The Science of Pleasure

by Jacquelyn Frank

  “All right, this isn’t working for me,” Jenesis snapped, shutting down the centrifuge she was using and turning to face him when he tried to take a heavy microscope out of her hands.

  “You’re still weak,” he said on a low breath, his blue eyes tracking the ridge of her shoulder, reminding her of the sore wound. The bite had been much deeper than she had initially realized. It was fascinating, really. If it had been just about finding a blood source, there were places where a much shallower bite would have served the purpose. But it hadn’t been just about that. It was more like the way a chimpanzee or canine might bite to mark a member of its group, mark dominance or mark a mate. Those bites were nice and deep so they stuck around for a while.

  Jen didn’t know how she felt about that overall, but at the moment she was tired of being the fire hydrant he kept pissing on in order to tell everyone she was his. Especially when he really didn’t feel that strongly about her.

  “You need to stop breathing down my neck like a stalker, Kincaid. I can’t work this way, and I honestly don’t know how much more of it I can take before I punch you in the damn nose!”

  Jenesis pulled her samples from the centrifuge with an irritated jerk, pulled an injection gun, and loaded the freshly made product into the injection chamber.

  “I’m just trying—” he started.

  “You’re trying to irritate the crap out of me!” she bit out. Then she stormed past him, injection gun in hand, heading for the privacy of her office.

  Jenesis closed the door to the office with a little too hard a slam, smacked the injector down on the table, and shrugged out of her jacket with heated temper even as she hit the button to activate the smart glass with her elbow. She was in the process of rolling up her sleeve as the door opened and shut to let in the storm that was Kincaid, the smart glass flashing clear and then clouding again as the connection was broken and then reengaged.

  He opened his mouth to lambaste her, no doubt about it, but his words froze on his lips as the fact that she was giving herself an injection sank into his awareness. He watched the needle break her skin, watched her compress the injector.

  “What is that?” he wanted to know.

  “B12,” she said dryly.

  “You don’t take B12 intravenously,” he snapped.

  She shrugged as she dropped the injector in the waste collector.

  “Fine, since there’s no way for you to argue with me about it. It’s a tracer.” She went to her laptop and turned the screen toward him; with a few taps she activated the tracing program, making sure to show him slowly how to do it. The shape of a body appeared, a warm red area slowly showing up around its inner right elbow. “In a few hours the red areas will have grown and spread throughout my body and the program. I used the same cellular tag Paulson did to attach nanobyte technology to my cells. The nanobytes are dormant, passive, and harmless. They have one purpose: They give off a GPS signal. That way if, for whatever reason, I should suddenly disappear, you are going to be able to use this laptop to track me down. This is the only tracking program I know of that is capable of doing this,” she lied briefly, “so whatever you do, don’t drop the damn laptop.”

  Kincaid was genuinely gape-mouthed as he stared at her and the tracing program alternately.

  “You . . .” He couldn’t seem to put together cohesive sentences. The implications of her actions were enormous. She had dedicated herself to the Morphate cause with that one injection. She had just acknowledged that she knew she was the bait Paulson wanted, and that she was willing to put herself on the line in order to help the Morphates finally track down their maker and . . . and do with them what they would. Exact revenge, extract information . . . whatever it was they wanted. “Jenesis, you are mortal,” he found himself saying softly, for some reason that sentence being the only one he could manage. But when he thought about it, it really was the only one that mattered. “If you put yourself out there for him, he could kill you before we even have a chance to find you with this.”

  But Jena saw the way his big fingers were brushing over the pads of the laptop’s unibody; the reverence and delicacy of the touch and the slight tremble in his big hands telling her just how badly he wanted this advantage, and just how much it meant to him. But she had known that already. It was why she had done it in the first place. It was only one of many ways she would use her brain and her science to help these people.

  “Paulson doesn’t want me dead. He wants my solutions. And once the nanobytes replicate far enough, they will remain in my body and working even if I am cut. I will bleed a trail of nanobytes with that tracer on them. Even if they do kill me, the trace won’t die with me. You’ll find me, and very likely you’ll find him.”

  He smiled grimly. Not really a smile at all when she took in the sudden fury broiling in his eyes.

  “And you think that’s a fair solution? To give your life in exchange for tracking down Paulson?”

  “I think that’s as fair as it’s going to get in this world,” she said fatalistically.

  He moved around the desk and grabbed hold of her in the span of a brief breath, her arms enclosed within his hands.

  “I don’t like it. It’s unacceptable,” he growled as his face burrowed into her hair, his breath coasting swift and hot against her ear. “It is beyond unacceptable to me.”

  Jena couldn’t resist the smile breaking over her lips. She knew this was the closest she would ever get to hearing him express concern for her. It felt ridiculously good for some reason.

  “Nevertheless, it’s done. Now all that’s left is for us to put on a very convincing performance in the lab that will snag the attention of any of Paulson’s spies and make him believe we have the solution he is looking for.”

  “And you think it could work that simply? That quickly?” he wanted to know.

  “Paulson will want to snag the solution fast, in its earliest stages, before we have a chance to refine it and turn it into some kind of handheld defense weapon.” She sighed. “It’s what any brilliant psychopath would do. Steal it before you can use it against him.”

  Kincaid knew she was right. As he stood there with his face pressed against her ear, his senses absorbing the feel and aroma of her and how thoroughly she stimulated his entire being just by being that close to him, he felt torn violently in two directions. As usual. But in this case, it was the logical brain that agreed with her suggestion of taking the darker road while the beast within him wanted nothing to do with any of this plan and wanted only to protect her and keep her safe. He wanted to grab the laptop and smash it to bits, ending this insane plan right then and there.

  “I don’t want this,” he gritted out from between tight teeth.

  “You want nothing more than this,” she countered softly. He drew in a deep, quick breath, presumably to argue with her. But then it held. Ticktock. Ticktock. Just a few crucial beats of time. And to his credit, she could feel the energy of his internal struggle like a storm swirling against her body in powerful, turbulent waves.

  “What do you suggest?” he asked finally on a rough exhale of breath, as if it took everything inside of him to make himself say the words. Again, it was the closest she imagined she would ever get to having him admit he cared about her. But in the end, she knew his passion for getting hold of Paulson meant far more. She didn’t blame him. It was a top priority on her list as well. She would never be safe from the good doctor without the strength of Kincaid and the Morphates to protect her from him. They both had their reasons for using each other.

  And they would always be using each other. As long as she was the scientist he needed and he was the Morphate she’d had a hand in creating, they could only ever use each other.

  “I’ll need a volunteer to die. The rest will be left to the imagination.”

  He lifted his head then, finally meeting her eyes, the blue of his gaze a turbulent storm of emotion and curiosity.

  “A volunteer to die?”

  “For all intents an
d purposes,” she said. “It will be up to us to make it look real and to the volunteer to carry through the pretense. It has to be someone you trust, Kincaid. Who do you trust to disappear until Paulson takes the bait? It could be for a day . . . or it could be months.”

  “I don’t know of anyone. Devona is the only one I trust . . .”

  “But she’s too important to your lab. And too close to you to make Paulson believe we’d choose to kill her. We’d pick someone lower in rank.”

  “Who would you pick, Jen? In the end, it would be . . . If it were for real, Jenesis, who would you pick as a sacrifice to prove you had a method to kill a Morphate?”

  “No, Kincaid, in the end it would be you,” she said as she looked hard into those marble blue eyes with those haunting veins of gold that laced them like a treasure she could never tap into. “As Alpha, as leader of these people, who would you pick? Who would you demand the sacrifice of? Where would you find a volunteer?” She reached to rake hard fingers through his haphazardly spiky hair. “What if I really needed someone to test my theory on? What if I really believed I had found a way to kill a Morphate? We’d need someone to test it on, wouldn’t we? Who would we pick?”

  “No one,” he breathed against her mouth. “You would never kill someone. You’d never demand a Morphate lay his life down for your science. You are not that kind of person. You never have been. I know that.”

  He lurched forward, capturing her mouth with his and, for the very first time, kissing her. Truly kissing her with feeling and emotion behind it, putting himself into the expression of affection and accepting her on the other side. It was by far the most luscious kiss she had ever been a part of. Sweet and wet and painfully tender in its way. His tongue laced with hers in several deeply touching sweeps. Then she pulled away from it, pulled back from the temptation of getting lost in the connection he was seeking in that moment.

  “The trick is making Paulson believe I am that kind of person,” she said softly against his lips. “Actually, affirming it is more like it. He is already assuming I am that kind of person. Just like you have.”

  Have. Yes. In the past. Up until that moment, in fact. But now he realized that she had never had any intention of finding a way to kill a Morphate. Simply because the only way to prove it was absolutely unacceptable to her. As would be any of the methods she would need to use to get to that point.

  “If you never had any intention of helping me do what I’ve asked of you, why are you here?” he asked quietly.

  “You asked me to do two things. The other was to help you control the beast inside of you. I think there I can be of some help. And I admit I have other goals. I want to see the Morphate children. I want you to trust me enough to let me do what I can to help them.”

  “Is that why you’ve done this?” he demanded to know, his hand gesturing to the increasingly glowing figure on the laptop screen.

  “I’m not wholly sacrificial,” she said. “I need your protection from Paulson as well. I’m in his sights as much as you are. He’s going to get me one day for one reason or another, and I need you to be there for me when that happens.”

  A strand of her hair had escaped the tight pull of her usual ponytail, perhaps because his hands were at present wrapped around her small head. He reached for it, smoothing it back into place as best as he could. It was strange, but in that moment his urges were very oppositional to his actions. He wanted nothing more than to muss her up. To pull all of her hair free, to have it between his fingers as she threw her head back in pleasure.

  But despite those overwhelming urges and the insistence of his internal beast that she was the perfect mate for him, he had replayed their sexual encounter over and over enough times to recognize that she was simply not built for him. As beautiful and delicious as she had proved to be, all his hunger could ever do was tear her apart. Her pale pallor and the weariness in her features told him that more than anything.

  Now if only he could keep reign over the part of him that wanted to countermand his control. The fact of the matter was, just the smell of her, just the nearness of her warmth stirred him up in ways he had never felt before.

  Yes, he had had some amazing fucks with some amazing women, some of them powerful Morphates who had temporarily stepped into the role of Alpha female. But none of them had ever lasted because none of them had made him feel like this.

  “Tad. That boy who thinks you’re the best thing since sliced bread,” Kincaid said gruffly. “He’s subordinate, everyone knows I don’t care for his attention to you. They see . . .” He didn’t want to point out that everyone in the lab clearly knew she was his. He’d marked her hard enough, and his hovering in the lab had made it clear. He had tried to keep it low-key, knowing the trouble an outright claim on her might cause, but it had been impossible. “He’ll do anything for you and for me. He’s invested in the project. He’ll do it and do it well.”

  Jenesis almost wanted to smile at him, but she muted the sunburst of pride she was feeling at that moment, though she didn’t wholly understand why. But she admitted she was proud of Kin for his intelligent choice, and for trusting another, whether he realized that was what he was doing or not.

  “You’re right, he’ll do it. And he can be trusted.”

  “I’ll kill him for real if he fucks it up,” Kincaid growled menacingly.

  Jena sighed. Oh well, at least he was trying.

  “Well, then, let’s go kill our Tad, shall we?” she suggested, reaching to discontinue the program and shutting down the laptop. She had to brush against him as she did so, and she could feel his strong, tightly powerful body and his incredible heat against her as she did so.

  She felt one of his hands close over her hip, and suddenly she felt him behind her as she bent forward, his arousal very evident as he rubbed himself up against her backside. The movement was powerful but brief, a strong act of dominance and a reflection of his true desires. But when he pushed away from her, his breath falling hard, she knew what it was taking for him to maintain control over his baser desires. She turned to look at him, her entire body hot with desires of her own that had been roused by his body contact.

  He had left very abruptly the night before. There had been little explanation and she hadn’t required one of him. She had just assumed they’d come to an impasse and he had thought it best to leave. But his behavior was telling a very different story. So was hers, for that matter. She should be storming furious with him for all his rude assumptions and obstinate ways, but damn him, she understood him too well. She understood his fears and his paranoia. And she felt an incredible amount of compassion and empathy. She knew what it was like to feel like you were alone and unable to put your trust in one single soul. Especially a member of the opposite sex.

  She had spent seven years denying her cravings and needs as a sexual being. Her tumultuous session of sex with him had been the closest thing she’d had to a real physical connection.

  She lifted her gaze to his, seeing the want and fire in his eyes. If she could judge by the tightness of his clenching fists, it was taking everything in him to keep from throwing her up against the smart glass and giving in to his lust.

  She stepped closer to him, reaching to touch his chest, her fingertips drifting over the ridges of abdominal muscles under the simple fashion of his oxford shirt.

  “I won’t ask an obvious question. I know you want me,” she heard herself saying, her voice so sultry it was as though it were somebody else speaking. “What I want to know is why you won’t act on it. You don’t strike me as the sort who doesn’t take what he wants. In fact, you’ve already proved as much.”

  “And nearly tore you apart in the process,” he said roughly, trying to take a step back but failing in his bid to free himself of her disturbing caresses because she stepped with him, allowing her hand to catch him by his belt. She grabbed hold and used all of her strength to pull him up tight to her aching and craving body.

  “There are other ways to express pa
ssion,” she said. Then, before either of them could judge her actions, she had shoved them both up tight against the nearest wall and let her hands run down the front of his soft denim jeans. She could feel him, erect and hot, through the fabric. “I took you well enough last night,” she said in defense of herself, although when their eyes met they both acknowledged how much he’d been forced to hold back in order to keep the episode from turning into something dangerous and very unpleasant to remember.

  But as she deftly unbuttoned his pants she knew she wasn’t looking to abuse her limited human vagina any further than she already had. She pulled his shirt free of his waistband, fingers working with wicked ease through his buttons until she could strip the fabric back, peeling it down the swells of his awesome shoulders, exposing smooth skin everywhere she went. She knew she wasn’t imagining the increase of heat radiating off of him. Her analytical brain even appreciated that there was something about the way he smelled that just got more and more delicious by the minute. It reached the point when she felt she had to touch her mouth to him. Oddly enough it wasn’t her lips that made it to him first. It was her eager, hungry tongue that licked over the large swell of his left pectoral muscle. And once the taste of him was on her tongue, she utterly forgot about the fact that the stab wound in his chest was almost completely healed, only the smallest divot in his flesh marking the spot of the occurrence.

  She hadn’t believed the violence she had found herself capable of in that moment. She hadn’t known she could get that angry. She had wanted to hurt him and that was the only way she could think of, all the time knowing it would be a very small hurt in the grand scheme of his life.

  But hurting him was by far the last thing on her mind now as she ran her tongue over the flat of his nipple. She followed the stroke up with the scrape of her teeth, and she heard and felt his fist slam into the metal frame of the wall supporting the smart glass. She smiled as she imagined what it would look like to a lab full of diligent workers if the glass were to suddenly fail. For some reason, the thought only encouraged her to be even bolder. She burrowed her hands below his waist, wrapping the fingers of both hands along the thickness of his length, her widespread fingers able to do, mostly, what her incompatible body had not been able to do last night. She surrounded his thick heat completely, stroking over him boldly from root to tip, the movement repeating again and again even as her lips drew a line from his nipple to the crest of his shoulder, though she had to lift herself to the very tips of her toes to manage it. Here she suddenly bit down on him, giving in to the sudden impulse to do so as powerfully as he had done to her, only she was missing the fangs necessary to puncture and draw up thick wells of blood like a female Morphate would.