CHAPTER FIVE
Voodoo? Did she really just accuse him of working seductive voodoo on her? Unable to help himself, he watched the sweet sway of her curvy hips, and grew hotter and harder with every move she made.
Jeezus, he was in some deep shit with this woman, and he didn’t even know her name. What he did know was that the chances were pretty damn high that she was baiting him, seducing him and trying to infiltrate the Renegades’ operation. It was working too, because she was already inside one of their facilities.
He scrubbed his now lightly stubbled jaw and followed her down the hall. Either she was playing him, luring him into thinking he was doing the seducing, not her, or she really hated how much she wanted him. He wasn’t sure which he preferred. Yeah, he did. The one that didn’t include this woman conniving against him. If she hated him, at least that was honest, not some form of manipulation. He had no idea what it was about this woman, why he wanted to believe she was Adam’s victim rather than the man’s ally. All evidence, from the gun she’d been holding when he found her, to her very existence as a GTECH, said she was Adam’s creation. But there was something about her, something that didn’t ring true to the obvious. Something that made him want her in a bad way.
“What voodoo is it I’m supposed to be working?” he asked, catching up with her when she paused under the arch that led into a giant room divided into four sections.
She turned to confront him with a defiant lift of her chin. “I’m no fool,” she said. “I’ve studied the GTECHs. I am a GTECH. I know a good number of the GTECHs have developed special abilities beyond the basics. Like Adam can communicate with wolves. So I get that you can make yourself sexually appealing and climb inside my head and play around. Well stop. Just stop. Nothing you do is going to make me like you or talk to you.”
They were close, so close he could imagine pulling her against him, imagine her soft curves melting into his body.
He grinned at the intense look on her face. He couldn’t help himself. She was serious about the voodoo, and so furious at her reaction to him, she was fishing for an excuse to justify her desire. She wasn’t manipulating him as he’d feared, nor was she here because Adam had told her to seduce him. She hated the GTECHs too much to believe she could want one. It was probably nuts, but that made him really damn happy. His dick too, judging from the thick, uncomfortable bulge in his pants.
Her eyes blazed at his smile. “I’m glad I amuse you.”
“Sorry,” he said, trying to sound sincere, but it was hard because he was hard, and his male ego was buzzing with satisfaction.
“Right,” she said. “That’s why you’re smiling.”
“I am sorry,” he argued. “That is, sorry to disappoint you. But you can’t blame wanting me on some seductive power I possess, because it doesn’t exist. This thing between us, this relationship, or whatever you don’t want to call it—is pure chemistry, sweetheart. And yeah, I know it sucks to want someone you don’t trust. Believe me. I’m in the same boat with you and sinking fast.”
She glared a look at him that would have flattened a lesser man, but her feisty spirit only made him burn more for her, made him wonder, in fact, just how feisty she would be all hot and bothered and naked—in his bed. Oh yeah, she could seduce him all night long if she wanted to, and he wouldn’t regret it the next morning either.
“Right,” she said sarcastically. “It’s just chemistry. Just like you aren’t causing me to hallucinate any more than you stopped me from wind-walking outside the cabin, now are you?”
“Whoa,” he said with his hands up, stop-sign fashion. “You tried to wind-walk and couldn’t?”
She crossed her arms in front of her truly spectacular chest. “Like you don’t know.”
“I didn’t,” he said. “And I admit I was sure you would try. I was ready to yank you right back out of the wind, and yes, I could have. Time and practice breed skill.”
“I know you’re doing this to me,” she insisted.
“Contrary to what you seem to believe, very few GTECHs have special abilities beyond the basic wind-walking, he-man super strength, and speed, and I’m not one of them. If you’re having hallucinations, you probably have a concussion. I’m sure that’s why you couldn’t wind-walk too.”
“Good try,” she said. “This all started by the pool before my injury, and as I figure it, about the time I must have hit your radar.”
He wasn’t so sure the knock on her head didn’t have her confused on the facts, but it was clear she believed what she said. “I know it means nothing to you, but my word is as good as gold. And I give you my word—I have nothing to do with what’s happening to you.” In the giant room divided by four partitions, he motioned toward the first that doubled as a bedroom and a treatment center. “Have a seat on the bed, and I’ll get that wound on your head cleaned up.”
She cast him a silent “you’re crazy if you think I’m sitting on that bed” look, walked to the big black chair next to it, and sat down.
Yeah, good choice, he thought. He could still feel her soft skin beneath his hands, her long legs aligned with his. His cock thickened, his zipper stretched. Oh yeah. A bed and this woman were just too tempting to be safe.
Damion claimed a rolling chair and eased across the concrete floor to the medical cabinet at the foot of the bed, next to a vitals monitor.
With peroxide and gauze, he rolled back to her chair. “Why don’t you put your head in your lap so I can see the wound?”
“I’ll heal from the physical wound without you doing this,” she said. “I’m GTECH. Remember?”
“I remember,” he said. “Do you remember? Because you act like all of us are assholes and bastards, and simply tolerate being like us. Physiologically, GTECHs are different from humans, but we choose right from wrong. Good from bad. All of us, including you.”
“That’s like comparing humans to butterflies, GTECHs to lions, and saying both are as likely to attack and kill their prey.”
“Humans are far from butterflies,” he said. “And if I’m a lion, so are you.”
“It takes a lion to kill a lion.”
“Is that what you want?” he asked. “To kill me?”
“Like you don’t intend to kill me when you’re done with me,” she accused.
“I want to save you from Adam,” he assured her. “But you have to want to be saved. And you have to talk to me. Make me understand why you would work for a man who’s a seed of destruction. If you truly hate all GTECHs, then I have to assume you were forced into becoming one and forced into fighting as one. Do you hate all GTECHs? Or do you just hate the Renegades?”
“I know what Adam is,” she said, cutting her gaze. She pulled her feet into the chair, with her dress and arms over her knees, giving him a glimpse of the fast-healing bruise smudging the pale ivory of her cheek.
She hadn’t given him a direct answer, but then, he didn’t need one. Emotions rolled off of her and slammed into him. Pain. Resentment. No one faked this kind of raw hurt. The soldier in him—who did everything by the book, who had no room for emotions—urged him to use this moment of weakness in her to push her for more, but he found the man in him could not. She’d shut down anyway, he could see that, and done so in a way that screamed insurmountable wall. She was angry and with reason, if she’d been abused in Adam’s sex camps, and then forced to fight for him when she didn’t find a Lifebond.
“Let me look at your head,” he urged softly.
Her gaze shifted to his, eyes flashing stubbornly, a bit of that fight of hers returning. “I’m fine.”
He rolled his chair closer. “You’re not fine.”
“I am,” she argued.
Before she could stop him, he pulled her legs to the floor, not allowing himself to think about the short, tempting path up her tiny dress. She was hurt, physically and emotionally. He knew that now, and it changed everything, even if it should not. He could have her, he knew, and she’d willingly give herself without much encouragement. But he was pretty sure she’d feel raped in the aftermath, which meant that right now, he couldn’t have her, no matter how tempting she might be. Still, holding her knees steady, he ached to touch her, to allow his fingers to caress the smooth skin of her leg beneath his palm. “Put your hard head in your lap, so I can see,” he ordered. “I’m checking your wound one way or the other.”
Rebellion flashed in her bright green eyes, and her gaze collided with his in a silent clash of wills, a battle she simply wasn’t going to win.
Charged seconds ticked by until her lips thinned, her expression shifted. There was a tiny flash of vulnerability in her face—a hint of what was beneath her façade of toughness—before she bent her head to her lap and allowed him to see her wound. With gentle fingers, he brushed her hair away from her scalp and studied the six-inch cut that would be gushing blood if not for her GTECH healing abilities. “Now that’s what I call a gouge,” he said with a whistle. “And despite your claim of being ‘fine,’ you aren’t. You’re going to need several hours of sleep to heal this one.”
He rolled his chair back. “You can lift your head.”
She peered through the mass of dark brown hair covering her face. “What happened to your cleaning my wound,” she lowered her voice to imitate him, “‘one way or another’?”
Though being mocked wasn’t something he enjoyed, her attempt to make her distinctively feminine, almost youthful voice, deep and masculine, was fairly entertaining.
“Your hair’s matted inside the cut,” he said, watching as she straightened fully and shoved that mass of gorgeous hair from her face. “We may need to throw a few stitches in it to speed the healing.” He motioned to the right. “You can use the shower in the back of the facility, and then I’ll have another look. I need to check on my team anyway.
“And just so we’re clear. If you get any ideas about an escape, don’t bother. You’re in here until I say you’re out.”
“Until I steal your gun, and make you let me out,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Good luck with that,” he said. “Why don’t you wait until that head wound heals, and you’re feeling feisty again?” He wiggled his eyebrows and grinned. “We’ll have more fun that way.”
“Fine then,” she agreed. “That gives me time to plan the moment of revenge, when I turn you upside down like you did to me.” She pushed to her feet and wobbled, reaching for the chair.
He rolled his chair forward and caught her, wrapped his arms around her—holding her steady, holding her close. She was tiny and soft and yielded to his touch—as if her subconscious trusted him, even if she did not. “Easy, sweetheart,” he said softly. “I wasn’t joking about how bad that head wound is.”
She grabbed his arms and steadied herself, her eyes fluttering as if she were light-headed. “Thank you.”
He narrowed a probing look at her. “You really are a contradiction, aren’t you? One minute you have the vocabulary of a sailor, cursing up a storm, and the next, automatically saying ‘thank you’ and ‘please.’”
“I don’t curse like a sailor,” she argued, and when he arched a brow, she indignantly added, “If you had your bikini-clad backside hiked in the air, in a strange man’s face, I bet you’d discover a few four-letter words too.”
“If I was wearing bikini bottoms, I hope and pray someone would kill me long before my butt was hiked in the air and in some man’s face.”
She laughed, her expression shifting to quick surprise, as if she couldn’t believe she was sharing such a moment with him. “I’m trying to imagine you, the big, macho Renegade—in bikini bottoms.” Her eyes actually twinkled as she added, “Maybe a pink pair with flowers.”
“I’m going to take the big, macho Renegade comment as a compliment, but then again, with you, I’m not sure it is. And for the record, I’m not the pink flower type. I’m the American Flag type.” And then, because he had the undeniable urge to hear that soft, sweet laugh of hers again, because laughter bred trust, he added, “Or Spider-Man. Nothing like a good pair of Spidey boxers.” She rewarded him with a soft musical laugh, and he wondered if she realized she was still holding onto him, because he did. Every damn inch of him was alive with that little piece of awareness.
“You wear Spider-Man underwear?” she asked.
“You got a problem with Spider-Man?”
“No,” she said, a smile lingering behind her laughter. “There’s nothing wrong with Spider-Man. You’re pretty funny. For a GTECH.”
“You’re pretty funny too,” he said. “For a GTECH.”
The smile on her lips faded into the crackle of spiking sexual energy arcing between them. She drew a ragged breath, and he knew then, she was aware of their nearness, of his hands on her hips.
She pressed out of his arms and took several steps to her right, out of his reach. “Where can I find that shower?” she asked.
With the discomfort of his bulging zipper, and a mass of frustration over her withdrawal, Damion ran his hands down his knees and stood, motioning for her to follow him. “This way.” He started walking, letting her follow, giving her his back and his trust in doing so, even though she wouldn’t give him hers. It was trust she didn’t deserve when she wouldn’t tell him her name… and swore she wanted to kill him.
In his head he heard Kid Rock shouting the lyrics of “American Warrior” from his tribute song to the soldiers, but he was thinking “American Fool” might suit him better. A fool for a woman.
Lara followed Damion toward the back of the facility, passing a tech center that would rival anything Serenity had and then some, on the way to what she assumed was a bathroom. His name repeated in her mind, and she stopped walking, flustered that she’d thought of him as “Damion.” Don’t give a GTECH a name. He doesn’t deserve a name—a warning that had her gaze lingering, not where it should be, on the rows of monitors on the wall that might hold clues to escape, but on the man—the way his T-shirt stretched across impressively broad shoulders, and how his jeans hugged a hard, firm backside. She shook her head, a mistake she paid for when stars exploded in front of her eyes and set her to swaying.
A gentle hand settled on her arm. “You okay?”
She blinked to find Damion—dang it, the GTECH—standing in front of her again, towering over her and oozing a dominant masculine presence, lethal and sensual. He was too close, too big and bad and hot. Unbidden, an image of the two of them naked, entwined in bed, overcame her. She blinked it away and found herself looking into Damion’s light hazel eyes, softening at the genuine concern she read in them. She caught herself swaying again, but this time toward him.
Frustrated, she stilled the sway and balled her fists by her sides, telling herself this feeling, this connection she felt to this GTECH, was a spell, some of his GTECH voodoo. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m not going to pass out before you can grill me for information.”
“Good to know,” he said, his lips lifting slightly. “Maybe I’ll even find out what your name is before the night is out.” He motioned her forward with a wave of his hand. “Ladies first.”
She shook her head. “I’m no lady, remember? I’m a GTECH. You go first.”
“Together then,” he said, reaching for her hand and sending heat darting up her arm. “This way I keep you from falling.”
They were in motion before she could object, and he didn’t let her go until he set her down on a footstool in the center of a large dressing area, complete with a shower, vanity, and walk-in closet.
“You’ll find everything you could possibly need here,” he said. “Clothes that should fit, and whatever cosmetics you might want. Several of our high-ranking Renegades have Lifebonds who frequently travel with them, and they keep the place well stocked. Many of our medical and research team are female as well, so we want them to be comfortable if they should be here.”
“You have females involved in your operation?” she asked in surprised. “As in—not in sex camps?”
He leaned against the vanity. “I keep trying to tell you the Renegades are nothing like the Zodius. We’ve saved a large population of people and their families who were targeted by Adam for their skills or simply their bodies, and offered them safety and shelter.” He crossed his arms in front of a truly stellar chest, and she tried not to notice his powerful forearms, or the light brown hair dusting them. “Everyone in Sunrise City, humans and GTECHs alike, share a goal—to stop Adam before he’s unstoppable. And I know you find this hard to believe, but we try to make everyone’s lives in Sunrise City as normal as possible. We have a school for the kids. There’s no crime, no bills to pay, no need or want not provided for these individuals and families.”
Families they had kept together, rather than killed, as hers had been—it sounded too good to be true. Images of her past twisted her into knots, images of her own family being killed at the hands of GTECHs. She remembered her father’s new friend, who’d come to the house, and remembered arriving for a dinner just in time to watch him and a group of men slaughter her family. She’d gone into shock, but a moment before she would have been found, she’d hidden under the porch stairs, with bugs and mud, and who knew what else. That was where Powell had found her.
Powell’s warnings came back to her as well. The Renegades are worse than the Zodius. They pretend they are good, but they’ll smile and then shoot you in the back. These men had done just that to her father, to her family. Now this one was trying to do the same to her.
“I’ll leave the door cracked,” Damion said, moving toward the exit. “In case you need me or feel sick. But I won’t come in. You have my word.”
She actually believed him, which was a reason to disbelieve him. He could stab her in the back the minute she let her guard down.
He started to turn, and suddenly, she wanted him to know he couldn’t fool her, he couldn’t suck her in. “I’m Lara,” she said, giving him the name he sought. “And I was created to kill your kind. And I will kill you before this is over.”
He didn’t react, his expression unchanged, his big body still loose-muscled and comfortable. “Since you plan to kill me, seems only fair I get to know my assassin’s full name.”
She realized that she wanted him to know too, and she wanted him to know what the Renegades had taken from her, why she sought revenge. Why she would kill him. “Lara…” she said, intending to give him her last name, but her mind went blank.
He arched a brow at her hesitation. “Lara what?”
She didn’t know. She reached into her memories, but there was no name. Desperate, she tried to picture her past, her family, but there was simply more of that blankness.
“It doesn’t matter,” she lied, because it mattered more than he would ever know. “Lara is dead. My duty is all I have left.” And she feared that was truer than ever, because no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t picture her family, couldn’t see their faces.
He studied her a moment, his gaze hot and steady, probing and thoughtful. “Lara isn’t dead,” he said. “She’s lost. And I’m going to help you find her again.” He said nothing else, simply turned and left the room. He pulled the door shut, but for a small crack, leaving Lara to stare after him, lost in every way.
How long she stared after him she did not know, because at some point, she became aware of warm water running over her naked skin, of suds washing down the drain by her feet, of her own name on her tongue, as she whispered it over and over. She tried to answer the question the GTECH had asked her—Lara what? Mallery. Lara Mallery. But the instant the name came into her mind, it felt wrong. It felt empty and brought no recollection of the past.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she willed her mind to picture her family, to open herself to her memories. The GTECHs had taken her family. She would not let this new GTECH, Damion, take her memories. But the harder she strained to remember her past, the darker her mind became, until the name “Lara Martin” came to her. A sudden onslaught of conflicting, violent images flooded her mind. Of GTECHs killing her family, then of Sabrina dragging her up a set of stairs and ordering a man she didn’t know, someone named Skywalker, to be killed. But Skywalker was dead, and it hurt. God, it hurt so badly.
Lara hit the wall of the shower, the deaths of family, of Skywalker, replaying in her mind’s eye, over and over, and with them, the pain, the loss, sparking the hot flames of anger that the water had no chance of dousing. The need for vengeance, the familiar need for justice, roared to life—her only hope of sanity, her only reason to go on.