by Zoe Chant
What are you saying? growled his snow leopard. Quick, apologize and beg her to forgive you for your moment of madness!
Be quiet, Justin said silently.
Stop telling me to be quiet, hissed his snow leopard.
Be quiet, or I’ll make you be quiet, Justin retorted.
With a final angry hiss, the big cat subsided.
Fiona had pulled away from him but was watching him intently, her face unreadable. He couldn’t tell if she was hurt or just felt incredibly awkward.
“Look,” he said. “I’m a mess. I think that’s pretty obvious. This has nothing to do with you. You’re great. I just...”
“You just can’t,” she finished. Her voice was chilly. “I get it, all right? That’s all you have to say. I don’t need a detailed explanation.”
Justin was immensely relieved. The last thing he wanted to do was give her a point-by-point breakdown of the extent of his damage and the bleakness of his future.
The next moment, he was ashamed of his own relief, which he had gained at her expense. He’d started a conversation that had obviously made her uncomfortable, when he knew she needed his protection and couldn’t just leave. In fact, he realized, she was literally trapped: with a full tray table over her legs, she couldn’t even easily get out of bed.
Justin picked up the remote control. “Do you know what this is?”
Her eyebrows rose. “Weren’t you listening to the maid?”
“It’s a time-reversal device.” He indicated the light dimmer. “I’m going to hit this button and jump time back... Let’s see... Two minutes.”
She was staring at him as if he was a lunatic, but he was used to that sort of look.
“And then this whole conversation will have never happened,” he went on. “We’ll be back where we were before it began, a well-paid private security agent and a fucked-up vigilante pretending to be a couple, about to enjoy their three thousand dollar breakfast in bed.”
Her mouth quivered with reluctant amusement. “A well-paid fucked-up vigilante. Don’t forget that part.”
“Well, of course. Otherwise I couldn’t afford the time-reversal surcharge.”
As if against her will, a laugh burst from her lips. Then, shaking her head, she settled back against the pillows. “Okay. Hit it.”
Justin pressed the button, dimming the lights, then brightened them again. He looked down at the tray-table in simulated surprise. “Ah! We have breakfast!”
“It seems to have magically appeared.” Her voice was distinctly sarcastic. “How nice.”
“This is the Ritz,” Justin said, imitating her inflections.
Once again, he startled a laugh out of her. Though their bodies no longer touched, they still sat close enough that he could feel the shift as she relaxed. “Stop talking and eat. I keep worrying that you’re going to pass out again.”
A pang that had nothing to do with the lousy shape he was in pierced his chest. Despite her light tone, he could hear that she meant it. He wasn’t used to anyone caring about him for his own sake, rather than because he was a useful tool they didn’t want to break.
Shane cares about you, hissed his snow leopard.
Justin didn’t want to think about Shane. Hoping to distract his snow leopard and satisfy Fiona in one fell swoop, he grabbed the first thing within reach on the tray, a bite-sized pastry from the basket, and stuffed it into his mouth.
His snow leopard wasn’t the only one it distracted. The flavor and textures burst in Justin’s mouth like a firework. Rich cream, tangy lemon icing, fluffy cake. Like the orange juice, the taste wasn’t just good, but shocking to his senses. It was as if he was tasting food for the first time.
Justin raised his mug of coffee, breathing in its scent, then took a sip. It was objectively excellent coffee. Especially compared to all the terrible coffee he’d had in his life. He’d sometimes gotten desperate enough in the field, when he’d needed to stay awake but hadn’t been able to take the time to heat water, that he’d torn open the instant coffee packets in an MRE and poured them into his mouth. Even burned and cold coffee was better than that, let alone the mellow smoothness of the cup he had now.
“Good, huh?” remarked Fiona.
“Best coffee I’ve had in my life. Best pastry, too.” He examined the basket. It was a treasure trove of pastries, from the vaguely healthy (blueberry muffins with a crumb topping) to the decadent (miniature chocolate cheesecakes) to the even more decadent (little pies that appeared to be entirely composed of salted caramel). “Want one?”
“Thanks, I will. When I’m done with my eggs.” She was working her way through a plate of eggs scrambled with lobster and topped with caviar, with fresh fruit on the side.
With that reminder, Justin turned his attention to his steak and eggs. He’d ordered them on the theory that he’d needed the protein. But now he wondered just how delicious they’d be, given the coffee and pastry. He cut into the steak and the fried eggs on top so the orange yolk oozed out over the char marks, topped his forkful with hash browns, and took a bite.
It was, unsurprisingly, the best steak and eggs he’d ever had. The meat was perfectly cooked and juicy, the egg flavorful, the hash browns just the right mix of crisp and soft. He finished it all, along with the (also best ever) bacon in record time. When he was done, he knew that he’d have no trouble getting up. He probably needed a bit more rest to be at his physical best, but his weakness was gone.
But he had no desire to get up. He felt perfectly content to stay where he was, in this comfortable bed with the best-ever pastries and coffee in front of him and Fiona beside him. Stealing a glance at Fiona, who had finished her eggs and was scooping up the last black pearls of caviar with a piece of toast, he thought, I’d be happy to pour a packet of instant coffee into my mouth, as long as she was there with me.
But that thought made him realize something. The Ritz’s food and coffee were great. But it had been a long time since he’d registered the taste of anything at all, good or bad. When he thought back to his last meal, he had a vague recollection of a burger and coffee in a diner. But he had no idea if the coffee had been burned or fresh-made, or if the burger had been juicy or overcooked. The meal had only been fuel to him, and eating nothing but a task he had to perform. He hadn’t even cared enough to find it unpleasant.
“Fiona? Thank you. This was wonderful.” He waved his hand over the breakfast tray.
“Thank you,” she replied promptly. “You’re the one who’s paying.”
He debated if he wanted to say more, so she’d understand how he was feeling—he didn’t want to open the can of worms that was “What’s wrong with you, really? What happened to you?”—but she’d given him something too precious to let it pass without even telling her.
Justin touched her shoulder. She didn’t jump, but he felt her draw in a startled breath. He dropped his hand, but didn’t turn away. “I haven’t enjoyed eating for... years, maybe. It’s been such a long time that I didn’t even realize till I did enjoy it, just now.”
He braced himself for her pity. But it didn’t come. Instead, she gave him a long, thoughtful look, then picked up something from her own plate. It was a tiny, plump, perfect strawberry, brilliant red and speckled with seeds no bigger than grains of sand.
“Here.” She raised it to his lips.
He didn’t have time to think of what a bad idea it was. He just saw her long, elegant fingers, smelled the tart scent, and opened his mouth.
She placed the berry between his lips. He chewed and swallowed in a bright burst of sweetness. Then, unable to resist, he closed his lips over her fingertips before she could pull them away. Her emerald eyes opened wide as he explored her fingers with the tip of his tongue, feeling the soft skin and gemlike smoothness of her nails, tasting the tanginess of berry juice and the faint salt of her skin.
All he was doing was kissing the tips of her fingers. Once, years ago, he’d have thought of that as the smallest of gestures, a bit of foreplay to
be enjoyed briefly before getting down to the main event. But now, with Fiona, it had a dizzying intensity. His heart was pounding as hard as if he was halfway through a marathon.
Her gaze was locked on his as he dropped his hand down to the pastry basket. But he didn’t need to look down. He knew where everything was. Justin picked up a bite-sized lemon cake.
He’d never in his life seen anything as sexy as watching her pink lips open for him. She tipped back her head and closed her eyes as he placed the cake in her mouth. Like he had done, she ate it in a single bite, then captured his fingertips with her lips. The inside of her mouth was soft and wet and hot, so hot. She licked at his fingers as if she was hungry to taste him, then sucked, first gently and then harder, making him imagine what other parts of him she could suck on. A wave of desire broke over him at the thought, so intense that it made him feel half-crazy with desire. He had to have more.
They moved at the same time, two bodies with a single thought, dropping their hands down and leaning in for a kiss. Fiona’s lips were soft as rose petals, soft as velvet, and her mouth was hot as fire. Her scent surrounded him, delicate and sensual as the woman it belonged to. Everywhere she touched him, his skin tingled as if it had fallen asleep and was prickling back to life. But it wasn’t painful. It was ecstatic.
Justin was overwhelmed with sensation—and emotion. Not only his body, but his heart felt suddenly alive again, filled to the brim with feelings so strong that they were halfway to pain. He wasn’t just sexually attracted to Fiona, he was drawn to her as a person—her banter and her brittleness, her strength and vulnerability, her competence and intelligence and kindness. She was so much more than he deserved, and yet here she was.
Maybe, just maybe, his long nightmare was finally over. Maybe there was hope.
He reached out blindly to push the tray table out of their way. Hot liquid spilled over his hand.
Dr. Elihu squeezed a few more drops of liquid on to Justin’s hand. Burning agony penetrated down to his bones, but the gag in his mouth stopped him from screaming.
“It isn’t acid.” The doctor smiled like he’d made a joke. “Of course not! Even with your healing abilities, that would risk permanent scarring. And we don’t want to damage our weapon. This is a harmless nerve agent Dr. Attanasio concocted to send pain signals to your brain. All you have to do to get rid of it is wash it off.”
Dr. Elihu smiled again. “Or invoke your adrenaline invincibility. Then you won’t feel a thing.”
The pain made him feel cold and sick. Every inch of his skin was sweating. Justin tried to concentrate on ice creeping up his body, but his hand felt like it was on fire. It was impossible to focus on anything but how much he hurt.
Kill the doctor, hissed his snow leopard. Rip out his throat!
Justin knew fighting was useless, but the pain cracked his self-control. His snow leopard took over his body, flinging himself against the straps...
Justin slammed into a hard surface. Something soft was on top of him, smothering him. He flung it off, frantic to escape.
Only then did he realize where he was. He’d apparently thrown himself out of bed in a tangle of blankets.
Fiona had scrambled to the edge of the bed and was leaning over, reaching out to him. “Justin! Are you all right?”
“No,” he managed.
“What’s wrong?”
He couldn’t even begin to answer that. His snow leopard was screaming inside his head in an ear-splitting keen of terror and rage. He could barely hear his own thoughts.
Justin staggered to his feet. “I—I have to be alone.”
He bolted for the bathroom and closed the door behind him. It slammed with a bang that made him jump. Justin stumbled to the sink, twisted the tap, and began splashing cold water over his face.
Stop, he ordered his snow leopard. Stop it!
The big cat fell silent. Justin stood trembling, icy water dripping from his face to his chest, hands gripping the cool porcelain sink.
You’re at the Ritz, he told himself. Not in Apex. The lab they held you in is gone. Dr. Elihu is dead. Shane killed him.
Gradually, he managed to catch his breath. His heartbeat slowed and the shaking subsided. The shock and fear ebbed away, leaving only weariness. And guilt. What had he been doing? What had he been thinking? How could he have given in to temptation and led Fiona on, when he knew—and had just proved beyond the shadow of a doubt—how unfit he was as a mate for her? It had been selfishness verging on cruelty.
Now that it was over, the whole thing felt surreal. He’d kissed her. Felt a desire intense enough to take his breath away. And before that, they’d been enjoying breakfast in bed together. He’d been joking. Teasing. Even laughing.
For that brief moment in time, he’d felt like himself again. His old self, the one he’d lost. The one who had died at Apex.
You did not die, his snow leopard hissed impatiently. You are here now, living and breathing.
I’m not that guy any more, Justin replied. I’m just what’s left of him.
Chapter Three
Fiona
Fiona stood outside the bathroom door, her hand frozen in the about-to-knock position. She’d been there for at least a minute, debating with herself whether she should bang on the door, like her frantic snow leopard kept insisting she do, or hold off, like she herself was certain Justin would prefer.
But he’s not in any physical danger, right? Fiona asked for the third time. You’d know if he was, right?
Reluctantly, her snow leopard hissed her agreement. But she immediately added, He needs us. If he doesn’t answer, break down the door. You must go to him and lick his wounds!
“Ew,” Fiona muttered. Silently, she went on, I’m not doing any more licking. I licked his fingers a minute ago, and look what happened.
As usual, the big cat failed to understand irony. If you won’t lick him, at least stroke his fur and make him feel better.
Fiona sighed. Whatever was wrong with Justin, it was obvious that the last thing he wanted was her touching him in any way whatsoever.
Still, she had to check. “Justin?”
But just as she spoke, the shower turned on. Her voice had undoubtedly been drowned out. Well, at least now she knew he wasn’t on the floor again. She pried herself away from the bathroom door and quickly changed back into her street clothes, then summoned the maid to collect the tray table, which she was sure he wouldn’t want to be confronted with.
When the maid appeared, she indicated the mostly-untouched pastry basket. “Shall I leave that for later? And the coffee?”
Fiona would have been happy to see the last of the pastries, but they belonged to Justin and he might not feel the same way. Plus, he probably could use the calories. “Sure. Thanks.”
The maid removed the rest of the breakfast stuff, then made the bed. Fiona locked the door behind her and sat down on the bed, listening to the shower run.
With no more tasks to perform, she was left alone with her thoughts. Normally they ran on orderly tracks, but now she felt completely at sea. She was used to being presented with a problem and coming up with a plan to solve it. But now she was overwhelmed with some problems that didn’t have solutions and some she couldn’t solve because she didn’t even understand what the problem was. Not to mention her own guilt over giving in to temptation and kissing Justin when she knew perfectly well that they could never be mates. She’d not only led him on when she couldn’t follow through, she’d apparently pushed him into some kind of breakdown.
And, overlying everything and making it impossible to focus on anything else, she kept thinking about the raw pain in Justin’s eyes and her own inability to help him. It made her heart hurt.
Of course you can help him, her snow leopard hissed. Lick his wounds and—
“Be quiet!” Fiona burst out. “Or at least stop saying that!”
“You got an animal that never shuts up, huh? Me too.”
Startled, Fiona looked up. Justin had emerge
d from the bathroom. His chest and feet were bare, and his wet hair hung in glossy strands around his face. She bit her tongue on asking him if he was all right. She didn’t know much about him, but one thing she’d figured out was that he didn’t like that question.
“Mine’s a snow leopard,” she said.
Justin actually smiled at that. It looked fragile, but real. “No kidding! So is mine.”
“Really?” Fiona was both surprised and not; he moved with the grace of a stalking cat. A bit like Shane, come to think of it, who could become a panther.
He nodded, then sat down on the bed an arm’s length away from her. “Can we talk?”
“Sure,” she said, surprised. She’d expected him to pretend nothing had happened. “Fire away.”
“Ball’s in my court, huh?”
He tried to smile, but she could see that he was already beginning to regret opening up the conversation. If she was going to get any answers out of him, she’d have to move fast before the moment slipped away. She knew lots of ways to get people to open up and think it was their idea...
He is your mate, her snow leopard hissed. Do not manipulate him.
Guilt stabbed at Fiona. She knew the big cat was right, and that made it worse. It was so easy and natural to fall back into lying and manipulating. It was what she was, deep down. If she wanted to be different, to be better, she had to defy her entire nature. And that meant being on guard every second of every day.
She tried again, as honestly and straightforwardly as she could manage. “There’s obviously something wrong, but I have no idea what it is. I want to help you, but I’m not a mind-reader. If there’s something I should know, you’re going to have to tell me.”
He took a deep breath, then another. “All right. I’ll do my best. Thing is, you might get some nasty surprises anyway. Half the time I don’t know what’s going to set me off till it happens. When we were, uh, when we were kissing, I spilled some hot coffee on my hand. It gave me a flashback to when they poured this stuff on me, this burning chemical—”