Project Paper Doll: The Trials (26 page)

With my adrenaline pumping, I’d managed to push the shaky, unsteady feeling caused by the NuStasis battle in my body to the back of my mind. But now, when I felt relatively safe once more,
it zoomed back to the forefront of my awareness.

I sat on the corner of the bed and opened the pretzels, eating a few in the hopes of a blood sugar boost. “Ariane.”

“I’m not sure what to do,” she said quietly. “I don’t know if there’s anything
to
do.”

The warmth in me drained away, leaving behind a cold emptiness. It wasn’t her words so much as the defeat in her voice. That was not something I was used to hearing from her. Ever.

“The Committee, I’m sure, is long gone,” she said. “Laughlin, Jacobs, and St. John have probably been sent to their respective companies to consult with lawyers and
prepare some kind of defense or statement.”

Emerson was gone? I felt a tiny spurt of panic. My condition hadn’t stabilized yet. How soon would I start to see symptoms of my body rejecting the virus and its changes?

“We have virtually no money, no ID.” Ariane lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug. “We can’t run, and hiding will only work for so long. Whomever they’ve tasked
with finding us will eventually succeed. It’s a matter of days, maybe only hours. The government has resources we can’t beat and access we can’t avoid.”

She sank down on the opposite side of the bed, drawing her knees up to her chest. “I don’t know where Ford is, even if she’s alive. I have no way of tracking her down.”
She looked small and vulnerable and, even worse, uncertain for the first time since I’d met her.

“We’ll go to the news,” I said, sounding more confident than I felt. “The same place my mom—”

“The Committee will have thought of that.” She shook her head. “They’ll never let us get close. There’s too much risk. I…” She stopped, her gaze going
distant.

“What?” I glanced behind me reflexively, half-expecting to see a SWAT team bursting through the door behind me, but it was still just the quiet and empty suite.

She looked at me, fierceness burning her gaze. “You can.”

“I can what?” I asked.

“With the focus your mom put on you, they might not want to take the risk of hurting you. You’re likely a secondary target. If one at all.” She stood again, warming to the
idea. “It would only add credence to her claims if they kill you.”

I winced, but she didn’t notice, her brain in full strategy mode, kicking up possibilities.

“They’ll throw Jacobs to the wolves as long as it doesn’t come back on them, and right now this is a simple bioethics case, corporate misbehavior. Not a government conspiracy.
If they hurt you, it might inspire someone to dig deeper,” she said, pacing again.

“Okay,” I said slowly. “But what’s to stop him from telling his side of the story, talking about the contract and the alien DNA and Project Paper Doll?”

She stopped and gave me a bitter smile. “He won’t. As it is, he’ll be lucky if he escapes this with his company intact. If he tries to pin any of this on the government,
they’ll bury him. If you go to the police and tell them who you are, they might be able to protect you. Particularly if I provide a distraction and lead away whomever the Committee sent after
us,” Ariane said. “I’m a much higher priority.”

“Always bragging,” I murmured.

“No, it’s just that I would give it all away.” She gestured at herself, her body, the alien DNA hidden within. “Even a simple blood test would show there’s
something wrong—”

“—different,” I interjected.

“—with me,” she finished. “Your tests will show an unknown virus, I’m guessing, but nothing as conclusive.”

Until I collapsed bleeding from my eyes or something. But I wasn’t going to mention that. She didn’t need another thing to worry about.

“So, I run for the police while you distract.” I didn’t love that plan, but at least it was a plan. Better than wandering the streets waiting for a bullet. “What are you
going to do, pull more fire alarms? Break more lights?” I asked, teasing a little, feeling incrementally better just seeing determination flaring in her eyes again.

“Whatever it takes. I’m something of an expert by now,” she said, teasing in a confident tone, but beneath that, I could hear something that sounded like sadness.

Z
ANE NARROWED HIS EYES AT
me, suspicious. “Ariane…”

I ignored him, my heart pounding at pretending this was like every other strategy moment we’d shared. “So, listen, give me twenty minutes before you try to leave the hotel, okay?
That should give me enough time to implement Phase 1.” Which sounded really good but meant nothing. I fully intended to be a distraction as long as possible to give him safe passage, but I
had no illusions about my own fate. The second I stepped outside, I was dead. Actually, I was dead already, it was only a matter of time until the bullet—as yet unfired—caught up with
me. The best I could do was make sure Zane stayed alive.

But if he knew what I was up to, he’d be angry and upset, and I’d have to try to explain the inevitable, which was an endless debate that we didn’t really have time for. The
fact was, I’d known all along that if I refused to become what Dr. Jacobs wanted me to be, if I resisted the Committee’s desire to make me a weapon, then death was the most likely
outcome.

I’d accepted it a long time ago. In fact, during my first six years in the lab, I’d thought more than once that I would die there, in the dark and alone, for not obeying Dr. Jacobs.
Then, during the three weeks I’d been there after being recaptured, I’d wanted to.

Instead, I’d gotten the gift of a life outside for ten years and then the discovery that the boy I loved was still alive. All in all, it was an acceptable deal, both times.

“So you’re going to get to the police, tell them who you are, and back up your mom’s story. That will help shut Jacobs and maybe Laughlin down,” I continued, forcing
myself to keep eye contact with Zane, as if nothing were wrong.

“But you’re going to meet me,” he said, frowning, searching my face for reassurance.

Pain arrowed through my chest. “Of course.” I smiled at him, even as my throat tightened. “I don’t know exactly how long they’re going to keep you in protective
custody, so it may be a while before I can reach you. I’ll try to get to the same police station today. But if not, go back to Wingate. Stick with your mom. She’s your safety
net.”

His expression troubled, he nodded.

It was only his confidence in my abilities and skills that let him believe I could pull this off. I appreciated the support, as misguided as it was, because it let me get away with a lie for the
greater good.

This plan wasn’t just about Zane surviving, even though that was the biggest, most obvious benefit. We couldn’t stop the government from starting up the project again at some point,
but if Zane went along with his mother’s story, he might be able to keep Jacobs and Laughlin from participating in it.

It wasn’t the same as destroying Project Paper Doll, but if I could keep them from doing to someone else what he and Laughlin had done to me, Ford, Carter, Nixon, and countless others,
then my death would be worth something.

Not that Zane would agree.

He looked at me, skeptical, unsure, his shoulders stiff with tension. Even though I was blocking as hard as I could, trying to keep any stray feelings or thoughts from reaching him, he
wasn’t an idiot. “I swear to God, Ariane, if I get home and you’re not there—”

“I’ll be there. Promise,” I said over the lump in my throat. It was easy to make commitments that I had every intention of honoring if my heart was still beating.

I inched closer, and when he didn’t move away, I slid my hands up his chest and stood on my tiptoes to wrap my arms around his neck, clinging and breathing deeply in the familiar scent of
him. I couldn’t say good-bye, but I could take a moment, just this one, for me, for us.

Zane would recognize it for what it was afterward, and that would have to be enough.

After a second, Zane’s arms came up around me, lifting me off my feet and holding me so tight I couldn’t breathe. And I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

I buried my face in his neck, and I could feel his breath warm at my collarbone and the lightest brush of his mouth against my skin. It sent a frisson of electricity through me, and the whole
world stopped.

I wasn’t sure who moved or touched or what changed, but the tenor of the moment shifted lightning fast, like someone had flicked a switch from loss to wanting.

Zane’s breathing picked up, his chest moving against mine, and I could feel his heart pounding, hard.

Acting on an instinct that I didn’t know I had, I pulled myself tighter against him, wrapping my trembling legs around his waist.

He made a noise somewhere between a groan and exhalation of surprise before sliding one arm around my hips to help support my weight. With his free hand, he pulled the stupid cap from my head,
which I’d almost forgotten I was wearing, and tangled his fingers in my hair, tilting my face to slant my mouth against his.

His tongue delved into my mouth, tangling with mine. This was not the tentative, explorative kiss of before. No hesitation, no uncertainty. It was as if he were trying to convince me of
something or stake a claim with his conviction.

And still, it was not enough.

I squirmed against him, and his hands tightened on my hip and in my hair, but it didn’t hurt.

Feeling that odd frantic energy growing in me, I wedged my hands between us, fumbling for the zipper on the hoodie I’d insisted he wear.

My questing fingers got caught in a loop of the stupid hoodie string, and I couldn’t free myself without the patience or willpower to slow down, so I yanked it out, sending the sealed
plastic end up to hit us both in the face.

“Shit,” I muttered.

Zane laughed against my mouth, a low vibration in his chest that I felt everywhere, but he didn’t stop. He shifted both of his hands to my hips and took an off-balance step and then
another to the bed before turning and sitting, bringing me tighter against his lap.

I broke off then with a gasp. The sensation was more intense than I’d expected, echoing through me.

He went still, his fingers just under the edge of my shirt where I could feel them warm against my waist, almost teasing with the lightness of his touch. And then he started to pull away.

“Don’t…” I said, breathless.

Zane immediately froze. “What’s wrong?”

“No, don’t stop,” I clarified, impatient and pushing the words out, all muddied with desire and half-garbled, before pressing my mouth to his again.

With his help, I wrestled his arms out of the hoodie sleeves and let the garment drop immediately to the bed and started tugging his T-shirt over his head.

He lifted his arms to help me before his hands returned to my hips, hitching me closer, which drew sharp breaths from both of us. Resting my hands on his shoulders, I took in the sight before
me. This intimacy, seeing this side of him for this reason, it changed everything.

His skin was smooth under my hands and darker than mine; it would be difficult for it not to be. His chest and arms had curves of muscle from years of lacrosse that sent a shiver through the
very human part of me. The gunshot wound that he’d survived only through Emerson St. John’s intervention had left a faint, puckered pink circle on his abdomen, barely visible above the
line of his pants.

Color rose in his cheeks at my scrutiny, but I couldn’t help myself. I’d seen him without his shirt before, or rather, with his shirt unbuttoned. But this was different. It felt
different
. We weren’t in a grungy bathroom, fumbling for a few minutes before someone or something interrupted.

It was like being invited into this new world that I’d only caught glimpses of before.

“This looks painful.” I touched his chest just below his collarbone, carefully outlining the triangle-shaped patch of raw skin where the vitals monitor had been attached, staying
clear of angry redness.

He grimaced. “Yeah.” His gaze flicked to the same spot on my chest, hidden by my shirt. “Bet yours isn’t much better.”

I recognized the unspoken question for what it was, and my heartbeat sped up. A flare of anxiety went off in me. He’d seen me without my shirt before as well, but it had been in the
context of bandaging an injury to my arm. Taking off my shirt in front of him now meant more. Intention was everything.

I pushed my worry down and reached for the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head quickly before my self-doubt could get the better of me. He’d found me plenty human enough before,
there was no reason for that to have changed just because everything else had.

The heat in his expression sent a ripple of relief through me. His eyes were dark in the dim room, but it was more than that.
I’d
put that look on his face—my body, my skin,
my not-entirely-human self.

Zane reached up, slipping a fingertip beneath the strap of my bra and sliding it down my arm, away from the similar triangle-shaped injury on my chest. That light touch made me tremble and catch
fire at the same time. I wanted to close my eyes to focus on it, but I didn’t want to miss anything.