Chapter Seven #2
“I think both,” she said softly, a tilt to her head adding speculation to the answer. “We can start from the front, and … assuming you don’t get too worn out, we’ll finish from behind.”
“And if I do get worn out?” he asked with a chuckle.
“Then I’ll just have to lay you out flat on the bed and do you like that.”
She turned to get her kit, but he saw the smile and impish victory in her eyes. He grinned like an idiot and didn’t hide it when she turned back to him.
“Turn your shoulder toward me,” she instructed. He did and she went about cleaning and disinfecting the area in preparation. He watched her prep to use another syringe.
“Now what the hell are you injecting me with?” he asked, rolling his eyes with exaggerated trepidation when he saw the new needle in her hand.
“Subcutaneous anesthetic. Stitches, remember?”
“Don’t bother. A needle stabbing into my flesh repetitively won’t exactly be noticed among the burning, cramping, and screaming pain.”
“I hope you’re being sarcastic,” she said as she set aside the anesthetic and pulled on sterile gloves. “Isn’t there any relief now that the antivenin is on board?”
“Yeah, actually,” he agreed. “I’m moving, right? Coherent. And if I sit still and let you do that touching thing, the cramps ease to bearable levels. I wouldn’t mind more of that after you do this.”
Devon tilted her head, her eyebrows drawn down in so troubled an expression that he felt his chest constrict in empathy.
“You …” She stopped and cleared her throat, straightening her posture as if she had felt too fragile in appearance.
“You don’t … aren’t … bothered by the idea of me … h-helping you?”
There was a deep and tragic lifetime of pain and fear woven into that awkward statement of insecurity.
Liam also knew she hadn’t meant to say helping, and that she really wanted to know if he minded her touching him.
In that instant he understood completely why she would hide herself away from the world, and hide what she was from those she let in.
The scorn, the prejudice, and the hostility she suffered from millions who feared and hated her had to be a daunting existence.
Who knew what she had experienced in her lifetime?
Hell, Morphates were immortal, for God’s sake.
If she was one of those original five thousand, that would make her over seventy years old.
Christ.
And it wasn’t just Paulson who bore blame for atrocities against the humans that became the Morphates.
However unwittingly, the government had given Paulson an unending supply of bottom-rung citizens on which he could experiment.
And then after they had been liberated from the hell of the Phoenix Project, the Morphates had had to endure a second imprisonment by their own government as the Federated States tried to figure out who and what they were.
Only Nick Gregory’s stellar gambit of bringing the press onto the Phoenix Project site during their liberation kept them from being swept under the rug altogether like some dirty little secret.
Just the same, how must it have felt? To go from Paulson’s prison to the ‘interment’ labs, these ones government run?
It was rumored that the government of the Federated States had tried, over a period of months, everything they could possibly think of to test just how far Morphate immortality went.
And while it was damn near impossible to kill a Morphate, they felt pain as keenly as anyone else.
They had psyches and they had memories, and Liam had realized long ago that they had a whole hell of a lot of good reasons to detest and distrust humans.
But here she was asking him if he detested her. She was wondering if he would shun and repel her just because she was …
She was a Morphate.
It actually made sense, he thought. She was stronger than the average woman.
She had that wicked sex appeal that seemed to cling to Morphates both male and female, and she had sensed trouble tonight well before he had, even though he was highly trained for it.
She’d done a fair job of covering her own tracks, too.
He might have figured it out eventually, but now he’d never know for sure.
Did this mean Carter Spencer was a Morphate?
The household staff? Maybe not the staff, but Spencer sure had that holier-than-humans attitude.
He realized he was taking far too long to respond to her query when she took a step away from him, her expression struggling for impassivity but her hands shaking tellingly.
Liam reached out without thinking and caught her at the small of her back, dragging her forward between his knees.
She bumped breastbones with him and it forced her to exhale in a warm breath that spilled over him.
He hadn’t quite intended such a macho gesture, but the minute she was there, her warm breasts and softly curved body dragged up tight between his thighs, he realized it wasn’t at all a bad experience.
Neither was having her fine mouth so close to his as he looked into those sweetly surprised eyes of hers.
She held her hands away from him, protecting the sterility of her gloves, and the gesture made him smile.
Damned if he knew why, but something about the restriction imposed on her had the strangest effect on him.
“Now, I’m going to answer that question,” he said, intentionally drawling out his words as he took his time openly inspecting her mouth.
She instinctively parted her lips and licked them.
“But I’m only going to do it once. You understand me?
I won’t answer it again, because I’m going to make damn sure you comprehend me. ”
Plotting his actions carefully, Liam used his injured arm, now dressed and cleaned of blood thanks to her care, sliding his fingers around the curve of her waist with a slow, purposeful caress.
She glanced down as his fingertips stroked the skin left bared by her short sweater.
Once he held her firmly with his wounded arm, knowing she wouldn’t make any sudden movements that might hurt him, Liam then withdrew his healthy hand and reached to palm the nape of her neck.
She stood there held in his hands, motionless, her hands spread away from contact, and her breath coming just as fast as his was.
“Are you surprised I’m touching you?” he asked, anticipation roughing up his voice: “Now that I know?”
“I don’t …”
“Some believe that your kind can suck the life out of a person just by touching,” he interrupted when it was clear he wasn’t going to get the yes or no he wanted. “Are you sucking the life out of me?”
“No,” she ground out, telling him she’d heard that ridiculous idea before.
“Yeah. If you ever suck the life out of me, I imagine I will be very much aware of it,” he mused.
Her gasp was quick and soft, her formerly irritated gaze widening into shock first and then a confused sort of amusement. She didn’t know what to make of what he was doing.
Gently, ignoring the cramps and aches it caused him, he slid his fingers under the hem of her sweater.
He watched her face very carefully as he traveled over the silken skin covering her ribs and touched the incredibly soft underside of her breast. She made another of those breathy sounds of expectation and Liam relished it.
He drew her so close to his mouth that they had to turn their heads to avoid bumping noses.
Their rapid breath exchanged quickly as he slid one large hand around the full weight of her breast. She was heavy in his hand, her nipple instantly standing to attention at the stroke of his thumb.
She exhaled the tiniest sound of pleasure and he felt it vibrating against his lips. His body exploded in response.
“When you said I wasn’t your type,” he growled abruptly, his lips nipping at hers as he spoke, “did you mean it because I wasn’t your type, or because I was a human?”
“I meant because I was a Morphate,” she breathed.
The distinction made sense. To her. It wasn’t a matter of her not wanting to be with a human. She’d simply believed a human wouldn’t want to be with her. Not if they knew what she was. And clearly, she wasn’t the type who would pretend or lie when it would matter most.
“Why did you kiss me?” It was what he liked to call a dumb-ass question, but he had his reasons for asking.
“Because I wanted to.” She reached to lay her hand on his face, remembered her gloves at the last moment and pulled back away. She made a sound of frustration as she turned to sweep her lips damply across his.
Liam let her invite him with the light teasing touch and taste, neither accepting nor rejecting. Just feeling her irrepressible need as it overcame her thinking mind. She pulled back suddenly, a gasp escaping her so softly it was barely audible.
“Did you … are you angry that I kissed you?” She found his eyes, bravely needing to know his true feelings on the matter. “That I didn’t tell you what I was and let you—”
“Let me!” Liam pulled back to bark out a brash male laugh.
“Sweetheart, there wasn’t any let in that kiss.
I took.” His hand at her breast squeezed firmly around her, his thumb and forefinger tugging at the gorgeous crest of her nipple.
Let him? Christ, didn’t the woman know he was only two minutes shy of molesting the hell out of her?
Man, she felt sweet in his hand. He itched to have more of her under his touch.
To lower his mouth to her sweater so he could taste her right through it.
And when he felt these things, as heat and hormones swept through him, pain and tension disappeared to a dull spot far behind his awareness.