Chapter Eighteen
Lauren
L ater that day, Braxton and I are in the cabin he made into a makeshift lab for me. After the chaos of the kitchen, I knew I wouldn’t be able to think straight with the soldiers slipping in and out of my thoughts. Sometimes saving people requires making decisions that, in the moment, appear cold-hearted. A screaming child with a gaping wound must still be treated. A sobbing spouse must still be informed when their partner didn’t survive. Medicine isn’t a popularity contest. Every doctor eventually faces difficult situations, and this is no different.
With Ashley’s help, I took blood samples from everyone, including Braxton and his brothers. I doubt Braxton believed the men were super soldiers until he saw their blood under a microscope. Thankfully, he’d gone overboard when he’d arranged for equipment to be delivered, everything from hematology analyzers to clinical chemistry systems. We’ve been able to test for pathogens, sequence DNA, and even analyze blood gases. For the past few hours, I’ve been chipping away at preliminary tests.
“You’re amazing, do you know that?” Braxton asks from a stool on the other side of the table. “I could watch you work all day.”
I smile. “You have.”
His response is a grin. “It was a struggle, but I survived it.”
I rest my elbows on the table, look him in the eye, and let myself be real with him. “What if I can’t figure this out, Braxton? What if I fail them?”
He takes my hands in his. “You won’t because you’re brilliant and relentless. You’ve got this.”
How had I never seen how truly beautiful this man is—all the way to his core. “I’m also exhausted, but I refuse to give up until I’ve discovered something, some clue on how to solve this.”
“What’s your working theory?”
“I’d hoped to find something they all had in common and work from there. Inkwell gave them a mind-controlling substance that my gut tells me is the key to this. Without knowing what was in it, I don’t know what to look for. So far, none of what I’ve determined is in all of them would be responsible for the bond.”
He drums his fingers on the table. “My medical knowledge is limited to what was required in emergency situations as a firefighter, but I’m wondering if you’re not going about this backward.”
I cock my head to the side. “I’m open to suggestions.”
“Instead of looking for what they have in common, maybe you should look for what is in some of them and not in others. From what you’ve said, Edward returned eighty years ago, so if Inkwell put something in his system, it should be long gone.”
As excitement rocks through me, I grip both of his hands. “You’re a genius.”
He laughs and shrugs. “I don’t know about all that, but I’ll accept any compliment that comes from you.”
Torn between claiming that gorgeous mouth of his and digging into his theory, I settle for both. Going up onto my tiptoes, I kiss him from across the table. He digs his hand into the back of my hair, holding me there.
The world around us melts away. There’s passion and urgency, especially when I part my lips and welcome him inside. But there’s more. Braxton waited for me to be ready for him. He was there all along, loving me through years of me giving him nothing in return.
Unwavering.
Loyal.
Selfless.
Tears escape the corners of my eyes and he raises his head. “Why are you crying, Lauren?”
I sniff. “These are good tears.” I cup one side of his face. “I didn’t think I could feel this way again. ”
He kisses my forehead and releases me. “I want to put the testing aside and haul you off somewhere, but let’s free these men first.”
I wipe my face and adjust my lab coat. Freeing them will free me as well, and I don’t want anyone or anything between me and Braxton ever again. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
We start with Edward’s blood and run it through every machine we have. Next we test Hugh’s, Jack’s, and Ray’s.
Nothing.
I try not to get discouraged. It’s getting late. I’m tired. There’s no reason we shouldn’t put it aside and start the testing again tomorrow morning.
A thought strikes me. I jolt upright. “I have samples of Ray’s blood from when he first returned. He was heavily dosed with something. It should be most obvious in him.”
I put both samples into a mass spectrometer, hoping to discover an unusual peak that doesn’t align with known natural compounds. I nearly burst into tears when the results suggest there was a synthetic one in Ray’s blood when he first returned. It’s not evident in his most recent blood sample.
I rush to test Pete’s, Franklin’s, and Elliot’s blood. It’s there, but in a much lesser amount. Not wasting time to explain, I rush to check the samples of the men I brought back last night. They all have it and at a higher level, although not as high as Ray’s had been.
I isolate the compound and then put it through a Nuclear Magnetic Resonance Spectrometer so I can confirm its chemical signature.
“Oxiferrin-7,” I say aloud. “I’ve never heard of it.” A quick search on the internet produces nothing helpful. I chew my bottom lip. “But I think I know who would have. Could you get Awbree for me?”
“The centipede robot?”
“Yes. She reads medical studies for entertainment.”
He agrees to, but with a pained expression. “I don’t have to carry her, do I?”
“Just go get her,” I say with a chuckle. What is it about a centipede, and a mechanical one at that, that makes otherwise-strong men uncertain?
When Braxton returns he has all the robots trailing behind him. He shrugs. “They all wanted to come.” I smile because I imagine his nephews and nieces get away with quite a lot with him.
Forcing myself back to the task at hand, I update the robots quickly on what I’ve found. “Awbree, you’re widely read. Have you heard of this compound?”
“I have not,” she answers but then scampers onto the table. “But I’ll access the internet and see what I can find.”
“My search produced nothing.”
Her metallic eyes flash. “You don’t know who to ask.”
Braxton and I exchange a wide-eyed look.
A moment later, Awbree says, “Oxiferrin-7 was first tested in 1941 and appears in several redacted studies from that period. It mimics and amplifies the effects of dopamine, oxytocin, and testosterone, known to create feelings of attachment, euphoria, and loyalty. It was initially tested on soldiers in World WarII, but was linked to psychosis and unpredictable violence so official use of it was ceased. Programs such as Inkwell continued to use and refine it since then, although the side effects remain the same.”
My hands flap in the air. “Wait, Inkwell still exists and you can access their testing?”
“Yes, and of course I can.”
“How?”
Awbree’s hundred feet clickity clack across the desk as she spins before answering. “I ask nicely.”
“Who does she ask?” Braxton whispers to me.
“I don’t know if I want to know,” I respond just as quietly.
After a moment, Braxton asks, “Awbree, is Inkwell still creating super soldiers?”
Her eyes flash several times. “Yes. They’ve been experimenting with integrating artificially intelligent robotic parts with humans. Regeneration is no longer their focus. They’re seeking to solve what they call diminishing control factors. Each generation of soldiers they’ve created reached a point of independent thought and were subsequently terminated. The latest batch was considered a failure due to the inability of the human brain to control the AI chip and vice versa.”
My chest tightens, and I sink onto one of the stools. In horror, I ask, “They never stopped? They’re still creating super soldiers and killing them off?”
Braxton looks like he might throw up. I’m right there with him.
“I don’t like that,” George says.
“None of us do,” Awbree answers. “All those robots... wiped out for no reason.”
“And the people,” I add.
“Of course,” Awbree nods her bug head. “And the people.”
“How do we stop them?” My eyes fly to Braxton’s.
His expression is tight. “I don’t know, but we’ll find a way.”
George rolls up to Braxton. “You’d risk your life to save robots?”
I’m glad Braxton doesn’t clarify his motivation. Instead, he bends until his head is level with George. “Once a firefighter, always a firefighter. First in and last out so others may live.”
Every robot in the room appears to synch in a way that sends a shiver down my back. Braxton comes over and pulls me into his arms. “One thing at a time. Do you have what you need to break the bond with the soldiers?”
The soldiers—oh, yes.
I’m so used to facing challenges on my own that it takes me a moment to accept the support Braxton is offering. When I do, something shifts inside me. An evil government agency may soon kill us off, but I’ve never felt so safe. If I could, I would stay in this moment forever.
“Braxton?”
“Mmm?”
“We did it. We isolated the issue and it appears to be self-resolving. Ashley and the others will be relieved. The initial stage of the bond is purely chemical, but since there’s no longer a trace of Oxiferrin-7 in Hugh, Jack, or Ray that means it doesn’t stay in their system. What Ray feels for Ashley is real.” I chew my bottom lip. “Ashley, Cheryl, and Mercedes all show signs of cellular adaptations since bonding with the soldiers. They’ve even gained some of their abilities, although I’m not sure about the extent of this or the cause. It could be due to an exchange of bodily fluids.”
“Which you didn’t do with any of the soldiers?”
I’m not embarrassed to admit, “I kissed two of them, but that’s it.”
“How was it?”
I cock my head to the side in challenge. “Do you really want to know?”
A devilish grin spreads across his face. “No, and that part of you helping them is over.”
“Yes, sir,” I answer cheekily.
We exchange a look, then both laugh. Can a relationship really be this easy? Two people who respect and appreciate each other, working through issues that would tear other couples apart?
“How long do you think the bond lasts when it’s not consummated?” he asks as he runs a hand through my hair.
“Considering the drop in levels in Pete compared to the latest men who’ve returned, I’d guess a week.”
“I don’t know if I can wait that long,” he murmurs.
My face warms, and I flutter my eyelashes at him. Me. The same woman a man once accused of not having a romantic bone in her body. I want it all now. Sweet, sexy whispers. Candle-lit dinners. “If you send me sunflowers, maybe you won’t have to,” I gush and mentally cringe at how my voice catches.
“You’re on.” Braxton gathers me closer and kisses me soundly before tucking me under his chin. I’ve never felt so vulnerable and so safe at the same time.
“Sunflowers.” George interjects, “Human mating rituals are extremely complicated.”
I smile into Braxton’s chest. My hormones are still jumbled, but not my heart. Braxton has shown me time and time again that I matter to him. This is the forever I’ve yearned for.
I glance around at the robots, their lights are flickering, and I wonder if they dream of being cherished by someone. I whisper in Braxton’s ear, “How do you feel about adoption?”
He gives me a confused look. “I’m not opposed to it.”
“I’d like to offer them the security of being part of a family.”
It takes him a heartbeat then he smiles. “Do you mind if I have a quick word with them? ”
With most people, I’d worry what he’d say, but this is Braxton and I’ve never met a kinder man. He releases me then waves for the robots to gather around him. When all but the little spider robots do, he waits and beckons for them to join in. They approach slowly, cautiously. “Okay,” he says in a gentle tone that melts whatever defenses are left around my heart. “I love Lauren and I’m doing my best to convince her we belong together—permanently. If everything works out the way I hope it does, and we start cohabitating, I want you to know that you’ll always be welcome.”
George’s arms extend to wrap around Braxton’s leg and he begins to hop up and down with excitement. Braxton’s eyes meet mine. “Is he humping me?”
I laugh. “I don’t think so. He’s just happy.”
It is George, though, so I can’t be certain. “George, easy, buddy,” I say firmly, but as kindly as I can.
He releases Braxton and does a beeping, flashing spin. “Guys, did you hear that? We have a real home. All we have to do is keep these two together.”
Braxton chuckles at that and wraps his arm around my waist. Against my neck, he murmurs, “You couldn’t have something simple like a cat?”
“Have you met Mercedes’ cat? He’s a little demon pet.”
“Only because people don’t listen to him,” John says as he hovers near us. “His humans feed him whenever he tries to communicate with them. Perhaps he would stop attacking them if they attempted to learn his language. ”
My attention rivets to John. “You speak cat?”
“Not yet,” he answers simply.
I exchange a long look with Braxton. Is he thinking what I am? I’m glad they’re on our side.
Me too.
I heard Braxton without hearing him in my head and it was so perfectly normal it was beautiful. Now that I’m opening up to him, our connection is pure, enduring and based on knowing each other so well we can guess what the other is thinking.
And it feels so damn right that I hug him with everything in me.