“What the hell?” I stand and back away from him, and empty food wrappers crinkle as they fall from my lap onto the floor.

“Lilliana.” Warren stands, and I take another step back.

“What’s happening?” I don’t… I can’t… Am I hallucinating? “What did I just eat? What did you do to me?”

“Lilliana.” He says my name again, and with it comes an odd thrumming sound, and I’ve heard that somewhere before, but I can’t think straight right now, because Warren isn’t Warren anymore!

“Calm down,” he says, palms out. “Everything’s okay.”

“Did you poison me? Is that why you traded food with me? Am I seeing things?”

“My name is Carson Sotelo.” His voice has changed. It’s deeper. Richer. More serious, though that could be in deference to how incredibly freaked-the-fuck-out I am right now.

“Wait, Warren isn’t your real name? Does Danna know?” Though, admittedly, the fake ID aspect of this is the least noteworthy, considering that he just turned into someone else.

Warren frowns, and for a second he looks as lost as I am. “I’m confusing you. I apologize. I’ve only had to explain this once before.” He speaks softly, holding my gaze as if I were a frightened puppy he doesn’t want to startle. But it’s too fucking late for that. “I’m going to start over, and I want you to keep in mind that as strange as this is, I’m not here to hurt you.”

I have no reason to believe him. None at all. Yet I do believe him, and some deep, primal part of me understands that the reason I believe him is because he smells good. Suddenly he smells so good, like he did when I brushed past him on my way out of the Sorority.

No one who smells this good could possibly be a threat to me.

Yet that thought makes no sense. If anything, I should be terrified of him, because this feels very much like I’m being brainwashed. Or…drugged.

I’ve been roofied by his delicious fucking b.o. But even knowing that doesn’t lessen the effectiveness.

“Start saying things that make sense,” I demand, and my voice is softer than I intended. I sound…dazed. And that’s kind of how I feel.

“I’m trying. Hang in there with me, Lilliana.” He takes another step forward, and when the beam from the flashlight washes over his face, I realize his eyes are as silver as his hair. “My name is Carson Sotelo. I’m not Warren, and I’ve never been Warren, but there is a real Warren, and he is your friend. He has nothing to do with this. He’s just the source of the DNA I used in order to assume another form. One you would trust. Which makes this sound creepier than it is.” Warren—no, Carson—frowns. “Or maybe that’s an accurate characterization of how creepy this is.”

“I don’t think we’ve quite established the baseline for creepy in a situation like this, yet that sounds like an understatement to me. This is pretty fucking creepy.”

I meet his weird, silver-eyed gaze, and suddenly I have the sinking suspicion that I can’t look away. Like I’m trapped in the quicksand of his focus, and the more I struggle, the worse that will get.

But that’s okay! Because I don’t need to look at anything else. Nothing else is worth looking at anyway. Except maybe his chest. Maybe if I ask, he’ll take off his shirt, and—

No, Lilli! Keep it in your pants!

What the living fuck is going on here?

I close my eyes and shake my head, trying to dislodge whatever worm has burrowed its way into my brain to convince me that whatever’s going on here is not only perfectly normal, it’s good.

“Yeah. Sorry about the creepy factor. A lot of that is beyond my control.” The rumble of his voice sets off delicious little tingles, deep in my stomach. And lower. What is that? “I’m also sorry that I lied to you,” he continues. “I needed to meet you, and your friends wouldn’t introduce us. Which was probably the right call, on their part. They were trying to protect you, and they had no reason to believe that I mean you no harm. But I swear on my life that I don’t. Mean you any harm, I mean.”

And I still believe that, despite all the weird shit that’s happening. My body is telling me this man is safe.

Why the fuck is my body telling me anything?

“What friends?” I know there are more important questions I should be asking, but that one’s wedged in the front of my mind, and my thoughts refuse to move past it.

“Mallory and the others. I met them here this afternoon. Well, I actually met Barrett yesterday, but I looked like someone else then, and he didn’t understand what he was seeing.”

“I totally get that.” I feel numb. I think I’m in shock.

Warren—no Carson—nods. “Believe it or not, this is new to me too. I had no idea I could do this until recently. And until today, this kind of transformation has always happened on its own. Beyond my control. But today I figured out how to kind of…take charge of it. So I could meet you. Turns out motivation is the key. Which is true for so many things.”

“You’re saying that today you learned how to make your body look like my friend, so you could meet me by pretending to be him?”

Another slow nod.

“You should go on some kind of dating vid, because this shtick beats the hell out of flowers and candy.”

“Again, I apologize for my approach. I knew I’d never get near you without a fight—without hurting someone who was just trying to protect you—unless I was a face you trusted.”

“You would have hurt someone?” The first pulse of fear breaks through the warm, fuzzy cocoon of irrational trust his scent has bathed me in, and I cling to it. This is messed up. This makes no sense. I should be terrified out of my fucking mind right now, not fighting an urge to scoot closer to him and rub my face against his chest like a house cat claiming a table leg.

“No, I didn’t want to hurt anyone. That’s why I borrowed Warren’s face.”

“Borrowed.” That doesn’t quite feel accurate, since the real Warren still presumably has his own face, yet I can’t think of any more precise term. “So then, who are you? Not just your name. How can you do this?”

He pats the bed, and I sit again, because a man who can transform his entire body into someone else’s is probably just as much of a threat to me from across the room as he is from a foot away. “I’m a prisoner, like you. Only my friends and I got sent to zone X.”

“There’s a zone X? I thought all the zones were numbered.”

“As far as I know, they all are, except for zone X. There are six of us there. They keep us in a lab, where they run tests on us, because nearly two years ago, scientists from a classified branch of Universal Authority spliced our genes with…other genes. Foreign DNA.”

“Foreign, like Warren’s? Is that how you can look like him? Did they do this to him, too, because he never said—”

Carson is already shaking his head. “Foreign, as in…alien. Non-human. A couple hundred years ago, UA launched several exploratory missions aimed at traveling into another galaxy.”

“Yes, everyone knows that.” Universal Authority’s exploratory success was what cemented it as a hugely influential entity in inter-system policy. As a massive, interstellar boogie man, according to my mom.

“But what the general public doesn’t know is that during that exploration, they found evidence of an extinct civilization.”

And suddenly I understand. “Alien.”

Carson nods. “Extinct for millennia, evidently. Actually, I suspect they found several. But one in particular proved compatible with human DNA.”

“But an alien civilization—even an extinct one—should have been big news. Why has no one ever heard about this?”

“The whole thing was classified by the Pan-Galactic Coalition. But UA already knew, because they’re the ones who found it. So naturally they were the only company given clearance to do anything with the findings.”

“So they plucked six prisoners from the general population and, what? Injected them with alien DNA?”

Carson smiles. “It’s a bit more complicated than that. They’ve actually been working on this project for several decades, and from what I understand, the early stages were less than successful. But eventually they figured out what they were doing, and their subjects started to survive.”

“Holy shit, they were killing people with alien DNA?” That shouldn’t surprise me. They’re also killing people in live hunts and gladiator competitions. Why would UA stop there?

“Only prisoners,” Carson says. “No one who would be missed. Anyway, by the time they got to me and my men, they’d found a technique they really liked. If I understand correctly—and I only know what I overhear—we’re sort of the last phase of beta testing, before they intend to launch their product for sale.”

“They’re going to sell you?” UA rented me out for most of the time I’ve been on Rhodon, but what he’s talking about seems like a whole new level of unconscionable.

“No, I don’t think so.” Carson frowns. “I mean, maybe, but my men and I would be pretty hard to control in the field, if we didn’t want to be there.” He shrugs. “The only way they manage now is by keeping us locked up. I think they’re more interested in selling the splicing technique. Or maybe they’re going to produce a large batch of super-soldiers and sell those, if they ever figure out how to control them. Like I said, they don’t exactly fill us in on their plans.”

“Soldiers?”

“Yeah. My men and I were all part of a special forces unit in the 112^th Infantry, from planet Tethys.”

“Tethys. That’s the one that’s mostly water, right?”

Carson nods. “It’s beautiful. Cities full of skyscrapers, overlooking shimmering green seas, every bit of it glittering in the light of two suns.” His wistful look triggers an ache deep inside me, like a soft echo of what he must be feeling. “I hadn’t been back in three years, before we… Before UA got a hold of us, and that was nearly two years ago now. So, five years, I guess, since I’ve seen my home. But I guess that’s the same for you, huh?”

I shrug. “That’s no real loss, in my case.” My hand strays to my stomach before I realize what I’m doing, and I can feel the scar that set my imprisonment in motion as if it were still a gaping wound. “This place sucks, but there’s nothing left for me, at home.”

Carson’s gaze strays to my stomach, and I pull my hand away, embarrassed that he noticed the old habit. “You were injured there? At home?”

“Yeah. I was the only one who survived.” The only one worth mentioning, anyway.

As if he can tell I don’t want to talk about it, Carson clears his throat and begins picking up the food wrappers I dropped, evidently avoiding eye contact to give me a sense of privacy from his surprisingly observant gaze. The gesture feels very…kind. “Anyway, UA is hoping to create and corner a market on super-soldiers,” he continues. “To be sold to anyone with the means to buy them.”

“Oh, shit.” My mind is spinning, and suddenly the fact that Carson smells really good seems to be the least bizarre thing about him. Soldiers for hire are nothing new, but this is well beyond simple conscription. “And all this was going on right here, on Rhodon?”

He nods slowly. “Still is. That’s why I’m here. I was trying to hijack a shuttle that was diverted to help rescue passengers from that crashed yacht a few weeks ago.” He wads up the trash and shoves it into the largest of the envelopes. “I wanted to use the shuttle to get my men off this rock, but the controls were fingerprint protected. All I managed was to escape into zone three.”

“And to ‘borrow’ Warren’s face.”

Carson smiles. “Not just his, but yeah. Anyway, the first DNA I duplicated was mutated. Because of the disease, I couldn’t think very clearly. Until I met you.”

“But you were already disguised as Warren when you came to the Sorority to meet me. How did you know you wanted to meet me before you…met me?”

He sinks onto the bed again, and that silver-eyed gaze hasn’t lost any of its power. “The first time we met was yesterday, Lilli. You were with a friend. At the stream.”

“At the…” I slap one hand over my mouth, gaping at him. “That was you? The man in the water? The man who…pounced on me?” The man with the silver eyes…

“I’m sorry about that. Like I said, that form was diseased, and it was very difficult for me to think straight. To control…myself.” But it’s clear there’s more to that than he’s saying. “Anyway, now that I’ve met you, you’re all I can think about. Literally.”

His gaze trails toward my mouth, and when I realize he wants to kiss me, that warmth in my stomach spreads lower and triggers a sudden, intimate ache. Which I do my best to ignore. “So, you’re saying you have some kind of obsessive thought condition, and I basically have a starring role in your psychosis?”

He laughs out loud. “I’m saying there’s something pulling me to you. You can call it an obsession if you want, but I think that’s selling it short. And I think you feel it too.” His gaze pins me, and that warmth between my thighs swells.

Yeah, I feel it. And I’m not sure I like it.

Okay, I like it. But I’m not sure I can trust it.

“Well, if Mallory doesn’t actually need me, I should get back to the Sorority.” I stand and reach for my pack.

“I’ve scared you.” Carson stands, his hands open like he wants to reach for me but is controlling the impulse.

“No. I mean, I feel like I should be scared.” I shrug as I sling my pack over my shoulder. “But I’m not. To make this even more complicated, the fact that I’m not scared should scare the crap out of me. But it doesn’t. So, to recap, this whole thing is insane, and I can’t trust my own instincts anymore. Which means that I should really just take my toys and go home before this gets any weirder.”

“Don’t go. Please. I can’t promise this won’t get weirder—”

“And if you’d said that to me when I was eighteen, I would have followed you through the damn looking glass, ready to party with the Mad Hatter.”

“—but I can promise it’ll be fun.” His smile lights my fucking underwear on fire, and his gaze says he damn well knows it. “Come on, Lilliana. I think you’re tired of sewing curtains and scooping your dinner out of an envelope. You’re bored, and there is nothing on this whole damn planet more interesting than what they’ve done to me and my men. So stay. Please.”

I should go. I really should. Yet… “What are you offering me, exactly?” I ask, and his silver eyes light up.

“I’m leaving. I’m getting myself and my men off this damn planet, and I want you to come with us.”

“You’re…” He’s dead serious. “You think you’re going to escape?” That’s the craziest thing he’s said so far. Alien genes and scent-roofies? Sure. Makes total sense. But no one’s ever escaped from Rhodon.

“I am going to escape. UA designed us to be able to take on any enemy, and they did a damn good job. What they don’t realize is that we’re already behind enemy lines. We’re leaving. And I want you to come with us.”

“Carson, I just met you. Ten minutes ago, I didn’t even know I’d met you!”

“I know. But think about what I’m offering. Even if I’m a total psycho—” He spreads his arms, to take in the entire zone. “—how is that different than what you have now? You’re stuck on a planet full of psychos. If you come with me, you’ll be reducing your potential psycho exposure to six people. Soldiers, not criminals. And you’ll be off this planet. If it turns out that you hate us—that you hate me—we can drop you somewhere safe.”

“You’d just let me go?”

“If you’re not happy with us? Of course.” But he doesn’t seem to think that’ll happen.

“No offense, but why the hell should I believe that? How do I know you’re not lying, just to get me…wherever you want me?”

Carson looks amused. “Lilli, I already have you where I want you. If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn’t need to take you off the planet to do it.”

The first jolt of fear spikes through me. “That sounds like a threat.”

“It isn’t. I would never hurt you. I’ve been drawn to you from the moment I met you. From the second I saw you put yourself in front of your friend, to protect her, when you thought I was a threat.”

Did I do that?

“I want to get to know you better—I want to know everything about you—but I can’t stay here. I got my men into this hell, and I promised that I’d get them out of it. And I want you to come with us. I’m offering you freedom. Whether or not you choose to stay with us.”

Oh my god. “You’re serious.”

He gives me a solemn nod, silver eyes flashing in the glare from the flashlight. And suddenly this is starting to feel real.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” His eager smile is adorable on such a big guy.

“Okay. I mean, what do I have to lose?”

Your life. Escape from prison is a capital offense. Or we could be killed during the attempt. Though surely UA would be hesitant to shoot down a shuttle full of very expensive scientific research subjects…

Either way, he’s right. I’m sick to death of sewing curtains and eating pre-packaged food. Of looking over my shoulder every time I leave the Sorority for any of the hundreds of violent criminals who’d be eager to use me for anything from currency to “company” if they found me. That happened to Mallory the second she left Barrett’s sight.

There is nothing I wouldn’t risk for the chance to be free from all this. And Carson has no reason to lie. To weave such an elaborate fantasy. If what he wants is sex—or to flay me and wear a suit made of my skin—he could already have taken it several times.

“But what about my friends? Can we bring them?”

His smile dies. “No. I’m sorry. The more people we take, the better the chances we get caught, and the worse the chances that we all fit on the escape shuttle.” My disappointment seems to wound him. “But Lilliana, your friends have built the most protective community I’ve ever seen. They would have tried to kill me in a heartbeat, if they’d decided I was a threat to you. They’ll be fine here. They have each other.”

“But I can’t just leave them here.”

He’s quiet for a moment. Studying me. “Do you think they’d want you to stay? Would you want one of your friends to stay here with you, when she could leave? Would you deny her freedom?”

“No.” And as selfish as I feel for thinking it, he has a point. “But I have to go back and say goodbye. When Mallory and the others show up without me, everyone will think I’m missing. Hell, I am missing!”

“Not yet, you aren’t. Your friends weren’t planning to come back until tomorrow. No one will miss you until morning.”

“Okay, seriously, that sounds like something a creepy kidnapper would say.”

Carson laughs. “Yes, the phrasing was unfortunate. But I swear on my life—on the lives of my men—that I would never hurt you.” He blinks, and that intense silver-eyed focus turns on me again. “I like you. I’m drawn to be near you. It’s an almost physical pull. Do you feel anything like that?”

“No.” Yes.

“You’re lying.” Carson’s smile is quiet, but his expression feels like the still surface of a lake, hiding a churning current beneath. It feels like he’s faking calm, to keep me calm, but that this is actually much more intense for him than he’s letting on.

And that’s what worries me.

“Why do you think I’m lying?” I ask, watching him closely for any break in that calm exterior.

“Because when you said ‘no,’ I could hear a minor acceleration in your heartbeat and I detected a sour note in your sweat, both of which point to slight anxiety. Which means you just lied.”

I gape at him. “You can…? What?”

Amusement brightens his silver eyes. “Did I mention the alien genes?”

“Well now, that’s not fair.” I cross my arms over my chest, which is when I realize I’m still wearing my backpack. “The only way I can tell you’re lying is that you disguise yourself like one of my friends and lure me out of the safety of the Sorority under false pretenses.”

He laughs again. Then he steps a little closer. “Lilliana, may I kiss you? Please?”

“It’s Lilli, and…” No. I’m not going to kiss a stranger. Not even one who’s offering me freedom. Not without armed guards standing over me, silently threatening me into compliance.

Those days are over.

Yet this doesn’t feel like what happened to us at the Resort. Despite how he got me here, Carson isn’t demanding; he’s asking. And he smells good again. He smells…safe. What’s the deal with that?

“Okay.” I don’t know why I said it. I meant to say no. To insist that he take me back to the Sorority, because if I’m really going to leave, I want to spend as much time with my friends as possible, while I have the chance. But it’s like my tongue saw past my intent, into what I actually want. Even if I don’t want to admit it. “One kiss.” I let my bag slide to the floor. “And it’s going to taste like lasagna, because I’m all out of mouthwash.”

“I like lasagna.” Carson steps closer, and I truly look at him for the first time. Well, for the first time without freaking out about the fact that he’s wearing a brand new face, anyway. He has beautiful lips, wide cheekbones, and a strong chin. He’s a beautiful man, in spite of his odd hair and eyes. Or maybe because of them.

He leans in, and my heart begins to pound so loudly I can hardly hear anything else. I was forced into prostitution for two years in zone two. The idea of kissing a stranger shouldn’t excite me like this. Nothing should excite me like this. Yet I lean in with butterflies in my stomach. I can’t help myself. I am hungry for this.

Carson’s mouth meets mine, and at first, this is nothing but the brush of his lips over mine. A feather-light, get-to-know-you brush. Then I inhale, and it’s like taking the first whiff of a fresh batch of cookies. Sex-scented cookies. I have to have a bite.

A groan slides up from my throat, and Carson answers it with a soft growl. Then his head tilts and his hands frame my chin. He nibbles on my lower lip, wordlessly demanding more from this encounter, and I open for him.

Then I taste him, and this is all over. There will be no resisting this man. I need him like I need fresh air. Like I need clean water and decent food.

His hands slide along my jaw and into my hair, tilting my face. Giving himself deeper access. He’s devouring me. Eating me alive. And while that should scare me, instead, it makes that banked coal in the pit of my stomach flare into a blaze, until I’m burning from the inside out.

What the hell is happening to me?