by Jessica Lee
What in the world is that?
A clear, long tube lay ripped in half inside. With the tips of her fingers on her other hand, she palpated the skin around the injury. At the top, something hard rotated under the pads of her fingers—a round disc of some kind. Did it connect to the tube in his arm like a port she’d heard some cancer patients had for chemotherapy?
On second thought, if that was the case, maybe she shouldn’t place a lot of the antibiotic ointment in there. Considering what she’d found, Shayla decided to simply redress the injury with a clean bandage until she knew more.
Shayla had just finished putting the last of her supplies away when a groan came from the other room. She stopped in her tracks and her pulse quickened at the sound. Thank goodness he was coming back around. She shoved the last item in a drawer and rushed back to the chair beside him.
His expression said he’d had much better days. He lifted his arm and covered his eyes with his palm.
“Hey there,” she said. “You back with me?”
In a slow, precise movement, he lowered his hand and scanned his surroundings. “Shit,” he drawled, then looked her way. “I must have blacked out. I apologize. I’ll get out of here.” Creed lunged forward, but swayed and landed against the sofa’s back cushions.
“Whoa there.” Shayla steadied him with one hand to his shoulder. “It’s okay. You don’t need to jump up this very minute. Take a moment and get your bearings.”
Creed inhaled deep, then let out the breath nice and slow. His gaze went to his right upper arm, taking in the new bandage. He flicked his attention to her. “You did this?”
Shayla released a slight chuckle and looked around the room. “Don’t see anyone else here, do you?”
“No. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Shayla reached over and retrieved the glass of water she’d left near the sofa and handed it to Creed. He nodded and accepted the offering and took a large sip. “Are you feeling a little better?”
“Yes,” he said after swallowing. “I think the medicine you offered me has helped.”
“Good.” Shayla studied the washed-out blue coloration of her jeans, following the worn lines with her finger. Curiosity gripped her by its claws, and she didn’t know how much longer she could go without asking him about the thing in his arm. Peeking up, she watched as he finished off the glass of water. “Do you mind if I ask what kind of implant that is in your biceps?” There. She’d done it. Shayla captured her lower lip between her teeth.
Creed stopped mid-swallow, then lowered the empty glass. His gaze met hers and his Adam’s apple bobbed as the liquid finished its path down his throat. Once again, his stare held her fixated. An intensity that went beyond her exterior shell. If she didn’t know any better, she swore Creed could read her deepest thoughts, desires. She should feel exposed, but for some illogical reason, Shayla didn’t mind. The almost intimate connection with another soul felt…nice.
“That is the reason why none of your ‘help’ will matter with my injury.”
“Are you ill? Is that a port for some kind of medicine?”
He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and bringing them closer. “You are a curious woman,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact.
“Guilty.” She quirked a smile. “Comes with the territory. I’m an author, and one could say I’m either blessed or cursed with an insatiable curiosity.”
A slight smirk lifted one corner of his mouth before suddenly disappearing as if she’d imagined its formation. “I need to step outside. There’s something in my bag that will answer your questions, and perhaps give you the proof you need to believe I’m telling the truth.”
“By all means.” Shayla rose from her chair to give him room. “If you think you’re ready to get up?”
He eased to his feet. “I’m fine.” And he seemed to be. Creed took a slow step forward as if testing his balance, then proceeded on to the door and beyond. Good. He appeared to have bounced back. That meant he would be ready to leave as soon as possible. Yeah. She rubbed the outside of her arms, suddenly chilled. That was a good thing.
A few seconds later, he returned, carrying his backpack. After grabbing a seat on the sofa once more, he reached inside and pulled out a slender black… What was that? A ruler? Holding it between his thumb and forefinger, he tapped twice on one end. Up popped a three-dimensional clear display.
“Wow.” She couldn’t hold back the word or the incredulous note in her voice. “I haven’t seen anything like that except in the movies.” On automatic, Shayla retraced the three steps that placed her back in her chair beside Creed. She had to have a closer look.
“Search,” Creed stated at the display. The display brightened and a blank field formed at the top with a blinking cursor. “Sustain origin and usage.” The words auto-filled the defined area, and a half second later, the device beeped. A picture appeared within the perimeter of the 3D display as well as a rolling screen of text. Creed glanced Shayla’s way, then held the device out to her. “Here. This will explain my arm as well as why I need to remain here until I’m found and can be returned to my time. As soon as possible.”
Shayla stretched out her arm and Creed released the thin strip onto her palm. It was so light. She curled her fingers around the edges and pulled it in for a closer inspection, the metal cool against her skin. So silent. No screen. Not even an opening for where the light beamed up for a display. How in the hell does this work?
She finally dragged her gaze back to the information floating in the field of light. “Sustain?” Shayla tilted her head in Creed’s direction.
“Yes.” He nodded. “Read on.”
“A hormone-based drug developed in the year 2515 for the purpose of suppression of the human libido and resulting pleasure receptors.” She glanced up from under her lashes at the man on the sofa. He sat quietly, watching her as she consumed the info and its implications. “After multiple study trials, the government found that use of the medication decreased the individual’s tendency for criminal behavior, and with the urge for sexual activity repressed, the spread of disease within the population had a noticeable decrease. For the past century, the Federation of Americas has legally mandated that every citizen of its territories be implanted with the Sustain infusion system.” This couldn’t be for real. She swallowed hard at the lump forming in the back of her throat. Nausea bloomed in her gut, swelling with each sentence that unfolded in her mind.
“Typically the system is inserted into the upper arm of the individual with an injection port readily accessible for biweekly or monthly refills.” The image below the text resembled the very thing she’d seen in Creed’s arm. Oh my God. Is that what…? No… Without conscious thought, she shook her head in denial. She jerked her gaze from the display. “Are you saying this is what was destroyed in your arm?”
“Yes.”
“You’re really…” She just couldn’t form the words. They felt too ridiculous on her tongue.
“From the twenty-seventh century.”
“And this drug makes it where no one wants to…” Her palm went to her mouth, covering her lips. When had she suddenly lost the ability to finish her sentences?
“Participate in sexual activity,” he said without a flinch, as if he were talking about the desire to or not to consume steak.
Wow. She’d been struck back to monosyllables. Her head spun on the concept of what the future held. A world without intimacy.
“Umm…” It seemed so rude, but it would kill her if she didn’t ask. “So does this mean that you have never—”
“No.” He reached out, grabbed the display from her hand, and stowed it back inside his backpack. “I’ve never had sex if that’s what you were about to ask.” His head swung back in her direction. “My job is to enforce the law of the Federation, not break the code I’m sworn to uphold.”
“Oh. I see.” God, it blew her mind that a whole society was celibate. And that Creed Donovan, the tough alpha male who would ea
sily be the inspiration for one of her most erotic novel creations was a virgin. Her nipples went rock hard. Damn. Why did she find that tidbit of information one of the most provocative things she’d ever heard? Heat crept up her throat and into her cheeks. She needed a distraction. Fast.
“So there’s no kind of special equipment in that bag of yours that would help you to repair your implant?” Shayla indicated the pack beside him with a wave of her hand.
“No. And even if I could, I’m out of reserves.” A guttural sound emanated from the back of his throat. One that said he was one pissed-off Double T, short for time traveler. Hey, why not? She’d already deemed herself a nutcase for believing this. “A damn rookie mistake,” he went on to say. “I’d been chasing Thomas for two weeks, and I’d finally zeroed in on him. I knew I’d be heading back yesterday with the rebel in custody, so I didn’t want to lose my lead by warping back for more Sustain supplies.” He shook his head and mumbled another curse under his breath. “Not a smart move.”
“You referred to the other man, Thomas, as a rebel. What kind of rebel?”
“A Sustain rebel. He and a woman we’d already retrieved by the time I located Thomas here had removed their implants and fled. That type of rebellion isn’t tolerated. It would set our civilization back more than a century in progress, not to mention the damage that can be done by warping through timelines unchecked.”
“And your job is to ‘retrieve’ these rebels.”
He nodded. “Yes. An enforcer.”
Shayla slowly nodded. “I take it then that when Thomas did this to you, the chosen site for the stabbing was no accident?”
“He knew exactly what he was doing,” he nearly growled, teeth bared. “He also took my timepiece. Wanted me trapped here, detoxing in the twenty-first century so I can ‘appreciate’ what I’m forcing our people to live without.” He pushed from the sofa cushions, marched over to the bar, and with his back to her, spread his hands wide on the surface.
“So the fever, dizziness, and when you passed out really isn’t related to any kind of infection from the stabbing, is it?”
“I’m in withdrawal.”
Shayla’s gut tightened. “How bad is it going to get? I mean, how long before help arrives?”
“A week. Maybe two.”
Her breath hitched. If he had already experienced withdrawal symptoms… She didn’t own a medical degree, but that didn’t sound good. “What does that mean for you and what your body will go through without Sustain while you wait?”
His words barely reached above a whisper, but she heard him nevertheless, and the answer lifted the hairs on her body.
“God only knows.”
Chapter Three
Creed rolled onto his side and stuffed the pillow under his head once more. He pulled his knees up on the too-short sofa for his six-two frame. But he was grateful for a warm place to sleep. He felt like an ass for not telling Shayla the full truth about what to expect over the next ten-to-fourteen days. But he didn’t want to freak her out when there was no need. All the research data indicated that the acute phase of withdrawal would involve a heightened period of sexual awareness. An awakening of the pleasure receptors that would lead to an overwhelming desire for sexual release in any form that could be found—masturbation, male and female intercourse, fellatio and cunnilingus. All manner of depravity would surface. A growl rumbled in the back of his throat.
Damn Thomas for forcing this on him.
No way in hell would he be reduced to such acts. He was a trained enforcer, mentally and physically stronger than any hormonal fluctuation. Besides, he’d never allow himself to put Shayla through such a scene. She deserved better than a rutting animal in her home.
She’d been more than accommodating considering how they’d met and the chaos he’d introduced into her life. A smile tugged at his mouth. Strange and confusing. He didn’t know whether to blame the lack of Sustain or the woman herself for the unfamiliar feeling, the one that made him want to grin more than once that day.
Shayla was smart, inquisitive. Almost annoyingly so. Witty and so damn full of life he found himself enjoying just watching her move about the cabin. From cooking breakfast to toying with her long, dark-brown locks when she didn’t think he was looking, she intrigued him. He’d never met a woman who captured his attention long enough to find her interesting. Back in his time period, his focus had been narrow, rigid. The job, his life. He’d never slowed down long enough to consider a female as a life partner. But Shayla…
Shit. Where was his head?
Creed squirmed and flipped to his other side. This wasn’t the twenty-seventh century and her joining his world wasn’t even a remote possibility. Besides, even if it were, a woman from this era would never agree to exist in a world infused with Sustain, sharing his life but not his bed. He could tell during their earlier conversation that the concept would be too alien. Appalling. She would never understand or agree to the benefits Sustain brought to a person’s life. The calm it induced into a civilization.
Creed scoffed and rubbed his eyes. The dialogue inside his head was a total waste of time, not to mention ridiculous. He didn’t even recognize his own mind and the thought patterns rolling about his skull. What was he doing fantasizing about the beautiful brunette in the other room? He could already feel the aftereffects of the drug leaching from his veins. The growing restlessness. He closed his eyes, forcing his body to succumb to the fatigue and his brain cells to let him go.
Gorgeous.
His heart raced at the sight of her standing before him, and with a simple flutter of her lashes, she stole his breath. Shayla reached out, and she slipped her hand in his. Creed encircled her smaller, delicate fingers. His gaze raked her. Her long, fluid, sheer nightdress barely contained her full bosom. Her nipples strained against their lacy confines. The most intense and foreign desire to capture them between his lips overwhelmed him. Rocked him on his feet. His mouth watered.
“Shayla…” Her name fell from his tongue on a groan. She glided toward him, or maybe it was he who had moved. Creed had no idea. But somehow she knew exactly what he needed. Shayla slipped her hand free from his, then lifted her arms and draped them around his neck on a sigh. Creed splayed his palms across her lower back and pulled her in, closing the gap between them. So warm. Soft.
Hot blood raced to his groin, filling his shaft. Oh God. On instinct, he rocked into her, pressing his throbbing cock into her abdomen. Yes. He knew she was the key to ease the ache between his legs, but somehow the act made the need even worse. He moaned. Again, Creed crushed her close and thrust against her. So good.
“Shayla,” he breathed into her hair. “More. More of you.”
“Creed,” she whispered at his ear.
“Touch me.” The incessant throb was driving him mad. “Please.”
“Creed. I’m here.”
He arched into her. “Shayla! Make it stop!”
“Creed!” Something shook him. “Creed, wake up!”
His eyelids popped open. He gasped and scrambled to a sitting position.
“What?” Creed scanned the room, his gaze landing on the brown-eyed object of his…what? Fantasy? Dream? Damn, maybe a hallucination? He didn’t know what the hell to call her. But the throbbing between his legs that commanded his attention was very real and had his teeth set on edge.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. But I heard you from the other room. I was worried.” Shayla tugged the closure of her pink-and-white robe a little tighter. “Looked like you were having a nightmare.” She tucked a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. “I could have sworn you were calling out for me.”
Creed swiped a palm over the top of his head, doing his best to nonchalantly shift and grab an extra throw from the back of the sofa to cover himself. It took every ounce of strength he had not to flee the room and fist the rock-hard length between his legs. Dear God, instinct told him if he could just touch it, stroke it from root to tip, the demanding pressure woul
d ease.
He knew the moment it dawned on her, the moment she noticed the origin of his distress. Creed followed her gaze. Shit, how could she have possibly missed the thick pole tenting the covers spread across his waist?
“I-it’s the drug. Well, the lack of the drug.” Creed jerked into action and swung his legs over the edge of the sofa, angling his body away from her. He gathered the sheet around his hips and legs. His chest was bare, the norm for how he liked to sleep, but he’d never felt more exposed in his life.
“It’s okay,” she blurted. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. What you’re experiencing is completely normal.”
“Not for me.” He huffed and risked a glance in her direction. She looked so damn cute standing there with her long locks disheveled from sleep. His cock flexed, and his balls tightened even more. He choked back a groan and dropped his gaze. “Son of a…”
“You mean this is completely new to you? Like not even once?”
Without chancing another look, he closed his eyes and spit out a response. “I’m sure I have at some point in my life, but it would have been before I can remember. We’re placed on Sustain prior to puberty.”
“Oh.” The sound of her restless footsteps shifted beside him. “It’s just so hard for me to imagine.” The sound of a sharp inhalation followed. “Yikes. Sorry about the pun.”
“I can’t imagine spending one’s life a slave to their body,” he spouted. “It’s barbaric.” Creed’s tone was harsh, and he knew it, but at the moment, he didn’t really give a shit. His cock throbbed with every beat of his heart. But he would be damned before he gave in and stroked the offending appendage to the release he’d read about it. The orgasms that stole logic from the citizens he enforced, causing them to run from their home, their jobs and friends.
The clink of dishes in the kitchen took him by surprise. Creed leaned back and opened his eyes. He’d been so frustrated he hadn’t realized she’d left his side. A moment later, she stepped back in the room, this time carrying two tumblers with a small amount of clear liquid inside. Shayla handed one to him.