He waited a careful moment before replying. “And this bugs you.”
“It does,” she agreed fervently. “Our meeting got moved to the Center and I didn’t want them to get a fix on the new location. Of course, they will eventually. Not right away, though. I’m so sick of it. Like they think I’m going to freak out and do something dangerous.”
A charged silence fell between them. He slid his hand across the table next to hers without touching it. Several moments passed before he made contact. Just barely. The side of his hand brushed the side of hers. Her heart tripped over itself, then set off at a wild gallop.
“How about you tell me all about this jackass stepdad of yours and the evolution of human thought over dinner?” he offered.
She froze, mouth open. Eyes wide. Heart still thudding. Excited. Scared.
“Bad idea?” he asked, but he didn’t move his hand away. “Look, I’m sorry. We don’t know each other, and sometimes I don’t know when to shut up. And you’ve had a rough night.”
“Ah … not really,” she said. “It got off to a rocky start, but it seems to be looking up. So don’t apologize.” Her voice gained strength. “You stepped out of nowhere and saved my ass. Which puts you in a special category.”
A huge grin wrapped itself around his head. “Yeah?” Special category sounded good. Until he remembered her checking out his phone on the sly.
Allegedly checking it out, that is. He had no proof.
“Yeah.” Her chin was high.
So was her color. He could kiss that pink in her cheeks, her lips. If she’d let him.
“Don’t treat me like a victim,” she said. “Thanks to you, I’m not one.”
“I don’t think you’re a victim,” he said, with absolute sincerity. “I think you’re a terrifying hell-cat. I mean, underneath. Not on the outside. Trust me, it’s a compliment.”
That surprised a peal of laughter out of her. “Nobody’s ever said anything like that about me in my life.”
“Nobody’s been paying attention.”
Her smile swiftly faded. “You got that right.”
Aw, fuck. He’d chased the beautiful smile away. He turned his hand, clasping hers completely in his own. “Let’s go someplace else and keep talking,” he suggested.
She looked like she wanted to reply, but the words had gotten stuck in transit. She stared down at their clasped hands.
Then she blushed.
He actually sensed the sudden release of emotions that made it happen. She got even pinker, and that hot, sweet woman scent intensified. Fucking delicious.
His short hairs stood up on end in stiff salute. Everything saluted. The same rush of blood that happened to her was happening to him in equal measure—but down on the basement level. Swelling his dick to massive proportions.
Down. Chill. Control.
His face was hot now, too, as his ASP sputtered to life again, like it always did when he was rocked by any strong emotion. It flickered and scrolled wildly on his field of vision, spitting up random bits of irrelevant data. After years of practice, he could mostly ignore it, but he did not appreciate the distraction right now.
He breathed it down. Kept on holding her hand. Playing it cool.
“So?” he said carefully, after a few moments. “Dinner?”
He heard her heart rev again in response. She took a breath to reply—
And her phone rang.
Four chiming tones. Strange, out of tune intervals. The volume was so low he was surprised she heard it at all. It was below the threshold of normal unmod hearing.
Her reaction was sudden and violent. Her pupils contracted to pinpricks, her face went white, and her hand ice cold. Her body suddenly vibrated with tension.
The chimes sounded again. Her hand jerked away from his, white-knuckled.
Chimes, again. Her lips had gone purplish-blue. Sweat shone on her forehead.
Holy shit. He recognized that look. That fixed stare. Frozen on the outside and screaming mortal agony inside. He recognized it viscerally. He’d been there. He knew.
He could hear the huge grinding, screeching noise in her head, echoing through his memory. Felt the lethal grip of terror.
The Midlands stare, they called it. Body systems on lockdown. Brain about to explode. One of the painful consequences of fighting an active compulsion pattern.
No. No way was this even remotely possible. Simone couldn’t have been modified with a slave soldier compulsion pattern. His logical mind dismissed the idea. It was total bullshit. Simone had family, money, status. She was no discarded stray kid without any official identity who could be viciously used without protest or consequences.
It wasn’t possible that she’d ever undergone anything like what they’d—
Her spoon rattled violently in the cup she held as the chimes sounded a fourth time. Hot tea sloshed heavily over her hand. She made no sign that she felt it.
He steadied her cup, set it back on the table, and tried to take her hand, but she jerked it away. The table jiggled and shook.
Chimes, again. Her lips were blue now. He could hear and feel her blood pressure drop. No air going into her lungs. Shitshitshit, she was losing consciousness, and that was just for starters. He couldn’t bear to watch this. Not tonight. Not her.
“You going to answer that?” he demanded. “Alison! Your phone!”
“Don’t … want … to.” Her voice was strangled.
“Pick up. You can’t do this right now. You’re not ready. Go on. Answer it. Right now!”
Her lungs strained for air. She stared into his eyes, desperate. Still fighting it.
Fighting an active compulsion pattern took all you had. It required a plan, a strategy, a system, support. You had to work up to it slowly, or you could fucking kill yourself. He’d seen it happen. It was sad and ugly.
“Answer it!” he hissed into her face. “Goddamnit, Alison. Now!”
She picked up the phone with a shaking hand.
* * * *
The instant Simone answered, the agony relented. Just enough to let in a life-saving gulp of air. Then another. And another. She concentrated on keeping her voice from quavering. “Hi. Rand?”
“Simone? What the hell? I’ve been calling every five minutes for the last half hour! You never picked up! What the hell is going on with you?”
“Nothing. I’m fine. I was just, ah … busy.”
“I’m not buying it.” Rand waited expectedly for another round of excuses from her, but she didn’t trust her voice yet. After a few seconds, he barreled on. “I understand you need time to process what happened with Noah, but you’ve been holed up in your house for months and you have symptoms that need to be addressed.”
She clenched her teeth against a fresh, nauseating wave of pain. “And?”
“I made an appointment for you with Dr. Laera. She’ll see you tomorrow morning. A car will pick you up at eight.”
“Cancel it,” Simone said. “I’m not going to see Dr. Laera.”
The grinding noise began to swell even as she said it. She put her hand to one temple, bracing herself for the pain that she somehow knew was going to follow.
And oh fuck … It did. Like an icepick to the head. She wanted to vomit.
Rand was the last person on earth she wanted to talk to right now. Particularly right after that panic attack, or whatever the hell it was. Right in front of the hottest, most intriguing guy she’d ever seen in real flesh and blood.
Her neurological symptoms were getting worse. All at once. Fate was such a spiteful bitch.
Rand’s voice faded in and out. “ … hate to lecture you—”
“Then don’t,” she said, gasping at a fresh stab of pain.
Through the wobbly haze of pain-tears, she could see the alarm in Zade’s face. Shit. Pull yourself together. She tuned back into Rand’s yammering. “ … so unprofessional to abandon your colleagues mid project!”
“I haven’t taken a day off in years,” she blurted.
“But you can’t just disappear!” His voice distorted again into meaningless sound as she clenched against another wave of sickening pain.
His voice blared suddenly loud in her ear. “ … prototype of the latest neurostim wand for my meeting with Phillip Holt tomorrow. You know Holt needs visual aids to pry his mind open to anything new.”
“I need more time,” she whispered. “To work out bugs. Not ready.”
“I need to have the latest version. For security’s sake.”
“Soon,” she said. “Gotta go, Rand.”
“Come back to work, Simone,” Rand lectured. “I insist.”
She was intensely conscious of Zade listening to her side of the conversation. His clear, attentive gaze had a strange effect. It made the brain-numbing buzz ease.
Great. She’d take it. She just kept staring at him. Whatever helped. “I’m moving forward,” she repeated. “Everything’s all on track.”
“That’s good, but you have to see Dr. Laera.”
“No. I refuse to go back.” She braced for the pain … and there it was, right on cue. A flare of searing, white-hot agony. Longer than before.
Her hand jerked, knocking the mug over. Tea spread over the table.
“Where are you, Simone?” Rand demanded.
She stopped even trying to keep her voice from shaking. Lost cause. “Home,” she told him.
“Don’t bullshit me.”
Amid the pain and the noise, a stab of clarity. Rand knew she wasn’t home. That sneaky son of a bitch. “One of your security guys found me, right?”
Rand didn’t deny it. “Yes. Kruger found you, after wandering in circles all evening to track you down. Who’s that man you’re with? Kruger sent me photos. I don’t recognize him.”
Another knifelike jab of pain as she forced the words out. “None of your business.”
“This is no time for adolescent rebellion. You’re not well. Dr. Laera can—”
She ended the call and turned the phone off before the next wave of agony.
She braced herself for it, fists clenched.
It hit, and her vision went dark.
Chapter 4
Lost in the noise, the pain. She may have fainted. There was only darkness, torn by jagged, blinding lights. Pain. Deafening hurricane noise.
At one point, she felt and heard sounds that might have come from her own mouth, but she had no control over them. Someone held her. She didn’t know who. She smelled damp leather. Fresh male sweat. Felt strong arms circling her. Zade.
His physical presence was a sensory anchor in time and space. The universe lurched sickeningly as she spun at its edge.
But with Zade holding on to her, she wouldn’t fly into a million pieces. He wouldn’t allow it.
A low, crooning rumble of sound vibrated through her. She couldn’t make out the words, but the sound soothed. He gripped her shoulders, kneading her back.
Such a strange sensation. She hadn’t been touched in so long.
She felt a kiss against her forehead, warm and soft. The point of contact glowed like a star. He kissed her again, on the top of her head. His voice was becoming audible again. She could almost understand him. He cupped her face, looking into her eyes, but his voice phased in and out. Blaring intensely loud, then fading away completely.
“ … talisman. Listen.” His voice was urgent and soft. “Think of something beautiful. Something you love, something that makes you feel strong. That’s your talisman, okay? Focus on it. Make it the only thing you can see in your mind. You following me? Can you hear?”
She nodded, dragging precious air into her constricted lungs.
“Good.”
She blinked rapidly, staring at him. Your talisman. Something beautiful. Something that makes you feel strong. The only thing you can see in your mind.
His dark eyes, so piercingly deep and intense. She was going to see them whenever she closed her eyes anyway.
“Got your talisman ready?” His voice faded out, lost in the noise.
“Yeah.” Her voice was a thin, papery croak.
“Good. Close your eyes. Focus on that one beautiful thing. It’s all around you. Go inside. You’re safe there. No one can mess with you in there. Can you do that?”
She concentrated for a moment, visualizing his face. Filling her mind with it.
Her head still hurt, but when she breathed, more air came in. She nodded.
“Good. Just stay in there. You’ll be fine. Wait it out.” His voice was low and soothing.
She leaned her forehead against his chest and did exactly as he said.
And it actually worked. She concentrated on his eyes, his voice. Him. His face glowed in the darkness inside her mind.
The storm still raged around her, but it had retreated slightly. She could wait, quiet and safe, in that still inside place.
Shelter. He’d created it. Out of nothing. Out of nowhere.
He continued to knead her shoulders and nuzzle her hair. The caress of his breath moved the hairs against her neck. An intimate, delicately ticklish contact. His strong, gentle fingers stroked and squeezed through her coat, soothing and comforting.
The pain had not disappeared, but she could hold herself apart from it. She wasn’t lost in it. The panic began to ease.
Breathe. She could do that. Slowly.
“Okay,” he murmured. “That’s good.” His encouraging voice warmed her.
She didn’t want to look up. She hated to imagine what she must look like.
“Better?” he asked.
Simone nodded, rubbing her eyes. Braced for the expression that was sure to be on his face. That trapped look. His mind racing frantically for a way to unload the scary chick, but let her down gently. Get out of a situation that was way over his head without being a total asshole.
Tall order. Poor guy.
But she could help him with that. She could be generous. God knows, he had been. He’d saved her ass twice now. First with those guys. Now with his mind trick.
She wasn’t going to make him suffer. He didn’t deserve it.
She’d outdone herself this time. Way to lure a hot guy into her bed. Display her weird mental wiring before the first date. Great. Cue the slow clap.
She might have known she’d fuck this up before it even got started, but maybe it was better this way. Her awkward attempts to hook up always crashed and burned. She intimidated guys. Or made them nervous. Or worse, bored them.
She couldn’t bear for that to happen with Zade. Best to steer around that potential catastrophe in a big wide circle.
She groped mentally for an out. Something that would save face for both of them. “Look, ah … I don’t even really have to call a car at this point,” she told him. “I could just tell Kruger to give me a ride home. He’s right outside.”
“Not up for dinner, then?”
She was taken aback at his downcast tone. “I, um … ”
“I’d understand if you don’t feel well enough,” he said. “And we could shoot for tomorrow. Breakfast, brunch, lunch. Anything is fine. As long as it’s soon.”
Huh. He seemed sincere. “Well, on second thought, I could,” she said hesitantly. “Do dinner, I mean. Just thought I’d, um, you know, destroyed the mood.”
He shook his head slowly. “Nope.”
An out-of-control smile was spreading over her face. She’d never felt a smile like that. One she hadn’t carefully dosed and calibrated to the exact intensity warranted by a given occasion. Her face gave her no choice. It felt great.
She didn’t even know what a smile like that would look like in the mirror.
“That’s unusual, you know,” she told him.
He looked at her quizzically. “What is?”
“That you’re not spooked by what just happened. Any normal guy would be. And I wouldn’t blame that guy at all.”
“I’m not normal,” Zade said. “No one would buy it if I tried to be. So I don’t worry about it.”
“I sure have,”
she blurted. “I try so hard. You would not believe.”
“Yeah?” His brows came together in a thoughtful frown. “How’s that working out for you?”
“It sucks,” she said. “Falls apart on me every time. Like a wet paper bag.” She winced inwardly. Stop babbling. Please. Just stop.
“Hey, it’s okay to be different. Didn’t you read all those kids’ books about that?”
“No.” She realized he was teasing her when he chucked her under the chin.
“Me neither,” he said. “Raised by wolves.”
Her spirits rose a little. “It shows.”
“Thanks.” He grinned at her wickedly. “Anyway, I don’t think normal actually exists. It’s just a myth that makes us all feel like outcasts.”
Simone shrugged. “I guess so. But there are degrees.”
“Yeah,” Zade agreed. “But we all get our asses kicked some way or other. I don’t judge anyone for hitting the ground. What counts is that you get back up. Which you do. You fight back. Like a demon. I respect that.”
She wasn’t quite sure what he was getting at. “Fight? You mean the pepper spray and all that?”
“Sure. That goes without saying. But how about that phone call? You were getting hammered but you just wouldn’t go down. You’re tough.”
Simone was bewildered, but pleased. “Whatever. If that’s how you want to interpret it, I’m not going to argue with you.”
“Good, because you wouldn’t change my mind. So dinner’s on?”
“One last thing,” she said reluctantly. “We won’t have any privacy. Don’t forget Kruger. He’ll follow us everywhere and take pictures. Big pain in the ass.”
He pondered that, regarding her with those inscrutable dark eyes. “I bet I can get you out of here without Kruger seeing you go. Do you trust me?”
She listened to herself just come out and say it. “Yes.”
And she meant it, for the most part, but it was another big step taking her even deeper into the void. He’d materialized out of the blue and helped her fight off thugs and an excruciating panic attack, and for that alone she was inclined to trust him. But dinner in a crowded restaurant while Kruger snapped pictures was one thing. Disappearing into the night perhaps never to be seen again was quite another.
My Next Breath Page 3