Direct Contact Page 6

  Julie wasn’t sure if it was his words that convinced her—put like that, it sounded plausible—or if it was the feeling of his hands curving around her breasts, cupping their weight as his thumbs rolled her nipples through her lacy bra. She moaned before she could stop herself, and he took that as a yes.

  Without words, he turned her in his arms, and she tried to memorize the planes of his face, the strong jaw line, ticking with lust, the full lips, strong nose, the deep, dark eyes.

  “Okay,” she breathed more than said, “I won’t fall in love with you.” Even as she heard the words, she wondered if it wasn’t already too late. His hot mouth closed over her nipple, and all attempts at conscious thought was lost. She abandoned herself to him, wantonly spreading her legs around the chair in which he sat, closing the distance between them impossibly more.

  He groaned. “Julie, you’ll kill me yet,” he said, pushing back the chair and laying her on the tile below. He stood over her and stripped off his shirt, the lean muscle of his abdomen reflecting the dim lighting coming from above. He unzipped his jeans, and Julie’s eyes followed the movement until his heavy erection sprang free. Spurred to action, she sat up then knelt before him, wanting nothing more than that pulsing, hot length in her mouth.

  She kissed the tip, and he gasped. “You don’t have to…”

  His words trailed off on a moan as she wrapped her mouth around his engorged head. The skin there so smooth. She flicked her tongue, and he shuddered, fisting his hands in her hair. Swallowing, Julie took him in slowly, feeling the length of him slide to her throat. She swirled him in her mouth, bobbing her head, before releasing him, inching her mouth back to the top.

  She blew out a breath, the taste of him intoxicating, leaving her wanting more. Again she plunged him into her, the hot, hard shaft vibrating. His impossibly silky balls brushed against her chin, and she raised a hand to fondle them. The weight of them in her palm caused a new wave of lust to conquer her, and she sucked harder, with more urgency until his hips rocked into her with each thrust and withdrawal.

  No wonder there was to be no direct contact. When given the choice between this and an injection, what woman wouldn’t choose the erotic acts of desire?

  Malcolm’s breathing quickened. “Julie,” he whispered, his hands tightening in her hair. “Fuck, Julie, I’m going to come.”

  No sooner had the words left his lips when his balls tightened in her grasp and his body clenched. He came on a shout, calling out her name in a gritty follow-up.

  She took it all in, stream after hot stream of cum. He tasted of salted caramel, a sensual sweetness around the edges.

  After his release, his strong arms encircled her, bringing her up to where he shakily stood. He drew her over to the bed, kissing her deeply, releasing her skirt, laying her down. His fingers traced the line of her ribcage, his mouth following their trail, and she arched up into his touch, no longer in control of her body. When his hands rested on her inner thighs, she instinctively parted her legs, wordlessly begging for more.

  A tentative dip of his finger into her sent shivers through her, and a sensation in her lower belly coiled tight. She pushed up her hips to deepen the teasing contact, and Malcolm understood her need. He brushed kisses on her torso, and he slid a finger into her depths.

  Hissing out a breath, he whispered, “God, Julie, you’re so wet.”

  He withdrew before plunging in again, causing her to moan in ecstasy. The first night of sex had left her sated but confused, all the feelings rushing her too quickly for her to process them. This time was slower, and she knew her body wanted this. She wanted it, wholly, completely.

  His thumb circled her clit, rubbing her moisture over it in slick movements that electrified her senses. More, more. She needed more.

  She clutched at his shoulders, unable to voice her desires, not even fully knowing how to. Thankfully, he seemed to know, and the feeling of his hot tongue touching her there shocked her, making her call out. Words were beyond her, and she let her senses dictate the lustful sounds coming from her own mouth. The feelings were foreign but so delicious. A flutter at the base of her spine, almost like an itch, persistently tightened, quickened, hummed… She couldn’t put words to it. The sensation deep in her belly heightened, matching the tickle on the other side.

  When Malcolm tilted her hips and ran his tongue over her nub, reality fractured, splintering her vision. Stars erupted in her line of sight, and she screamed, bucking up into him and raking her nails along his back. As she regained consciousness, she was dimly aware that Malcolm had eased up next to her. She curled into his warmth, his steady presence and breathing a comfort to her. His arms wrapped around her, and he drew the length of her body up next to his.

  “You know,” he whispered, “one of the first rules of not falling in love is not allowing the person you’ve just had sex with sleep in your arms.”

  At his words, a sense of loss and vulnerability overcame her. She swallowed it back and stiffened, preparing to rise and leave Malcolm’s bed.

  “But I think we can ignore that rule for right now,” he continued, tightening his hold on her as if to keep her still. “If that’s okay with you.”

  She nodded.

  “We can’t rest for long though,” he said. “We still have to figure out our plan.”

  She tried to nod again, but exhaustion overcame her, and she allowed the safe feeling of his rigid body to soothe her into sleep.”

  Chapter Seven

  Malcolm paced near Julie’s lifeless body, fighting the urge to sweep her up and take her to the doctor. She’d told him this would happen before she’d plunged one of the red vials of liquid into her arm. The antibodies took over the body’s system for a while after injection, and it was nothing to worry about, she’d said. He hadn’t realized how very much like death it would look, though. Malcolm stared at the blue base in the vials meant for men. He couldn’t take it until he’d solved the calculus equation, which he’d spent the wee hours of the morning doing as Julie had slept peacefully in his bed. She was supposed to have returned to her room last night, but when Malcolm had finally filled in the last variable in the math problem, the sun had been already peeking through the window.

  Excited by his progress, she’d demanded they set the plan in motion immediately. There was no better time, she’d argued. Twenty-seven’s meeting with the emperor was a mere week or so away. Julie would go down to The Levels with Twenty-six, and Malcolm would follow a week later with Anna, provided the girls agreed to it, which so far they all had. Of course, the previous girls’ choices had been easier—go live their lives in the happy landscape of the Terrecina suburbs or receive the injection and probably die. Julie had told him George had only taken some the girls with him to The Levels. Only those who were interested. The others were still living in the countryside, content with their new lives. For a time, anyway. She couldn’t give him much more information because she didn’t know any more than that, other than flashes of insight she received from the antibody serum. Then, after she’d taken it, she’d lost consciousness within minutes.

  Twenty-six would have a harder decision to make. Would she rather receive the injection or would she join the ranks of the army forming? Neither Julie nor Malcolm knew the answer. When the first effects of the antibody mix wore off and Julie awoke again, she would go to the girl and present her with the options.

  Malcolm gave his lover a lingering kiss on her sweat-slicked forehead then left her. As much as he wanted to stay by her side, he had to get back to his laboratory. He had to add vital chemical components to the blue base serum and test it before injecting himself. Julie told him Anna had already sided with them and had taken the serum necessary to immunize and harden her into a more superior being.

  Malcolm couldn’t help but beam with pride. His two girls.

  He went first to his lab to gather the materials he would need to sneakily mix together with the blue base. Too excited to wait, he put the correct ingredients into the
Petri dish.

  As he waited for them to coalesce, he checked the girls’ rooms through his surveillance system. Everything looked normal, nothing out of place. He checked on the girls. They were all up and moving around, readying for the day. Anna looked a bit dazed, standing in the corner of her room. An attendant was doing her best to get the girl dressed.

  Malcolm’s heart reached out in sympathy. The serum must have really shocked her system. Flicking the monitor to Twenty-six’s room, he was surprised to see Julie already there, looking none the worse for the wear. He watched her talking to the girl, too afraid to turn the sound on in case the emperor had tapped into his system.

  It didn’t look to be going as planned. The girl had paled, her lower lip quivering then she stalked toward Julie, shouting. Malcolm strained toward the screen just as guards burst into the room and hauled Julie away, literally dragging the woman by her hair.

  They hadn’t gotten her out the door before Malcolm was sprinting through the palace.

  He went straight to the rooms, but the guards and Julie were already gone. No alarm had sounded, which meant they didn’t understand the problem. Anything considered to be a security breach would have the castle on lockdown. The emperor hated to use the signal, though, because it alerted the people to something amiss in his little wonderland.

  Malcolm figured he had about thirty minutes. They’d probably interrogate Julie and Twenty-six then toss Julie in the palace’s small jail, near the kitchen. He was about to kidnap Anna when his phone went off. The emperor required his presence immediately.

  Malcolm swallowed and walked slowly back to his laboratory.

  The Petri dish, thankfully, had been left untouched. No one had been through his lab, though they could come in at any second.

  He hurriedly turned on a Bunsen Burner and tossed George’s notebook atop it. As the pages curled and blackened, Malcolm sucked some of the blue liquid into a syringe and poured the rest of the fixed serum into new vials. There was no time for testing. He would need this now. God, he hoped he’d been right about the equation. After injecting himself, he wrapped the other vials in old candy wrappers and hid in the bottom pocket of his satchel.

  He was able to wash out the syringe and Petri dish then place them back where they belonged before he blacked out.

  * * * *

  “Where am I?” Julie burst to life and realized her arms were strapped down.

  “We knew you were trouble since you first walked through those palace doors,” a menacing voice said over an overhead intercom. “Now, we’ve finally proved it.”

  Teo Mathis. She heard his twisted grin over the sound waves.

  “Enjoy your rest,” he said too cheerfully. “Your torture will come soon, and believe me, I will enjoy every moment of it.”

  She took quick stock of her quarters. Small and dank, the room had no windows. She could see a small galley way through a grated gate. The white concrete wall there told her she was near the kitchen. She thanked God that George had gone over the palace room by room with her. This jail was foolproof. No one got in, and no one got out. But it was the only one. Most criminals were held here for just a short time before being shipped down to The Levels—after a rousing game of cat-and-mouse with the palace’s royal asshole, Teo, of course. She shivered, anticipating her fate. She felt the hard edges of the table she was strapped to. She couldn’t move her legs on the first try and could only turn her head from side to side. Even that hurt.

  Taking deep breaths she tried to calm herself. She’d need all her wits about her. She’d need to determine if Teo and the emperor knew she had been taking the serum, knew she had extra abilities. If not, she could perhaps take them by surprise. The galley way led to the kitchens, and on the other side, there was an incinerator that operated twice a day. When not burning with all the power of the sun harnessed into it, it served as a shoot leading directly to The Levels. The country used it to dump its trash onto the people it cared so little about.

  That’s how George had escaped.

  She worried for Malcolm. Had he made the other serum? Had they found out? Was he safe? Was he dead? Tears welled in her eyes at the thought, and she forced them back. There was no time for sorrow now. She needed to harness her strength.

  Focusing on one small point on her calf, Julie imagined a white spiral of light there. She allowed it to collect luminosity, shining more and more brightly in her mind until the thought of it nearly blinded her. When she felt the burning heat there, she knew she was ready. She slowly raised her leg, concentrating all her effort on the ropes that bound her and searching for a weak piece in the material. She heard it start to fray and concentrated on that. The rough bristles against her leg started to rub her skin off, but she continued through the searing pain. More, more. Unravel. Another strand snapped. That’s it. Keep going. Fiber by fiber the rope gave, until finally, her raw and bloodied legs broke free.

  She concentrated next on her right wrist. The light came into view immediately, her powers becoming more defined and more easily accessible as she used them. The effort, though, tired her with a bone-deep weariness she’d never known.

  Her wrist cracked under the pressure of the rope, this one more tightly binding her to the table. The material finally gave way, and she studied the injured limb in her mind. She could see it, but she was careful not to move. The area must be under surveillance, and she didn’t want to draw their attention. The sight of her wrist, even through her mental capabilities, nearly made her vomit. The skin was torn and hanging. The raw muscled quivered below. She turned off the image. One more wrist.

  When she’d finally freed herself, her mind collapsed upon itself, utterly exhausted. She lay upon the table, free but still unable to move and wishing for death.

  * * * *

  “What should we do with him?” Malcolm heard the voice through a thick fog.

  Teo Mathis. Great.

  “I think we should stretch him.”

  If he could have, Malcolm would have shuddered. Stretching him would mean they’d tie his hands above his head and secure his feet to a large clamp with a crank then incrementally pull his body in two different directions until his bones cracked, came apart and eventually, his limbs ripped off. It was a very effective way of getting information. Having never been subjected to torture, Malcolm honestly didn’t know if he’d talk or not. At this point, he knew far too much about the operation not to be valuable.

  But right now, he couldn’t move or open his eyes. He counted that as a blessing. An unconscious man couldn’t talk.

  “He’s no good to us until he wakes up,” the emperor said from somewhere on Malcolm’s right, proving correct the scientist’s theory about his unconsciousness.

  The emperor’s voice held a sadness, and for a moment, Malcolm forgot himself and felt the automatic pull of guilt for letting down his leader. He concentrated his thoughts on George’s old notes. He reminded himself about what was really going on and the war that would soon take place then hardened himself against his past relationship with the cruel emperor.

  “Let’s concentrate on her.”

  Julie.

  They had her. Malcolm would have jerked up if he’d had control of his muscles.

  “Gladly.” Teo’s voice was full of glee. “I’ve been waiting to get my hands on her since she first showed up. I always knew she was trouble.”

  The emperor sighed. “Well, whatever you do to her, just record the sound. I need to know what she knows. I don’t have to see the means you use to get it.”

  Teo’s smug tone rang out. “Oh, you won’t have to see it to know what’s going on.”

  After that, Malcolm heard feet shuffling then the creak of a heavy door and its subsequent slam. Then silence.

  He waited for endless minutes, every fiber of his being screaming to get up, to help Julie. The knowledge that each moment ticking by was another Julie would be tortured weighed as heavily upon him as whatever the serum had done to his system.

 
He concentrated all his effort on his left eyelid. Willing it to open. He pictured the lashes, clinging to his cheek, visualized the seam where the top and bottom lid met. Molecule by molecule, he ordered them to open.

  To his surprise, the eye cracked open. Whether it was his mind or simply enough time passing so that the effects of the injection wore off, he couldn’t tell.

  He opened his other eye. They felt dry and sandy. Pain radiated in his head as he found himself staring up at harsh fluorescent lighting.

  He was lying down. He tried to move his arm and found that he could wiggle his fingers. He turned his head, the effort draining him of energy. A leaden feeling overcame him. He was tied down. Of course.

  A crackling sound drew his attention to the corner of the small room, empty of any furniture or decoration. Over the speaker system, he heard Teo Mathis’ voice, this time filled with disgust and rage.

  “What did you do to the scientist?” the voice commanded.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know,” Julie answered with sass.

  Malcolm half cheered her on until he heard the sickening smack of flesh-on-flesh. She’d been hit.

  “What did you do to him?”

  Julie’s breathing was labored now, but she kept on. “I fucked him,” she answered with bravado, her voice a little higher than usual. “Want to give it a try?”

  Another slap, this time hard enough so that a piece of furniture or something scraped across the floor. She did not cry out.

  Malcolm’s attention split as he saw his satchel thrown carelessly into the corner beneath the speaker system. He had to get up. He shut out the torturous sounds and focused his entire being on rising.