Soul and Blade Page 8

  His hands travel to my waist to accommodate my leaning back as I work his cock. I pump rapidly, feeling everything start to fuzz out as the sensations build in my stomach. He wraps an arm around my back and thumbs my clit with his other hand, just at the right moment.

  Everything tightens and I cry out, not even noticing we are in a moving car as I roll my head back and jerk my body against his. The second I’m done he pulls me back to him, back to his realm where he controls me like a fuck puppet. His fingers dig in, grabbing too hard and too much, but I love it.

  He moves me, lifting me up and slamming me down, thrusting in and out violently. He lowers his face, kissing along my neck until he climaxes. Then his teeth bite down, clamping as he moans softly, jerking and thrusting as hard as I can take.

  We tremble and cling to one another, shaking and twitching for several moments.

  “I love you, Jane,” he whispers into the tender spot he’s made on my damp skin.

  It’s exactly the sort of thing a girl needs to hear after doing what we just did. Especially in the back of a limo.

  When the car stops I start to laugh. “This should be interesting.”

  He gives my outfit a once-over before pulling off his jacket and sliding it around my shoulders. It’s still warm from his back, but his shirt is ripped right open. He pulls me in, kissing me on the forehead and whispering as the door opens for us.

  “Just walk in like your outfit was made this way.” There’s a subtle hint of his accent when he says it.

  I climb out, nodding at the driver, and stroll up to the front door, waiting for the doorman to get it for me. My heels click across the marble floor as I head straight for the elevator, desperately trying to ignore the dampness of the semen running down my thighs.

  The elevator door opens, and I catch a reflection of us both in the mirror on the back wall. A blush creeps across my cheeks.

  My eyes stay down, but when I look over at Dash, I start to giggle under my breath. He’s standing completely tall and proud, shirt ripped open and bite mark visible. He puts his hands in his pockets, looking ridiculous, but for some crazy reason the only person the guy working the elevator stares at is me.

  When we get into the room, we strip and head straight for the huge walk-in shower. He envelops me in the hot water, encompassing me with his body and laying soft kisses along my neck and back.

  We don’t talk about anything, and I can’t help but find bliss in that.

  8. PILLS AND POTIONS

  Lady Townshend had decided a bridesmaids’ brunch might be a good idea—mostly because I don’t know a single one apart from Angie and, of course, Melody.

  Meeting the rest of the ladies is like preparing for a mind run, but I can’t be bothered with this one. I’d barely thought of it until Angie mentioned it last night.

  At one head of the table is Lady Townshend, in a hat one might wear to the beach, only fancier—much fancier. It’s white with a huge wide brim and a black band around the middle. All the Englishwomen wear hats—at the table.

  It’s beyond the scope of what I consider reasonable. Any orphan knows not to wear a hat at a table. I avoided hats for many years after leaving the orphanage. They hadn’t been allowed in church or in classes or at the table.

  Next to Lady Townshend is Melody, who spends the entire brunch acting like she is the one getting married. It bothers me until I realize that sends all the questions right to her and away from me. Everyone sort of assumes she and Dash might have rekindled their relationship after college.

  She constantly waves to me from the other end of the table, but I’m not sitting at the opposite end. I’m placed next to Angie somewhere in the middle as if I’m a regular guest. I don’t know if I’m being slighted or if Lady Townshend is taking into consideration that I know no one and don’t like the spotlight.

  Next to Melody are horse-faced girls, who must be in their midtwenties. It’s a sin seeing them next to Melody, who could be a model.

  I have the unfortunate experience of again sitting near Clarice Underhill, the terrible snob from dinner the night before. She sits telling the same horrible story, bashing the Wauwinet and all of Nantucket.

  The rest of the ladies all seem the same as Clarice, British and snooty. I think it’s the true wedding theme here. But then Angie is here and she’s not snooty at all. Unless it’s about her dating anyone—then she’s insanely particular and strange.

  I could gag on my mimosa listening to them all talk, but I might need alcohol to get through this. In fact, I might order a scotch.

  The only woman I seem to understand is Darlene, the other moron we met the night before at the restaurant. She’s the one with the severe lack of personality, but I suspect it’s drug induced. She doesn’t even try to talk to anyone, just stares and drinks and smiles at nothing. It’s rather restful.

  I can’t believe this is my bridal brunch and the only bridesmaids I have are Dash’s cousins and Angie. I suck back my drink, and, as if by magic, another appears. The server offers me a wink and he’s gone again.

  Angie leans in, whispering, “I want some of whatever Darlene is on. That woman is crackers. She’s high as fuck.”

  I snort and do my best to not stare at the obviously stoned look on her face.

  “Can we get high on yer wedding day?”

  “Yes. Or drunk, but something is happening. Xanax. You’re a doctor, you could get some.”

  “Yeah, I can do that. I never even thought of it.”

  Darlene gives us a grin. “I’ll take a pack too.”

  “Absolutely.” Angie laughs, not having realized Darlene has super-hearing.

  She slides her small navy Burberry clutch across the table at us. “The pink ones,” she mumbles.

  I almost return the bag, but Mrs. Townshend cackles and says, “Yes, well, we have been rather busy caring for Benjamin’s new hound. He’s a handful. Too much for Benjamin to care for on his own, what with work and all.” Her mean words raise every hair on my neck. I drag the purse into my lap and hand Angie a pill before taking one for myself. We slip them into our mouths before handing the bag back.

  “Love the detail. Burberry is so nice,” Angie smiles and says loudly in case anyone gives a rat’s ass what we’re up to.

  Darlene laughs—a lot and loudly.

  I sip the mimosa in my hand and wonder what my liver will look like in an hour, and how much I truly care.

  After about fifteen minutes Angie leans in, whispering so quietly I can barely hear her. “I think that was Ecstasy.”

  I sigh, loving the feeling of the air rushing past my skin. “I think you’re right. I haven’t done drugs since I was forced to as part of training. It’s been years.”

  She starts laughing, sort of like Darlene did. She snorts a bit, earning a look from Lady Townshend. I lean in. “She is on to us, tone it down.”

  Angie giggles instead of chuckling, but it isn’t much better. When breakfast comes, it lands like an eagle swooped in and dropped it off. I know then I’m really fucking high. Whether my lips are chapped or just dry, I can’t stand the taste of the booze, and am forced to drink the too-cold water. It slithers down my throat, tickling and squirming.

  “I think that was acid,” I mutter, hating the feel of my insides burning with cold water.

  Angie is too excited about the eggs Benedict in front of us with smoked salmon from Norway on it. She takes her first bite, moaning like we’ve just smoked a lot of pot.

  Darlene nods; she knows.

  I cut in, moaning and sighing into my food. We look like idiots; I’m aware of it, and yet I cannot stop myself.

  Darlene leans fully across the table, as if the three of us are having brunch alone, and starts talking so loud I swear she’s shouting, but no one else is looking or noticing. “When I was seventeen, I met a Frenchman who was so beautiful. We went to the banks of t
he Thames and drank a bottle of wine that he had put Ecstasy into. We lay there, feeling the poke of every blade of grass touching our backs. When the sky got dark we could see the stars, even though I have never seen the stars in London. We saw them that night.” She points with her dripping knife before cutting into another bite.

  I don’t even care that I have hands or lips or there are stars in the sky. My breath is my life force.

  I’m sighing again, making myself stronger with the force of the air, when I look up and see Dash. He waves and walks to us. All of the ladies at the table jump up, gushing and hugging him, greeting him in some way, but he’s locked on to me.

  He comes and kneels next to me, holding up a small blue box, and kisses me on the cheek. “I wanted to come and say hello. Father and I and a few others are in the private dining room next door.”

  I stare at the box, smiling. “Thank you.” I think it’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

  “Open it,” he whispers.

  I turn, our noses touch, and he smirks and looks at Darlene. The disapproving stare on his face makes her look down at her plate and mutter something, but I don’t know what it is. My super-hearing isn’t working yet.

  I pluck at the white ribbon on the box and open it, smiling at the necklace with the black-and-white cat made of diamonds—of course, black and white diamonds.

  He kisses my cheek again. “So you can wear him on your heart, and he can be at our wedding, as your family.”

  I close my eyes as tears start to fill them. “You’re wrecking my high and my record for never really crying in public like this before. Ever.”

  He pulls it out of the box and slips it over my head. The chain is long so it slips down into my blouse, lying exactly where my heart is. He bends and kisses me once more, waving and laughing. “Enjoy breakfast, ladies.” He leaves and suddenly the entire table is staring at me.

  I just grin. I don’t have a single other response.

  When my gaze travels the table, it meets a different sort of look from Dash’s mom—not mean or judgmental. It’s something else. Maybe awareness. Maybe she sees how much we actually love each other, even if we don’t show it. Even if no one else sees it the way we do.

  I lift the necklace so they can all see. “It’s my cat.” The words emerge matter-of-fact and plain, despite the effect of the drugs.

  They don’t seem excited, apart from Angie, who completely gets it, and Darlene, who would have been excited if I had a lump of crap.

  “How lovely. He’s so thoughtful, my boy,” his mother says with force. She cocks an eyebrow. “The cat you brought to our house? The one who has made it hard on Benjamin’s new dog?”

  “Binx.”

  Their faces all tighten for half a second and then turn into smiles—terribly phony smiles.

  “It may seem silly, but my entire family died in a terrible accident, and I am an orphan. Angie and that cat are my only family. This means I will have them both at my wedding.” I choke out the last sentence and pray they feel like shit. It’s wrong to work the orphan angle so hard, but I hate being just the ridiculous girl Dash is dating.

  There are two sets of dry eyes at the table—mine and Lady Townshend’s, although she wipes like she might have shed a tear.

  Melody sobs, quivering just a little bit. I hope it stings her to know she has been laboring after my boyfriend and treating me like a second-class citizen. Wishing evil on her makes me the second-worst person at the table.

  We finish brunch with each woman turning remarkably kinder:

  “We are so grateful to be able to welcome you into our family.”

  “Benjamin is so lucky, he really is.”

  “You are the bravest girl in all the world.”

  “May I see your cat again?”

  It doesn’t stop and even Melody hugs me. “I am so pleased to see his heart in such worthy hands.” She whispers her blessing. With that white flag, I suspect Mrs. Townshend has lost her ally.

  I feel dirty for cheating and using my dead family, but it is the truth, and a little kindness from them all on my wedding day will make it less awkward, considering it is meant to be the event of the year.

  I wave and take the small box out to the foyer of the hotel attached to the restaurant.

  Angie walks up, giving me a weird look. She sighs, looking down. “Go back and kill him.”

  “What?”

  She looks at me again, confusing me with the look on her face. “If ya kill him in his head, he could stroke. Before ya go in, I’ll terminate that nanite, taking his control out. Meet me in two days at the lab. I’ll get the clearance and figure how the feck we can do it.”

  I wince, knowing she will suffer brutally going back there. “Dash will leave me.”

  “We won’t tell him.” She gives me a pleading look. “We both need the closure. Ya won’t ever be free of him and the cells if ya don’t do this. If that doesn’t matter to ya, do it for me.”

  I nod, hating that I am agreeing when I know Dash is going to flip his shit. She grips my hands and squeezes. “I love ya, Janey.” She leans in and plants a real kiss on my cheek before she walks off.

  9. SHE BLINDED ME WITH SCIENCE

  I lie back, wishing I’d told him I was doing it, because Dash is going to kill me when he finds out.

  The laboratory bed lies cold and hard beneath me for a moment until my skin starts warming it up. I look over at Rory in his bed. His chest barely rises and falls. He’s been under for a long time, living in his made-up realities. It might be part of why he’s so strong with mind runs. He’s grown stronger at creating the world he’s in from being trapped in a state of mind run for the last few months. While I have been taking drugs and having brunch.

  If they continue to keep Rory this way, he will not live past the next mind run. Coma patients are weak. Forced coma patients are less weak, but still not strong enough to fight even the flu or a cold or atrophy and fluid buildup in the lungs. Or I might kill him.

  Lying there, he looks peaceful, even if I know he is not. His sins have prevented him from ever finding peace. I will not let them stop me from finding peace.

  Angie comes to my bedside, touching my wrist with a sensor. She attaches all the other monitors and clips the two pads to my temples with the verbal plan inside of them. They sit there, sending signals to the nanobot in my head, coinciding with the headset I will be wearing. The pads tell the bot to use the biochip attached to it to send in the story. I will be given a shot to put me into forced sleep where I will hover in a state of semiconscious REM sleep. It is only attainable in this lab.

  The biochip administers drugs to create the perfect environment for the mind run. The release of the neurotransmitters norepinephrine, histamine, and serotonin is curbed while melatonin is used to induce the sleep.

  The prefrontal cortex is inhibited, tripped by the biochip, and cortisol is added to the system, creating a slightly more stressful environment in the dream world. It’s why they use spies and military personnel to do the mind runs—we already have fight-or-flight mastered and this system tends to leave the dreamer feeling the pressure of fight or flight in their dreams.

  Reason and logic flee while the body believes it is in REM sleep, but being in a semiconscious state, the mind is more susceptible to subliminal messaging and repetition.

  Once REM sleep occurs and the story is linked through to the system, it starts to play over and over. Soft speech—repetition of names, dates, and places. Creating facts inside the sleeping person’s mind.

  Then the mind runner is hooked up to the patient, added to the same information as the dreamer. I never actually enter his mind, but we play together as if it were a video game.

  We live the same dream, so to speak.

  Angie hooks me up, getting me ready in silence until the other techs leave the room. Then she whispers, “I gave
Rory an injection which sent another bot into his brain, like we did on the last run. This one is meant to search and destroy his old bot.”

  “What happened to the last bot you shot in there trying to kill his old bot?”

  “We didn’t try to kill the last bot, just override it. But he was somehow able to refuse the override. So now the last bot is a dud, just floating about, unable to receive or send anything, and his original bot is still running the show.”

  “How do you know this one will work?” I can’t help but be dubious.

  “Took the engineers two days with an entire team working the full forty-eight hours to come up with the little guy. It is programmed to take yer frequency to Rory’s bot so he doesn’t know there is a difference, but while it does that, it’ll also wrap itself around the previous bot and take over. It’s all delicate though and time consuming to kill that other bot. If we do it too quickly, he could go into shock or shut down. So this time the bot is creating an illusion like ya are not there and he is actually just dreaming about ya. It might give ya some time to sneak around. The bot will create the world around him; ya won’t have control over where ya go, but yer reactions will be yers. And its purpose is going to be to create a world where he triggers other memories and a new playing field each time. We are trying to get him to lead us to the place where ya can learn how he came to know of the lodge. Once ya do, get out.”

  “This is a terrible idea. Genius and terrible.” I give her a look. “Does anyone else know you did this?”

  “The one person who needs to know.”

  She means the president, given that he’s got the ultimate authority over our operations. “Does Dash know?” I whisper my question, scared of the answer.

  She winces. “No.” She’s lying.

  I bite my lip. “How bad?”

  “Worry about it when ya get back.”

  I lie back and close my eyes, taking a deep breath. “He’s going to kill me.”

  “Me first. It was all my idea. Oh and if ya get in there and it’s just black with nothing, it means the new bot accidentally fried his brain so come back out,” she says, and it’s the last thing I hear before the whispers of my own voice fill my mind.