CHAPTER 16
CHLOE
“You should get some sleep.”
Mathis sounded exhausted. Chloe would have said so, but one look at him and the words died on her lips.
Three weeks. Even thinking the words made her want to curl up on the floor and never get up again. Three weeks since their failed escape attempt, and it felt like three months.
For a few days, Harper had ignored them. Chloe had been stupid enough to think that would continue.
Instead, the moment his guests left, Harper had turned the psychopathy up to eleven.
Every night, Harper forced Mathis to fight the other shifters. And every night he “treated” Chloe to a VIP spot in the viewing lounge, where she watched Mathis be hurt.
It wasn’t just the physical wounds that hurt him. It was the choice Mathis made every time he had to hit or be hit. He’d told Chloe he didn’t think the other fighters were here by choice, any more than the two of them were, and she knew that having to face off against other prisoners tortured him more than any injury.
Faking it wasn’t an option. If Harper even suspected Mathis was throwing a fight, he would send in the polar bear shifter to, as he put it, “liven things up”.
Chloe shivered. Harper’s glee at seeing Mathis in the ring was unnerving—but the longer she was here, the more frightened she was by the thought of what might happen when he lost interest.
Mathis was killing himself out there, and he thought she needed sleep.
“You’re the one who needs to sleep,” she said, making sure her voice didn’t wobble. “How’s your shoulder?”
“It’s fine.”
It wasn’t. Chloe could see that. A child could see that. An alien child from the Moon who didn’t even know what a shoulder was could see that.
Chloe had spent three weeks listening to Gerald Harper gleefully tell her his plans for Mathis. Three weeks of none of her former colleagues so much as meeting her eye, even when Harper ordered them to pour her champagne or serve her dinner.
Three weeks of watching Mathis clean his own wounds while she sat on her hands, and then watching them heal, more slowly each time.
Chloe clenched her fists.
“Right. It’s fine. Sure it is. And sleeping in that armchair again is going to help it heal faster, isn’t it?”
Mathis turned away. “It’ll be—”
“Bullshit.” Chloe stabbed him in the chest with one finger. The touch sent a shock of electricity through her. She caught her breath and continued, hands clenched safely at her sides. “I saw you this evening. You could hardly lift your arm even before the fight started.” She bit her lower lip as it started to tremble. “And you haven’t stopped bleeding yet. Last week that bite on your cheek would have healed over in minutes, but it’s been an hour and you’re still, still—”
She swallowed hard. “It’s getting worse, isn’t it? Your healing ability can’t deal with all of the injuries.”
Mathis looked at her for a moment that stretched out too long. His pale gold eyes were tired, ringed with dark shadows and with deep lines at the corners that hadn’t been there a week ago.
At last he looked away, leaving Chloe wondering what he’d been looking for.
“You’re right,” he admitted. “My healing powers can’t keep up.”
Chloe gulped. “How long—” She couldn’t finish the sentence.
“I don’t know. I’ve never known anyone this has happened to before, but from what Sven says…” He rubbed his hand over his mouth. “Eventually it will stop altogether. Burnout.”
“Jesus.” Chloe stepped forward automatically, ice running down her spine. “That means…”
Mathis’ shoulders slumped. “If I stop fighting, he’ll hurt you. You know that. You know I won’t let that happen.”
He placed one hand on the windowpane, over the faint reflection of Chloe. It was the closest he’d come to touching her in weeks. Chloe gulped, her mouth dry.
She saw how hard it was for Mathis to keep his distance. It was clear in the way his body turned to her, and the tension in his muscles as he forced himself to stay strong.
But she didn’t know whether he saw how hard it was for her, too. It surprised her, how much she longed for his touch, as though her soul was reaching out for him. How much she needed him. Her, Chloe Kent, who’d never needed anyone. And never wanted anyone this badly, either.
Figures, she thought, bitterness rising in her throat. You finally find a guy you really like, and touching him could mean signing your death warrant.
“Did you get anywhere today?” Mathis’ voice was barely a murmur. He was staring at her reflection, his fingers caressing the glass.
Touching the glass, Chloe corrected herself. He’s not—you’re not—it’s not worth even thinking about it.
“Same as usual,” she said, trying and failing to insert a bit of good humor into her voice. She just sounded resentful. “I must have been over every inch of this island, but there’s nothing there.” Of course there isn’t. If there was, Harper wouldn’t let you wander around.
Exploring the island might be a pointless exercise when it came to finding a way to escape Harper’s clutches, but at least it kept her away from Mathis. Her walks gave them both a brief reprieve from fighting their attraction to one another—but only brief. Chloe couldn’t stand to stay away too long.
She might not be able to touch Mathis, but at least she could be around him.
“No luck there,” she said again. “But… I still haven’t been able to get into the other tower.”
Mathis’ eyes met hers in the glass. “No.”
Why won’t he trust me that I can do this? Chloe waited for the spark of irritation to pass before she spoke.
“I know it will be dangerous. This whole thing is dangerous. You’re out there risking your life every day—”
“That’s different,” Mathis cut in.
“How? Because Harper’s relying on you wanting to keep me safe? His plan relies on me being alive, so he’s not going to kill me for poking my nose in, right?”
Even as she said it she realized how weak her argument was.
“Just because he won’t kill you, doesn’t mean he can’t hurt you.” Mathis’ voice was low. Defeated. “I know it makes you sick, not being able to do anything, but—”
He broke off, wincing. Chloe was rushing forward before she’d even thought of moving, her arms stretching out of their own accord. Mathis was clutching his ribs, his breath hissing between his teeth.
“It’s nothing,” he said. “It’ll be fine in a minute.”
“Liar,” Chloe shot back. She was standing right next to him. Too close. There was less than a foot of space between them and the air between his body and hers was electric, waiting for one touch, one spark—
“If I can’t find anything on the island…” Chloe stopped, her mouth dry.
They hadn’t talked about this since the night of their failed escape attempt. It had hovered between them, looming large every time Mathis went into the ring and every night he spent sleeping in the chair by the window.
Every time he almost touched her, and didn’t.
Chloe braced herself. Mathis was staring out the window, his whole body carefully, deliberately turned away from her. But she could feel his attention on her, like a ghostly caress.
They’d agreed not to do this. It was too much, too strange, and it would be playing straight into Harper’s hands.
But she couldn’t just sit around and watch Mathis kill himself in front of her, and not do anything.
She reached out and flattened her palm against Mathis’ back. His tank-top was damp with sweat and under it, his muscles twitched with exhaustion. His breath hitched at her touch. But he didn’t pull away.
“The whole… mate-bond thing.” Her voice caught and she stopped. Swallowed. Tried again. “Could it help?”
Mathis’ shoulders tensed but Chloe kept talking. Now that she had started she couldn’t stop, as though she was caught in a current that was pulling her inevitably towards him.
“I can’t keep watching you go into that ring every night and not do anything about it. I know you—you don’t like me—but if strengthening the bond could make you stronger, if it could help you out there—”
“Don’t, Chloe. Please.” Mathis leaned against the windowsill, covering his face with one hand. When he pulled it away his eyes were full of anguish. He turned away again and dropped his voice. “If things were different… But it wouldn’t be right. Not like this.” He groaned and lowered his head. “Nothing about this is right.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.” Chloe slid her hand up his back, to the tight muscles at the base of his neck. This wasn’t a seduction; he was too exhausted, and she was too hollowed-out with weeks of stress to even think about that. But she longed for him all the same. To be close to him. To help him.
Mathis breathed in. Was it her imagination, or did he lean back slightly, pressing against her hand?
“It might help me heal,” he said reluctantly. “But I can’t ask that of you.”
“God, I have had enough of this self-sacrificing bullshit, all right?” Chloe spun him around and planted her hands on his shoulders, pushing him back against the wall. “Harper is killing you and I don’t want you to die.”
Mathis’ eyes softened, just for a moment. Then his face settled into a frown.
“And don’t say that I’m only saying that because Harper will probably kill me if he can’t use me as a hostage anymore. It’s not true. I mean, he will, but that’s not the point, the point is that—oh shit—”
Chloe’s voice had been getting faster and higher and was perilously close to cracking when Mathis swore, took her face between his hands, and kissed her.
He kissed her hungrily, nibbling at her lower lip and teasing her with his tongue. Chloe melted against him, endless days of frustration flaring into bright desire. Mathis’ touch was like fire tickling her skin: her cheeks, her neck, her waist and hips…
“Oh God,” she whispered. She’d been wrong. She didn’t just want to comfort Mathis. She wanted all of him. Now and forever.
Just like Harper intended.
“Chloe.” Mathis’ hands bunched in her hair. “I promised myself I wouldn’t do this.”
“Break your promise. Please.”
Mathis’ hands stilled and Chloe bit back a curse. “Mathis, please. If we’re going to be stuck here, however long that’s going to be, I don’t want to spend it alone. I can’t stand it any longer.”
Mathis moaned, rubbing his thumb across her cheekbone and winding his other arm around her waist. He kissed her again, weeks of frustrated passion burning against Chloe’s lips.