Numbers

by Laurann Dohner

  There were a lot of good memories. Warmth spread through him as he continued to stare down at her, flashes of their time together coming back. Some of the drugs Mercile had tested in his system had made him hurt so she’d had him lie with his head on her lap while she sang softly and played with his hair. She’d tell him stories that distracted him from his suffering.

  He examined her features. She was his Candi. He could see some changes. A few lines marred her skin near her eyes and mouth. His attention lowered and his cock stiffened. She had filled out in her chest. The soft-looking mounds of her breasts were clearly defined through the thin material of his tank top.

  “You’re going to have to touch me.”

  Her voice came out a little husky and he growled. He wanted to feel her. He opened his hand without thinking, almost touching the skin that was revealed over her ribs. She was too pale and looked so soft. She arched her back, as if to encourage him. It unsettled him. He lifted his gaze to stare deeply into her eyes.

  “You want my touch?”

  “More than anything.”

  “I’m angry.”

  “I know.”

  “I could hurt you.”

  She relaxed, keeping her gaze locked with his. “I’d rather feel your temper than nothing at all.”

  He curled his hands into fists and flattened his knuckles on the door next to her chest and closed his eyes. It was easy to inch closer until he pressed lightly against her body. She pushed her face forward to rest her forehead against his chest. He just stood there, feeling her warm breath through the thin material of his shirt. She felt small, but that was nothing new. His Candi had always been tiny but fierce. It also made it real. She was alive.

  “Do you remember what you did when you woke up after they first brought you into my cell?”

  “I cried,” she murmured. “I knew my mother was dead and Christopher had taken her from me. He abandoned me in a cold room, and I knew he wouldn’t ever let me out. I didn’t even think I’d see him again.”

  He lowered his chin, resting it on top of her head. She fit there, as she always had. “You hurt my ears with all that sobbing.” He pressed a little closer. “You looked up and saw me crouched in the corner.” He smiled at the memory. “I believed you’d start screaming or make louder sounds but you didn’t. You just crawled off my mat and right to me. I thought you might attack and I tensed, prepared to knock you away since I’d been told I couldn’t hurt you. Instead you threw your arms around me. You held on so tight.”

  She turned her face a little, pressing her cheek against his chest, nuzzling him. “You let me. You even took me back to the mat and curled up with me. I was cold and you were warm.”

  “You needed me.”

  “I’ve always needed you, and I always will.”

  He stopped pushing his fists against the door and eased them back, opening his hands. He hesitantly placed them on her waist. Her skin, where it was bare, felt cool to his touch.

  “You were my one weakness,” he admitted.

  “I never meant to be. You were always my greatest strength.”

  He tightened his hold on her just above her hips and backed up a little so their bodies were no longer pressed together. He opened his eyes, looking down at her. “I’m going to lift you up to take the pressure off the belts. Slip them off. Don’t do this again. Do you ever listen to me? No one wants to be restrained to a wall.”

  “I’ll do it over and over again until you stop avoiding touching me.”

  “What am I going to do with you?” She made him feel so much at once. Frustration, irritation, pain, but also good things. Amusement, warmth, and the need to get close to her and keep her there.

  “Anything you want.” She blinked back tears. “I’ve always been yours and nothing can ever change that.”

  He lifted her and his anger surged. He snarled. She didn’t flinch at his sudden outburst. She just kept looking at him as if she had nothing to fear.

  “You should weigh more.” It infuriated him. She felt so frail. He hoisted her higher and adjusted his hold, wrapping one arm entirely around her waist to anchor her in place. It freed his other hand to tear at the tight belt to loosen its grip. The red marks on her wrists where the leather had indented would probably leave bruises.

  “Silly female,” he growled. He got her loose and backed away, carrying her over to his bed. “You’ve hurt yourself.”

  She tugged her wrists out of his hold before he could set her down on top of the mattress. It startled him when her legs came up and wrapped around his waist as she threw her arms around his neck. She clung to him tightly.

  He lowered his face, burying it against her throat. He breathed her in. The scent wasn’t quite the same, but it was familiar enough that there was no denying she was his Candi. He just stood there, holding her and allowing her to hold him. He remembered the first time he’d claimed she was his…

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  The cell door opened and one of the technicians shoved Candi into their space. When she nearly tripped and went down, 927 shot to his feet and snarled at the human male. Tears streaked Candi’s face and he could pick up the acidic odor of her pain. He also picked up the scent of fresh blood. Hers.

  He snarled louder and glared at the technician with rage. The male snorted, pulling his weapon to keep him from attacking.

  “I didn’t hurt her. Dr. C is to blame if you want to kill someone.” He slammed the door.

  927 went to Candi and grabbed her around her waist. He lifted her off her feet and took her to their mat. He sat, putting her on his lap. He sniffed to find the source of her pain. It didn’t take long. He grabbed the shirt she wore and pushed the material up her arm. A bandage had been placed just under her wrist and the white gauze was soaked with bright-red blood.

  “What did Dr. C do to you?”

  She lifted her tear-filled gaze. “He took blood because he thinks I might not be his daughter. He’s going to test it against his own to see if I am. He said horrible things about my mommy.”

  He spotted bruises that were forming on her wrist and upper arm. “You fought?”

  “He was so mean, and the needle hurt.” She sniffed. “He said I might be a bastard. That means I don’t have parents since he killed my mommy.”

  She was so little and harmless. It infuriated him that Dr. C would be so cruel to her, but then again, he’d locked her in a cell with him. “It doesn’t matter if you are from his blood or not. I don’t have parents. They call me a bastard.” He reached up and gently wiped away her tears. “It doesn’t make me cry.”

  “You never cry.” She turned her face into his chest and wrapped her arms around his middle, hugging him tightly. “What if I am a bastard? I don’t belong to anyone.”

  He rested his chin on top of her head and held her more firmly against his body. “You belong to me. He put us together. I would cry if they took you away and never brought you back. It would hurt me.”

  She stopped crying and tipped her head, staring at him. “Really?”

  He nodded. “Yes. No more tears, Candi. I care about you.”

  “He told me the date. It’s my birthday today.” Tears welled in her eyes again and spilled down her cheeks. “My mommy invited all my friends to my party. Do you think they are looking for me?”

  “I don’t know.” He wiped her face again, hating to see her in so much pain. The concept of having friends or a party was foreign to him, but it mattered to her. “You’re not alone. I’m here.”

  “We don’t have cake and my mommy promised me she’d bought me the doll I want.”

  He didn’t know what either of those things were. “They will feed us soon and you can eat it all.”

  “I can’t eat that much. I’d get sick. I don’t want you to be hungry later.”

  “I would let you if you could.” He pushed the hair away from her face, studying her features. She had grown on him since they’d brought her into his cell. He did care and it would hurt him if they took her a
way. “We will have fun.” He got an idea. “It’s your birthday. Sing to me. You like to do that. I’ll try to learn the words and do it with you. That will make you happy.”

  Her smile warmed him inside. “You’d do that for me?” She turned her head to peer at the camera, and then back at him. “They are watching. You don’t want them to see that.”

  “I don’t care if they know I want you to be happy.”

  “You’re not a bastard, 927. You belong to me.”

  He grinned. “That is right, Candi. It is just us. That makes it perfect. Don’t let them hurt you or make you cry again.”

  “I won’t.”

  Chapter Five

  Candi clung to Hero and she wasn’t letting go. Her wrists did throb, but it was worth it to be pressed against her male, his arm around her. The feel of his hot breath fanning her neck tickled a little, but she had no complaints. She blindly reached for his hair, needing to run her fingers through those silky strands. They were wet, but she didn’t care. He groaned when she did, giving her better access when he leaned his head closer to her.

  Time could never move fast enough in her experience, but she suddenly wished it would just stop. She wanted to enjoy that moment forever. 927 was alive and they were together. It seemed too good to be true. She panicked. What if she was still back in the asylum, experiencing some drug-induced delusion? It had happened before when they overmedicated her.

  She dug her fingernails into his shirt and fisted his hair. He growled a warning and she eased her hold. 927 lifted his head, frowning with displeasure, his dark gaze also revealing his puzzlement.

  “I’m making sure you’re real,” she admitted. “Life is so cruel. I half expect to wake up and find myself still locked inside that room.”

  His other arm suddenly pressed against her ass, holding her up. “What did they do to you?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Nothing does but this, being with you. Please just let me hold you. Please?” She’d beg if that’s what he needed to soothe his pride. Pride didn’t matter when it came to him.

  He twisted his head, glanced back, and then sat on the bed. He shifted her a little so she was firmly planted on his lap. She adjusted her legs, keeping them wrapped around his waist, and buried her face against him. She breathed him in, enjoying just being close to him. He was solid, big, warm and alive.

  One of his arms loosened from around her ass and she tensed, worried he’d try to untangle them. He didn’t. Instead he reached up and stroked her hair down her back. She relaxed. He nuzzled her head with his cheek.

  “You feel so delicate. I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you.”

  “I’ll gain weight,” she promised. “I know I’m bony, but I’m tough.”

  “What did Doc Trisha say?”

  He was worried about her health. It meant he cared. “She didn’t find anything alarming, but I’m underweight. She said to eat lots, get some sunshine and tell her if I have any problems.”

  “You said she ran tests.”

  “Everything so far is fine.”

  “When do all the test results come back?”

  “A few days.”

  His silence stretched but she didn’t mind. He held her and stroked her hair, his fingers playing with the strands. It felt heavenly. She was touch starved. He eventually began to explore other parts of her, running his palm over her sides, and then down to her hip, wrapping his hand there as if to test her bones.

  “I’m fine,” she assured him.

  “I should feed you.”

  “I just ate. I’ll get sick if I force food into my stomach while I adjust to regular meals. I’m not used to it.”

  He growled, his displeasure clear. He released her hip and wrapped his fingers around her upper arm, exploring her shoulder on that side. She really enjoyed it when he lowered his hand and slid it between the shirt and her skin, running his palm over her spine. She arched into him, pressing her breasts tighter against his chest. He froze and sucked in a sharp breath.

  “Careful,” he rasped.

  “What am I doing wrong?”

  “Nothing. Don’t push against me that way.”

  She lifted her head and he jerked his back. They peered at each other. “Why not?”

  He glanced down between them at her breasts and growled softly. “You’ve gotten bigger in one place.”

  “My breasts grew.”

  She felt no embarrassment. It was 927. He’d been there the first time she’d gotten her period. He’d actually known it before she had…

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  927 sniffed at her and flipped her onto her back on their mat. Candi thought he’d lost his mind when he suddenly bent forward. He grabbed her legs, parted them, and shoved his face right against her private area. He sniffed, and then jerked back. He looked confused, but stood and turned to stare up at the camera.

  “She’s hurt. Send in someone. There’s blood.”

  Evelyn took her out of the cell and explained a woman’s cycle. She gave Candi pads and sent her back to 927. She repeated everything to him that she’d been told. 927 helped her figure out how they were to be worn since they had loops and a belt to go around her waist.

  Christopher came in later that evening. He was angry and demanded that she be taken to another cell. The order traumatized Candi. She fought him. She just wanted to lie down with 927 on their mat. Her tummy hurt and 927 had been distracting her by playing with her hair.

  Every month after that, she had to leave the cell while she bled. Christopher wouldn’t allow 927 to be around her during that time. She hated being alone in the room next to him, but they learned to tap the walls, to reassure each other that they were okay.

  In time 927 had started reacting strangely to her cycle. He’d tell her she was about to start, and then stay far away from her.

  “Come here. I’m cold. Hold me,” she pleaded.

  He shook his head, twisted his body against the corner and growled.

  “What is wrong?”

  “They need to take you away now.”

  “Shush. I don’t want to go.”

  “You need to.”

  “Why?”

  He looked infuriated and turned. “This is why.”

  She looked at the front of his pants, stunned. He sometimes got hard in that area in the morning, the bulge noticeable, but it usually went away after he peed. It was afternoon now, and they hadn’t just woken.

  “It happens when you start to smell of blood. Your scent changes and I react. It hurts.”

  Evelyn had another discussion with her. She repeated it to 927. It changed everything. They wouldn’t allow Candi to return to the cell she shared with 927 except during what they called visiting hours. She cried buckets at having to sleep without him. He was enraged. Christopher didn’t want to risk having 927 and her sharing sex. He said they were too young, and he wouldn’t allow it. The technicians would watch them and they were rarely allowed to touch.

  Three years passed that way until that fateful day when Evelyn approached her about the breeding experiment. Her body had changed during that time. She’d grown breasts and gotten body hair. She told 927 about it, but hadn’t been able to show him since the technicians would have rushed in to take her away if she’d attempted to bare her body…

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Candi pulled her mind away from the memories and stared into 927’s eyes. They were alone finally and no one could stop them from doing whatever they wanted.

  He was still looking at her breasts. She lowered her arms, letting him go, and gripped the top of the shirt, pulling it away from her body. She tugged it down, exposing her breasts to him. She leaned back just a bit on his lap so he could get a better view. She even arched her spine and pushed her shoulders back.

  His eyes widened and a low growl rumbled from him. He looked up. “What are you doing?”

  “You were staring. Now the shirt isn’t hiding them. You can touch them. They are soft.”

  He clenched his teeth and closed his
eyes, twisting his head to the side. “Cover them.”

  She felt something under her ass where it rested on his lap. “You’re hard.”

  “Cover them,” he snarled.

  She eased the material up over her breasts and gripped his shoulders. “I didn’t mean to anger you.”

  He breathed through his nose, his nostrils flaring.

  “I shaved off the hair at Medical. I’d show you that too but Doc Trisha said it was good grooming to remove the hair on my legs, under my arms and on my private area. I didn’t remove all of that though. She showed me a picture of how most humans keep that area trimmed. I kept a little bit of it on my mound. I didn’t cut myself with the razor.”

  He opened his eyes and turned his head, holding her gaze. He still looked upset, but it wasn’t quite anger. She couldn’t identify the emotion.

  “Why would she make you do that?”

  “She didn’t make me. She looked at me strangely when I stripped naked for her to examine me and I asked why. That’s when she told me about feminine hygiene and good grooming. I didn’t know. Nobody ever said anything at Mercile or at the asylum. They wouldn’t have given me a razor anyway. Doc Trisha wanted me to fit in. Species females don’t have any hair on their bodies. She showed me a picture and taught me how to shave. It was kind of fun. Have you played with shaving cream? It comes in a can and it sprays white foam out. It’s soft and gooey. It smells nice too. I had to spread it all over my skin where I wanted to run the razor over it. You don’t have to shave, do you?”

  He shook his head. “How did you reach the back of your legs?”

  “I bent down and kind of twisted.”

  He reached down and ran his fingers over the back of her thigh. He leaned to the side, studying it. “You missed a few spots. The hair is soft.”

  “I did?”

  “Stand up.”

  She hesitated.

  He straightened. “I want to see.”

  “I’m afraid you won’t let me close to you again if I get off your lap.”

  A muscle jumped just over his jawline when he clenched his teeth but then his mouth relaxed. “I will let you hold me. Stand. I want to see.”