I slump into Zoe’s desk chair and rest my head in my hands. What a colossal mess I’ve made of everything. Keeping things casual was supposed to keep me from exactly these entanglements. But who was I kidding? Morts don’t understand the meaning of casual. They see a woman they want and kapow they fill them with babies. They redefined the meaning of the phrase ovary explosion.
Maybe it was pheromones.
The morts had to be grown in a super strong brand of pheromones and that’s what makes Theron so irresistible to me.
Leaning back, I admit that isn’t it. Pheromones have nothing to do with his cockiness or his kindness. They have nothing to do with how when it’s just the two of us together he has eyes for nothing else but me. I guess when you fall in love with a self-centered jerk, all that attention they pay themselves goes to you.
I’m in love with him.
How did that happen?
How could it not?
I have to see him.
I get to my feet and make for the elevator. I’m halfway across the room when I realize I can’t go anywhere until Zoe gets back with our food. The patients can’t be left alone unless there is a crisis.
Okay, I can wait until she gets back. Then I’ll find Theron and convince him to let me ride on his ship with him forever. I can’t sit still, so I begin to pace near the elevators.
He’ll be pleased and say he knew I couldn’t resist him for long. Then I’ll playfully slap him on the shoulder, and we’ll kiss, and everything will go back to the way it was.
Because suddenly the thought of life without him seems terribly dull and gray.
I hadn’t realized how the color, the vibrancy, of simply being had disappeared over the years. I’d been stuck in survival mode for so long, my eyes only on the future, how to find my mom, that I didn’t realize I’d forgotten to live in the moment.
Theron doesn’t know any other way to live than in the moment.
A loud screeching wail interrupts my thoughts, sending my heart plummeting to my stomach. The only other time I’d heard that sound was when Stella and Henry had escaped and The Rades had infected the prison. So either someone got out…
Or someone got in.
Oh no, oh God, the ship.
My mind races back to the downed Earth II aircraft we’d found. What if they’ve already found us?
Theron.
What if something happens to him and I never get the chance to tell him how I really feel?
The comms line at Zoe’s desk begins to ring. My hand is unsteady as I stride over to the desk and reach for the headset to answer.
A dark, familiar command stops me. “Don’t,” the voice says, and my bones turn to ice underneath muscle. My marrow feels like it splinters inside and then I run hot all over.
I whirl around. The guard from my nightmares looks even more horrific with festering sores all over his body and a red sheen to his otherwise pale skin. The smell coming off him in waves is enough to have me gag, both because of the memories of his torture and its repulsive scent. He must have escaped his cell, thinking Zoe had left the room unattended, not realizing I was still here.
My mind races, but the siren is so loud it makes it hard for me to corral my thoughts. I always thought if I had to confront any of the people who hurt me, I’d have no end of things to say. But that’s not what happens. My throat seizes and convulses, making me incapable of speech.
“Not so badass now without your little friends, are you?” he says with a sneer. “I was going to get out of here on my own, but I could use a little insurance in case I run into your friends.”
His taunting voice, the one that used to narrate the worst moments of my life, snaps me back to the present. There’s no way in hell I’m going to let him take away everything I’ve gained.
Before he can react, I throw myself heavily in his direction with a screech that makes my throat burn. His hands come up instinctively, but I dive low, aiming for his bloated stomach. The fetid scent of unwashed flesh fills my nostrils as I make impact. In his weakened state, I’m able to push him back a few steps, but not much. He’s still much bigger than I am and outweighs me by at least fifty pounds.
We scrabble for control, fists and nails making impact with vulnerable areas. He lands a punch to my cheek that makes my ears ring, but my nails make contact with his face and rake over his eyes, catching the skin of his eyelid. He screams and I feel blood coat my fingers with rabid satisfaction. He shoves me away with a great heave and I find myself flying backward.