Closer: A Novella Page 6

  “Around the time I was born, my dad—the man who raised me—was a truck driver and finishing his route on the East Coast. Mom went through her pregnancy living alone, and one night, she went into premature labor in an empty parking lot behind a warehouse. She hadn’t been feeling well all day and was looking for a dealer to give her something to take the edge off. We all knew that mom was a user; that’s something our dad threw in her face a lot during their fights. The pains started coming so fast that she had to slide into the backseat and deliver it herself. The baby was born dead. She got scared and wrapped it in a bag and put it in a dumpster.”

  “Oh my God,” Caroline gasped as she sat up beside him. “That’s awful. Why did she do something like that?”

  “She was scared the cops would blame her for the baby being stillborn because of her addiction. I don’t know what kind of shit was going on in the cosmos that night, but when she got back to the car, there I was, swaddled in a blanket in the front seat. So she took me home and pretended that I was hers. All those years, she wondered if maybe it was just a hallucination from being high on whatever she had been taking that day to get through the pain.”

  “No one found her baby?”

  “There was a blip in the news about a pregnant woman they’d found dead, whose body had gone missing, but nothing about a baby.”

  “Cleaners,” Caroline said.

  She was right. The Breed never allowed one of their own to be taken by humans; they had inside men who worked in hospitals and law enforcement, disposing of all evidence to keep our secret safe from humans. That evidence also included bodies.

  “Yeah. She didn’t mention if anyone had found her baby in the dumpster. Probably not. I’ll never know what happened with my real parents or why I lived. Mom never told a soul, but my dad knew that I wasn’t his. I didn’t look anything like them. He never said anything until I left home; he just disowned me and said that I wasn’t even his son. I guess he thought that my mom had an affair, and sometimes I wonder if that’s why he made her life a living hell. Someone murdered my real mother. That’s what I lifted from the bloodstain on the blanket. Death never leaves; it sticks around like an invisible fingerprint waiting to be dusted.”

  “So you grew up without knowing any Sensors?” she asked in an inquisitive voice.

  “I grew up thinking I was one fucked up human until I hit my late teens and met another Breed.” He stroked his left hand down her arm very slowly, secretly taking pleasure in being able to feel the soft skin of a woman without any pain involved. “You ask a lot of questions, Caroline.”

  The soft feel of a woman’s body sank against him like a security blanket.

  “I like it when you say my name,” she said decidedly. “No one ever calls me that.”

  Kane looked down, taking a deep breath. This reality was so vivid that he couldn’t get over how real she felt in his arms. Her scent reminded him of wildflowers on a hot summer morning.

  “You have a pretty name and I think you need to drop the Carrie nickname. I didn’t like that movie.”

  “Then you can call me Caroline, but no one else can.” Her fingers traced small circles on his stomach and he sucked in a sharp breath. Kane loved the sound of her voice, and having her wedged against him made it feel like she belonged there.

  “How much time do you think I have left?” she asked wistfully.

  “Decades.”

  Kane tenderly stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. It was a gesture he had always denied himself, but one that never escaped his attention when he watched the physical interaction between other couples. He’d always wanted to be one of those guys who could cup a woman’s face in his hands, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs while kissing her hard and slow. Unfortunately, the gloves made it an impossibility to indulge in such fantasies.

  Her pupils dilated when she looked up at him and his eyes instinctively dragged down to her lips. Kane thought about leaning in and finding out how soft her mouth really was, and if it tasted as sweet as it looked. His mind swam with provocative images of kissing her so deeply that she would know to whom she belonged. He gave himself a snap with a mental rubber band and discouraged the thought; he’d never sought that kind of claim on a woman and it didn’t make sense to allow that idea into his head now, given the circumstance. It’s not real, he kept telling himself, and she’s not mine.

  He admired the curve of her neck and licked his lips as he thought about pressing a kiss against her shoulder.

  There he went again, distracting himself.

  A laugh rumbled in his chest like thunder. It was a good thing that she couldn’t read his mind.

  “What’s so funny?” She smiled a little, waiting for his answer.

  “Nothing. I was just thinking about how we met.”

  Chapter 5

  No one had ever used her name in the intimate way that Kane did, and Carrie loved the way the vowels rolled off his tongue. He carried an air of confidence about him that was attractive—one that had nothing to do with his looks, and everything to do with being an honorable man that you could count on to do the right thing. Kane didn’t have the body of a fighter, but he had taut ropes of muscle in his arms and an air of assuredness whenever he spoke. Carrie felt protected in his strong arms.

  Safe. As if he could keep anything bad from happening to her.

  He also smelled good, which didn’t make any sense. They were inside her head, so only things derived from her own memories should be detectable. Yet when she buried her nose against his chest, his scent was dark and heady. It wrapped around her mind and body as if it had complete control.

  The room chilled and she curled around his warm body like a python.

  Kane was more than a flame; he was a torch in the darkness.

  It seemed like hours had crawled by when he left her alone again to try to wake her up. What if he never came back? Who could blame him? Trapped inside the head of a soon-to-be dead girl sounds like a great way to spend an evening. Maybe it was too much for her to expect such intimate companionship from a stranger.

  Watching the dwindling hours of her life tick away with every breath was agony. At least she didn’t own any pets to worry about; the only things that depended on her were a few ferns. Then the thought of Jesse looking for her gifts on the balcony made Carrie sad. The longer she thought about it, the madder she became.

  Mad and scared. It was the kind of fear that made a person feel insignificant and powerless. At least she was able to fight against the man who tried to take her life—but how could she fight inevitability?

  Carrie paced the quiet room and tried to listen beyond the walls. The air licked at her skin like a sheet of ice. She slid down the wall and pulled her legs up, hugging her knees.

  Alone. Kane had left her and she was going to sit in here by herself until she went crazy or slowly died. She hadn’t felt so abandoned since her father’s disappearance.

  “Caroline? Could you hear me?”

  Tears spilled from her eyes when Kane reappeared.

  “No, it isn’t working and you keep leaving me.” Shivers embraced her like a cold lover.

  Kane’s brow pinched in the middle, leaving a deep crease. When he disappeared again, Carrie put her head down on her knees and squeezed her legs tightly. What if she couldn’t wake up?

  Several minutes elapsed. When Kane returned, his arms wrapped around her like two protective shields. He wasn’t just holding her; he was enveloping her with his warmth.

  “Since we’re in your head, why don’t you imagine a couch to sit on with lots of blankets? You don’t have to freeze to death in here; build a fire.”

  She loved his voice; the rich vibration when he spoke made it easy to believe anything he said. It soothed her like a crackling fire and she wanted him to keep talking until the madness in her head disappeared.

  Carrie hadn’t thought of that. Something that large would take far more effort than the smaller items. She closed her eyes and concentrated. When
she finally looked up, a couch had materialized on the right side of the room. Plush, brown, and dressed up with her favorite beige blanket.

  He stood up with his arms around her, and while it was awkward, Carrie didn’t complain. She tucked her arms snugly against his chest and relished the way he held onto her. The link with Kane wasn’t just in his touch; their connection was on a deeper level now. They had shared private secrets that people would only tell a close friend or a lover. This was the darkest time in her life, and a simple twist of fate kept her from having to experience the impending darkness all alone.

  Kane lifted her up and she giggled, feet dangling helplessly off the ground. He began to sit on the couch but when he glanced hesitantly over his shoulder, he set her back down. Their lover’s embrace wasn’t going to make this easy.

  His throat cleared. “How are we going to—?”

  Carrie was a born problem solver, so she pushed him down. They both collapsed onto the couch, knocking heads and laughing. Once her giggles subsided, she climbed on top of his lap. The only comfortable way to sit was to straddle him with her arms wrapped around his neck.

  “Let me go back and hold your hand or something,” he said. His breath hitched when she slid her legs up and her head nestled into his neck. Carrie’s dress rode up, revealing her left thigh, but she didn’t care. His hands were already where they needed to be. “You can wrap up in the blanket and we don’t have to do this. I don’t have to be holding you so…”

  “Stay with me, Kane. Just for a little while.”

  His body generated heat like the sun and she relaxed, rubbing her nose against his neck. He groaned and tightened his hold.

  “I covered your body with a warm blanket,” he said absently. “Maybe that’ll help.”

  “It won’t matter,” Carrie murmured. “It’s not my body that’s cold. Can you tell me another story to pass the time?”

  “No. No more about me. You already know too much and it’s not the kind of shit you need to hear right now. They’re not happy stories. Why don’t you tell me why a pretty girl like you isn’t married?”

  She snorted against his neck. “My right hook?”

  They both laughed.

  “That would be a selling point for me,” he said. “So why no kids or family?”

  She shrugged a little. “You know how it is. Sensors don’t want a defective wife.”

  “You’re not defective,” he growled in a low voice.

  That warmed Carrie more than she had expected. No one had ever stuck up for her disability before, nor had any guy looked at her the way Kane did.

  “What’s the use of being what I am if I can’t even transmit anything? Sure, I can experience all I want, but there’s no exchange,” she pointed out. “I wouldn’t have wanted to use my gifts to make money trading, but in the bedroom… you know how it is.”

  Kane shifted his hip and she sat up to look at him. A ruddy color darkened his cheeks and she caught a spectacular glimpse of the coppery orange in the center of his hazel eyes.

  “I’ve never been with another Sensor,” he admitted, averting his eyes to the left. “Not the way you’re supposed to be with joined hands and sharing. I have conditions when it comes to sex.”

  “What conditions?”

  “Gloves.”

  Carrie licked her lips and looked down at their hands. “But you’re not wearing any.”

  “Yeah,” he said with a short laugh. “I have to touch you to be here. I normally wear gloves all the time—I can’t deal with physical contact because it’s too painful to tolerate. I sure as hell don’t want to experience any of that in the bedroom, or it might kill my sex life for good. I’ve never been able to touch someone without sensory overload, not until you.”

  “Sure, hit on the coma victim,” she teased.

  His brow slanted down in the most devious way. It was naughty and good-humored all at once. “I’m not even able to touch a woman when she’s sleeping, I’m that sensitive. Something is so different about you, Caroline.”

  “I’m a dead transmitter; that’s why you aren’t picking up anything.”

  His nose touched her cheek as he leaned forward and drew in a deep breath. “Then explain why it is that I can smell cookies. I should also mention that your right hook left quite a mark on my face, and you know what else? My balls are still throbbing from your target practice.”

  Carrie’s face heated.

  She’d never done anything like that before. In real life, she was a mellow person—not the aggressive bitch that Kane must have thought she was. But after a rogue maniac tried to end her life, Carrie had learned how to get in touch with her primal side.

  “Don’t do that,” he whispered against her cheek. “Your blush makes me feel guilty, like I did something wrong. I’m not a bad guy, not until tonight. I deserve to go to jail for what I did.”

  Kane lowered his eyes remorsefully and pulled back.

  “You don’t have to talk about it, Kane. But don’t you dare feel guilty for saving my life.”

  It wasn’t much of a life to save, but what she didn’t tell him was how grateful she felt that he was here. She wasn’t alone, and that comforted her.

  Carrie would give anything to be sitting in her living room flipping through TV channels. She’d never again complain about the high price of her electric bill, or the Shifter with the funny mustache who used to hit on her at work. The thought crossed her mind about how she’d always wanted children. Being a mom was something that was in her blood; she was so good with kids, and it would be impossible unless she met a careless Sensor who didn’t wear protection. Who was she kidding? They all wore protection. No Sensor wanted to take the chance of having a child if the woman wasn’t the right match in regards to having superior abilities, and a Sensor was the only kind of Breed that she could have children with.

  “Caroline? Where are you?”

  A tear crossed her cheek and trailed beneath her chin. Kane had such a beautiful face for a man, sharp edges around the jaw and the kind of hair she wanted to mess up with her fingers. It was so easy to imagine waking up beside him in the morning; he had the kind of relaxed face that she would have loved to see smiling as he stretched and opened his eyes. Did he snore? Was he the kind of man who made love at first light, or the kind who got up to brush his teeth first? So many things that Carrie would never know. She wanted to kiss him, but wiped her face instead.

  He offered her a charming smirk. “Why don’t you tell me what your favorite color is?” he suggested.

  “Yellow.” She sniffed and wiped her nose. “What about you?”

  His eyes flicked down for a moment. “Blue,” he finally said. “What’s your favorite dessert?”

  She laughed and patted his chest. “This is like a date gone wrong. Do you really want to know this stuff or are you just killing time?” Her fingers inched up to his neck and he flinched.

  “I want to know,” he said, looking her straight in the eye. It made her stomach flutter nervously, but she decided to play along.

  “Strawberry shortcake, no cream, but I like powdered sugar sprinkled on top. What’s yours?”

  “Hmm,” he pondered, as if he’d never given it much thought. “I guess nachos.”

  “That’s not a dessert!” she protested.

  “Oh?” His eyebrow arched. “Then what is it?”

  “An appetizer. Dessert has to be something sweet.”

  His lip twitched and he cleared his throat. “Well then, I guess I’d have to say trail mix.”

  “You’re impossible!” She tried to pull away, but he gathered her up in his arms and waggled his handsome brow.

  “And you are beautiful,” he said in a soft and serious voice.

  When Kane leaned forward, he tested her mouth with a brush of his lips. The moment they touched, tiny sparks ignited across her body and a surge of desire swelled inside her. His tongue stroked her bottom lip and then he suddenly stopped. They were a breath apart, staring at one another. The te
nsion was electric and she swallowed nervously, looking at the man she had just met. A man she was contemplating kissing inside her head. Was she nuts? Then again, what did it really matter? It’s not as if any of this was real, and God, how she wanted to run her fingers through his hair and tangle it.

  “Sorry,” he said in a heated voice, averting his eyes.

  The moment was crushed like a cigarette beneath a dirty boot. Carrie traced her finger along her lower lip. Maybe he changed his mind because I’m not normal, she thought. It wouldn’t have been the first time, and maybe that was nothing more than a pity kiss.

  She snapped back and spoke in an accusatory tone. “Will you at least call someone to get my body when I die?”

  His face paled and a moment later, Kane was gone.

  ***

  Kane ran across the house into the kitchen and swung the fridge door open to look for a beer. Anything to dull the guilt. A bottle of ketchup tipped over in the door and the cold air made the hairs on his arms rise up. Reality slammed into him like a hard fist—if he didn’t hurry his ass up and figure something out, this girl was going to die. Who was he kidding? Not even a Relic could save her in that condition, but it didn’t make him feel any less shitty for not trying. Caroline’s comment wasn’t a request; it was an accusation that he was doing nothing to help her.

  Loud voices in the living room almost made him leap out of his socks. When he peered around the corner, he blew out a slow breath. The television was on an automatic timer. The clock on the microwave was blinking five in the morning and he was in the house of a serial killer. Kane wiped his bicep across his forehead, holding it steady for a few minutes while he closed his eyes and regained composure.

  His throat was dry so he flipped on the faucet and filled a clean glass with water that tasted of chlorine. Three swallows polished off the glass and he set it in the sink, listening to his stomach growl like an animal. Here he was, wishing that a medium steak would appear. Meanwhile, that poor girl was suffering from a head injury.