Elite Metal-ARE-epub (86 page)

“Did they?” she cocked her head to the side, eyeing him.

“You know they did. I never…” He shook his head and then turned around. He pointed at the tattoo on the back of his head. “This is here for a reason. It’s to remind others in case I forget.” He faced her. “I’m poison. I’m a biohazard. Everything I touch dies.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because I kill it. I told you that’s what I do. I’m a monster.”

“Scars don’t make you a monster.”

“No.” He shook his head again. “They don’t. It’s what I am underneath.”

“Even if what happened at the lab was your fault—”

“It was. But even if it wasn’t, this is what I do. You wanted to know about me? I already told you I kill people. I wasn’t kidding.  It’s not pretty. It’s not glamorous. Maybe some people think the people I killed deserved to die. The slaver in Kandahar that I fed a special brew of my own making—it made his veins blister on the inside and he drowned in his own blood. After his death, his wife wailed over his grave for days they tell me. And the graves of her sons, because they tried to hunt me down. It’s hard to hide with such a distinctive face. I hit them with the same cocktail. They also tell me she hanged herself. The best part? I’ve weaponized it for my team. Biological warfare is my specialty. Do you understand?”

“Those are terrible things, John.” She nodded. “But just as you told me that I don’t need to confess my sins, neither do you.”

“Oh, but I do. Because for some damn reason, you’ve painted me with a hero’s brush.”

“I did at that.” The warm evening breeze rustled through the door behind him, carrying his scent. “And I can’t seem to stop, no matter what you do. Those things you told me are truly awful, but it only makes me feel safer when I’m with you.”

“Then God help you, lady, because no one else is going to be able to.”

“Why did you come back then?” Why was he warning her off, but still standing close enough to touch?

“Because you’re not safe. It’s my fault you’re not safe. So I will make you safe. Then we’ll both forget that we ever spoke.”

She inhaled sharply. “I could never forget. I wouldn’t want to forget. Do you have some special drink for that? Wipe away the spare few moments we’ve had like they mean nothing?”

“They don’t mean anything. They can’t.” He looked away from her. “You said you thought you knew who was following you and why.”

Hazel wrapped her arms around herself. “Because of the van. I think Marcus is dealing and using the van as cover.”

“Have you reported your suspicions, documented them in any way?” He began walking through her apartment, inspecting vents and fire alarms.

“No.” She cocked her head to the side. “But that night I took the van out alone, when I got back, Marcus told me he had to take the van in for maintenance. At that time of night? I let it slide. Just like when he goes behind the van to talk to certain people who seem to find us no matter what neighborhood we’re in. And I know Marcus’s mother cut off access to his trust until he’s thirty, but I see him driving around in that brand new Porsche. His lifestyle doesn’t make sense with his means. He’s also been busted before. Helping with the van qualifies as his community service. Again, stepdaddy agreed to fund this just to get Marcus out of trouble.”

“And you’re willing to let it slide as you say because helping a few people while he deals is better than helping no one?”

She nodded. Hearing him say it made it sound so sordid.

“Then why would he send someone to follow you?”

“Maybe he tattled to daddy that I took the van without permission and they want to make sure I’m not going to be a problem.”

“It’s bigger than that, little girl. Your little friend knew my name. Knew a lot about me and what I do. The people who would know that run in the big leagues and are into a lot more than some bastard rich kid pushing X to other bastard rich kids.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I need to see how far down the rabbit hole goes. I don’t know if they’re watching you because of something you did or because of me.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Is there somewhere you can go for a few days?”

“Run away?” She put her hands on her hips. “I can help you.”

“Yes, you can help me by keeping yourself safe.”

“Safe.” Hazel rolled her eyes. “You keep saying that word, but what does it mean to you? What do you think it means to me?”

He cocked his head to the side, seemingly confused by the question. As if safe had one, and only one meaning. Locked in a box, or in a display case.

“I can do more than—” She paused at the scent of roses and burnt paper. “What is that?”

The big man froze, a look of horror mangling his already twisted face. “It can’t be.” He plucked the face of the vent off easily, the cheap metal bending under his strong fingers.

Just as he pulled out some kind of canister her vision blurred and banked arousal that had been brewing between simmer and spark erupted. She could feel
everything
in hyper-sensation. The carpet under her toes, the smooth grain of the wood desk worn away by years of touch, the cotton of her panties suddenly soaked against her cleft. Her nipples tightened to hard points and she could hear her heartbeat thundering in her own ears and it drowned the sound of everything else.

She saw that John was speaking to her, but she couldn’t hear the words. And even if she could’ve heard them, she wouldn’t have been able to process them. Her knees went weak and when she wavered, he grabbed her.

His strong hand hot on her skin was both pleasure and pain. It was so much bliss, it processed as pain. Or maybe it was the other way around? She couldn’t tell the difference.

Hazel didn’t know if she cried out at the touch, but she must’ve because his face was so haunted. The lapels of his trench were sheer torture, rubbing against her taut peaks through the soft material of her t-shirt.

But she sought out more of it, needed it.

For as much as it was agony, it was ecstasy too.

She pressed against him, squirming to get closer. To find something to ease the fire that burned somehow under the flesh.

“Hazel, I’m so sorry.”

Jesus, even the way he said her name, it was like a caress. Forbidden, wrong, but she wanted to hear it again.

Her hands were everywhere, under his shirt, fingertips exploring the topography of his scars—the ridges of puckered skin so at odds with the smooth expanse of solid muscle.

“Do you know what this is?”

“It seems you’ve been dosed with something that’s a derivative of something I worked on. It’s not affected me at all. I must be immune to such a watered down dose. I’m so sorry.”

She heard his words as only vague impressions. She couldn’t stop touching him, didn’t want to. He endured it all, stoic and still.

She realized she’d pushed so far beyond the boundary of what had made him run before. Her brain loosely linked this reaction to whatever had been in the canister. This wasn’t normal, but that knowledge had taken a backseat to the insistent burn.

“Are you still going to punish me? Make me afraid?” she dared. Even as the words came out of her mouth, she knew they were taunting and cruel. But it was as if her body and mind weren’t her own.

“This attraction you thought you felt, Hazel, it’s not real. It’s chemically induced.” His deep voice was low, tender.

She shivered.

“Doesn’t make it feel any less real.” Hazel grabbed his hand and pressed it down between her thighs. Part of her watched her own actions from afar, horrified at her behavior, embarrassed, ashamed—but another part of her was thrilled to be released from those things.

He allowed it, he didn’t pull away.

From the bulge in his fatigues, he wanted her too.

The idea of him pressing her down, grabbing her hard like he had when he’d kissed her and taking everything he wanted, just as he wanted—it caused tremors to ripple through her.

“When this is over,” he started to move his fingers in slow circles against her. “You’re going to feel so violated. So angry. I promise I’ll make this right. This is my fault.”

“At them. Not you.” She dug her nails into his shoulders. “Please don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

Hazel couldn’t stand the expression on his face. “If you really don’t want to do this—” she licked her lips, sure she’d die if he stopped touching her “—I am” she caught another shaky breath as waves of sensation rolled over her “—a modern woman. I can handle this on my own.”

“And leave you to deal with the fallout? The aftercare? You don’t feel it right now, but you have a fever. Your heartbeat is way too fast. Even as diluted as it is, it could still kill you. This shit is pure poison.”

“How do you know?” she gasp and ground her hips down toward the motion of his fingers. Even as one orgasm roiled through her, her need was still at a fevered pitch. 

“Because I designed it.”

In her agitated state, she could still see how this pained him. “It’s okay, John. You didn’t—” she shoved the coat from his shoulders. “Do this. But you can make it better.”

“When this passes, you’re going to wish I’d never touched you.”

“What if it passes and I want you to touch me more?” She tugged at his shirt, needing him naked.

He allowed her to undress him while he texted something on his phone. She wanted him to pay attention to her. Touch her. Need her like she needed him. But she’d settle for him not stopping her.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Exchanging intel.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now. I need to be out hunting those bastards, but I’m not leaving you with anyone else like this.”

“Don’t leave me at all,” she said quietly.

Hazel was more disgusted with herself in that moment than for any of the other things she’d done. How needy and pathetic was that?

Only, he didn’t mock her and he didn’t turn away. He picked her up and carried her into the shower.

“We need to cool you off. Fast.”

“A cold shower isn’t going to do anything for my—”

“It’s for your fever.” He kicked off his boots and began peeling her clothes from her.

He didn’t hide from her, didn’t flinch when she kept tracing his scars.

“Do they hurt?” She hoped not because she loved how they felt under her fingertips.

“Not any more. I don’t feel much of anything.” When the water hit her, she shrieked. The cold burned more than the fever, but he held her there under the water with no mercy.

When he finally released her, she said, “You know we don’t do that anymore.” Her teeth chattered. “It’s dangerous to lower a fever with a cold shower.”

“What you have is dangerous, and honey, the water isn’t cold.” He pushed her hair out of her face with such a gentle touch.

“It hurts, John. It hurts so fucking good.”

“I’m glad it’s good. Better this than what I got.” It was his turn to touch her, his fingers on her face, the rounded curve of her shoulder following the path of the water sluicing down her body.

“This is what you were working on?”

“It affects the nerve centers. Such a small, small dose and look what it did to you. Look what
I
did to you. You should be running away from me. This is my fault.”

Her shaking fingers were on the buttons of his fatigues and he didn’t stop her. She pushed them down his hips and saw the rest of his scars. This same thing that had ignited such bliss in her had done this to him.

But still, he was beautiful. He was like a work of art, built so strong and solid. Lines of muscle and sinew were formed into the perfect machine. Even the ruin of skin of the left side of his body. She didn’t know why she was so obsessed with it.

Maybe this… whatever had infected her.

“So you can’t feel this?” She pressed her lips to his hip and his cock, hard and long, jerked.

“Seeing you touching me is almost as good as feeling it.”

She wrapped her hand around his cock and took the tip into her mouth.

“We’re here for you, not me,” he said scrubbing a hand through the water and over his face.

“This is for me.” He was velvet on her tongue, she was so aware of the texture of him, the weight. She noticed things she wouldn’t have otherwise, the contrast of velvet and steel and she especially loved how he stood so still, letting her do as she wished.

She stroked him with one hand, herself with the other—fingers deep in her own wet, depths. God, she’d never been so wanton. Not even when she’d touched herself while he watched.

“You were watching me.”

“You knew I was watching, didn’t you?”

“I hoped.”

“Are you an exhibitionist?”

“For you.” She filled her mouth again. His body was like some fantasy ride. She wanted to touch everything, taste everything…

“I can’t let you do this.” He hauled her up and she hooked her legs around his waist. John turned off the water and stepped out of the shower to stand in front of her mirror.

Hazel had to say it was one of the most erotic things that had ever happened to her, being able to see the contrast between their bodies. Him, so hard and strong and her, soft and feminine—pliant against him.

“Maybe this will help you see the choice you’re making.”

“It’s helping me.” She shifted her hips unwittingly and gave a little moan.  “You say it’s your fault that this happened to me. So have mercy and make me come.” She tightened her embrace and met his eyes in the mirror. “Fuck me, John.”

A low sound was torn from him, she couldn’t tell if it was a moan or a growl, or some hybrid. All she knew was that it was sexy as hell and it meant she was getting what she wanted—what she needed.

She found herself up against the wall again, his hands cupping her ass. He held her aloft easily, as if she weighed nothing. For a woman of her height and build, that was a new experience. One she greatly enjoyed.

His cock was nestled against her cleft, head prodding at her ready entrance. She’d dreamed of this—wanted it. Her whole body shuddered in anticipation. He moved her, guided her as he chose and thrust against her, teasing her already swollen and aching clit.

Pleasure rippled through her in the wake of his caress, she didn’t know where one sensation ended and another began. It was as if all of her sense receptors had been flipped to on. He worked her slit against his cock until she thought she might die of it.