The woman appeared to be about forty with brown hair streaked with gray. She continued inching away. “Someone will be back for the dish later.”
“Wait.” Lynne leaned down and picked up the bowl. “Would you like to stay? Maybe chat?”
“God, no.” Horror widened the woman’s eyes. “You’re the plague. You shouldn’t be here.” She crossed herself, her lips pursing. “Only the very devil himself could’ve infected you with a monstrous blue heart. The rumors about you are true, and now you’re going to infect our leader, the one man who can save us all.” Turning, she sprinted in worn tennis shoes for the nearest stairwell.
Lynne glanced at the soldier, whose gaze remained focused above her head.
She swallowed and stepped back inside to shut the door. Tears pricked her eyes. How silly. What the hell did she care about some crazy woman who didn’t like her? Nobody liked her, and she’d always be alone. She placed the soup on the table, no longer hungry.
Even her bones were exhausted, and sometimes she wondered why she hadn’t just died. What had she done that was so terrible to have deserved this? Her heart beat steadily, the small glow showing blue through her shirt.
A tear fell.
Of course, Jax Mercury chose that minute to walk inside.
He paused, an oh shit expression crossing his rugged face. She would’ve laughed, but the struggle to stem the tears was too hard. A frown lowered his eyebrows, and he shut the door, placing several guns on top of the useless refrigerator. “Did I hurt you that badly?”
She paused and waited until his words sank in. “No.”
He blinked and glanced around the apartment. “Stop crying.”
At the order, a loud sob erupted from her chest.
He stilled. “Ah, what’s wrong?”
It was a simple question. A nice question. One a civilized person would ask. The easy words ticked through her, and something exploded deep inside. “Everything.” She threw out her hands. “Everybody hates me, the world is dying, and you fucking spanked me earlier.” She doubled over as the hurt overcame her.
“Well, shit.” A second later, she found herself lifted and cradled in very strong arms. Jax held her against his hard chest, his mouth near her ear. “Nobody hates you.”
“Yes, they do,” she hiccupped, crying harder, her body shaking.
He sighed and dropped onto the sofa, holding her closer, tucking her face into his neck. “We fear things in direct proportion to our ignorance of them.” His breath brushed her ear, and his size provided safety.
“Who said that?” she pushed out between sobs.
“Christian Nestell Bovee.” Jax settled his weight and kicked his feet out over the dented coffee table. “He was a writer in the late 1800s.”
She tried to keep her balance on his lap as her sobs increased and she let it all out. The fear, the fury, even the future.
Finally, with a couple more hiccups, her tears subsided. When was the last time anybody had held her? Letting herself go, she flattened her hand over his chest, marveling at its solidness. “How do you know so much?”
“Books.” He idly played with her hair. “The judge who gave me the choice of military or prison kept in touch, and he loved philosophy and literature. He would send me books all over the world. At first I read just because I owed him. Then I read because I grew. Finally, I read because the words began to make sense.”
“I shouldn’t have come here,” she said dully, her mouth nearly touching his corded neck.
He rubbed a big hand down her back. “Why not?”
“I probably can’t help, and now I’ve added more fear to people already terrified.” She’d been only thinking of herself, believing if she gave them knowledge of Scorpius, it’d be a fair exchange for what she needed. It probably didn’t come close. “I’m sorry.”
“I think you could be very helpful here. If you tell us all you know and don’t hold anything back.” He caressed small circles up and down her spine.
She bit back a moan of pleasure. “If I tell you everything, will you let me go?”
“No.” He stiffened. “Why would you want to leave?”
She lifted back to meet his gaze. “I can’t let it happen anymore. Be treated like a bad person, like an infection. People won’t even look at me, much less come near me. Touch me.” Without gloves and needles.
He cupped her cheek and wiped tears away with his thumb. “I’m touching you.”
Tears clung to her lashes and blurred her vision. Her heart hurting, feeling more alone than ever, she tried to pull away. Everything in her wanted to stay in his arms, to touch him, but like any Scorpius survivor, she was a carrier. She might infect him and thus probably kill him.
He held her in place.
“No, Jax. Let me go . . .” To be this close to him, to want him so badly, just heightened her loneliness. She was isolated by her own blood. “This is too dangerous for you. You’re risking infection.”
His searing gaze held her captive. “You can’t infect me.”
She blinked. “Wh-why not?”
“I’ve survived the bacteria.”
She stilled. Shock seized her lungs. He was a carrier, too? “The woman before, the one who yelled at me. She said I’d infect you.” Oh God. “They don’t know?”
“No.” His jaw hardened. “Nobody in the Vanguard knows. If they find out, I’ll be thrown out or lynched.”
Lynne tried to concentrate, to find any sort of thought and grab on to it. But all she could think was that the man holding her so securely on his lap was safe from her. “There have to be many survivors here.”
“Maybe, but it’s not like we wear a sign.”
She nodded, tingles cascading through her. “I can’t infect you.”
His gaze dropped to her lips. Tension suddenly surrounded them, changing the atmosphere. “No, you can’t.”
A tingle buzzed through her. Heat uncoiled in her abdomen, and she needed to move away. Instead, she licked her lips and drew in her breath.
He frowned, his gaze lifting to hers. The hand at her spine continued up to tangle in her hair and, almost in slow motion, drew back her head, elongating her neck. Moving at his leisure, definitely in control, he lowered his head, and his lips enclosed her collarbone.
Shock and heat spiraled under her skin. She sighed and pressed back against his hand. He wandered up, licking, to nip her earlobe.
She panted out air, her body revving alive. The most alive she’d felt in so long. Her nipples hardened and her sex softened, with a dull ache setting up in her core. Her fingers curled into his chest, and she shifted closer.
The hand at her nape twisted, exerting control.
She forgot how to breathe.
He traced under her jaw, holding her in place, nipping her chin. Then he hovered, his mouth over hers.
Please, please, please.
She held her breath, not moving, her eyelids fluttering closed.
His tongue licked one corner of her mouth and then the other. She moaned and moved closer into him. He teased her mouth, drawing out the anticipation, keeping her on the edge.
“Jax,” she whispered, so much need coursing through her she couldn’t think.
That quickly, he unleashed himself on her. Deep and fierce, he took her mouth, driving her head back against his hand. Somehow he shifted them so she straddled his legs, and his free hand grabbed the waist of her jeans and pressed her down on his cock.
Even through their clothing, she could feel his heat.
She moaned into his mouth, both hands threading through his hair, her body gyrating against his. While she should hate him, really hate him for the callous way he’d treated her earlier, for the moment, all she could feel was pleasure. Lust overwhelmed her. She needed him to fill her. All the empty places, all the loneliness . . . he could fill her.
The desperation, the earlier fight, the worldly devastation all disappeared in his kiss. In his overtaking her with something beyond mere passion.
He wrenched his mouth free and yanked her shirt over her head.
Neon blue glowed against his olive-colored skin. She paused, her desire banked. For the moment, she’d actually forgotten.
He inhaled, leaned down, and kissed the blue.