“What are you doing here?” she gasped.
“Wondering the same thing myself at the moment. Do you think maybe you could put that shit down before you accidentally hit me with it again?” He wheezed. “Fortunately, I heal fast so I’ll be fine in a couple of minutes, but I’d rather not repeat the experience.”
“What? Oh…” Elle flushed, then turned and set the canister on the hall table. “Well you said I was being watched, and I thought… I didn’t expect you to come back.”
“Yeah…well, surprise. Grab the bag, will you?”
Dimitri climbed to his feet slowly, grabbing one bag and nodding at the other. He strode into the kitchen without waiting to see if she followed, deposited the bag on the kitchen table, and began rummaging through the cabinets. After locating the dish detergent, he squeezed a generous amount into the sink and began filling it with cool water. Then he tossed in a kitchen towel. He heard Elle shuffle into the kitchen behind him, and the crinkle of the grocery bag as she set it on the table. He plunged his entire head into the sink a couple of times, twisted the excess from his hair, and then squeezed out the water and detergent from the towel and draped the cool cloth over his face and neck with a barely suppressed groan of relief.
“Dimitri, I… I’m really sorry.” He felt the heat of her body mere inches away. “Does it hurt much?”
“Had worse.”
“Isn’t there anything I can do for you?”
Dimitri peeked over the towel. Eyes wide and her usually smooth forehead puckered in a worried frown, Elle stood close enough to kiss. He could think of more than a few things he’d like her to do for him but figured now was probably not the best time to mention them. The way she nibbled on her lower lip made him wonder what it would be like to hold it between his and do exactly the same thing. Between the fullness in his groin and the pepper spray all over his chest, his upper and lower body were in an all-out war to see which of them could cause him the most misery.
“Um, why don’t you come and sit down over here while I go wipe up the mess.” The chair legs grated against the tile floor as she stepped away and pulled it out for him. “There’s milk all over the floor.”
Dimitri held the towel over his face with one hand and groped his way across the kitchen until he felt the back of the chair, then fell into it heavily. Actually, Earthbounds’ accelerated healing being what it was, he felt better already, but if she wanted to take care of him a little, he could live with that. Besides, worrying about him seemed to have taken her mind off of everything else for the moment, so he continued to play along.
“Yeah, sorry about that. The milk neutralizes the stuff. I wouldn’t mind a glass for my throat if there’s any left.” His voice still sounded raspy, but at least he could breathe again.
“Oh, uh, sure.” He lowered the edge of the towel and watched as she crossed to the cabinet. His shirt rode up as she reached for a glass, providing him with a tantalizing glimpse of her firm, rounded bottom in the silky boxers. She filled the glass with milk and set it carefully in front of him, reaching for his hand to guide him. She jumped when he pulled back sharply.
“No, don’t. No sense both of us being in misery.” He reached for the glass and raised it to his lips as he let the towel fall onto his chest.
Elle left him sitting in the chair and snagged another towel from the drawer. She stepped into the hall and stooped to mop up the puddle of milk, keeping her back to him.
“I’ll get that.” He pushed back the chair and followed her to the hall.
“Done,” she announced briskly. Wadding up the saturated towel and gripping a rung of the stair railing, she pulled herself back to an upright position. Turning back toward the kitchen, she found him standing so close behind her she nearly bumped her nose on his chest. She quickly took a step back and tugged at the neck of her shirt.
“Listen, you think you could help me get my shirt off? It’s saturated with the stuff.”
“You expect me to believe you can’t take your own shirt off?” Elle eyed him doubtfully. “I hope that’s not one of your standard pick-up lines. Have to tell you, Big Guy, I’ve heard better.”
Chapter Eight
Dimitri’s laughter was warm and intimate, and far too appealing for Elle’s fragile peace of mind. She took another step back just to be safe when she felt a warm tendril of desire curl low in her stomach. It was official. The strain had finally pushed her over the edge. She was losing her mind. She was the last person Dimitri Radchenko would ever want. Especially now. In fact, not only was she shocked to see him back, he didn’t even appear upset with her. It made absolutely no sense.
“I can’t take it off over my head. It’ll just re-deposit the pepper oil on my face. It needs to be cut off, straight up the back. You’ll have to be careful not to touch it. You have gloves or something?”
“Oh.” She ducked her head and stepped around him to get gloves and scissors from the kitchen, relieved he was behind her and couldn’t see her burning cheeks. She simply couldn’t believe he’d actually come back. Maybe he hadn’t finished the letter? Or maybe he failed to grasp the implication? She found the scissors in the cutlery drawer and a pair of rubber gloves under the sink. She pulled the heavy yellow gloves up over her forearms. They were far too large for her hands, and she had difficulty getting her fingers into the handles of the scissors. Finally, she managed to get a good grip and turned to Dimitri, who’d again come up behind her.
“Just cut it straight up the back?” She asked hesitantly.
“Yep, right up the middle,” he confirmed turning his back to her and sweeping his hair forward over one shoulder and out of her way.
Elle bit her lip in concentration, pulled down on the hem of the T-shirt, and began sawing away at the material while fighting to ignore the smooth, tanned, and oh so touchable skin being revealed inch by glorious inch. The gloves made it awkward, but little by little, she started to make progress. Dimitri stood patiently with his thumbs hooked casually in the front pockets of his leathers as the material gave way.
“There!” Elle announced triumphantly as the scissors cut through the neckband and the two sides of the shirt fell away from one another. She tugged off the gloves and returned them to the basket under the sink.
Dimitri carefully pulled the shirt forward and away from his irritated skin without comment, folding the dry sections around the part still wet with pepper spray. He grabbed an empty grocery bag from the table, shoved the ruined garment inside, tied the bag closed, and deposited the whole thing in the trash bin near the back door.
“Thanks.”
“No problem”
That wasn’t strictly true. Elle decided it might be a tiny problem. Her gaze locked on the mesmerizing expanse of exposed chest as Dimitri turned back to toss the wet towel in the sink. She’d seen the stilettos tattooed on his forearms many times. All Defensori carried their chosen weapons in a similar fashion. The lines inked along the left side of his ribcage were a new discovery, however. The script was intricate and elegant, beautifully done, and she wondered what it said. She quickly averted her eyes when he caught her staring and busied herself with putting away the groceries he’d brought. She half squashed the loaf of bread, gripping it tightly to disguise her shaking hands. It must be the aftereffects of thinking her father’s people had found her. It had absolutely nothing to do with the tempting package of rippling muscles now exposed to her view. Nope, nothing at all.
“I don’t know what I’ll do with all this food since I’m planning on leaving tomorrow.”
“Hungry?” Dimitri asked as though she hadn’t spoken. Okay, she could play ignore the big purple elephant in the room, too.
“What? Oh, I uh, had some tuna earlier.”
“Well, I didn’t and I’m starving. Check the last bag. I picked up a couple of Italian subs.”
Elle dug out the sandwiches and set them out on the table while Dimitri retrieved two cans of cola from the fridge where she’d put them. He popped the tab
and plunked one down in front of her before pulling up a chair for himself. He tore into the wrapper and wolfed down half of his sandwich before Elle had even managed to get the paper off of hers. Then he tipped the aluminum can to his lips and chugged down at least half of it before pausing for breath. Elle quickly returned her attention to her sandwich when she realized she’d been staring in fascination at the way his throat worked as he swallowed the drink. The tangy scent of vinaigrette combined with the pungent kick of salami tickled her nose, and her stomach rumbled in response. She carefully picked the thin strands of sliced onions off the top and placed them in a neat pile on the edge of the wrapper before taking a hefty bite. She barely suppressed a moan. The fresh roll, perfect ratio of meat to cheese, juicy tomato, and crispy lettuce all combined into a mouthful of deliciousness that beat the tuna hands down and tasted like the best thing she’d eaten in days.
Elle munched contentedly as Dimitri shoved the last bite into his mouth, crumpled the wrapper into a ball, and scored two points in the trash before leaning back in his chair.
“You cut your hair.”
“Never let it be said you don’t have amazing powers of observation.”
“Well, I was a little preoccupied.” Elle protested around a mouthful of her second dinner. “It looks good. Of course, I liked it before, too.”
“You did?”
“Suits you, I guess.” Elle shrugged and took another bite. How many times had she fantasized about the way all that hair would feel tangled around her bare skin? She grabbed the can and took a long drink as she started to choke. She glanced across the table and prayed she’d remembered to keep her shields in place when the wayward thought had crossed her mind. Dimitri took a long drink of his own soda and simply continued to watch her eat. She felt like a mouse being observed by a wily cat. A cat biding his time.
Neither of them spoke again until Elle finished her meal and got up from the table to throw her wrapper and their soda cans in the trash. She’d just turned back to her chair when Dimitri broke the silence.
“About that letter…” he began. And there it was. Elle felt the floor tilt. She swallowed forcibly as the sandwich threatened to come back up and say hello and took a deep breath to steady herself, but discovered it had little effect. She dropped unsteadily to the chair.
“You didn’t read it did you?” She rasped. “I should have known when you came back.”
“I read it.”
“Then I don’t understand,” Elle cleared her throat and laced her fingers together in her lap. Her throat tightened to the point her voice was a strangled whisper when she spoke again. “If you read it, you know what I am, what I’ve done. Why would you come back?”
Dimitri folded his arms across his chest, his broad, bare chest, and his brows slammed together. “You can’t really believe you’re the one at fault in this whole scenario?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” She jumped to her feet and began pacing in a circle, needing an outlet for the nervous energy. “I’m a liar and a fraud. Kat struggled so badly with her abilities, with being different. I knew what she was, or at least suspected, and I never told her. She trusted me and I used her to hide from him. Some friend, huh?”
“And what if you’d told her the truth back then about who and what she was? Do you really think she would have believed something so far-fetched?”
“I should have given her the option.”
“Elle, you’re not the bad guy here. You’re the victim. What your father…”
“Don’t!” Her throat tightened further, to the point of pain, and she took deep, gasping breaths that did nothing to quiet the roiling nausea suddenly erupting in her gut. She began to shake. A random, full body trembling that buckled her knees and threatened to send her to the ground. “I’m not a victim, and he’s not a father. I’m a science fair experiment, genetically engineered, cultured in a petri dish, and gestated in a stranger’s uterus. I’m not even a person. I’m a madman’s creation.”
There, she’d said it out loud. Her private fear, the one she’d kept hidden all these years. She was little more than a modern and more attractive version of Frankenstein’s monster. She hugged her arms across her chest as though she could hold herself together and wobbled on rubber legs to the sink where she stared sightlessly through the kitchen window into the darkness. She couldn’t look at Dimitri. She doubted any piece of her heart remained unbroken at this point. Still, seeing the look of disgust he must surely be wearing would decimate any small piece that might be left intact.
“You have got to be kidding me,” he drawled. “Children are born by in vitro fertilization all the time. So, you’re telling me they’re not people?”
“Of course, they are! That’s entirely different.” She had never really considered the comparison before. But it couldn’t be the same thing at all, could it?
“How so?”
“Well, they weren’t created out of greed and a desire for power.”
“That may have been his motivation, but it wasn’t yours, and the technical details of your conception don’t mean shit. The why isn’t important, the how isn’t important. What’s important is that it doesn’t define you, and it isn’t who you are. You didn’t let it. You took Gatewick’s ideologies and threw them back in his face.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure it was Azakriel who threw them back in his face,” Elle’s lips twitched in a wry smile. “All these years I’ve been working to prove to myself I was more than just his creation. I guess I needed validation that I was worth something no matter how I came to be. Deep down, I must have wanted him to know I’d succeeded on some level, or the demon wouldn’t have found the suppressed desire in me and contacted him to let him know. Anyway, I assume that’s how he found me.”
She heard the chair legs scrape against the floor and then Dimitri’s warm breath ruffled her hair. It would be so easy to give in to temptation and simply lean back into him. Just for a minute. She craved someone to hold her, someone to help carry this burden. She gripped the edge of the counter and fought the urge. Now that he knew the truth about what she was and how she’d lied, surely he would leave. The little piece of her heart that began to want something more, the tiny spark of hope she’d been clinging to, sputtered and died the moment he’d slammed out of the house. But he’d come back, hadn’t he?
His hands came up to rest on her shoulders. Squeezing lightly, he turned her around to face him. Trapped between the counter and his body, she kept her eyes down, refusing to meet his gaze. She realized her mistake when she saw his leathers had slipped low around his hips, and she couldn’t help but be fascinated by the tempting cut of corded muscle tracing along his hips and disappearing into his waistband. Her hands were pinned between them, and her fingers tingled as they brushed the smooth skin of his flat stomach. It felt just as silky and warm as it looked.
Judging by his swiftly indrawn breath, he felt the same awareness. She quickly pulled her hands away and fisted them at her sides.
“Well, Elle, you’ve more than proven you’re worth something, though I doubt anyone except you ever questioned it, so why would you even consider returning to that bastard?”
“What?”
“I saw your father’s note. Last night at the hotel. You left it lying on the table. Is that where you were headed?”
“You were there! I knew it!”
“Just answer the question,” he countered without admitting to anything. “What would ever possess you to go back?”
“I never intended to go back. I briefly considered it because I worried they would find out about Kat and try to get to her if I didn’t. But then I realized he has no idea who he’s dealing with. Kat hasn’t even scratched the surface of her powers yet, and McAllister would never let any of them get close enough to touch her. But, I had to make sure someone knew what he might be up to before I disappeared. I planned on leaving the information here for Kat to find. If Gatewick is any example, I don’t believe the Librarians are a bunch of dodderi
ng old historians scribbling on parchment anymore, Dimitri. They’re technologically advanced. They want what you have, what you are. They want to build a better man.”
Dimitri exhaled a long, low whistle. “So they’ve progressed from recording history to trying to dictate it? Transhumanists?”
“Maybe. I’ve run across that term during my research, and the ideology seems similar. As far as I know, up until the time I escaped, Gatewick only managed to successfully produce one genetically engineered offspring. Uh, yeah, that would be me. But, the DNA doesn’t appear to have transferred Earthbound abilities or longevity as he’d hoped. I believe that’s the ultimate goal.”
“Why didn’t you just tell Kat what was going on? Or me? Why run?”
“It’s one thing to anticipate her reaction. It’s something else entirely to stand there and watch it evolve on her face when she realizes how I used her.”
“Used her? I think you underestimate her. Kat McAllister loves you like a sister. I’ve seen it.”
“She loves who she thinks I am. I was raised in an environment that was pretty isolated from the ‘real world.’ Gatewick always told me his work was dangerous, that there were those who would kill for it, those who would use me against him. I had no reason to doubt him. I was a kid, what did I know? It was the only life I’d ever known. I was seventeen when I learned the truth. I’d been in his office reading. Books were the only friends I had back then.”
“And…?” Dimitri prompted softly when she hesitated.
“I was supposed to have been in bed hours before, so when I heard Gatewick coming, I panicked and hid. I overheard him dictating his research notes and put two and two together.”
Elle shrugged, offering no hint of the utter devastation which accompanied the discovery that her whole life, her very existence, was simply a fabrication to advance the power of a group of fanatics. Many times in her life Elle had felt alone, but never as completely as in that single overwhelming moment of clarity, when she understood she was nothing but a commodity to the only father she’d ever known. Whatever awaited her in the outside world, it couldn’t compare to the threat of her everyday existence.
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