“Yeah. I was the only one who survived.” The only one worth mentioning, anyway.
As if he can tell I don’t want to talk about it, Carson clears his throat and begins picking up the food wrappers I dropped, evidently avoiding eye contact to give me a sense of privacy from his surprisingly observant gaze. The gesture feels very…kind. “Anyway, UA is hoping to create and corner a market on super-soldiers,” he continues. “To be sold to anyone with the means to buy them.”
“Oh, shit.” My mind is spinning, and suddenly the fact that Carson smells really good seems to be the least bizarre thing about him. Soldiers for hire are nothing new, but this is well beyond simple conscription. “And all this was going on right here, on Rhodon?”
He nods slowly. “Still is. That’s why I’m here. I was trying to hijack a shuttle that was diverted to help rescue passengers from that crashed yacht a few weeks ago.” He wads up the trash and shoves it into the largest of the envelopes. “I wanted to use the shuttle to get my men off this rock, but the controls were fingerprint protected. All I managed was to escape into zone three.”
“And to ‘borrow’ Warren’s face.”
Carson smiles. “Not just his, but yeah. Anyway, the first DNA I duplicated was mutated. Because of the disease, I couldn’t think very clearly. Until I met you.”
“But you were already disguised as Warren when you came to the Sorority to meet me. How did you know you wanted to meet me before you…met me?”
He sinks onto the bed again, and that silver-eyed gaze hasn’t lost any of its power. “The first time we met was yesterday, Lilli. You were with a friend. At the stream.”
“At the…” I slap one hand over my mouth, gaping at him. “That was you? The man in the water? The man who…pounced on me?” The man with the silver eyes…
“I’m sorry about that. Like I said, that form was diseased, and it was very difficult for me to think straight. To control…myself.” But it’s clear there’s more to that than he’s saying. “Anyway, now that I’ve met you, you’re all I can think about. Literally.”
His gaze trails toward my mouth, and when I realize he wants to kiss me, that warmth in my stomach spreads lower and triggers a sudden, intimate ache. Which I do my best to ignore. “So, you’re saying you have some kind of obsessive thought condition, and I basically have a starring role in your psychosis?”
He laughs out loud. “I’m saying there’s something pulling me to you. You can call it an obsession if you want, but I think that’s selling it short. And I think you feel it too.” His gaze pins me, and that warmth between my thighs swells.
Yeah, I feel it. And I’m not sure I like it.
Okay, I like it. But I’m not sure I can trust it.
“Well, if Mallory doesn’t actually need me, I should get back to the Sorority.” I stand and reach for my pack.
“I’ve scared you.” Carson stands, his hands open like he wants to reach for me but is controlling the impulse.
“No. I mean, I feel like I should be scared.” I shrug as I sling my pack over my shoulder. “But I’m not. To make this even more complicated, the fact that I’m not scared should scare the crap out of me. But it doesn’t. So, to recap, this whole thing is insane, and I can’t trust my own instincts anymore. Which means that I should really just take my toys and go home before this gets any weirder.”
“Don’t go. Please. I can’t promise this won’t get weirder—”
“And if you’d said that to me when I was eighteen, I would have followed you through the damn looking glass, ready to party with the Mad Hatter.”
“—but I can promise it’ll be fun.” His smile lights my fucking underwear on fire, and his gaze says he damn well knows it. “Come on, Lilliana. I think you’re tired of sewing curtains and scooping your dinner out of an envelope. You’re bored, and there is nothing on this whole damn planet more interesting than what they’ve done to me and my men. So stay. Please.”
I should go. I really should. Yet… “What are you offering me, exactly?” I ask, and his silver eyes light up.
“I’m leaving. I’m getting myself and my men off this damn planet, and I want you to come with us.”
“You’re…” He’s dead serious. “You think you’re going to escape?” That’s the craziest thing he’s said so far. Alien genes and scent-roofies? Sure. Makes total sense. But no one’s ever escaped from Rhodon.
“I am going to escape. UA designed us to be able to take on any enemy, and they did a damn good job. What they don’t realize is that we’re already behind enemy lines. We’re leaving. And I want you to come with us.”
“Carson, I just met you. Ten minutes ago, I didn’t even know I’d met you!”
“I know. But think about what I’m offering. Even if I’m a total psycho—” He spreads his arms, to take in the entire zone. “—how is that different than what you have now? You’re stuck on a planet full of psychos. If you come with me, you’ll be reducing your potential psycho exposure to six people. Soldiers, not criminals. And you’ll be off this planet. If it turns out that you hate us—that you hate me—we can drop you somewhere safe.”
“You’d just let me go?”
“If you’re not happy with us? Of course.” But he doesn’t seem to think that’ll happen.
“No offense, but why the hell should I believe that? How do I know you’re not lying, just to get me…wherever you want me?”
Carson looks amused. “Lilli, I already have you where I want you. If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn’t need to take you off the planet to do it.”
The first jolt of fear spikes through me. “That sounds like a threat.”
“It isn’t. I would never hurt you. I’ve been drawn to you from the moment I met you. From the second I saw you put yourself in front of your friend, to protect her, when you thought I was a threat.”
Did I do that?
“I want to get to know you better—I want to know everything about you—but I can’t stay here. I got my men into this hell, and I promised that I’d get them out of it. And I want you to come with us. I’m offering you freedom. Whether or not you choose to stay with us.”
Oh my god. “You’re serious.”
He gives me a solemn nod, silver eyes flashing in the glare from the flashlight. And suddenly this is starting to feel real.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” His eager smile is adorable on such a big guy.
“Okay. I mean, what do I have to lose?”
Your life. Escape from prison is a capital offense. Or we could be killed during the attempt. Though surely UA would be hesitant to shoot down a shuttle full of very expensive scientific research subjects…
Either way, he’s right. I’m sick to death of sewing curtains and eating pre-packaged food. Of looking over my shoulder every time I leave the Sorority for any of the hundreds of violent criminals who’d be eager to use me for anything from currency to “company” if they found me. That happened to Mallory the second she left Barrett’s sight.
There is nothing I wouldn’t risk for the chance to be free from all this. And Carson has no reason to lie. To weave such an elaborate fantasy. If what he wants is sex—or to flay me and wear a suit made of my skin—he could already have taken it several times.
“But what about my friends? Can we bring them?”
His smile dies. “No. I’m sorry. The more people we take, the better the chances we get caught, and the worse the chances that we all fit on the escape shuttle.” My disappointment seems to wound him. “But Lilliana, your friends have built the most protective community I’ve ever seen. They would have tried to kill me in a heartbeat, if they’d decided I was a threat to you. They’ll be fine here. They have each other.”
“But I can’t just leave them here.”
He’s quiet for a moment. Studying me. “Do you think they’d want you to stay? Would you want one of your friends to stay here with you, when she could leave? Would you deny her freedom?”
“No.” And as sel
fish as I feel for thinking it, he has a point. “But I have to go back and say goodbye. When Mallory and the others show up without me, everyone will think I’m missing. Hell, I am missing!”
“Not yet, you aren’t. Your friends weren’t planning to come back until tomorrow. No one will miss you until morning.”
“Okay, seriously, that sounds like something a creepy kidnapper would say.”
Carson laughs. “Yes, the phrasing was unfortunate. But I swear on my life—on the lives of my men—that I would never hurt you.” He blinks, and that intense silver-eyed focus turns on me again. “I like you. I’m drawn to be near you. It’s an almost physical pull. Do you feel anything like that?”
“No.” Yes.
“You’re lying.” Carson’s smile is quiet, but his expression feels like the still surface of a lake, hiding a churning current beneath. It feels like he’s faking calm, to keep me calm, but that this is actually much more intense for him than he’s letting on.
And that’s what worries me.
“Why do you think I’m lying?” I ask, watching him closely for any break in that calm exterior.
“Because when you said ‘no,’ I could hear a minor acceleration in your heartbeat and I detected a sour note in your sweat, both of which point to slight anxiety. Which means you just lied.”
I gape at him. “You can…? What?”
Amusement brightens his silver eyes. “Did I mention the alien genes?”
“Well now, that’s not fair.” I cross my arms over my chest, which is when I realize I’m still wearing my backpack. “The only way I can tell you’re lying is that you disguise yourself like one of my friends and lure me out of the safety of the Sorority under false pretenses.”
He laughs again. Then he steps a little closer. “Lilliana, may I kiss you? Please?”
“It’s Lilli, and…” No. I’m not going to kiss a stranger. Not even one who’s offering me freedom. Not without armed guards standing over me, silently threatening me into compliance.
Those days are over.
Yet this doesn’t feel like what happened to us at the Resort. Despite how he got me here, Carson isn’t demanding; he’s asking. And he smells good again. He smells…safe. What’s the deal with that?
“Okay.” I don’t know why I said it. I meant to say no. To insist that he take me back to the Sorority, because if I’m really going to leave, I want to spend as much time with my friends as possible, while I have the chance. But it’s like my tongue saw past my intent, into what I actually want. Even if I don’t want to admit it. “One kiss.” I let my bag slide to the floor. “And it’s going to taste like lasagna, because I’m all out of mouthwash.”
“I like lasagna.” Carson steps closer, and I truly look at him for the first time. Well, for the first time without freaking out about the fact that he’s wearing a brand new face, anyway. He has beautiful lips, wide cheekbones, and a strong chin. He’s a beautiful man, in spite of his odd hair and eyes. Or maybe because of them.
He leans in, and my heart begins to pound so loudly I can hardly hear anything else. I was forced into prostitution for two years in zone two. The idea of kissing a stranger shouldn’t excite me like this. Nothing should excite me like this. Yet I lean in with butterflies in my stomach. I can’t help myself. I am hungry for this.
Carson’s mouth meets mine, and at first, this is nothing but the brush of his lips over mine. A feather-light, get-to-know-you brush. Then I inhale, and it’s like taking the first whiff of a fresh batch of cookies. Sex-scented cookies. I have to have a bite.
A groan slides up from my throat, and Carson answers it with a soft growl. Then his head tilts and his hands frame my chin. He nibbles on my lower lip, wordlessly demanding more from this encounter, and I open for him.
Then I taste him, and this is all over. There will be no resisting this man. I need him like I need fresh air. Like I need clean water and decent food.
His hands slide along my jaw and into my hair, tilting my face. Giving himself deeper access. He’s devouring me. Eating me alive. And while that should scare me, instead, it makes that banked coal in the pit of my stomach flare into a blaze, until I’m burning from the inside out.
What the hell is happening to me?
8
CARSON
Our kiss draws a soft sound from deep in Lilliana’s throat, and suddenly my balls feel heavy. My cock aches.
Claim her.
The order is so clear that I almost growl it into her soft, sweet mouth. Instead, I kiss her harder, trying to shove the beast’s demand to the back of my mind. But this time, he won’t be exiled.
She will enjoy it, he insists. And once you give her pleasure, she will recognize your claim to her.
The thoughts aren’t his, exactly. The beast has been dead at least a thousand years, and resurrecting him in my genes hasn’t literally brought him back to life.
But the thoughts aren’t mine, either. As near as I can tell, these—and everything else the beast tells me—are a manifestation of genetic memory. They’re an instinctual imperative, which my mind interprets as orders from my wild half. The half of me that Brennan stitched piece by piece into my genetic code.
I think members of the beast’s species knew from birth how to seduce a woman, the way human babies know how to suckle and cry.
Well, they knew their way to seduce a woman. And now I know it too. But that doesn’t mean his methods will work on Lilli. “Claiming” a human woman without consent will bring her trauma, not pleasure. Especially a woman who was forced into prostitution on a prison planet. At least, I think that’s why Lilli was included in a catalogue of naked women…
She has no way of understanding the beast’s drive to be with her—hell, I don’t fully understand it—and even if she did, it would only scare the shit out of her.
I should go slowly.
Instead, I sink my teeth gently into her lower lip, and when she opens her mouth for me, I plunge inside. I want her so badly. And based on the way she’s feeding from my mouth, that seems to be mutual.
Maybe the beast does know what he’s doing.
My tongue teases hers, delving into her mouth in long strokes, and her groan makes my already hard cock throb. Then, suddenly, she pushes me away with one hand on my chest.
She’s breathing hard when her gaze meets mine. Her eyes are wide and her lips are damp and swollen. “What the hell was that?”
“You said I could kiss you.” Her nipples are hard. They’re poking through the front of her shirt—through whatever bra she’s wearing—and when she sees me looking, she crosses her arms over her chest. Her cheeks are bright red, and the flush looks beautiful on her.
I want to make it deepen. I want to see what other parts of her are blushing.
“I know, I mean what the hell just happened? Did that feel like a normal kiss to you?” Her brows are drawn close together. She looks scared, not of me, but of what’s happening. Of the fact that she’s no more in control of this than I am.
“Nothing has felt normal to me in a long time, so I might not be the best judge,” I admit, fighting the urge to adjust the erection pressed against my zipper.
Her eyes widen when she sees the bulge. “Does that always happen when you kiss someone?”
“Maybe when I was thirteen.” And that’s what this feels like. I feel like my body is drowning in hormones and I can’t control my own reactions.
Last month I spent seven days in the breeding room with Tirzah Dreyer, drugged with a stimulant designed to keep my dick hard for a week. My body demanded sexual relief, and I had no choice but to give in. Yet that felt nothing like this. That felt like paint-by-numbers. Like scratching an itch just for respite from an impersonal need.
This is like trying to put out a fire by tossing gasoline on the flames.
“Do I…um…do I still smell good to you?” she asks, her gaze focused on me in spite of a question that clearly embarrasses her. She’s breathing too deeply. Her heartbeat is too fast.
“So good. Even better than before.” She smells like sex, and need, and woman, and mine. She smells like mine. And I don’t even know what the hell that means.
Lilli backs away, and I echo her movements. Stalking toward her. Pulled by a need to be near her. To touch her.
“What’s happening, Carson?” Her voice shakes as she takes another step back, and a new urgency rolls through me. She’s worried. Confused.
Comfort her, the beast demands.
I need to taste her skin. Her sweat. I need to understand what she’s feeling—nuances not carried in her scent—so that I’ll know how to soothe her. And I will if I can taste her. Her body secretes signals mine will understand.
Signals the beast will understand, anyway.
I step toward her, and she steps back, eyes wide, and we repeat this dance over and over until her back hits the wall. Her scent changes again, fear emanating from her pores to mix with the scent of her arousal, forming a tantalizing bouquet I can’t resist. Because the beast knows this composition of scents. This ritualistic retreat and surrender.
This is the mating game. And Lilli is playing, whether she knows it or not.
“Carson. What’s happening?”
“I can only make a guess.” I step forward again, and my body is pressed against hers, pinning her to the wall. My hands form a cage on either side of her shoulders. She is caught, and I have a raging erection.
I lean in slowly, and her heart races. She’s like a rabbit held in my grip, and the race of her pulse—the adrenaline, fear, and arousal swimming in her scent—rouses something feral inside me. Something ravenous and covetous.
I don’t want to hurt her. I want to devour her.
Take her, the beast demands.
“Fine. Guess.” She puts both hands on my chest and applies a light pressure. A warning for me to back down. I know that’s what she’s telling me. But the beast glories in this resistance. It’s part of the game, and she plays it so well.
Resistance is a challenge, the beast insists. A request for you to show off your strength. To demonstrate your ability to protect her. To prove yourself worthy.
Escape (Project Vetus Book 1) Page 9