But if he knew what I was up to, he’d be angry and upset, and I’d have to try to explain the inevitable, which was an endless debate that we didn’t really have time for. The fact was, I’d known all along that if I refused to become what Dr. Jacobs wanted me to be, if I resisted the Committee’s desire to make me a weapon, then death was the most likely outcome.
I’d accepted it a long time ago. In fact, during my first six years in the lab, I’d thought more than once that I would die there, in the dark and alone, for not obeying Dr. Jacobs. Then, during the three weeks I’d been there after being recaptured, I’d wanted to.
Instead, I’d gotten the gift of a life outside for ten years and then the discovery that the boy I loved was still alive. All in all, it was an acceptable deal, both times.
“So you’re going to get to the police, tell them who you are, and back up your mom’s story. That will help shut Jacobs and maybe Laughlin down,” I continued, forcing myself to keep eye contact with Zane, as if nothing were wrong.
“But you’re going to meet me,” he said, frowning, searching my face for reassurance.
Pain arrowed through my chest. “Of course.” I smiled at him, even as my throat tightened. “I don’t know exactly how long they’re going to keep you in protective custody, so it may be a while before I can reach you. I’ll try to get to the same police station today. But if not, go back to Wingate. Stick with your mom. She’s your safety net.”
His expression troubled, he nodded.
It was only his confidence in my abilities and skills that let him believe I could pull this off. I appreciated the support, as misguided as it was, because it let me get away with a lie for the greater good.
This plan wasn’t just about Zane surviving, even though that was the biggest, most obvious benefit. We couldn’t stop the government from starting up the project again at some point, but if Zane went along with his mother’s story, he might be able to keep Jacobs and Laughlin from participating in it.
It wasn’t the same as destroying Project Paper Doll, but if I could keep them from doing to someone else what he and Laughlin had done to me, Ford, Carter, Nixon, and countless others, then my death would be worth something.
Not that Zane would agree.
He looked at me, skeptical, unsure, his shoulders stiff with tension. Even though I was blocking as hard as I could, trying to keep any stray feelings or thoughts from reaching him, he wasn’t an idiot. “I swear to God, Ariane, if I get home and you’re not there—”
“I’ll be there. Promise,” I said over the lump in my throat. It was easy to make commitments that I had every intention of honoring if my heart was still beating.
I inched closer, and when he didn’t move away, I slid my hands up his chest and stood on my tiptoes to wrap my arms around his neck, clinging and breathing deeply in the familiar scent of him. I couldn’t say good-bye, but I could take a moment, just this one, for me, for us.
Zane would recognize it for what it was afterward, and that would have to be enough.
After a second, Zane’s arms came up around me, lifting me off my feet and holding me so tight I couldn’t breathe. And I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
I buried my face in his neck, and I could feel his breath warm at my collarbone and the lightest brush of his mouth against my skin. It sent a frisson of electricity through me, and the whole world stopped.
I wasn’t sure who moved or touched or what changed, but the tenor of the moment shifted lightning fast, like someone had flicked a switch from loss to wanting.
Zane’s breathing picked up, his chest moving against mine, and I could feel his heart pounding, hard.
Acting on an instinct that I didn’t know I had, I pulled myself tighter against him, wrapping my trembling legs around his waist.
He made a noise somewhere between a groan and exhalation of surprise before sliding one arm around my hips to help support my weight. With his free hand, he pulled the stupid cap from my head, which I’d almost forgotten I was wearing, and tangled his fingers in my hair, tilting my face to slant my mouth against his.
His tongue delved into my mouth, tangling with mine. This was not the tentative, explorative kiss of before. No hesitation, no uncertainty. It was as if he were trying to convince me of something or stake a claim with his conviction.
And still, it was not enough.
I squirmed against him, and his hands tightened on my hip and in my hair, but it didn’t hurt.
Feeling that odd frantic energy growing in me, I wedged my hands between us, fumbling for the zipper on the hoodie I’d insisted he wear.
My questing fingers got caught in a loop of the stupid hoodie string, and I couldn’t free myself without the patience or willpower to slow down, so I yanked it out, sending the sealed plastic end up to hit us both in the face.
“Shit,” I muttered.
Zane laughed against my mouth, a low vibration in his chest that I felt everywhere, but he didn’t stop. He shifted both of his hands to my hips and took an off-balance step and then another to the bed before turning and sitting, bringing me tighter against his lap.