Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
M arise woke slowly, the kind of waking where the world didn’t rush back but dripped in, quiet and warm.
The room was still dim, the faint light of morning pushing through the window slats in slender streaks.
She didn’t want to move, not with Kathleen draped across her, one leg slung over Marise’s thigh, her hand curled against her collarbone, breath soft against her neck.
It was absurdly domestic and intimate. Too dangerous, but she didn’t care.
She stared at the ceiling, unsure when the shift had happened—when the job had blurred into something messier. She’d planned to study her, manipulate her if she had to. Kathleen had sidestepped every calculated move, meeting her with trust.
And now she was here, her heart beating against Kathleen and the thought of leaving her when this was over felt unbearable.
When Kathleen stirred slightly and nuzzled into the crook of her neck, Marise’s arm tightened around her.
She hadn’t made allowances for these feelings, moving through her shady world with clear lines: assignments, objectives, exits. But nothing about Kathleen had followed the plan. She wasn’t some mark any more. She was reticent, brilliant, and honest in a way Marise had never let herself be.
Kathleen shifted again, her hand sliding along Marise’s chest, fingers dragging sleepily across the bare skin above the low neck-line. A faint sigh escaped her lips.
“You’re awake,” Marise murmured.
Kathleen didn’t answer right away. She simply hummed and let her fingers trail lower, across the flat of Marise’s stomach. “Mmm. I was having a dream,” she whispered.
“What about?”
Kathleen raised her head slightly, her hair falling over her shoulder in a loose wave. Her eyes were still hazy with sleep, but her mouth curved in a slow, timid smile. “The kind I didn’t want to wake up from.”
Marise caught her hand and their fingers tangled, and something about that felt more dangerous than any situation she’d been in.
Kathleen shifted closer, her breath warm against Marise’s collarbone. Her hand slid tentatively over her ribcage, almost like she was following a map in braille, slowly and full of wonder.
Marise pulled off her t-shirt, letting her explore.
Kathleen’s fingers trembled a little, but they kept moving, trailing down her side, brushing the curve of her waist as if it astonished her that she was allowed to do it.
She leaned in and kissed the top of Marise’s shoulder—soft, uncertain.
Then paused, like she was taking stock of the sensation.
“I didn’t think I’d like touching someone like this,” she murmured.
Marise’s throat tightened. “Do you?”
Kathleen nodded against her skin. “Yes. Very much.”
Her voice was so quiet, it almost didn’t carry. Her hands were growing bolder, still careful, but not hesitant now. She cupped Marise’s hip like she was memorizing it, then smoothed her palm back over her stomach, her brow furrowed in concentration.
“I keep waiting for it to feel wrong,” she said, “but it doesn’t. I feel… like I want to keep touching you.”
Marise exhaled slowly. “Then do.”
That earned her the faintest upward curve of Kathleen’s mouth—not quite a smile, but something close. Her eyes stayed fixed on where her hand rested, as if she couldn’t believe it was hers. She kissed Marise again, this time on the jaw, then ghosted her lips down her neck.
Her movements weren’t practiced, but real in a way Marise hadn’t known with other lovers. There was no game here, no seduction, just Kathleen’s body warming to trust and wonder, and Marise opening herself to be wanted that way.
It made everything feel new again. Her body responded like it never had before; each touch sent a shiver through her and a tingle between her legs.
When Kathleen took a nipple in her mouth, Marise caught a ragged breath.
Kathleen lightly massaged her breasts for a while, then hesitated briefly before she trailed her fingers over her hips and began stroking her inner thigh.
Moaning, Marise involuntarily pushed her hips forward. Dismayed by her loss of control, she tried to reign in her growing desire, but heard herself plead, “Kathleen, I’m begging you?—”
“Begging me for what?” Kathleen asked, studying her intently. “To stop?”
“Fuck no,” Marise burst out, ashamed by the extent of her arousal.
Marise started the slow trail again, this time reaching her outer lips. She brushed her mouth over Marise’s ear and whispered, “Do you want me?”
Fire pulsed through Marise’s sex. “I want you so badly,” she croaked out. “I want you more than anything !”
She sighed with relief when Kathleen finally slid her fingers into her wetness and began to stroke her clit in small circles. She placed her hands on Kathleen’s shoulders and hissed out, “That’s wonderful.” She spread her legs and begged, “Inside. Please…go inside.”
Tentative at first, Kathleen eased two fingers in.
After a few moments, she became bolder as Marise surged her hips forward in time with her thrusts.
She kept pumping until a deep groan left Marise’s mouth, then she instinctively pressed her clit hard with her thumb.
It drove Marise over the edge and she came hard and long, crying out Kathleen’s name.
“I’ve got you,” Kathleen whispered, putting an arm around her.
Marise lay back and faced the truth: her desire for this woman was beyond anything she had ever experienced.
She caught her breath as Kathleen looked down at her smugly.
The expression changed to surprise when Marise reached around and unclipped her bra, then pulled off her knickers.
She flipped her over and proceeded to ravish her breasts.
She whimpered with pleasure when Marise slipped down and took her with her mouth.
Kathleen’s orgasm rose within a minute and she screamed out her pleasure in a long wail.
When their breathing slowed, legs tangled beneath the worn blankets, Kathleen lay curled against her like a puzzle piece that had always fit.
“I wasn’t supposed to feel this much,” Marise whispered.
Kathleen, still half-tucked into her side, gave a tiny nod. “Me neither.”
They didn’t say anything else for a while. Outside, the hush of trees returned.
And in the silence, Marise reached for Kathleen’s hand and held it. Not possessively or to claim, but to say, I’m here and I see you.
Marise’s breath was slow beside her, her body a warm line against Kathleen’s side beneath the covers. Neither of them spoke, but silence didn’t feel like a void.
Finally, Kathleen stirred and said in a low voice, “I want to tell you what I’ve been working on.”
Marise shifted slightly, her head angled enough to study her face. “You don’t have to.”
“I know. But I want to.”
Kathleen rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling beams. “It started with a question. Can a plant do more than photosynthesize? Can it do more than make food from sunlight? What if it could store energy, not only chemical, but actual, usable electrical energy?”
Marise blinked, then smiled faintly. “Like a living battery?”
“Exactly.” Kathleen felt herself warm at the phrase.
“That was the idea. But I didn’t want to make something synthetic and plant-shaped.
I wanted to start with nature and push it further.
Organisms already do extraordinary things.
Algae can survive in boiling acid. Moss grows in nuclear zones.
I thought… maybe we’ve been underestimating them. ”
Marise's brows lifted. “So how did you make them?”
“I started with aquatic plants—rootless ones that floated freely. I modified their cellular structure using genes from extremophiles. Then I integrated conductive materials—bio-compatible polymers, mostly—into their vacuole membranes. Think of it like replacing their cell walls with flexible wiring. The cells can charge and discharge small voltages.”
“That’s insane,” Marise said, but her voice held awe, not disbelief.
Kathleen went on, quieter now. “They absorb more than light. The surface is laced with microfilaments that react to kinetic energy like movement in the water, wind, even vibration. Lightning too. I had one tank set up with a charge plate beneath it. After a storm, the cells lit up so brightly they almost burned blue.”
Marise sat up slightly, leaning on one elbow, studying her. “You’re saying they don’t only store energy, they harvest it?”
“Yes. That’s the breakthrough. They’re alive, but they’re functioning like supercapacitors.
You can drain them and they’ll recover. You can wire them into a converter and get measurable current.
It’s small-scale now, enough to power a house, but if I can scale the biology.
.. if I can find a way to cultivate whole beds of them… ”
“You could build a plant-powered grid,” Marise murmured.
Kathleen nodded, then turned toward her on the pillow. “Clean, self-repairing, regenerative. No mining. No carbon. Just growth. It’s not ready for deployment, but it’s real. I’ve seen it work.”
Marise was quiet for a while. “Who else knows?”
Kathleen exhaled. “Only Ted. Now you.” She tensed.
“Oh my God. We forgot about Ted. They may go after him?”Veronica gave her a reassuring pat on the arm.
“The police would have picked up the two thugs, so they’re out of commission.
He should be safe.”Kathleen bit her lip uncertainly.
“They do have security in the building.”
Marise nodded once, but her voice was different when she spoke again—lower, harder-edged. “They’ll want to shut down your research.”
Kathleen turned toward her. “You think it’s the oil companies?”
“I’d bet my life on it,” Marise said. “They don’t want alternatives. Especially not ones that grow. You’ve created a system they can’t meter or fence or privatize. That terrifies them.”
Kathleen frowned. “It wouldn’t destroy them overnight.
The plants still have limits. They need water to survive.
Right now, they only thrive in aquatic systems. I haven’t figured out how to transition them to soil yet.
Their energy storage cells collapse in dry environments.
If I can solve that, they might grow inland, form self-sustaining grids in rural areas.
Though it’s still years off. I’m not finished. ”
“That doesn’t matter to them,” Marise said quietly. “The potential is enough. They don’t care whether it works now or in ten years. They want it buried before anyone hears about it.”
Kathleen stared at the ceiling for a long moment. “So, what do we do?”
Marise’s hand slid into hers. “We make sure it doesn’t disappear. You publish. A peer-reviewed journal. Something that can’t be pulled down or erased. Once it’s out, they can’t kill it. Not without the world noticing.”
Kathleen nodded. “I must go back soon anyway. Ted is fine, but he won’t know the next steps.”
“I’ll go with you,” Marise said. “I’ll get you in. I’ll keep you safe. But once you have what you need, you publish. Full transparency. It’s the only shield you’ve got.”
“And you?”
Marise’s expression didn’t flicker. “I’ll find who sent the men after you. I’ll shut them down.”
Kathleen turned to look at her fully. “You’re not just saying that, are you?”
“No,” Marise said. “I won’t lie to you anymore.”
Kathleen’s throat tightened. “Then let’s do it. Let’s finish this. I have everything I need on my computer to write the paper. It’s mostly written anyhow. I’ve documented it as I went.”
“How long will you need to finish it.”
“Two days.”
“Right. Then I’ll get to and find who ordered the hit.” She frowned. “Have we any internet service out here.”
Kathleen nodded. “Yes, there’s satellite coverage. A little slower than you’re used to, but it works.”
“Great. I’ll make breakfast and then we’ll get to work.”
Marise hummed to herself as she went to the bathroom.
They were no longer running. They were moving forward with a plan.