Dead of Eve (Trilogy of Eve 1)

Lines formed below the ridge of the Drone’s cap. “Imago, leave us.”

Spit landed on my face through the Imago’s incoherent utterance.

“Now.” The Drone’s voice sent a shiver through my bones.

He rolled to his feet and stomped out.

The Drone hauled me up. “I’ve told you before,” he said to the doctor, “you will refer to me as the Drone. And our host is evolving.” He spun me, pointing my back to the doctor. “You see?” His finger dug into my shoulder blade. “We cannot wait. You have one week to validate your tests. In that time, we will not compromise her.” He shoved me toward the doctor and bent over to clutch his side. “One week.”

A shirt fell over my shoulders. The doctor tugged me up the stairs, the lab, more stairs. I tripped and spat blood on the landing. He caught my waist and didn’t slow.

I kept his pace. “They were pretty intent on breaking me and impregnating me. How did you deter them so easily? And why?”

A tremor moved through his arm where it wrapped around my shoulders. “They celebrate and fear your survival in equal measures. My warning gave the fear more bite.” He gave me a sidelong glance. “The why is more complicated.”

Moonlight showered the quadrangle. The proximity of the fortress’ exit arrested my feet. The tide howled. The scent of sea plants and stranded shellfish invaded my nose.

He looked out toward the stone archway, conflict waging in his face.

The Imago stood at the center of the open area formed by three main wings of the fortress, blocking the exit, surrounded by aphids. He raised his dart gun, shooting them at random.

Glowing green skin hissed. A series of exploding bodies popped. Insides became outsides. Cooked organs and flesh simmered where they once stood. The remaining aphids skittered back.

“Let’s go.” The doctor gripped my hips and heaved me over his shoulder. I kneed his chest. He tightened his hold and proceeded down the corridor, back to my cell.

We ascended the stairs. The wound on my heart flared as Roark’s door disappeared from sight. The last few hours burrowed further inside me with each step. By the time we reached the chamber, images of the raped nymph and the baby’s twitching leg had burned into my eyes.

He locked the gate and removed my shackles. If he noticed his comrades’ brutality in my swelling face, he didn’t show it. He stood a punch away, watching me, expressionless. A barricade to my freedom.

I shot a straight right jab and startled when the punch connected.

He bounced backwards. Blood gushed from his nose. His eyes crept up to meet mine.

I shook out my hand. “I. Hate. You.”

He winced. “Anger and hate are signs of weakness. You’ve witnessed that first hand today.”

I charged. He lifted his forearm to block his face. I hooked my arm under his, twisted and used the bottom of my foot to sweep the back of his leg. His shoulder collided with the floor.

Surprised by the easy take down, I jumped up and away. He rolled to his hands and knees and stared up at me.

“Why aren’t you fighting back?”

He dropped his head. Blood gathered on the tip of his nose and dripped to the floor.

I slammed a knee to his side and knocked him over. “I don’t care if you are giving this freely so long as you’re feeling pain.”

He lay on his side, offering an easy kick to his gut. “Nannakola, this is not as painful as the hate in your eyes every time you look at me.”

I froze in mid-kick and dropped my foot. His expression transformed, swamped with warmth, compassion, attractiveness even. It wrapped around me like a hug. Did he lie to the Drone about my IUD? At the very least, he stopped the Imago from raping me.

There was the corroded wobble in my gut again. “What do you want?”

“To give you something. It’s in my pocket.”

At my nod, he pulled himself to his feet and dug in his pants. He reached for my palm and uncoiled a leather strap over it.

Black and tan hairs matted the ties. My throat burned as I turned it over.

Darwin was seared in the tanned skin.

Eros will have naked bodies; Friendship naked personalities.

C.S. Lewis

“Where’s Jesse?”

“The savage? No doubt he’s sharpening the axe he threatened to use in the removal of my manhood.” The doctor crossed and uncrossed his arms. “He intends to rescue you.”

“And you intend to stop him.”

“No.”

I chewed on my lip and tried to suppress the hope offered by the collar in my hand. I thought I lost Jesse in Dover.

“He sent a message. Wanunhecun for the third time.”

Three mistakes. He said wanunhecun after he misjudged my ability to handle weapons. I scratched the scar on my chest. I knew he would take responsibility for my attack in Dover. The third? My kidnapping? “He was at River Tweed?”