4
With one hand positioned just above the doorknob, Davey paused outside of the biology lab and steadied her nerves. If Ethan was right, on the other side of this door was a rogue agent and a room full of teenage hostages. Turning back was not an option. By her watch, less than two minutes remained before someone—this time a child—lost his or her life. Davey couldn’t let that happen, even it meant putting her own ass on the line.
She only had to stall Drekker until reinforcements arrived. A cold day in hell would pass before she let that maniac lay a finger on her brother, but her life had been valuable to Drekker once before. Maybe her presence now would be enough to stop him from doing anything awful to these innocent kids. It was a long shot, but Davey was willing to risk it. She couldn’t see another way.
Tucking an errant strand of pink hair behind her ear and out of sight, Davey gave one last tug on the hood of the sweatshirt she’d borrowed from Hogan and knocked on the door.
The same eerie voice from the PA system answered. “Please, come in.”
Careful to keep her head low, she stepped inside. The door softly clicked shut behind her, but to Davey the sound echoed like the final seal of a coffin.
“Well, well,” Drekker said, sounding surprised. “I didn’t think the mighty Ethan Remington would actually give you up. That must have been one helluva algorithm he used to compute this move. I find it sickening how much of a square Remington is, but he can’t help it I guess,” he rambled on affably. “Those buffoons have unlimited access to his mushy bits.” Drekker laughed. “I won’t hurt you, boy. Come closer.”
Davey wanted to look at this man and put a face to the name she’d come to hate in the past hour, but didn’t want to tip him off too soon. Drekker would realize her trickery soon enough.
She took her time moving between two rows of desks and the students seated in them. They were absolutely terrified. Some were shaking or sobbing quietly. A few wore vacant expressions—it didn’t seem as if those kids had even noticed she was there. But even under such extreme duress, there were still one or two who manifested the sort of defiance Davey had struggled to tame in high school. Ironically, it was usually the defiant ones who were the most afraid.
Noticing a stretch of afternoon light cross the linoleum floor, Davey stopped. If Ethan was in position, standing in front of a window would give him a clear view of what was happening. If she could somehow get Drekker to join her, maybe she could shift the balance of power. A bead of sweat trickled down her back.
I’m too nervous to pull this off. Maybe I can just throw the hood off, get on my knees, and beg for my life before he figures out I’m not Hogan, gets pissed off, and kills me. If this piece of shit really has no intention of hurting Hogan, then maybe he won’t shoot if I just turn around and run. He probably can’t catch me. Maybe—
Spotting an empty desk to her left, Davey made a snap decision. She took a seat.
“Alright, boy, don’t make this any harder than it needs to be. I’ve been kind enough to not harm any of your classmates up until now, and after I get what I need from you, everyone will be free to go.”
Liar.
Drekker had murdered an innocent woman just to make a point. Then he was willing to take over two dozen teenagers hostage as insurance, and as soon as he realized Davey wasn’t Hogan, they’d be back to square one or worse. This wasn’t about stalling Drekker. To Davey, it never had been.
Drekker sighed. “Except for maybe that guy,” he said, pointing to a squirmy teenage boy in corner of the classroom. “After five minutes of being in the same room with him, even I realized he was a total douche. With one bullet, I can do this entire school a favor. Hey douche, how long does it take you to do your hair like that anyway?”
Davey gritted her teeth. She wondered if Drekker had always been so twisted or if Global Cures had done some terrible experiment and warped a once sane mind. Without raising her head, she did her best to survey the closest desktops. Finding what she needed, Davey reached across the aisle and snagged the ink pen. Wordlessly, she used the tip of the pen to carve into the desk. She still really had no idea what the hell Drekker could need from her brother. Back when he had pretended to be Ethan, Drekker had said something about Hogan developing new abilities that Global Cures wanted to get their hands on. But Drekker could have been lying about that. The only unusual thing about Hogan—beyond the episodic displays of uncanny insight—were the progressively terrifying dreams he’d been having.
Unless his ability has something to do with those dreams.
Mentally shelving that hypothesis, Davey refocused on the marks being made beneath her pen and hoped to convince Drekker that she was giving him something he wanted.
“That’s more like it,” Drekker whispered, and she could feel his hunger bore into her.
Intuitively, Davey had sketched one huge circle and two more within. Inside of that, she layered a hexagon, a fourth circle, and triangle. Drekker’s heavy footsteps came closer as she drew the alchemic symbols of Mercury, for the spirit; Sulphur for the soul; and lastly, Salt for the body. It was a rudimentary representation of the tattoo on Ethan’s shoulder—a human transmutation circle.
“Yes, clever child. You do know what I want. Finish it,” Drekker urged.
A pair of black boots paused just beside the desk, and Davey risked following the long lines of the grey poly-blended coveralls up to the waist. Praying that since Drekker was controlling human bodies, he was also capable of feeling human pain, she snapped her arm up and outwards, jabbing him in the dick with her elbow as hard as she could. Drekker’s eyes just about bulged out of his head as he grunted and doubled over, cradling his crotch in one hand but retaining possession of the gun in the other. Swaying on his feet, he leaned against the desk as a high-pitched noise wheezed from between his lips. Springing to her feet, Davey screamed for the kids to get out. There wouldn’t be a second chance. As they all stampeded toward the door, Davey looked down at the pen in her hand and wondered why Ethan hadn’t taken this asshole out. With Drekker in front of the window, he should have had a clear shot, especially with his advanced capabilities.
Drekker slowly began to straighten, giving Davey her first full look at his newest vessel. The wizened face—mapped by leathery creases and weathered by many decades—was morphed by agony that slowly evolved to murderous rage. Bright blue eyes that retained the look of youth and the spark of laughter, now burned with hatred. There was a name badge clipped to the front of the man’s uniform: Mr. Wiggins. Mr. Wiggins had probably been a very kind old man and a tireless worker. But for his last act in life, he would be the conduit for evil.
Davey looked over her shoulder. With thirty panicked bodies trying to escape one three-foot entryway all at once, congestion had slowed the evacuation, leaving ten or so kids still inside. Making the only move she had left, Davey clenched the pen in her fist, lunged toward Drekker, and buried the utensil deep into the side of his wrinkled old neck.
Drekker screamed. Davey jumped away, sparing a quick and anxious glance toward the window. Where the hell was Ethan? Looking at the door again awarded her some good news. At least all of the kids had made it out. Except for her and Drekker, the classroom was now empty. There was nothing else to do except run. Dark red blood gushed from Drekker’s neck, escaping from between fingers that desperately grasped his wound. His volcanic expression—a blend of anger, pain, and disbelief—was the last thing Davey saw before she turned and sprinted toward the door.
“BITCH.”
Drekker’s hoarse whisper, the explosive sound of two gunshots, and the sound of shattered glass were the last things she heard as an incredible, unbelievable pain plowed through her back, knocking her from her feet. She landed wildly, felt more pain as her face smacked the floor, and briefly, dizzily wondered if that sudden sulfuric taste in her mouth was blood. And then Davey was overtaken by darkness.
∞∞∞
Davey wasn’t sure what she became aware of first—the blinding light that sneaked into her cozy cave of peaceful quiet or the muted voice calling her name in a gentle but urgent tone.
“Get back. Give her some air,” the same voice commanded a moment later.
Someone’s hands were touching her—no, the hands were holding her. Tugging at her clothes?
“Goddammit, I said wait,” the same voice said tersely. “No. She was wearing a vest.” The edge faded as he spoke again, this time closer to her ear. “Davey, wake up.”
“Ethan?”
“Yeah.”
Behind the light, a sea of blurry shapes slowly came into focus. Davey could barely make out two splotches of grey that could have been Ethan’s eyes. She tried to sit up but was met with instant regret as a wave of agony stripped the air from her lungs. Nausea rolled her stomach, followed by a hammering pain that pounded at her skull. Davey gasped.
“Take your time,” Ethan insisted, helping her upright but then lightly restraining any further movement she might have attempted.
Collapsing against his chest, she tried to take a deep breath but her body wouldn’t cooperate. The dull ache in her back and right side only intensified. Davey licked her lips. At least that didn’t hurt. Hazy thoughts gradually clearing, she tried to think past the pain.
“I’m not dead,” she whispered and heard a soft rumble in Ethan’s chest as he chuckled. But the hard set of his jaw and worry in his eyes exposed the laugh as one of relief and not actual amusement.
“No, but you do have a concussion and a few bruised or broken ribs.” Ethan shifted and leaned closer. His cool fingers touched her face, and his dark gaze—filled with angst—locked with hers. “This is my fault, Davey,” he whispered. “Sorry for being late.”
“What happened?” she asked. Searching his expression, Davey was having trouble filling her lungs, and it had nothing to do with broken ribs. She had dared to hope.
“I remembered you.”
She clutched his shirt as all the air expelled from her lungs in one whoosh. Emotions poured through her, overwhelming her already scattered thoughts. Fingers trembling, Davey couldn’t speak. She simply clenched and unclenched the fabric near his collar, no more able to halt the repetitive motion than she was able to stop her body from trembling.
Tears spilled onto her cheeks. He was back. After five years, Ethan had finally, truly returned to her.
“Ethan,” she whispered.
“I know,” he said and kissed her hair. “Let’s get you and Hogan home. Then we’ll talk about it.”
She nodded with a sniffle. “Okay.” Davey took a deep breath and hissed because it felt like a knife was stabbing through her ribs.
As Ethan lifted her from the floor and set her onto a waiting stretcher, Davey glimpsed what must have been Drekker’s body, lying not far from where she had fallen. Curiously misshaped and covered by a white sheet, a huge blood stain encompassed where the body’s head should have been.
“Don’t look at it,” Ethan said softly and moved so that his broad torso blocked the gruesome sight.
Grimacing, Davey eased backward to lie flat on her back as Ethan supported her with the care of a new mother. Looking toward the door, he nodded, and two men in paramedic uniforms rushed to her side, poking and prodding as they assessed her vitals and the extent of her injuries. At some point, one of them shined a pen light into her eyes and asked her to follow it. Doing so was surprisingly difficult and made her headache worse, but Davey did her best to comply.
After a few minutes, the lead medic turned to Ethan. “She has a grade two concussion and several broken ribs. She needs to be in a hospital.”
Ethan shook his head. “Do what you can for her here, and then release her into my custody.”
The paramedic exchanged an uncertain look with his partner. “No offense, sir, but that badge doesn’t give you jurisdiction over her medical care.”
Ethan simply stared at the two men without speaking, long enough that they began to squirm under his unflinching gaze.
Scratching his head, the lead medic began to backpedal. “I mean, unless she’s under arrest or something…then she’s all yours, man.”
Giving the medic one final hard look, Ethan leaned closed to Davey and took her hand. A buzz of electricity hummed between them, faintly sparking everywhere their skin touched. “Davey, do you trust me?”
She answered without hesitation. “More than you know.”
“Tell these men that you do not want to go to a hospital. Tell them you would like for me to take you home.”
Davey was in a lot of pain. More importantly, she knew that a severe enough head injury could kill her without the proper treatment. But this was Ethan. He always had her best interests at heart and would take care of her. Looking as resolute as possible, she turned to the paramedics. “I don’t want to go to the hospital,” she said. “Ethan is going to take me home.”
If either of them had a problem with her request, they covered it well, working quickly with no further questions. In less than ten minutes, Davey’s torso was wrapped in bandages, two neat stitches closed a tiny cut over her eyebrow, and 1500 milligrams of acetaminophen coursed through her veins.
With the pain in her aching ribs sufficiently dulled, Davey only had to contend with the effects of having a concussion. Ethan’s borrowed aviators combined with the government tint on the sedan’s windows helped with the light sensitivity she was experiencing, and if Davey kept her eyes closed, the blurred vision was easy to ignore. But she couldn’t concentrate worth shit, and her stomach wouldn’t stop doing flip flops. All she wanted was to lay her head back and take a long nap, but the medics had warned her not to fall asleep.
Unable to hang on to a single thought long enough to process it, all the questions she had for Ethan would have to wait until later. Hogan, on the other hand, had seemingly recovered from the initial shock of recent events and had no qualms about asking questions. And the kid had a thousand questions. Ethan did a fine job of fielding most of them. There were still so many things the sage fifteen-year-old had yet to learn about Ethan. Either part of Ethan’s recovered memories had included the knowledge that Davey had purposefully withheld his true origins, or he just intuitively knew to keep the subject of soul-harvesting alchemy off the table. Despite her groggy state, Davey did her best to tune into their conversation, hoping the distraction might help keep her awake.
“Are you really undercover?” Hogan asked.
“I’m always undercover,” Ethan replied easily. “It is the nature of my existence.”
“I was just a kid when you left before, but I remember how you looked, and it was totally different. At first, I thought you were someone else.” Hogan paused thoughtfully. “Did you have surgery or something? Are you wearing contacts?”
“How old are you now, Hogan?”
“I’ll be sixteen in five months. Davey is going to give me her car.”
Ethan laughed. “She’ll have to get it fixed first.”
“What?” Hogan’s voice leapt two octaves with concern.
Davey groaned. “Ethan, my body is not so damaged that I won’t hit you.”
“What happened to the car?” Hogan repeated.
Davey watched her brother in the sun visor’s mirror. He was literally sitting on the edge of his seat, eyes inflated to the size of dinner plates. “Relax,” she said. “The car is fine. Just a scratch. Don’t let Ethan distract you with material things when you’re doing such an awesome job interrogating him.”
“Hey,” Ethan exclaimed, feigning indignance. “He brought up the car.”
Hogan narrowed his eyes. “So, are those contacts?”
“No.”
“Then how did your eye color change?”
“I’ve only gone back to looking the way I did when you and your sister first met me.” When Hogan raised a skeptical eyebrow, Ethan gently clarified. “That was before your parents died.”
“Oh.” The mention of their parents left Hogan subdued, and he quietly stared out the window for the next few miles, only speaking to give Ethan directions to their little townhome, so Davey wouldn’t have to. But soon, Hogan had shaken off his solemn mood and fired off a very keen observation. “Back at school, you didn’t seem like yourself at first. Actually, you kinda sounded like Arnold Schwarzenegger when he played that terminator guy…without the accent though. Now you sound normal—well almost normal. You still talk funny sometimes.”
It didn’t matter how close Hogan had come to the truth, Davey laughed anyway.
Unoffended, Ethan shrugged. “Even at the academy, I struggled with affability. I guess I’m still working on it.”
Nodding, her brother quickly moved on. “It must have taken a lot of surgeries to change your face like that. Did it hurt?”
“Not really.” Amusement crinkled the corners of Ethan’s eyes. “I have superpowers, Hogan. One of them is when something hurts too bad, I can shut the pain off.”
“I think Davey has that superpower too,” Hogan offered, watching Ethan with a serious expression.
Davey pursed her lips but felt too tired and ill to protest.
“I don’t know,” Ethan mused aloud as he drove through the quiet neighborhood where Davey and Hogan had lived for the past two years. “I think bravery might be your sister’s superpower. She just saved a lot of lives back there, even when I wasn’t in my right head to do so.”
“She has two superpowers, then,” Hogan conceded.
Ethan smiled. “Agreed.”
Hogan asked one final question as they were pulling into the driveway. “Why did you leave five years ago? My sister really liked you. She still thinks about you all the time, you know.”
Davey wriggled in her seat. Ethan’s huge aviators hid most of her face, but did nothing to disguise the blush that crept to her cheeks. She wanted to bail out of the car but had major reservations on whether she could walk five feet before puking and then collapsing into a pool of her own vomit, so Davey sat still and silently prayed that Hogan would have the good sense not to mention Travis next and totally fuck up her life. She held her breath. Ethan needed to know about her boyfriend, but she needed to be the one to tell him.
Risking a glance at Ethan, Davey was surprised that he appeared to be equally, if not more, uncomfortable. Both hands were on the steering wheel, gripping it a bit too tightly, while the rest of his body had gone rigid. Expression twisted with torment, he silently stared straight ahead. Eventually, he exhaled deeply and shook free of whatever memory held him, but the guilt in his stormy gaze was unmistakable when he answered Hogan’s question.
“Five years ago,” he said, speaking directly to Davey, “I was recalled to a new assignment. The people I work for did not allow me say no.”
Hogan was skeptical. “It’s hard to imagine that anyone could make someone like you do something he didn’t want to.”
Ethan continued to look at Davey. “Everyone has their limits,” he said softly.
Summoning every ounce of her will, Davey had to break his hold so she could breathe again. “Okay, monkey,” she said, trying to keep her tone light and unaffected. “I really need to go and lie down, so how about we give the cross-examination a rest?”
“Sorry, Davey.”
“No worries,” she said and reached for the door, but Ethan had already opened it. Kneeling down, he lifted her into his arms before she could object.
“Hogan, stay close,” he called over his shoulder before briskly carrying Davey up the walkway and to the front stoop.
“Why?” Hogan asked, but scrambled to catch up and open the door. “The bad guy is dead, so danger over. Right?”
“I will explain later. Deadbolt the door behind us,” he said and stepped inside. “I need to treat your sister’s injuries and help her feel better. Stay inside and away from the windows. Do not open that door for anyone unless I tell you to.”
Hogan looked quizzically at his sister.
“Do what he says, Hogan.”
“Okay, well, can I watch television, or is that off limits too?”
Davey smiled tightly. “Do your homework first.”
When Hogan rolled his eyes, she retaliated by sticking her tongue out. They both giggled while Ethan turned and began climbing the stairs with Davey still in his arms.
“You don’t have to keep carrying me,” she protested with a delirious grin. Laughing with Hogan really hadn’t helped her pain. “I’m okay to walk,” she lied.
“You are strong, Davey,” Ethan said and kissed her hair. “But you do not have to be right now.”
Reaching the master suite, he set her down on the queen-sized bed, making sure she was comfortable before moving away to draw the curtains and close the bedroom door. Then he came and perched at the side of the mattress. Davey warily eyed the tiny syringe that was pinched between his fingers. Still woozy, her vision blurred as she tried to read the label but even through the haze, the logo seemed familiar.
“Does that thing say Global Cures?”
“It does.”
The pain in her head now felt like a knife in the eye, but still she edged away from him. “You’re not sticking me with that.”
“Davey, trust me.”
“I do trust you, Ethan. But the last time a concoction made by Global Cures was injected into my bloodstream, I ended up killing a super soldier by simply pushing him too hard.”
“Those effects were only short term. You returned to your normal, weakling self within a few days.”
“Hey!” Davey exclaimed. Scowling playfully, she crossed her arms. “You just said that I was strong. And you called me brave like ten minutes ago.”
Ethan laughed. “I’m only teasing you.”
Davey wanted to laugh too, but the pain in her head and side was too great. She figured it might be just as fun to give him a hard time instead. “Well, you shouldn’t tease sick people,” she said, sticking her bottom lip out in mock annoyance. “I could very well fall asleep and die, you know.”
His expression saddened at the mention of her dying. “I won’t let that happen.”
Maintaining her frown for a few moments longer, Davey laughed and nudged Ethan with her foot. “I’m screwing with you.”
“Of course,” he said, but his mood didn’t lighten. “You really must take this.” He held up the syringe again. “The formula is several generations removed from the one you experienced eleven years ago. There will be no lasting side effects. I promise.”
“Fine.” Relenting, she rolled up her sleeve. Davey watched the pointed tip draw closer and bit her lip, trying not to flinch when the sharp point pierced her skin.
“This will initially be unpleasant,” Ethan warned just as the needle slid deeper.
A kind of cool stinging sensation was infused deep into her muscle. The feeling intensified, until it was as if her shoulder was burning—like someone held an open flame to her skin. “Ouch,” Davey said and rubbed her arm. Surprisingly, the pain went away. “Okay, that wasn’t so bad.”
Ethan kept silent, a statue of concern as he studied her.
Davey took his hand. “Stop looking so worried. I’m fi—”
Her attempt to reassure him ended as pure, unparalleled agony took hold of her body. She collapsed sideways onto the bed, muscles locked in spasm. Gasping, Davey couldn’t cry out, much less scream. Unable to move, she watched with horror as her arms and legs took on a life of their own, wildly flailing about. The agony continued, refusing to let up. Davey feared it might last forever.
Things went from bad to worse as her jaw clamped shut. Her lungs stopped expanding, and suddenly she could no longer breathe. Silently screaming with panic, Davey stared at the ceiling because despite her commands, her eyes wouldn’t look anywhere else.
What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck?
Ethan’s face appeared above hers, and for a split second, Davey wondered if it was Ethan at all. Maybe it was Mason Drekker pretending to be Ethan all over again. After she died, he would kidnap her brother and enact his evil plans, or turn Hogan over to Global Cures where he would become a pawn, lab rat, or worse.
Ethan squeezed Davey’s hand hard enough to make her feel him over the agony. “I’m with you,” he whispered.
After what seemed like a lifetime, the pain gradually stopped. A wave of darkness moved over Davey’s vision but passed quickly, and then she could move again. Rolling to her side, Davey jumped to her feet as if the bed were on fire, frantically examining her body to be sure all the parts where still there.
Fear morphed into fury as she turned to Ethan. “What the fuck was that?”
Looking guilty as hell, he met her ire head on. “I would have preferred to tell you exactly what would happen, but then there may have been further delay in administering the serum. Your injuries were too extensive to wait any longer, Davey. Your brain was hemorrhaging.”
Her anger promptly dissipated. “Oh,” she said. “Well, when you put it that way…” Blushing, Davey covered her face and fell silent. She couldn’t believe she had doubted Ethan, even for a second.
His arms embraced her an instant later. “You’re okay now.”
As he rubbed her back and tenderly kissed her forehead, Davey couldn’t recall a time when she’d felt so happy and ashamed all at once. Throwing her arms around him, she hugged him as tightly as humanly possible. Not even gale force winds could have ripped them apart.
She never wanted to let go. Five years. She had endured five years of searching, crying, hoping, grieving, longing, and waiting. Now he was back. And she had so many questions. The tears began to fall before she could stop them.
“I’m so sorry, Davey.”
“Me too.” She sniffled. “The fight we had was stupid. You needed to go back and find out more about yourself. I never should have tried to stop you.”
“No, Davey.” He tried to peel her away, but Davey clung to him. She was a mess and didn’t want him to see her like that. However, Ethan persisted until she yielded. “I never should have left,” he said as their eyes finally met.
Wiping her tears, Davey shook her head and tried to rein in her emotions. Ethan wanted to take all of the blame, but she wouldn’t allow it. “You didn’t have a choice. Global Cures came for you.”
“Had I only stayed with you that night instead of running away, then we would have at least had the chance to say goodbye.”
Before Ethan, Davey had been a reckless kid—lonely, crazy with anger, hating herself, and making hordes of shitty decisions. But meeting Ethan had changed all of that. She had connected with him like with no other and he became a bridge to the outside world that Davey could cross without looking back. She knew it was insane to believe Ethan had come back from the dead just for her, but he was her soulmate. She never would have found him if he hadn’t. It wasn’t fair that Ethan had only been back in her life for less than twelve hours and already she had to think about losing him again. She loved him so much.
Davey sobbed as the flood of tears began anew. No matter what, time would always be lost between them. Maybe Lana was right. Maybe Ethan was the one guy she couldn’t be with.
“Don’t cry, Davey.”
Wiping her tears, he cupped both sides of Davey’s face and pulled her gently toward him. Then his lips found hers, and a jolt surged through Davey’s body as if she had grabbed a live wire. Every day, every hour, and every second they’d spent apart was poured into that kiss, warming Davey from the inside out as she tasted every inch of his tongue and explored his mouth like it was the first time. Clutching his arms, she dug her nails into his rippled biceps, holding on for dear life as her body responded to him and came alive with raging desire. His lips left her mouth to ravage her neck, setting nerve endings on fire as each kiss stole a little more of her control. Soon she was writhing against him, her thighs and belly tightening with need. Panting with every breath, she gasped as his teeth clamped down on her earlobe while his hand captured her breast, dragging roughly across the hardened and sensitive nipple. Then Ethan’s hips were driving into her, increasing the throb in her loins as she discovered the extent of his arousal. Reaching down, she gripped the thick and rigid shaft that pressed so eagerly against her belly and stroked upward in several slow, firm movements. He groaned hoarsely, his cock jerking and twitching under her touch, engorging to a size that made the ache between her thighs deepen.
“Davey,” he said, breathing her name as a rough whisper. Then his hands were pulling her shirt up her belly, baring her breasts and the lace-trimmed bra they strained against. Shoving the material to the side, he exposed her nipples, wasting no time in sucking and licking the turgid, rose-colored buds with his tortuous mouth. Moaning, Davey fisted her hands through his hair.
And then she froze. Fuck.
Travis.
Fuck. Fuck.
Fuck.
The thought of her boyfriend had the effect of ice water in her veins. Gripped in a vise of guilt, Davey wrenched herself from the moment, taking Ethan by the shoulders to push him away. Straightening, he stopped immediately. His hands moved to her waist and rested there gently, but Davey was aware of the minute pressure exerted by each fingertip.
A look of worry creased his features. “Did I hurt you?”
“No,” she said quickly, shaking her head. She opened her mouth to explain, but clamped it shut again without saying a word.
Confusion evident, Ethan watched her quietly and waited for her to speak. Davey’s gaze drifted too low, catching sight of the part of him that wasn’t so patient. Bulging against the front of his jeans, his cock threatened to split the very seams apart. A furious blush spread through Davey’s cheeks, but not from passion. She felt like shit. No matter what history she shared with Ethan, Travis didn’t deserve this. And Ethan deserved the truth.
“We can’t do this.” Tugging down her shirt, Davey decided not to beat around the bush. “I have a boyfriend,” she blurted out. “We’ve been seeing each other for a year. I met him because I was looking for you—working at Global Cures—and before today, I thought we were getting serious.” With every word Ethan’s expression became more and more stricken, but Davey was snowballing down a slope of panic. She couldn’t stop rambling. “He asked me to move in with him a few days ago. He’s a great guy, and what I just let happen…I crossed the line,” she finished miserably.
Ethan’s stormy eyes darkened with hurt, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t move, not even to mimic breathing.
Davey couldn’t stand it. “Please say something,” she begged.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
Grasping her hair with one hand, Davey held her stomach with the other. She wanted to throw up. Seeing Ethan this way—wounded and betrayed—and knowing she was the cause of it was unbearable. “Hurt me, Ethan. I deserve it.” Sitting down heavily on the floor, Davey drew her knees up and buried her face against them. She couldn’t stand to look at his pain anymore. “I am so sorry.”
A lengthy silence filled her bedroom, stretching on to the point where she couldn’t be sure that Ethan hadn’t left, and Davey was too afraid to check. If she saw Ethan was gone—that he had walked out for a second time—her heart would never recover.
Muted footsteps trailed against the carpet, followed by the soft creak of an aged floorboard as Ethan settled next to her. She thought she heard him sigh, and then his soft voice—heavy with regret broke the quiet.
“I don’t know if you will understand this, but my reality is divided into two halves, Davey. There is the part of my mind that is controlled by commands and algorithms. When that part is dominant, I do not know you, Davey Little. I am not even conscious of your existence. But then there is the other actuality where I do know you and understand love again, and it makes me feel more human. It gives me back control.” He paused.
“What I’m saying is that time works differently for me, Davey. Each time the human part of me is stripped away, it’s you who brings me back. When that happens, I become more like the guy I remember being. But only one of those realities can exist at a time. For me, it hasn’t been years that we’ve been apart, Davey. For me, it was yesterday when I lost you.”
His confession felt like a knife through her chest, and Davey’s head whipped up in shock. Horrified, she looked at Ethan. His hands had balled into fists. His face was a mask of pain. If Davey felt like shit before, now it was piled higher and deeper. There was nothing to say, nothing to do, except wish she could take it back.
“Ethan,” she whispered, swallowing thickly. “I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s not your fault, Davey.”
“It’s not yours either.”
A sad smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “So, what do we do?”
On the verge of tears yet again, Davey shook her head. She was between a rock and a hard place. Any choice resulted in someone getting hurt, as well as making her an awful bitch of a human being. Ethan—her first love—had come roaring back into her life, but now Davey had a boyfriend. A great guy who she had begun to share more and more of her life with. Despite everything, Davey had developed real feelings for Travis, and she couldn’t just throw him away as if he meant nothing. But the thought of hurting Ethan created the pain of a hot poker stabbing through her gut.
An unexpected knock sounded at the door, startling Davey. Ethan, of course, didn’t react. The guy was impervious to surprises. “Come in,” Davey called, knowing it had to be Hogan and nervously realizing he would never interrupt unless it was urgent.
Hogan poked his head in, peering cautiously at the two of them. “I guess you don’t have your phone. There’s a message on mine for you. Tra—uh, Dr. Kane called a while ago. He’s coming over…probably like now.”
Oh hell. Davey pulled a trembling hand through her hair and risked a panicked glance at Ethan. “Right,” she said, looking at Hogan once more. “I never went back to the lab, and he must have seen the news about your school by now. He has to be worried sick.”
Ethan stood up. “Well, Dr. Kane is here now.”
Mouth instantly dry, Davey licked her lips. “Are you leaving?” she asked, uncertain of what answer she wanted to hear.
“I can’t,” Ethan said, letting no hint of emotion to slip through. “The threat has not been eliminated.”
When she didn’t reply, he moved to the bedroom door, and Hogan quietly stepped aside to let him pass. Seized by a spell of anxiety, Davey jumped from the floor and grabbed Ethan’s hand, stopping him. Eventually, he turned to look at her, but she still had no words. Davey didn’t know why she had reacted that way, or what she hoped to say to make any of it better. As her brain continued to falter and the silence stretched on, it was Ethan who finally spoke.
“It’s all right,” he said, and gently stroked her cheek. “We’ll talk later.”
“Okay,” Davey whispered, thinking later was too soon and too late all at once because she was crumbling inside.