Warrior Reborn (13 page)

“I doubt your car has quite the evil personality you credit her with.”

His hands lingered at the jacket’s collar, lifting it around her neck. Her soft skin pulsed beneath his knuckles. Close. Not nearly close enough.

“I like this Briet with no work.” He watched her lips twitch with humor.

“You don’t really know me yet.”

He leaned closer, almost touching his lips to hers and watched her eyes, gauging her response. “I’d like to. You’re very alluring.”

“You make me sound like a siren.”

“Exactly. You have this
tempting
hair.” He fluffed his fingers into the ends of her layers. “All feathery and soft. And your mouth.” He leaned closer but only enough for his breath to touch her lips and then he backed away. “That mouth is always about to lecture me. Smart and fearless,
enticing
. I bet it’s soft, too.”

“Sirens were notorious for leading men to their doom.”

Tempted, he leaned closer and inhaled. “You don’t smell like doom, you smell like…vanilla.”

She closed the distance and pressed her lips to his. He kept a hand on the coat’s collar. The other, he flexed into her hair as his tongue slowly traced her lips.

Yes, soft
.

Her moan against his mouth registered through every muscle in his body. His response, so strong—he struggled for gentleness, not allowing domination or force. Just a tender pressure as his lips and tongue became familiar with hers, exploring, coaxing.

Feeling the increased tempo of her pulse beneath his fingers, he pulled back and slid his hand to hers, raising it to his lips. “I was wrong. You taste like the caramel syrup on flan. Delicate, sweet, intoxicating.” Each word he breathed across her lips.

“Hungry again, Mr. Ballard?”

“You have no idea, Dr. Hyden.” He stepped away but slid his arm around her waist and tucked her close to his side still holding her hand.

“I should take you home now so we don’t risk missing any steps in the plan.” His fingers squeezed hers and his thumb stroked her knuckles.

A siren for sure.

CHAPTER 13

Briet laid the slides on the center table of her lab. Everyone else would go up to the main lab and use the new comparison microscope. She was satisfied with the old model she’d purchased many years back. The compact black piece of equipment was small and functional. With her powers, she didn’t need the enhanced features of the hospital’s high tech equipment.

It had been two days since her dinner with Jason. She’d seen him briefly at Sheri’s memorial service, but they hadn’t had a chance to do more than nod across the crowded room of doctors and colleagues.

He would come find her today. A certainty. She might question other things about their relationship but Jason kept an eye on her nearly as well as Ansgar. No, more closely, for Jason always seemed to know where she was or maybe she was just predictable.

Not today.

Despite her promise to keep their work and personal relationships separate, there were some things that she couldn’t compartmentalize to off-hours. Jason needed guidance as the ability inside him evolved. To learn on his own would be an insurmountable, and possibly dangerous, task.

Each Guardian power was unique, gifted to only one Guardian born per generation and ultimately shared with their mate. The children of the Sanctum had each wrestled with their powers individually, with their parents dead and all knowledge of older generations gone. Learning to adapt, to find the extent and depth of their power, to test and grow with their skills had been hard. But the Sanctum was a safe playground and they’d had each other for support during the process.

Jason had only her.

His power adapted from hers, not a random gift. Their tie as mates passed to him skills he couldn’t conceive and might not want. It was her job to not only teach him to understand his skills, but help him accept, if not embrace them.

“I’m beginning to understand how your brother feels.”

She turned around at the sound of Jason’s voice. He held up his cell phone, selected an option, and waited.

Nothing. No tone responded from her purse.

“It’s not like you don’t know where to find me.”

One brow lifted with a quick shake of his head. “Well that’s a relief, as long as you’re always where you should be. Which is never.”

She let out an exaggerated sigh and sat on one of the lab stools. “Well, you found me.”

“Yes. Are you up for dinner?” He laid his coat on the counter, glanced at the slides, and moved to stand beside her.

“Sure.” She removed a slide and placed a new one beneath the lens.

“You know there are modern miracles of machinery in the lab upstairs. Low powered comparison microscopes, even new fangled blood analysis equipment.” His laugh vibrated against her skin.

“I like keeping my skills tuned.”

“Bet you like to do addition on a slide rule, too.”

“Abacus. Definitely, the abacus.” She smiled and waved her hand. “Want to see?”

Jason gave her a dubious look but moved in as she shifted aside, curious about what she was up to. Tuning skills didn’t seem likely and he hoped the answer was in the slide. He adjusted the resolution, expecting to see the standard view of cells, specifically blood cells.

Instead, the bottom fell out again.

Mimicking his experience with Annie Bremar, the world before his eyes opened up and swallowed him, figuratively. It felt the same. His stomach churned, a slight sweat broke out across his skin.

His vision widened as the scope of the cells in the slide narrowed. The same disturbing view of a foreign, black thread surrounding the mitochondria appeared deep within the cell’s membrane. This image deepened, no longer parts of the cell, but infinitesimally smaller, resembling strands and fibers—except it wasn’t.

Jason sat back, rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands, and looked at Briet. “Annie’s blood?”

“No, Brian Paulsen’s. They’re all labeled.” She nodded to the other slides, neatly standing in protected cardboard rows in a small box.

He looked from Briet to the box. What was she trying to do to him? No. There was no way she could know what he’d seen. He tried for composure and reached for another slide from the box, placing the one marked Brian Paulsen to the side of the microscope.

Frowning, he read the name. Phin Murphy. “Dr. Makai’s patient?”

“She lets me look at the samples once they’re cataloged. I think it amuses her that I want to do things the old fashioned way.”

“No doubt.” Jason looked at the slide in his hand and placed it beneath the lens. It was just a sample. If he didn’t treat it like it was the Ebola virus, he would be fine.

Again, his vision spiraled deep into the cell, diving at a nauseating speed.

“Perhaps if you try to regulate your breathing while you look, it won’t bother you as much?”

He lifted his gaze. How could she know?

She gestured to his hands fisted on the counter.

With a deep breath, he looked again through the eyepieces and counted mentally as he focused. Slow and steady, as if checking for a pulse, the dizzying journey slowed. That he could see what shouldn’t exist was one thing. That he could control it like a free-fall jump from a plane—faster and then slower, by regulating his concentration—okay, his breath—was intriguing. Scary, but intriguing.

“What do you—”

He looked up for her, but she was gone. Her purse and files were still on the counter so wherever Briet had disappeared to she was obviously coming back. Not because of the purse. Her personal items she treated like flotsam, but she never left her files behind.

“I see our Dr. Hyden has once again permeated the well-constructed boundaries of our trial. Is she going to recommend leeches as well as antiquated equipment?”

Dr. Sanyu’s voice stilled Jason over the microscope, uncertain for a second of what approach to take.

He turned, covering some of the microscope from view as he quietly moved Phin Murphy’s slide from beneath the lens, palming it. “I gather she just likes to compare the old to the new. As far as I know, all of her patient samples are processed through the lab upstairs.”

Sanyu moved closer to Jason in an almost obvious intent to check out his assumption of Briet’s latest infringement of protocol.

“Rather nostalgic. Want a look?” Jason moved aside and placed Brian Paulsen’s slide beneath the lens.

Sanyu adjusted the resolution, swore twice, readjusted the resolution again, and then stood up unimpressed. “Seems like a waste of time.” Sanyu glanced at the name on the slide, then across the lab counter and finally shook his head in disgust.

Jason nodded agreeably, crossing his arms across his chest, Phin’s slide still in his palm. “But we don’t pay for this, so no harm, no foul.”

Sanyu’s expression looked conflicted and he didn’t bother with a response to the comment. “Are you heading back to the hospital?”

“Yes. I’ve checked in on most of the doctors over here. I’ll head back with you.” Jason picked up his coat, the box of slides tucked discretely beneath, and dropped Phin’s slide into his pocket. The ramifications of one slide appearing in Briet’s lab Jason could cover. He suspected Sanyu wanted more ammunition. Jason wasn’t about the give him the opportunity.

From Sanyu’s bland reaction, he had to assume the man hadn’t seen what Jason had under magnification.

Good thing.

While Jason had never actually seen DNA strands before, he’d read enough to recognize what he’d seen in both Brian’s and Phin’s slide. More disturbing, neither slide reflected normal DNA.

Until he could figure out what he was seeing, what Briet’s role was, and why Sanyu was so determined to hang her out to dry, the slides would stay hidden with him.

***

Jason linked his hands behind his head and stretched his arms back. No pops or cracks sounded from his joints and his muscles remained cramped from sitting over his laptop for the last—he glanced at the modern brass clock over his fireplace. Six hours.

Jeez, no wonder he felt like a mushroom.

He walked into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and stared. If only looking would make something appear. Briet had bailed on dinner, but given the resurgence of Annie Bremar’s nightmares, it was understandable.

Giving up on warm food, he grabbed an apple and looked out over the city through the floor to ceiling window in front of his computer table. The hospital was fifteen minutes by car, but the remote twinkle of the city’s lights gave him the illusion of further distance.

He would have preferred to stay in his office, especially with Briet in the hospital. However, Max’s appearance in his office an hour after he and Dr. Sanyu returned from the lab indicated watchful eyes were a little too alert.

Max hadn’t even mentioned Dr. Sanyu, which in itself was unusual. Jason had left Sanyu outside the conference room Max used as an office on his increasingly frequent trips to the hospital. Sanyu had still been in the conference room with Max, the door closed, on a conference call thirty-five minutes later when Jason left for coffee.

He could hear their voices, but no intelligible words. Not that he’d been snooping.

For Max to show up so often was unprecedented. For him to have no objective when he dropped in on Jason was stranger.

The patients would be finished with their inpatient process in two weeks. The remainder of the trial called for weekly visits and treatments and then biweekly visits for the subsequent months. In theory, processes should be calming down. Results should be evening out.

So what was Max involved with Dr. Sanyu on that precluded giving details to him?

The final round of treatments would ship next week. Each, closely monitored and accompanied by registered courier, would be housed in a secured environment in the lab building.

Jason had positive confirmations of shipment and receipt from the Welson lab point of contact. He had reviewed and found no inconsistencies with the patient data. All the doctors were comfortable with the current protocol and the responses of their patients.

Then there were Briet’s slides.

He pitched the apple core into the sink for the disposal. Not sanitary, but he scored. He plucked through the unopened pile of mail the housekeeper left on his coffee table. The apartment didn’t need much cleaning. Yet given the unpredictability of his hours, he paid willingly for clean rooms, laundry, and the nice elderly woman even stacked the mail in a tidy fashion.

Trash, he tossed to the left, bills to the right until only one envelope remained in his hands. With a stiff exhale, he stood to toss the envelope in a black rattan basket in his bookshelf. It slid to rest on top of several dozen other unopened envelopes. He blinked and looked away from the basket. Discipline and restraint, either could constrain almost any sin imaginable. That and a good set of rules.

Jason walked back to the computer and stared down at the DNA sequence, the box of slides sitting open to the side. Shaking his head, he moved back to the couch.

His life was about rules.

Give everything two hundred percent. Work and play.

Don’t let one side interfere with the other.

Don’t wear out your welcome. Never hard to do if you didn’t keep people too close.

Don’t get too involved. It will only lead to errors in judgment and misunderstandings. Relationships should be enjoyable but brief. He’d always treated women with respect, but kept his associations short. Honesty about his lack of desire for commitment made it easier to move on without problems on either side.

So why was he so intent on pursuing Briet Hyden? She was the epitome of the reason he kept relationships superficial. Occasionally, he ran across a nice woman. He’d cut them loose in a flash.

However, Briet wasn’t just nice. She was smart and appealing. He would find himself knee deep in conversations with her, just waiting for her smile. He wanted to please her, protect her, and meet minds with her.

Yeah, fuck that
. He wanted much more from her. At dinner, in the office, and in his bed, the last with a deep, dangerous, hot, aching want. For her, he was slowly breaking every rule he’d so carefully instituted. Those rules were there for good reasons—to protect him and others.