by Eve Langlais
A rueful grin pulled his lips. “Yes, it’s dirty. I’ve been remiss in hiring someone to clean the house. Too busy working.”
At her inquisitive gaze, he thought it was time to show her. “I’m a doctor. Would you like to see?” Rather than reply, she stood, and he led the way down the stairs to his lab. He had stepped fully into it before he realized she hadn’t completely followed. She stood on the bottom step, eyes glowing again, her body trembling.
“Hos. Pee. Tull.”
So she did remember something. In this case, probably the sound of the machines as they hummed, doing their best to keep her alive.
He circled around the bed. “I’m a doctor. I fix people. I fixed you. You were in a coma from a drug overdose.” Such a tragedy to happen to someone so young and on prom night.
She stepped into the room and prowled the edges, the smell of burnt cloves and cinnamon overpowering. The lab was putting her on edge.
“Nothing to be scared of, Jane. You’re all better now.”
“Bett. Rrrr.” She glanced at him. “You.”
“Yes, me. I healed you.” He couldn’t help but brag as he neared her. “You were pretty much dead. The doctors had given up hope. They were going to let you die. But I saved you. I gave you a treatment that brought you back to life.” He reached out to grab her hand, feeling the heat of it, the shock of awareness.
For a moment, she said nothing, just froze, her gaze locked on him. The air between them felt charged with something. It raised every hair on his body, and Jane sucked in a ragged breath.
Followed by a long, drawn-out scream. “Whatdidyoudo!”
Chapter Nine
The flash of awareness hit her like a lightning bolt. She remembered everything. Every. Friggin’. Moment.
Paralyzed in that hospital bed. Hooked to machines. Being forced to stay alive. An out-of-body prisoner, tethered to her fleshly remains, unable to die.
The horror of it was too much. Her mind snapped back to the blankness.
Screamed, Danger!
Where? Her gaze narrowed. It had to be the male of the intriguing scent who thought he could hold her. She snatched her hand from him and ran for the view of the outdoors that she could see. Except there was something in her way. She bounced off an invisible surface and let out a scream of rage. Her fist drew back and punched forward.
Tinkle. She smashed through the glass, the shards hitting the ground, slicing her flesh as she pushed through the hole she made. But she didn’t care.
The need to flee pulsed inside her, sending her vaulting over the rail. She hit the ground hard in a crouch.
She ran into the woods, the shadows and foliage welcoming her to hide in its depths. In the distance, she heard the male shouting.
“Jane. Come back. Dammit. Jane!”
The words made sense and didn’t. She refused to acknowledge them, as a primal need to survive became her only focus. Soon she was deep in the woods.
Far enough that she slowed. A bad idea. Without the adrenaline coursing, she felt the cold. It seeped all around her, seeking to smother her and drive her back down into a deep sleep.
No.
She couldn’t allow that to happen. Having just fed on some flames, it wasn’t hard to pull them forth. She pressed her palm against the leaves moldering on the ground, and they ignited with a whoosh. Only a moment of true warmth.
She needed better fuel. Scouting around, she found a stump, its tree having long fallen and now a moss-covered sentinel. But the base had been left behind. Its hollow bowl gave her a spot to dump in more leaves. Branches, too. She ignited the new pile, the fire contained by the moist trunk. She’d learned her lesson after the first night she spent in the wild.
A fire too big didn’t always obey her command. It raced out of control, which brought the nasty water bombers. They hummed in the sky with their huge wings before dropping the stuff. Smothered her in its clinging powdery embrace. It brought a scream to her lips as it sought to steal her inner flame.
A good thing there was a stream nearby to cleanse her.
She learned afterwards, much like in the city, to keep her fires contained. The trunk smoldered pleasantly, the fire taking root and creating heated embers for her to perch on. She tucked her arms close, barely noticing the loss of the thing the male had placed over her body.
The softness of it had pleased, as did his scent. Probably better it was gone lest it confuse her.
He muddled her brain, made her remember things.
The place she used to live. It flashed in her head. The pinkness of its walls. The mottled colors of the fabric covering where she slept. Things all around, familiar and alien at once.
My room.
She no sooner thought it than it changed to that of her prison. The ceiling high overhead but not high enough. Where was the open sky? Why couldn’t she move?
She never moved. Couldn’t. And she didn’t truly see. More as if she sensed things around her. Sometimes she felt the vibration of sound, a strange rumble she could at times understand. Other moments, she clung to the change in temperature, enjoying the slight increase in warmth, too few and far between. Once she even managed to flutter her lashes and part her lips. The heat doing its best to drive the cold out.
There was noise as she almost stirred. A voice, angry and yelling. “I need someone to fix the air conditioner today!”
Who was that yelling?
Someone who watched over and kept her locked in that cold cell. Surely, they were at fault for her condition.
“I’m so sorry, Jane.” For some reason she kept hearing that repeated over and over, especially since meeting the male of the intriguing scent. His was the voice.
Sorry for what?
For keeping me prisoner!
She stirred on her nest of glowing coals, soaking in the heat, rustling in agitation.
Should have killed him. Yet she’d stopped. The food helped. He’d given her something other than flames to eat. She’d stuffed it in her face, unable to stop herself as she finally tasted something other than ashes.
Although the meat under the bridge was tasty.
But a part of her rebelled against doing that again. A tiny voice said, We don’t eat humans.
Why ever not? They tasted quite delicious.
Despite that fact, she went after other prey. The kind that used four legs to run. The critter with the long ears also crunched nicely when roasted. Even the wet fish she pulled from the water sated another hunger.
The one hunger that she didn’t grasp was the pulsing one between her legs. He’d done it. His smell. His presence. His very maleness attracting her. A male perhaps fit enough to mate.
A quiver struck at the very thought. But that would involve returning to see him. A part of her said he was dangerous. Stay away.
But much like the moths that came to burn on her bed of flame, she just couldn’t help herself.
Chapter Ten
“Come on, Jane. I know you’re out there,” Adrian muttered as he paced inside. He’d lit the fire pit, giving her a fiery beacon to follow. Inside the house he’d lit candles everywhere. They flickered from glass votives on the mantel, across the counter, in a ring on the table, even a few strewn by the large sliding door leading onto the backyard, which he’d left wide open.
After the incident a few nights night before, he’d made some changes around the place. He didn’t want Jane to get hurt again.
If I’d not freaked her out, she wouldn’t have run. But no. He’d panicked her enough she preferred to smash through a glass window and take off running into the dark forest at night rather than sleep in a warm bed.
Given how much predator he balanced inside, instinct told him not to chase after her. She didn’t want to be found at the moment. Then there was a fact that a man being hunted by the patients he’d helped shouldn’t be out alone at night. One at a time he could handle. He’d rather not try and prevail against two or more.
So that night, he’d watched her turn t
ail and run. He’d kept watching until the morning sun rose in the sky. Wondering if she perched on a rock, basking in the warming rays.
She’s not a lizard, you bloody idiot.
For once the rebuke appeared to be his own and not one of the other voices. It reminded him to look at her not only as an interesting experiment or a marvel of science but as a person.
She is a real, living person. With curves and a scent that could not be forgotten.
He wanted her to come back and had faith in the fact that, since she’d found him once, she’d come find him again. In the meantime, he prepared, ensuring the propane tank, which ran the fireplace, was full. Had more cords of wood delivered. Ordered thick blankets and more, the delivery guy grumbling each time he showed up with another load. As for groceries, Adrian had those delivered by Jett who—upon seeing his preparations—almost insisted on staying.
The big man looked around with that flat stare of his, lingering on the box of candles Adrian had bought. Right beside the duct tape and rope. “I see you’re prepping for date night.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Jett arched a brow and hooked his thumbs in the loops of his snug jeans. “You are baiting a trap for Little Miss Firestarter. Going to tie her to a bed and tell her it’s for her own good?”
A heated flush, mostly because that had crossed his mind, made him bluster. “I’m trying to help her. She’s in more danger the longer she stays out there.” Adrian pointed in the general direction of the big bad world.
That caused a snort from his right-hand man. “What a load of shit. Next you’re going to tell me putting your dick in her pie is gonna cure her?”
“Cured Becky,” Adrian muttered.
At the mention, Jett smirked. “Yeah, but I highly doubt you’ve got equipment as good as mine.” The standard male boast.
Adrian didn’t reply. That was the one part of him that didn’t require fixing. But he wouldn’t be using it on Jane. “She’s my patient.”
“Meaning?” Jett asked, taking a swig from the water bottle he’d grabbed from the fridge.
Adrian stiffened. “Meaning, a doctor should never conduct himself in a sexual manner with a patient.”
Jett began to choke, coughing and sputtering, spewing water before exclaiming, “You’ll experiment on the desperate, locking them in cages, even kill a few for science, but you draw the line at screwing a patient. Are you fucking kidding me?”
There was a certain irony perhaps given Adrian might have crossed a few—possibly too many—lines, but a man had to have at least one moral of value he could stand on. “Think what you like. This was never about sex. I just want to help her.” Had to because he was partially the reason why she was in a coma in the first place.
Uttering a noise, Jett shook his head. “Sad part is I kind of believe you. You are one weird motherfucker. So the plan is to capture Little Miss Firestarter. I’ll call Becky and let her know I am spending the night.”
Cramping his style and getting in the way. “Don’t bother, you’re not staying,” Adrian stated. “I don’t need your help handling Jane.”
“You might have been taking lessons from me about sparring, but that don’t make you a good fighter.” Jett didn’t pull any punches when it came to Adrian’s skill.
“If everything goes well, then this won’t come down to a fight.”
Jett rolled his eyes. “You can be such a fucking moron. Of course, there’s gonna be violence, which is why I should stay.”
“And I said no. I told you I’m handling this myself.” A stubborn insistence Adrian wouldn’t back down on, and Jett finally left.
Now it’s just me.
And me.
And me.
He ignored the extra presences. Each of them pushing and pulsing for dominance
Sometimes he wondered what it would be like to accept those other voices inside. Jayda claimed it was a balance of giving that inner presence what it wanted, to relieve the pressure.
In her case, killing proved cathartic. But Adrian had killed. It did nothing to ease the pulsing beasts inside.
What’s the worst that can happen? Blood washed out. He didn’t have nightmares. Think of how liberating it would be to run wild.
He closed his eyes against the strong push. And pushed back.
Not now. Not ever. This is my body.
For now, boyo…
Far from reassuring, especially since Adrian wasn’t sure what would happen if he ever lost control. Could be he’d never regain his body again.
Like hell. He’d not fought this hard to get to this point to let anything, even his own creation, take the glory.
Shoving his doubts—making him still very human—down deep, he paced by the open sliding door, feeling the kiss of outdoor air on his skin. He’d chosen to wear all black, the athletic pants made of some flame-retardant material, as was his T-shirt. The fire extinguishers were stashed all around the house, having arrived on a pallet just that morning. Jett grumbled the entire time they unpacked them.
When ten o’clock came and went without her appearing, Adrian stepped outside, sucking in a deep breath through his nose. Pine trees and a hint of winter. Nothing else. The wind must have shifted, because he no longer smelled the smoke with a hint of spice from the forest.
But he didn’t need a scent to know Jane was close.
He set the bag of marshmallows on the tiny table beside the chair with its poufy, flowered outdoor cushion. Adrian grabbed the long metal pole he’d left leaning against the chair before sitting. He threaded a marshmallow on a metal tine, his actions entirely visible through the glass rail, wondering if she watched.
Extending the pole meant the marshmallow dangled over the dancing flames, a slow roast that crisped the outer skin and melted the insides. He slid it off the end and quickly popped it into his mouth, the heat quickly forgotten because of the melting sweet taste.
“Fuck that’s good.” How long since he’d taken a moment to savor something simple? Too long. His entire life was about science and work and…not much else.
I cured myself so I could have no life. The stark truth was a bit too much to handle sober. Adrian put down his stick and went back into the house to grab a drink. When he returned, he tried not to react as he saw Jane held a bunch of marshmallows over the fire. He noted the lack of a stick or any other kind of tool. She’d poked her fingers into each of them.
He debated getting another beer, but instead of giving Jane alcohol, he set his bottle down on the floor before stepping out.
“Hey, Jane.”
She pretended to not notice him.
“Nice night for a marshmallow roast.” Casually spoken as he hit the chair, grabbed his pole, and threaded a new marshmallow on his stick. He held it out so that it bobbed alongside her fingers.
Jane grew impatient and plunged her hand into the fire, letting the sugar ignite before bringing the burning fireballs to her mouth. She ate them one by one then licked her fingers.
Staring at her lithe tongue gathering all the sugar in a moist lick was possibly more decadent than a peek at her nude body. Someone had lost her clothes again.
She reached for more marshmallows, and he smiled. “Help yourself. I have another bag in the kitchen.”
“Is. Morrre,” she slurred then frowned.
“Yes, plenty more.”
She shook her head. “S’mores,” she muttered with a flutter of her lashes and a sly smirk.
The implication startled him, but he recovered quickly. “If I’d have known you were coming, I’d have bought graham crackers and chocolate.”
“Mmmm.” She hummed in appreciation as she ate her second batch of burnt sugar then stretched to her full height before planting herself square in front of him. This had the disconcerting effect of putting his face level with the bottom of her breasts. If he sat in an Adirondack with its low base, he’d have been even more distracted.
He swallowed hard and craned to look at her
face. “I’m glad you came back, Jane.”
Her lips hinted at a smile. Jane crouched, her hands braced on the armrests of his chair, bringing her face level with his. “Happy.”
“You’re happy you came back, too?” It warmed his heart, especially as her smile widened further.
“Happy. Kill. Adrian.” No mistaking what she said.
His ego deflated a bit. “Killing me would not be in your best interest. You need me.”
Her head shook, sending those red tresses whipping. “No.”
“Yes, you do.” He shoved out of his seat, standing to not feel disadvantaged. She remained close, the heat of her licking at his skin. It made it hard to think, but he still managed to say, “You’ve been lucky so far, but winter is coming.”
“Cold.” She shivered.
“Very cold. You need shelter. Clothes.”
“Find.”
“Find how?” he retorted. “You’re a naked woman with rudimentary communication skills at the moment. You start wandering places where there are people and you’ll be noticed. There are bad people out there who would hurt you.”
“You.” Her lip curled, the disdain clear.
Probably deserved. But the first rule of being a mad scientist?
Deny. Deny. Deny.
“I’m not your enemy, Jane. I would never hurt you.” Not intentionally at any rate.
“Bad.” She jabbed a finger in his chest. One syllable that conveyed a whole lot of anger.
“Don’t be pissed at me. I’m the one who fixed you when you were broken.” He wondered if she had the capacity to understand what he said, or was she ruled by primal impulse as her next word indicated?
“Kill.”
He sighed. “Yes, you could kill me. Quite easily I’m sure. But if you do, then who will help you?”
“No need.” Her face twisted as she managed to spit out the phrase.
“Don’t be stubborn. I can help you, Jane.”
“How?” An actual query. He could have shouted with joy.
“By helping you to regain your senses, I hope. By toning down your attraction to fire so you don’t draw attention. Stay with me, and we’ll find a way for you to rejoin the world.”