Wiping away the sweat, he licked his lips and held the ice cube toward her with trembling fingers. He could feel it melting in his hands, slippery and wet, as it touched the tip of her nipple. He had time to circle it once before the cube fell apart in his hands. For a second he felt the sensation of soft skin under his fingertips before it scorched him -- sharp and stinging -- and he snatched his hand away with an involuntary cry.
Meri straightened, watching as he nursed his hand. “Get a kick out of that, Heppeldigger?”
Sucking his burning fingers, he stared at her. There was an unexpected look of sorrow in her eyes that made him uncomfortable. But he wasn’t giving up that easily. “Maybe we need lots more ice.”
“You don’t get the picture, do you?” Meri snatched up her bikini top, struggled to tie the strap around her neck. “There’s no frigging way you or anyone can have sex with me unless you want your dick to look like a charred sausage. Do you get that? Much as I want to, much as I need to --” She jammed her hand in her mouth to shut herself up. Even if he lusted after her, Heppeldigger was a reporter with a nose for news. She dreaded to think what he’d make of that.
“You need to fuck, Meri? Is that it?” His eyes darkened. “How much do you need it?”
The heat at her core flared. Damn it, he knew most of it already. “So much it hurts. It hurts all the time.” Her voice caught. “I just want to be normal, like everyone else. I want a job. I want a man. I don’t want to be a freak of nature.”
“What if I find you someone? Maybe even find you a job?”
She stared at him. “You can do that?”
“Maybe. If you’ll do something for me when I do.”
“Like what?”
He leaned toward her, stopped sucking his finger. “I want to see you, Meri. Not just your tits. All of you. Naked.”
She rolled her eyes. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“I want to see you playing with yourself.” She frowned. “Until you have an orgasm.”
“You’re a sick man, Heppeldigger. They ought to lock you up and throw away the key.”
A grin slashed across his face. “Maybe I am. Maybe I ain’t.” He took a breath. “I want you, Meri, and I mean to have you any way I can. It’s a serious offer. What about it?”
“You find me a job and a man, and in exchange you watch me playing with myself?” Meri laughed disbelievingly. “All right, I’ll play your stupid game. It’s not as though it’s going to happen.” She shook her head in disgust. “Maybe you’re the freak, Heppeldigger. Ever think of that?”
“Maybe I am.” He rose to his feet and stepped over to the door. “Maybe you see yourself as a freak, Meri, but when I look at you all I see is one hot chick. Pun not intended.”
“Get lost, Heppeldigger.”
He grinned, tipped two fingers to his forehead in salute, then left. And went straight to his car, where he sat and pulled his cock from his trousers and found release in three quick jerks as he thought of Meri’s breasts spilling into her own hands.
Some gorgeous freak, he thought, but freak she was. He didn’t understand why she longed for something she couldn’t have. Normalcy? Who the fuck wanted that anymore? Most freaks he’d interviewed were more than happy with the few crumbs of celebrity garnered from their strangeness.
And Christ, she needed to fuck. He’d have done anything to be the man she did it with, but he knew she was right. It wasn’t to be. He’d have to settle for second best. He’d thought of the perfect man for her -- Dr. Jonas “Iceman” Anderson, in every way the coldest prick of them all. Resting his head against the steering wheel to catch his breath, Heppeldigger wondered how to approach The Iceman. The guy was a bastard. But he wanted Meri to get what she needed, so he could get what he wanted. For this was one challenge he was determined to win.
Chapter Two
“What’d you do this time, Jon?” Larry Drake, head of Human Resources, sighed as he took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Settling his glasses back in place, he peered balefully over them at Dr. Jonas Anderson. Two assistants gone in the last six months and a third sniffling into a tissue as she sat at her desk and waited for him.
The scientist paced around his office like a caged panther, his face a mask of fury. “Goddamn it, is there going to be an inquiry every time I get a new secretary?” Jon stopped and glared at the girl through the glass partition separating his office from hers. Even his profile, so starkly beautiful it could have come straight out of the pages of Vogue, looked cold and intimidating. The girl, a pretty little thing barely out of high school, saw him and began to cry in huge, heaving sobs.
Larry walked over and closed the Venetian blinds. “Stop scaring her.”
Jon turned back to his desk, running a hand impatiently over his short blond hair. “I don’t understand, that’s all.”
“She said you sexually harassed her.”
“Sexually harassed!” Jon made an impatient sound. “For God’s sake, I’ve got better things to do than try to get it on with simpering kids with romantic ideas about their boss.”
“Half your luck,” Larry murmured a little enviously. He had no idea what it was like to be Jonas Anderson with his Nordic beauty -- frigid blue eyes and chiseled chin included -- that had girls swooning with amazing regularity. And when not swooning, complaining about him and his complete lack of interest. A woman scorned. Too many of them, unfortunately.
Curiosity got the better of him. “Completely off the record, you weren’t even tempted?”
“Tempted by what?” Jon stared at him, puzzled.
“Come on, Jon. She’s a pretty little piece.”
“This is my life’s work, Larry. There’s not much else I’m interested in.”
Larry had to agree as Jon didn’t seem to talk about anything else but the Wednesday Project -- when he did talk. He was taciturn and abrupt when at his best, and when at his worst it was best to just keep out of his way. The man didn’t suffer fools, even if they did come in pretty packages.
“You can’t keep doing this, you know.” Larry opened his file on Jon and shuffled through the papers inside. “It doesn’t look good on your record.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
And that was the problem. Larry sighed. “All right. I’ll get rid of her and find someone else.”
“Someone without a libido,” Jon snapped.
Larry’s eyebrow quirked incredulously. “Never thought I’d hear a guy say that. You’re a strange fish, Anderson. Apart from the obvious, that is.”
* * *
Jon opened a slat in the blinds and watched as Larry offered the girl another tissue before gently leading her out of the office. Sighing with relief, he settled himself back at his desk.
Apart from the obvious. Larry’s words suddenly echoed in his head. He’d been on Earth for three years now and it had never bothered him before that he wasn’t quite human. Hell, they didn’t know that. He was simply a freak to them, a mutant researching other mutants and their genetic abnormalities, trying to isolate anything they could use.
The Wednesday Project was funded by the Belzin Center for Biological Research. On paper they were an independent research company, but in reality most of their funds came from the US government. When he’d proposed the project, the CIA had dug deep into his past before they’d given him the go-ahead. His background was impeccable on paper. But then, Jonas Anderson had been chosen very carefully.
The real Jonas Anderson had been a suicide -- he’d taken a dozen sleeping pills and cut his wrists in the bathtub. The Chan had known that from the records that survived into the future. So they’d sent him back in time to the day it happened. He’d found Anderson’s body all right, and buried him in his back yard before taking over his life and credentials.
He’d had to move across the country to Arizona where no one knew the real Jonas, despite the fact that the guy had no family. Probably one of the reasons he’d offed himself in the first place. Humans were
sensitive creatures. He wasn’t quite sure he understood them yet.
But he couldn’t completely hide what he was. His biology was different. His body temperature was so cold it was almost lethal to humans. They’d had to plant all that biological information in Anderson’s medical records. But his beauty -- a common feature in the future after generations of genetic engineering -- was so rare here that he stood out like a sore thumb, attracting all sorts of frustratingly unwanted attention.
The Chan hadn’t taken that into account when they’d developed the plan for the Wednesday Project, unofficially known as the search for Firesnake.
Three years. It was a long time to be away from home, he brooded. A long time to be an alien in a strange land. Or, as his colleagues called him behind his back, a freak.
He’d almost forgotten his name: Ryen’La of the Kilkar. Sometimes he said it like a litany in the mornings when he shaved, a reminder of who he was. Of his purpose.
Find Firesnake. Only that. Find Firesnake and he could finally go home.
The phone rang. He ignored it and turned to his paperwork. He’d tested over three thousand subjects in the last couple of years. They’d come from the ads he’d placed in most papers and magazines, asking for volunteers, hoping to find the mutant strain that would lead him to Firesnake. He’d come up with nothing. A dead end.
The continuous ringing of the phone had him looking up impatiently. Why didn’t she pick up -- Dammit! He’d just seen his last assistant out the door.
He snatched up the receiver, wedged it between his neck and shoulder as he studied the long list of statistics in the report on his desk. “Anderson.”
“Direct to the great man. It’s my lucky day.”
The southern drawl sounded irritatingly familiar. “Who is this? State your business.”
“All right. I’m not too partial to chit chat myself. It’s Heppeldigger. You might remember me --”
“I don’t.”
He heard a sigh. “Reporter for Stranger Than Fiction. I sent a couple of volunteers your way a few months back.”
He remembered someone from that rag calling to interview him. Jon had made short shrift of his request. Then he’d offered him some volunteers for the study. They’d been complete duds -- genetically uninteresting, hadn’t even scored in the lowest range in psychic ability. When he’d caught them looking through his files, he realized Heppeldigger had sent them to snoop around. They’d been thrown out unceremoniously.
“Thought you might be interested in someone else for your study,” Heppeldigger continued. “Real interesting case.”
“I’m not interested in your spies. Goodbye,” Jon said coldly, and went to hang up.
“Hold on now! I swear this girl’s a marvel. A real fire starter.”
Jon paused. Fire starters were rare. It was rumored Firesnake had been a fire starter. “All right, I’m listening.”
“Her name’s Meridia Hancock. I’ve seen her light a cigarette with her finger. She’s genuine. Totally unique.”
“Why haven’t I heard of her before?”
“I wrote her up four times in Stranger Than Fiction. Guess you’re not a subscriber.”
“Guess I’m not.” Jon tapped his fingers on his desk. “I’ll have a look at her.”
“She needs to be paid.”
“Volunteers don’t get paid,” Jon said coldly.
“Then give her a job.”
Jon barked out a mirthless laugh. “I’m not in the business of giving jobs to unknowns. You’re pushing it.”
“Why don’t we discuss that when you see her?”
“There’s nothing to discuss.”
“Just see her. Then make up your mind.”
Jon shrugged, realized he couldn’t be seen, and said, “I’ll have a look at her for my study. Nothing else.”
Heppeldigger sighed. “I’ll bring her around at four.”
Jon hung up. A fire starter. Now that would be something -- if she wasn’t another one of that reporter’s plants. He mustn’t expect too much. The odds against Firesnake landing in his lap this way were more than he could hope to beat.
* * *
“I don’t like this place,” Meri whispered as they waited in the sleek, polished lobby of the Belzin Center for Biological Research promptly at four.
She was wearing a tiny skirt, the bikini top with a jacket thrown over it, a pair of flip-flops, and her fire-proof gloves. People were staring at them. She was used to them staring, but that had been on her own turf at the carnival and they’d paid handsomely for it. Here, with dozens of people milling about looking efficient, dressed for the most part in white coats covering suits, she was reminded of what a lab specimen she really was. Or was about to become.
“Think of the money, honey,” Heppeldigger said with a shrug. “And remember to be nice to Dr. Jon.”
Dr. Jonas Anderson. Probably some dried-up old codger who’d be only too happy to prod at her with asbestos gloves while he stared at her tits. She’d been foolish to even think about going along with Heppeldigger’s idea, even if she had run out of other options. What she should have done was left town with the rest of her carnival pals and taken the job in that club in New York.
“Heppellman?” A young, bored-looking woman with a clipboard approached them.
“Heppeldigger,” he said patiently.
Ignoring him, the secretary looked at Meri, staring her up and down with dislike. “Is this your assistant?”
Meri bridled. “No. I’ll be working for Dr. Jon.”
“Oh?” The secretary’s stare turned to one of open disbelief. “You mean you’ll be one of his subjects.”
Meri had an image of herself skewered by a pin like an insect while Dr. Anderson inspected her. “I’ll be working for him,” she insisted.
“Now, Meri,” Heppeldigger said nervously.
“I don’t think so,” the secretary said with a smile of amused condescension. “You don’t fit the… um… profile.” She ruffled her pages on her clipboard to hide her smirk. “He’s almost ready for you, if you’ll wait here just a few more --”
She screamed as flames suddenly shot up from the papers on her clipboard into her face. Dropping the burning clipboard, she staggered back and began to slap at herself, trying to put out the licks of flame catching the edges of her hair. Her screams brought everyone in the lobby running toward her until she was surrounded by a milling sea of lab coats and security guards.
“That wasn’t nice,” Heppeldigger murmured.
Meri shrugged, her eyes gleaming. “She wasn’t nice.”
“What the hell’s going on here?”
The hard voice cut through the crowd like a dousing of cold water. Lab coats and security guards turned nervously to the man striding toward them.
“She caught fire,” someone said. “Her eyebrows burned off.”
A wail came from the secretary at the center of the crowd, which parted to let Dr. Jonas Anderson through. He knelt by the girl sitting on the floor and looked her over. Wisps of singed, blackened hair framed a red face. The eyebrows and eyelashes had certainly disappeared. Apart from that, there wasn’t a burn mark on her.
“What happened?”
“It was her,” the secretary cried, pointing at Meridia. “That crazy bitch did it.”
Everyone swiveled around to gawp at Meri. She gazed coolly back at them, arms crossed, face expressionless.
Dr. Anderson rose slowly to his feet. His eyes swept over her legs, her hips, up to the bare flesh exposed at her waist. He paused at her breasts, spilling over the tiny bikini top.
Heppeldigger stepped forward, offering his hand. “Dr. Anderson? We spoke on the phone earlier today…”
“Yes.” Jon ignored him as he stared at Meri. “Your name?”
Meri stared at him.
“Meridia Hancock,” Heppeldigger interjected. “I was telling you about her when I called.”
“I’m sure she can speak for herself,” Jon said softly.
&nbs
p; Meri wasn’t sure if she could. This was Dr. Jon Anderson? Holy crap, wasn’t he supposed to be an old codger? This guy was too gorgeous to be true. If she stared into his blue eyes any longer she was sure she would completely drown in them.
“I want her put away.” The secretary, who had been helped to her feet by a security guard, glared at Meridia, her voice verging on hysteria. “She set me on fire.”
“It’s all been an unfortunate misunderstanding,” Heppeldigger said soothingly.
“I want her arrested!” the secretary screamed, stamping her foot.
“Why don’t you come with me?” Jon said to Meri. “We’ll be able to talk more comfortably in my office.” He made a gesture indicating the turnstiles by the reception desk. As if in a dream, Meri started toward them, ignoring the gawping crowd.
As Heppeldigger turned to follow, Jon placed a hand on his chest to hold him still. “I’ll call you later.”
“But I --” Heppeldigger stopped as Jon strode away after Meri. He frowned as he realized Anderson didn’t have his number.
“Someone do something!” the secretary wailed after Jon’s retreating back. “Are you just letting her get away with it?”
People began to disperse, muttering amongst themselves. A security guard remained, looked helplessly at the secretary and then at Heppeldigger.
“Better take her to see a doctor,” Heppeldigger sighed.
Chapter Three
Jon leaned back against his desk and watched Meri stalk nervously about his office. She was a sight to behold -- restless and more than a little untamed. Dangerous, if her stunt with the secretary was anything to go by. Capable of anything, he imagined.
He didn’t know why that thought excited him, but it did. He could feel her heat across the room and there was a strange responding ache inside him. Silly to feel that about someone he’d only just met. She was a fire starter, a powerful one, and that was all that interested him. The fact that she was a beautiful, dangerous woman had absolutely nothing to do with it.
The fact that she might be Firesnake was everything.
Firesnake Page 2