Selfless

by Sherri L. King

  And so it was that on the fifteenth night of her life, heartsick but determined, she easily broke the locks on the door to her cell and walked freely through the brightly lit hallways of Sterling.

  It was quite simple and she was surprised that the few people she encountered paid her little, if any, notice. It must be commonplace to see someone in a hospital gown walking about.

  Sterling, Eva knew, was more than just a prison for her. It was a hospital, a lab and home to many gifted individuals. The main goal of its people was to catalogue and study all things unique in the fields of science, biology and weaponry. Special attention was paid to paranormal cases. The majority of the scientists, doctors and soldiers here were gifted with paranormal talents of varying sorts.

  Still, even knowing it was rare that anyone was confined here, Eva was surprised that no one sensed the forbidden nature of her intent, that not one person she passed glanced twice her way.

  Perhaps, in the dark cave of her mind, she had hidden her thoughts better than even she had known.

  She turned a corner, wiping her eyes.

  “Where are you going?”

  Eva gasped, opening her eyes wide despite the pain of the bright lights spiking into her gaping pupils. She halted in her tracks, the paper slippers covering her feet causing her to slide a few inches on the tiled floor. “Dante.”

  Her heart pounded. Her blood heated.

  “Why aren’t you in your room?” he asked, tone pleasant. Light.

  Eva knew he really wanted to ask how she’d gotten out. No one, not even he, knew how strong she could be—she’d deliberately kept that information to herself. When she’d broken the locks on her door, the steel had been as pliant as butter.

  She took a deep breath through her nose.

  Something wasn’t right.

  Eva eyed him, tilting her head, puzzled. Her eyes hurt and halos danced from the lights, but she could see him. He was only a few feet in front of her. She could see him clearly enough to glimpse right through him. She sniffed the air again…nothing but the neutral scent of the well-filtered, air-conditioned halls.

  Dante wasn’t really standing there. Not physically anyway.

  Still, Eva was cautious. “I was looking for you,” she lied, the words smooth past her curving lips.

  He hesitated. Eva wondered if he could sense the lie somehow.

  “Follow my lead,” he said, the image heading back the way she’d come.

  Should she follow? Could he do anything to her in this state of non-physicality? Could he stop her if she continued her escape?

  He’d no doubt raise an alarm and that would certainly complicate the ease of her self-liberation. Eva decided to play it safe. For now.

  “How are you…?” She trailed off, for once at a loss for words.

  “I’m an astral projection,” he explained, ever patient.

  “Oh.” She understood this, without knowing how. Didn’t matter.

  “Follow me.”

  Would he take her back to her room? Eva couldn’t let him see the ruin of her door—couldn’t give him the chance to better improve the security of her cell. She wanted out of this place, tonight. Think fast.

  “I want to see you, alone,” she said in what she hoped was an intimate tone, feeling a strange thrill run through her at her own boldness.

  His image shimmered in the lights. The outline of him was bronze, like his hair. For a moment it was as if his eyes blazed with heat…but she didn’t feel it. He wasn’t really there, after all.

  “I’m this way,” he said, image moving away from her.

  Eva began to formulate a plan.

  Heady, the anticipation of seeing him. Warm the expectation. Hot the desire.

  As the image of Dante led her deeper into Sterling’s labyrinth, Eva added to her mental construction of the compound. It was indeed vast—larger than she had suspected. Still, it would be easy for her to find her way out. She wouldn’t lose her way, no matter that she suspected Dante was purposefully taking her through unnecessary routes to try to confuse her. He was very clever.

  Her weakness—the need she had for him boiling in her blood—and his intuitiveness could have devastating results for her escape attempt.

  She resolved to be more careful from here on out.

  Resolved or not…she felt a fluttering in her stomach. Like a forest of leaves tickling her insides. If she listened, she imagined she might actually hear their whispering deep inside her. Echoes of her heart and all it wanted despite her best judgment.

  * * * * *

  The first thing he noticed was her hair. Though he’d seen her that very morning, not twelve hours prior, her hair was already noticeably longer. Almost reaching midway down her back. It was threaded, formed into thick locks or dreads—her cells regenerated so quickly it was a wonder the locks didn’t reach her feet by now. While he knew she kept her white nails trimmed close, she left her aurulent hair alone, despite the difficulty of keeping it free of knots as it grew and grew. Carelessly, she usually ripped at her hair with her comb—he’d seen her do it. He’d also read in her daily evaluations that she’d taken to waxing off the rest of her body hair, morning and night, without fail.

  It was almost as if she welcomed pain.

  This had fascinated him. He understood pain. Understood its power to cleanse, to purify. Its ability to cement one’s sense of self. It had also unsettled him. There was the suspicion she might need the pain. To feel more human. When he’d asked her, she’d told him in her frank way that pain was hot and she liked being warm…this made no real sense to him, but he could see that it made perfect sense to her. Eva was, as always, a puzzle.

  But tomorrow he would change that. Dante was determined that it would be he who would at last delve into her, learn all her secrets. Her innermost self would be laid bare before him—he would know her completely. Perhaps then he could sleep dreamless again.

  It was absurd that, in his dreams, she was always there.

  Even more so that he should wake, hot and sweaty, almost mad with carnal need.

  From the beginning he’d been attracted to her. But for Dante, his attraction had nothing to do with her shell so much as her reactions, to her world and to him. She was at times fragile, inspiring in him the need to protect her. Shield her. And at other times, she was so strong he felt overwhelmed by the glory of her.

  It became increasingly difficult to be near her each day, after long nights spent dreaming of her in his bed. Beneath him. Above him. Sheathing his needy flesh in her tight, wet body. Every time she looked at him with her black eyes, he thought he saw within their depths an echo of his fantasies and he had to fist his hands at his sides to keep from grabbing her and making their dreams come true.

  Being so close to her without seeing her thoughts was torture.

  He had no time for dalliance. His purpose was to serve Sterling…and to find Abigail Faria. To find her and…then what? Punish her for her role, small though it was, in his imprisonment all those years ago? Punish how? As he’d punished the others—with death? He’d never killed a woman. Wasn’t even sure he could.

  Though he’d never met the doctor, he’d learned enough about her from the files he pilfered from the ones who’d made him what he was. As the lab that had been his prison for over a year crumpled to the ground around him, he’d crushed Faria’s picture in his fist, vowing revenge on this one last guilty party, this woman whose knowledge had aided and abetted his captors. He’d long ago destroyed the picture, but he remembered every line of the woman’s face.

  When Ryan Murdock found him, saved him from a life spent in shadow and secrets, Dante had found new purpose. But he’d never forgotten his original one. Faria had to be stopped before she did to others what she had done to him. Sterling agreed, helping him without reservation.

  Over the years Faria had somehow eluded even his great sight. He couldn’t find her, despite his endless gifts—gifts he’d received against his will. He was a broad-spectrum psychic wit
h the ability to astral project himself anywhere he wished—but he’d been born a normal human. After his “rebirth” in the lab, he’d been able to find anyone he wanted, anywhere in the world—except Faria. He’d searched tirelessly, endlessly, projecting himself to all corners of the globe. It was how he’d found Eva…and known he’d been too late to stop Faria’s penchant for toying with humanity.

  Alone in her silent glass womb, he’d felt Eva’s plight echoing his own. He’d felt it was his duty, as a member of Sterling, as a human being and as someone who’d been in a position similar to hers, to set Eva free. He’d felt that, perhaps by learning who and what Eva was, he could find Faria at last.

  But these weren’t the only things he felt. Not now. Not anymore.

  Looking at Eva was like looking at a very young, very innocent Faria. When he was near Eva, hard with lust and longing after a night fantasizing about them together, he nearly hated her for that. If only she had another face, he could want her without the guilt. Eva was smart, lovely, fragile and stubborn—appealing to every masculine sense he possessed—but she was a copy of her. His enemy.

  It alarmed him that he had to remind himself of this again and again. That no matter how often he reminded himself of this monstrous truth, every time he closed his eyes he dreamed of her. When they fucked in his dreams their violent passion had nothing to do with his vendetta. And Eva’s face, soft with passion and ecstasy, looked nothing at all like that of her progenitor. She looked only like herself and Dante wanted her that way always in his thoughts.

  And now Eva was coming to see him. Alone. Unguarded. He was certain he’d detected in her body language her desire for him. He’d sensed it before tonight, flashes of it, but now…she wasn’t bothering to hide her motives from him at all. If the curve of her smile could be believed, she was more than willing to explore their attraction.

  He wasn’t sure how he should feel about that. What he did feel was eager. Hard. Wanting.

  Cautious too. Always cautious around her. Not because of what she was, but because of who she was becoming. She was far too clever for her own good. Or his.

  Her obsidian eyes were always unreadable. As were her thoughts. But tonight, that didn’t seem so important. As he focused on letting his doppelganger lead her to his lair, his physical self set about making a bower of his apartment. A cozy, candlelit love nest. Eva wanted to see him alone? He too had wished for that. Many times over.

  They would both get their wish tonight for good or ill.

  His heart felt wicked.

  His cock was hard as marble.

  Perhaps his penetration into Eva could begin now, he thought, a sinuous curve playing at his own mouth. For the first time in his long memory, tomorrow seemed so far away. As if it didn’t matter at all.

  He dimmed the lights, mindful of her sensitive eyes, and thought of all the ways he could make her feel warm.

  Chapter Four

  Eva followed until Dante’s transparent image walked through the door. And then it opened for her.

  Even though she’d been following his image for several minutes, past the labs and into the private apartments of Sterling’s residents, Eva wasn’t quite prepared to see Dante in the flesh. To suddenly smell his delicious scent in the air. To feel the warmth radiating from his skin and breath. He was, for lack of a better word, potent.

  His hand on her arm was hot as he pulled her inside his lair.

  He let her go too fast. She stumbled a little as the door shut behind her.

  The smell of fragrant, melting wax was thick in the air. The living room of the apartment a warm, golden glow that didn’t cast hurtful halos in Eva’s eyes and she was grateful for that…until she got a better look at Dante.

  Her breath caught.

  She found herself unable to blink.

  He was naked.

  Well, mostly.

  She had to remind herself to breathe. No good. Her lungs were useless dry leaves in her ribs.

  Dante wore only a skintight pair of midnight black boxer-briefs. They hugged his every curve, leaving nothing to her imagination. Eva had to tear her eyes away from the massive column of rigid flesh there…his cock. She’d never seen one in person, but she knew what it was. What it was for. What it meant for her now.

  Eva shifted her legs, feeling strangely soft and flushed from her breasts to her loins and farther down to her knees.

  His chest was so broad. Intimidating without the more civilized drapery of his clothing. His skin was golden and smooth. Every muscle was well defined and tweaked to peak performance. His pectoral muscles looked as though they’d been chiseled by a master artisan. Each of his lean abdominal muscles bulged, giving him a washboard stomach that caught and held shadows from the dim flicker of light. His waist was lean, dipping in to his hips before his thighs—each as massive as tree trunks—flared out artfully.

  He stood, letting her catalogue his image, one hand on his right hip, that hip cocked to the side craftily.

  Everything about him was in peak condition. Eva understood this in a clinical way, knew that millions of years of evolution dictated that he was a prime specimen, a perfect mate. What she was feeling, however, had nothing to do with her brain…

  The warmth spilling from him was delicious.

  Finally, she managed a breath. His scent overrode that of the candles—spicy, musky male. With so much of his skin exposed she could easily smell him, not his soap or shampoo, but his sweat and flesh and blood and…desire.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked softly, watching her closely.

  It took all her willpower to meet his gaze. Not five minutes ago she’d been plotting a way to escape him, escape Sterling, but now…she’d thought she understood the power of sexual need, understood how to manipulate it, but this was something beyond her scope of comprehension.

  “I…I was thinking about licking your skin. To taste you and feel your texture on my tongue.” She decided to be honest—he would see too easily through any lie she attempted in her present state.

  Eva heard his sharp intake of breath.

  Her senses were heightened, dancing on the edge of a knife. Everything seared itself into her memory—the flickering of the candles, the scent and sight of him. The sound of their breathing, ragged, at times fast, others too slow.

  Beneath those rich layers she could hear his heart. And hers. Hear the blood traveling like rivers in their veins. They shared the rhythm of one pulse…a steady seventy-five. Never wavering.

  She blinked, breaking the hypnotic spell she’d fallen under. “That night, when you found me…” She couldn’t bear to use “rescued”. It wasn’t the right word. “Your pulse never climbed over eighty. Not even when we were running. I remember listening to it.”

  He knew what she was getting at. Still, he made her work for it. “Yes.”

  “You’re not entirely human either, are you?”

  He shook his head slowly, his bronze hair picking up highlights from the candlelight, twinkling. Eva yearned to see him in the sun…but the sun was not for her wide eyes. Might not ever be.

  “How are you different?” she asked simply.

  He pursed his lips, eyes heavy-lidded. “I was born with a little psychic ability—nothing fancy. I could sometimes read minds. Move small objects a few inches without touching them. I was stupid and careless. The wrong people found out what I could do. They captured me and augmented everything I had, everything I was, until I am as you see me now.”

  “Then you do know what it’s like for me. A little.” She tucked that consoling knowledge deep inside her cave, so that it might warm her later…after.

  “I know.”

  “I’m sorry for your pain,” she said truthfully, seeing it there in his gaze—though he hid it very well. After a beat, she took a gamble and asked her most pressing question. “Was Faria involved?”

  He nodded. “She was consulted. She had vast knowledge of the human body and what it can…withstand.”

  Eva hated
that, for whatever reason, she too possessed vast knowledge of the human body. There wasn’t a question regarding it she couldn’t answer—as her cadre of doctors could attest.

  What was I made for?

  Eva winced and hoped he didn’t see it. There were no answers here, so Eva let the question slide off her, like a snake shedding its old skin. Her face felt smooth again and she was relieved that she could shuck her worries so thoroughly in his presence.

  The room invited her deeper. Dante’s eyes invited her. She saw a well-worn couch and moved to sit upon it, tucking her chilled feet beneath her. “I like your body. It’s strong,” she said, seeing how her words threw him off. Enjoying her effect on him.

  But a dark, feral sheen clothed his eyes and with a thrill of primal fear she wondered if she had gone too far. She was inexperienced in the mating rituals with which Dante was obviously so familiar.

  He sat next to her on the couch and reached for her. Eva only barely kept herself from jumping to her feet and fleeing—not because she was afraid of him, but because she was so unfamiliar with how powerfully she felt around him. But he wasn’t reaching to embrace her. His hand darted beneath her and captured one of her feet.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he murmured softly, pulling off the slipper she wore, rubbing the sole of her foot with his warm, textured fingers. His eyes shone like polished I Ching coins.

  His natural heat burned into her skin like a brand.

  “I’m not afraid,” she whispered hoarsely. “I’m curious.”

  He chuckled. “That’s a good start.”

  She shivered…and for once it wasn’t from being cold.

  Her belly felt full of simmering honey. Her foot in his hand tingled with heat that spread upward, straight to the apex of her thighs, seeping into her sex even as her warm liquid seeped out.

  Eva could smell her own arousal. When she realized that, she breathed deeper and smelled his as well—a similar but spicier, more domineering bouquet. It affected her deeply.