stray thought intruded upon my happiness, and I frowned. “What do you get out of all this, Rome? You had orders to take me in. If you’re telling the truth, you’ve disobeyed direct orders. You’ll be working against your boss. Why would you do that for me? A stranger.”
His jaw clenched and he shrugged, the action stiff. “Maybe my boss changed his mind. Maybe he now thinks you’re of better use in the field.”
“And maybe you’re full of shit,” I said. He probably expected me to accept his explanation without comment. Well, he could stuff his stupid maybes. “Maybe you aren’t really working against anyone but me. Maybe you plan to find and kill Dr. Roberts and blame it on me.”
Rome remained silent.
“Before your boss let me loose, he would want to see what I could do.”
More silence.
“Wouldn’t he?” I demanded. “Tell me the truth, Rome. Do you really want to help me? Or are you trying to trick me so that I’ll take the fall for something?”
Again, he kept his mouth closed and uttered not a sound.
Anger sparked inside me, but thankfully, I didn’t start a fire. I continued to work the rope at my wrists and ankles, my hands and feet becoming as hot as my rage. My life was at stake here, and I couldn’t risk my survival on the hope that Rome meant me no harm.
“You’ll get no help from me,” I declared.
“I don’t want to frame you for a crime,” Rome finally said. “And my employer doesn’t know that I have no intention of bringing you in. Satisfied?”
“No.” And I wasn’t. “Does this employer of yours have a name?”
Another heavy curtain of silence fell, then he said, “John Smith.”
Puh-lease. “Yeah, like a thousand other men. Fine. Don’t tell me. I wouldn’t know him, anyway. But why won’t you take me to him? Give me a good reason to believe you. Tell me why you’d suddenly want my help in saving my own life when you were so determined to hurt me before?”
His dark brows arched, and our gazes locked. “You won’t simply trust me?”
“No.
Nein.
Nay. Shall I say it in another language?”
He ran a hand over his face, pausing to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I’m not going to give you to my boss, and I’m not going to let you fall into Vincent’s hands,” he said. “Not now and not later. I give you my word. If we can’t find the doctor, I’ll find another way to get Vincent off your back.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because…” He paused, as if confessing was a painful chore. “Because—damn it. This isn’t information you need right now.”
I stopped working at the rope, poised at the edge of my seat. “Tell me anyway,” I insisted.
“Because,” he repeated, glaring at me. The heat of that glare nearly singed my skin. “Because I need to take my daughter into hiding, and you’re the only one who can help me do that.”
I
MMEDIATELY AFTER
dropping that little bomb on me—
Rome has a daughter. A daughter!
—he shoved to his feet, skidding his stool backward. He prowled to the far counter and withdrew something from one of the drawers. He kept his back to me. “You’re going to help me, right?” he asked.
“Whatever you say, boss,” I said uncertainly. What was he doing?
“Good.” He pivoted on his heel and came toward me carrying a—ohmygod! He was holding a knife!
Gasping, I jolted backward and tumbled off the stool. I landed with a thump, the cold linoleum floor doing nothing to cushion my fall. A sharp pain shot up my arms. Air shield, air shield. I needed a freaking air shield. But my hands were tied, literally! I tried to scramble back, pushing with my feet, but I wasn’t fast enough. Rome reached me and tsked under his breath.
“So suspicious,” he said.
“How can you do this?” I cried. What I wouldn’t give to hold out my arms and blast him with an air shield. If only I could will that power to work without the use of my hands. “I’ll—I’ll fry you. I’ll rip you apart with a tornado. You said I’d be able to command a tornado, and I’ll do it.”
Unconcerned, he tossed the knife in the air and caught the hilt.
“You need my help to hide your daughter,” I reminded him. “How can you—ummph!”
Without a word, he flipped me onto my stomach. Through my shock and fear, I registered the sound of metal slicing through cord. Once. Twice. My mouth fell open as I realized he was cutting me loose, both wrists and ankles.
“You’re free,” he said. “Trust me now?”
I swung my arms in front of me; I parted my legs and drew my knees toward my chest, then jumped to my feet. With freedom came a surge of bravery. I whipped around, pointing a finger at his chest and growling, “Don’t you ever come at me with a knife again.”
One of his brows arched in an insolent salute. “Or a needle?” he asked drily.
“That’s right.”
“No sharp objects, eh? You’re taking all the fun out of our relationship.” He tossed the knife in the sink with expert precision. The tip embedded right beside the drain, and the hilt swayed back and forth. “There are a few things I have to do,” he said, capturing my gaze with his own. His stare was intense, gauging. “Can I trust you to stay here?”
I batted my lashes innocently. “Of course. You can trust me as much as I can trust you.”
“I’ll take that to mean you
can
trust me,” he snapped. A frown pulled his lips tight. “Don’t bother trying to call anyone. There are no phones here. Do not leave this apartment, either. You
will
be hunted. I covered our tracks, but that doesn’t mean you’re completely safe.”
My chin rose, and I regarded him with all the bravado I could manage. “That’s assuming they’ll be able to capture me, even knowing my location.”
He rolled his eyes and stepped toward me, closing precious personal space. I stood my ground, not backing away as I wanted—or rather, should have wanted. Heat radiated from him, and it made me shiver deliciously.
“You’re vulnerable, Belle. Until you learn how to control your abilities, you aren’t the amazing Periodic Table Chick, and you’ll be defeated. Every time.”
“Don’t call me that!” I said, stomping my foot. The title seemed to drive home the fact that I wasn’t
me
anymore. I was someone else, someone different and dangerous and hunted.
“Vulnerable?” he asked, lips curling. “Or Periodic Table Chick?”
“Both. I’m not some superhero. I
will
find a way to get rid of these powers, and then everyone will have to leave me the hell alone.” Nothing was worth this kind of trouble. Nothing was worth being experimented on and/or killed.
“For your sake, I hope we do find the doctor.” His tone had lost all traces of amusement, emerging grave and sad.
Wait. Something wasn’t right here. Something…My eyes slitted and my hands fisted on my hips. “You’re contradicting yourself, Rome. If we find him and he helps me get rid of my powers, I won’t be able to help you hide your daughter, now will I? Not that I understand just how I’m going to help, anyway. And you can’t just tell me your daughter needs to be hidden and then tell me nothing else. I need details. Why are you going to hide her? Is someone after her?”
He closed his eyes and rubbed a hand down his face. “You like the sound of your own voice, don’t you? That’s why you ask so many questions.”
“Answer me. I’ll just keep asking until you do.”
“Fine. No, she’s not being hunted. Not yet. But she’s a little girl and she deserves a normal life. She’ll never get that here. She’ll never have any kind of life if I don’t hide her, because she’ll be drafted by one of the paras. With or without my approval.” His voice was stark, pain-filled. “And I never said anything about
when
I’d let you try and get rid of your abilities.”
I scowled. “Let me? Did you really freaking just say
let me?
”
“Have you noticed that you often repeat what I say? Yeah, I said let you. Unless you want to make something of it, which I don’t recommend, I need to go.”
Okay, he was seriously testing my (practically nonexistent) restraint, but it was a test I aced. I didn’t blast him with rapid-fire curse words (bastard, son of a bitch, Nazi commando) and I didn’t slap him until he dropped to the ground and blubbered like a baby. I did change the subject, not disclosing the fact that I would do whatever the hell I wanted the moment he was gone.
Still, I couldn’t act too eager for him to leave.
“Where are you going?” I frowned. “Someone really could try to sneak in here while you’re gone.”
“I’m picking up a few things we’ll need, and to be honest, I’d rather risk someone sneaking in here than risk taking you out into the world. You might burn it down.”
I threw up my hands in exasperation. “How many times do I have to say it? People are not in danger from me.” The more disastrous the deeds he thought me capable of, the easier it might be for him to do his job and take me to his boss. I hadn’t been able to call a wind, for God’s sake. And so what that I’d set my fingers on fire? I hadn’t hurt anyone or anything. “This is—”
“That’s enough from you,” he said, cutting me off. “One more word and I’m going to tie you up again.”
I gasped. He’d do it, too, I thought, my fury increasing. He claimed I was no longer his prisoner, that we were going to help each other, but he was already threatening to bind me. If he dared pick up that cord, I’d…I’d—
A short blast of fire spewed from my eyes and slammed into the far kitchen wall.
I screamed the moment I realized what had happened. Rome dived to the floor. He was able to avoid direct impact, but several sparks danced on his cheek, singing the flesh. My eyes widened in horror as I stared at the growing inferno.
“You were saying?” he asked, arching those insolent brows again. He rubbed at his burned cheek.
My horror growing with the speed of the fire, I rushed to the sink and filled a cup with water. I tossed the contents over the flames, then repeated the actions over and over. It didn’t help.
Rome managed to contain the damage with a fire extinguisher—but not my mortification. My God. I
was
a menace. I was dangerous. Maybe Rome and the others were on the right track, wanting me rubbed out. The scent of burning paint and wood filled the air. Black plumes of smoke curled upward, making me cough.
After setting the extinguisher aside, Rome jumped up and jerked the smoke detector from the ceiling before it could erupt. He tossed it in the sink and gave me a pointed stare. “Still think the world is safe from you?” he asked, showing no mercy.
“No,” I said softly, dejectedly. “I’m a freak.”
“But you’re a cute freak. I won’t be gone more than an hour, okay? Try and control yourself.”
“I will.” My shoulders slumped. I could have killed Rome, could have set him ablaze. I wanted to escape him—didn’t I?—but I didn’t want to destroy him. Not when he’d never really hurt me.
Rome released a soft sigh. In the next instant, he was cupping my jaw in his hands and forcing me to face him. His fingers felt wonderful. Rough and abrasive, but utterly provocative. Sensual. Hot and strong. But most surprising of all, they felt comforting. I tingled. The warm, prickling lances seeped past skin, sinking right into bone.
“Belle,” he said, his voice as gentle as his touch.
Slowly I gazed up at him.
He lowered his head. Breath caught in my throat, burning. Blistering.
I had time to protest as he slanted his lips over mine, but I didn’t. I couldn’t, not when I suddenly craved his kiss with everything inside me. He was dangerous and exciting, and with everything going on, I might not have a tomorrow. Actually, an hour from now looked pretty iffy. I would allow myself this pleasure without guilt. Without hesitation. Without pause. I’d take it, savor it, enjoy it, no matter how bad it was for me. It could very well be the last good thing to happen in my life.
He brushed my mouth once, twice. Perhaps he’d had every intention of leaving it like that, a brief, innocent touch, but I didn’t let him. I opened my mouth and gave him my tongue.
Instantly it was all systems go. For both of us. No more lassitude. No more gentleness. Only undeniable need. Moaning low in his throat, he claimed me. His tongue swept past my teeth, sinking deep, demanding total surrender.
He angled his head to the side for deeper contact. His fingers tangled in my hair, clamping tight. He tasted like hot, virile man. And something raw. Something utterly carnal. I couldn’t name it, not exactly, I only knew it was like nothing I’d ever encountered before. I wanted more, so much more.
Our tongues thrust together, eager and needy. I found myself gripping his shirt, holding him to me as if I feared he would slip away. Heat was building inside me, so much blissful heat. It began as a tiny flame, licking over my every cell, then spreading and branching through the rest of me.
My nipples hardened and strained against my shirt, abrading with my every movement. My legs weakened. I ached, yes, I ached. The fire grew. Rome seized my hair in a painful clench, as if he needed an anchor. As if he couldn’t stand the thought of releasing me for any reason. Yet in the next instant he growled and sprang away from me.
“Rome?” I said breathlessly.
He stood an arm’s length away, his breath shallow. “You were about to burn me up,” he panted.
I was aching, burning, as he’d said. I wanted him back in my arms. Wanted his tongue in my mouth again. Wanted his erection pressed between my legs this time, sliding up and down, slowly at first, then quickly pushing me over the sweet edge of satisfaction. Except he’d meant “burn” literally. I’d almost flame-broiled him, I realized, seeing smoke curl from my hands. And still I wanted him.
How could I desire him this fiercely?
Him?
I inhaled sharply, but that didn’t help. Hints of his male fragrance seeped into my nostrils. Another tide of desire slammed into me, making my stomach quiver. Making another flame roar to life there. Damn it, I shouldn’t crave him like this. Maybe—maybe we shouldn’t have done that. I was vulnerable to him now, more so than before.
My hands fisted at my sides, and I concentrated on my anger. Right now, any emotion was better than desire. He shouldn’t have kissed me! “Rome,” I said.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said between breaths, parroting my thoughts.
“No. You shouldn’t have.” I curbed the urge to trace my swollen, pulsing mouth with my fingers.
“I’m not going to say I’m sorry.” The words were a throaty growl, cutting through the ensuing silence. “And I’m not going to tell you I won’t do it again.”
I pursed my lips, fighting a rush of pleasure.
You’re angry, remember?
“I didn’t ask you to, did I?”
He paused, shook his head. Surprisingly, satisfaction gleamed in his eyes. “Didn’t ask if I meant to do it again or didn’t ask me to not do it again?”
“Oh, just shut up.” I’d basically thrown myself at him, and refused to make it worse by voicing my desires. He had to know that parts of me—the most feminine parts—hoped he
would
do it again. Soon. My nipples were still beaded. The ache between my legs had yet to dissipate.
He reached out and traced his fingertips over my mouth, just the way I’d wanted to do myself, beckoning the fire all over again. “You can trust me,” he said. Was that a trace of guilt in his voice? “Despite everything that’s happened, or maybe because of it, you can trust me. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to betray you.”
Oddly, I wanted to believe him. I wanted to place my life in his obviously capable (wonderfully wicked) hands. And yet, I couldn’t trust my own instincts right then; I mean, look where they’d gotten me so far.
He took my silence for capitulation and said, “I’ll check the building and surrounding area. If you stay here, you should be safe.” With a final caress of my cheek, he walked away. Or rather, disappeared, leaving behind a deflated, empty room.
My face scrunched, and my gaze jerked from one corner to another. One second he’d stood in front of me, the next he hadn’t. In fact, the only sign that he’d been here was the exquisite tingling in my face and the churning heat in my stomach.
“Rome,” I called. I should have heard the front door close or at least a window slide. Since I’d heard neither, I padded through the dingy apartment. There was no trace of him.
How the hell had he gotten out so silently? As he’d promised, the door and windows possessed some kind of para-agent, futuristic bolt that spread silver, spiderlike legs through the wood and frame, linking them together. I highly doubted Rome could walk right through them. Or could he? After all, what did I know about the world nowadays?
“He’s gone,” I told myself. “How he left doesn’t matter.” Instead of wasting any more of my time on
him,
I trekked through the apartment again, this time searching for a phone. I wanted so badly to hear my dad’s voice.
Rome hadn’t lied, though. There were no phones.
“Shit.” I paced the cramped living room. If I went back to my apartment, would my phones be tapped? The call traced? If I left this building and found a pay phone, would I be followed? Killed?