
BODY PARTS
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Body Parts
This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Published by
Loose Id LLC
1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-2924
Carson City NV 89701-1215
www.loose-id.com
Copyright © January 2008 by Adrianna Dane
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.
ISBN 978-1-59632-611-8
Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader
Printed in the United States of America
Editor: Sherri Lynn
Cover Artist: April Martinez
He watched her from a distance.
It was as though she became a living essential
of his garden as she twirled in circles,
moonlight drifting light and shadow across her body...
Meet me in my office at nine a.m. tomorrow. We need to discuss the Ransom Project. Those were the emailed words that had Korrie hunting for her father's favorite bourbon. Why would Erik Carter, chairman of the board for the Morgan Institute, want to discuss anything about the Ransom Project with her? That project was ripped out of her hands and dropped into Paul Cathcart's eager arms with little warning the moment the institute was granted rights to the Ransom estate. The unexpected e-mail had rocked her world at five o'clock, just before she left the office, and would most likely keep it slanted until the meeting tomorrow morning.
Korrie walked into her living room and veered over to the bookcase. She pulled down the thick yellow envelope hidden behind the heavy reference books. This was one thing that Paul Cathcart did not have ‑‑ the photographed pages from Sheba Ransom's journal. It was the one part of her relationship with her father that Paul had been unable to mangle.
Envelope in hand, Korrie pushed toward the liquor cabinet and poured herself a measure of the aged Kentucky hand-mashed bourbon, no ice. To her father's way of thinking there was no other drink more pleasing than pure bourbon whiskey distilled in Kentucky. He'd taught her early on to appreciate the pure fiery liquid velvet and she rarely drank anything else. Certainly not on a night like tonight.
Dropping onto the sofa, she curled her legs beneath her. Holding the glass up to the light, she admired the shimmering golden liquid as she turned the glass.
How a thing is made, its basic core, is the important thing, Korrie. That's what gives it strength to last, and often its unique presence. Have the patience to do it right the first time, and don't cut corners. Her father's words had always stuck with her. He'd been exacting in his research work, dedicated to the institute, yet a patient and loving father.
No one understands my work like you, Korrie. Not even your mother when she was alive. His words haunted her as they always would because, in the end, she had failed him when he needed her most.
A pang of regret gripped her chest. The day Paul Cathcart walked into their lives changed everything. Paul was a man without principle and he'd torn away Korrie's one chance to secure her father's dream of exploring the foundation of the Ransom experiments.
She brought the glass to her lips and downed the contents in one swallow. The smooth, fiery liquid trickled along her throat, into her empty stomach, the molten heat spreading throughout her body. She closed her eyes, allowing it to have its way, then set the empty glass back down on the coffee table and pulled the old black-and-white photos from the envelope. Her father had carefully numbered each image so they could be kept in order.
She was sixteen the night her father first shared their existence with her.
You're too young to understand what these mean now, he'd said. In case something should happen to me, you need to know they exist.
Forbidden, taboo documents. What did they contain? Why was her father's attitude so mysterious? It wasn't until a year later, on a night when a swirling, white blizzard pressed in on the house and the brunt of the hammering wind rattled the windows, keeping her father stranded at the lab, that she discovered their secret. Sitting cross-legged before the fire in his den, she was enthralled by the words of Sheba Ransom, and a hunger began to gnaw at her that she had never been able to quench.
That was the night she fell in love with Athan ‑‑ a man, a creation, she had no hope of ever meeting.
Carefully she picked up the first photo, leaned back against the cushions, and immersed herself in the erotically stimulating glimpse of Sheba Ransom's personal life once again.
March 21, 1939
Journal of Dr. Sheba Ransom
Dawn is breaking and I am unable to sleep as I recall the thrill of last night and the anticipation as Cornelius and I lustfully consummated the beginning of our experiment. Cornelius remains in the lab. He has completed the necessary repairs to the internal organs and prepped the body. He is going over the supplies delivered yesterday afternoon for the hundredth time to be certain everything is in order and that nothing is missing. I needed a moment away to absorb what we have begun and prepare myself. When I return, we will complete the final merging of the two parts so critical to the success of the experiment.
I must say, the body we have acquired for the project is quite beautiful. I never realized what a work of art was until I saw him stretched out on the table in the lab with the moonlight shining through the window, outlining his flawless, still features. At the time Cornelius first proposed this project, I must admit I was leery. I don't want another Frankenstein debacle, and I worry that is exactly what could occur. We are taking a huge chance with both our careers. The thugs who brought him to us are not the most reliable of men, but in this instance we must use the resources available. I can only hope they will not attempt to blackmail us at some future date.
As I first looked at him, I thought that he bore the strikingly handsome lines of an angel in repose, and I could not help but feel the excitement build inside me at the potential of what could be accomplished with our success.
My heart hammered loudly as I greedily studied the sheathed, inanimate body. As I slowly revealed the shrouded form, a shiver of anticipation raced along my spine because deep down I knew my desire to see this gorgeous creature animate once more was not fully clinical.
Cornelius said the funeral director was easily bribable. The man will enjoy the luxurious comforts our generous payment can buy him.
The young man was a prostitute; his disappearance will go unchallenged. The director assured Cornelius that his pimp wanted the cheapest and most expedient way of getting rid of this beautiful, yet no longer viable, liability. He couldn't have cared less what happened to him as long as he didn't have to pay for the disposal.
When I first touched the cold flesh and envisioned it reinfused with warm, vibrant animation, the challenge excited me. I wanted to see his eyes open and to have him acknowledge us as his creators. But there was more to it than that.
In that earlier moment in the laboratory, surprisingly I felt my own tendrils of sexual energy unfurl and reach out to him. My heat to his cold. I wanted to infuse him with my power, and the feelings erupted from more than scientific curiosity. My cunt dripped with the juices of excited arousal and expectancy at what I envision for his future ‑‑ our future.
I have studied long and hard in my chosen field just for a moment such as this. I have the knowledge of magic and chemistry. And Cornelius holds the knowledge and skillful prowess to make this being into a sum of all its perfect parts. Each one seamlessly melded into the whole.
The man who had once been housed inside the vessel lives no longer. I remembered thinking it was a shame as I studied the long, ugly slash running horizontally across his abdomen, knowing he had been the victim of violence. He possessed no relatives that anyone knew of. There would be no one to miss him, to come searching for him, which made him a perfect specimen.
With the fresh intelligence of a new brain that was delivered this evening ‑‑ a brilliant one, as we knew its donor ‑‑ he will be faultless.
He was so pale without that spark of energy that exists in the living. A gorgeous slab of clay waiting to be molded and brought to life. Would this body hold any of the memories of the young whore, even with the new core of energy housed inside his head to drive his actions? Would a new heart of passion be created blending the body with the brain?
The excitement built inside me like nothing I have ever known before.
Youth. How much we all desire it. Wish to retain in. He will be our study model. He will be our creation. And if we are successful he will be our claim to fame ‑‑ our moment in the sun before mortality tears us away.
Odd as it seems, I didn't want to leave him alone. I have a feeling he will become a significant part of our lives, beyond the experiment itself, and I am eager to begin.
Even the coldness of death could not stop me from stroking the beautiful flesh of his still form. Like a statue in a museum one finds too beautiful not to touch. To feel the lines and crevices of stunning architecture that are molded to perfection. It is my belief that every object has energy and even in death this beautiful one created an aura of his own. How bright he will be when reanimated.
His hair was thick, rich, and dark, with silky curls that draped to his shoulders. Too bad it had to be completely shaved in preparation for the transplant. But I'm confident it will grow back thicker and more luxuriant than ever.
I want to know the color of his eyes, but not yet. Not while death still imprisons him. It will be enough when he opens them after being revived. There will be a different knowledge in them when that occurs.
His lips are full and sensual and I find myself wondering how he has used his mouth and tongue to pleasure. Immediately my body heated more intensely at the thought of lips like his pleasuring me.
He would undoubtedly have a very experienced touch. He had been trained to give pleasure and the idea intrigues me to know a man such as this one intimately. His penis lay flaccid and lifeless, but by the look of it, when it is brought to rigid life it will embrace a worthy presence all its own. How many people had he pleasured with that enticing instrument of passion?
His chest is broad and powerful, with a fine pelting of dark, curling hairs, and I couldn't help stroking it, visualizing the deep rise and fall of his breaths in the throes of passion. Sweat lingering on his skin. Moisture I would eagerly lick from his body. His arms are thickly defined with ropy muscles.
I want to see desire in his eyes when they open. Passion for life. There is so much promise, so much potential.
Cornelius and I have been together a long time. We love each other in our way, but being scientists, we have satisfied our curiosity and adventured into many unusual areas, including sexual freedom, seeking the purity of sexual passion, that energy that intricately drives our being. We have experimented with many types of human interaction and found them satisfying, if not life changing. But I have a feeling this time it will be different.
Something tells me I stand at the brink of a momentous event. With Cornelius's skill as a physician and surgeon, and my knowledge of alchemy and the energy of my magic, we will create a being no one has ever seen the likes of. And history will remember our efforts.
My pussy convulsed at the anticipated fruition of our monumental task. Regretfully I replaced the sheet over our precious creature as I heard footsteps. Cornelius returned to the lab carrying a large glass jar carefully balanced between his hands. We stared at each other for long moments as the electricity of the impending project sparked between us.
After so many years together we have that way of communicating without speaking, as long-time couples do. I saw the same desire and excitement building in his eyes. He turned away and carefully placed the container on the shelf.
"We're almost ready," he said in his gruff voice. His excitement was visible ‑‑ I could see it clearly in the tent of his trousers.
"We must wait for the correct signs," I vaguely responded as I unbuttoned my white lab coat and let it drop to the stone floor. His eyes were on me, watching me intently. I could see the sexual energy building in his dilated gaze.
My own breathing rasped in my chest, the excitement tightening my nipples to hard, needy peaks beneath my blouse. I pulled at the closure of my skirt and pushed it down, then my blouse, followed by my slip. I was left standing in my white, serviceable bra, cotton panties, garter belt, and stockings. I'd never been one to care much for fashion. It's the flesh that's important, the mind, and how we use them both. And right at that instant I knew exactly how I wanted to use mine.
"We're going to do it," he said as he unbuttoned his own white coat and then proceeded to remove the remainder of his clothing.
I unfastened the garters, placed my foot on a step stool nearby, and rolled each silk stocking down my leg. I wiggled my hips enticingly as I removed my panties, turned my back on him as I unhooked my bra, easing it down my shoulders, like a stripper in one of the decadent clubs we had snuck into when we were in Europe. I turned back still holding it over my aroused breasts and looked at him with my most brazen expression ‑‑ one practiced just for him. And then I released the bra and let it fall to the floor.
Cornelius likes a good show before the grand finale. It makes him so very hot and amazingly hard. He has the stamina of a stallion and can fuck for hours. I saw it in his eyes ‑‑ he wanted it fast and hard tonight. We were going to baptize the inception of our project. Our combined sexual magic would infuse us with certainty of success.
He watched me as I straightened, flaunting my body before him. He was gloriously naked, his cock at stunning full attention, rock hard, gleaming with pre-ejaculate. I felt my cunt clench at knowing how he would fill me, and the lust spread like lightning through the rest of my body.
We met at the center of the room. I love when he gets that excited, and it usually only occurs when a major project is about to begin. He truly sizzles with electricity at those times. Just like tonight.
He lifted me into his arms and I anchored my legs around his hips. My labia lips spread and his penis shoved between them. It was like a hot poker branding me as he carried me to a vacant table and settled me upon it.
"Do you want to suck me first?" he growled against my ear as he nipped and licked his way along the curve. He knows how that drives me crazy. But then after so many years of marriage how could he not know every inch of my flesh, or what arouses me most?
I licked my lips, but shook my head. "Not now. I'm too needy and I require some relief. I need to feel your cock inside me. Do it hard, Cornelius. You know what I want." And he always did.
He shoved me back onto the metal table and spread my legs wide. He pulled me close to the edge and clamped my feet into the brackets at the sides. I could feel the edge of the table beneath my buttocks, felt my cream dripping. And then his cock penetrated me to the root. I screamed, overwhelmed with lust as he drove into me completely, retreated, and drove in again, hammering at my vagina, filling me, stretching me.
I loved it, but tonight it seemed to drive right through me more so than usual. Was it because I was so excited by him or the impending project? Or maybe a little of both? It didn't matter.
I gripped the edges of the table tightly as he bombarded me with sensations. I arched up, pulling him deeper. My body thrashed with pleasure as he came into me again and again. I felt my energy rise and mingle with his.
He rubbed at my clitoris, circled and pressed the stiffened bud. But I didn't want to come yet, not just yet. I tried to hold back, to stem the rising tide as the storm of need raged through me.
Cornelius loves the anticipation of impending climax every bit as much as the climax itself, maybe even more so. It is his way to push right to the edge of sanity, to bring us to that primal place of pulsing, primitive, shattering need.
It is that moment when my nails dig deep into his flesh and rip through the epidermic layers of tissue. It is that roaring demand for satisfaction, only then will he allow himself to succumb.
He likes the pain; he says it heightens the orgasm. We have played with that knowledge over the years, and have at times taken it to the very edge of our destruction.
But not tonight. Tonight he pounds into me with the fanaticism of primitive man and I respond on that same primeval level. Our grunts and groans, and the squishing of our bodies, are the only sounds that echo in the laboratory. Time and time again without surcease. We are beings surrounded by our sexual energy, and I can almost feel it snap and sizzle in the air throughout the room.
More, I thought, more, we must have more. And I rose once again to consume his thick cock as he battered into me deeply. I felt his balls slap against my ass. I undulated against him, my pants of lust loud to my ears as I pushed him harder. My juices gushed all around him. I was burning up like a pool of oil struck with a match, and I felt I could go on forever in this passionate dance.
He tipped my pelvis and slammed to the entrance of my womb and I shrieked like a jungle primate, hearing the sounds reverberate around the room and feeling the vibrations his cock was sending throughout my whole body. He retreated and swirled the tip against my opening, then pressed inward, sealing us together.
My God, primal woman rose inside me. Like a shape-shifter, she emerged and revealed herself, gripping her mate with fierce claws, leaving her mark upon him. I heard him gasp then felt his molten seed fill me, spurt after spurt, and it sent me plummeting over the edge, diving headfirst into the seething sea. I vaguely remembered convulsing beneath him, screaming the cry of a cougar as my cunt milked his cock and my nails dug into his chest, clinging tightly to my mate.
When it was over, I dropped back onto the now slick table, struggling to catch my breath. He released my heels from the mounts and yanked me forward, his mouth diving to my breasts, nipping the full mounds, leaving his own mark. He suckled at my hardened nipple, drawing it deeply into his mouth.
He was an insatiable lover. And I was no less needy. His seed filled me time and time again over the years. His and others we had chosen. And still I had remained barren.
Maybe it was that knowledge that drove us to create the perfect being. That need to create life from what others only saw as barren and useless.
I looked over at the sheeted figure and the excitement built inside me once again at what the future held for us.
"We will call him Athan." The name had come to me from nowhere, holding no real specific meaning. It is simply another piece we will fuse together.
Cornelius leaned up and looked at me and then he smiled. Oh, God, I felt his cock again beginning to swell inside my cunt, stretching me once more. Yes, obviously he liked my suggested name very much indeed.
I smiled in complete understanding. We always had been in perfect sync, he and I.
"Athan it is, my love," he said before he began moving inside my very lubricated channel.
Insatiable.
The thirst for sex. The thirst for life. The passion for immortality.
Korrie dropped her head back against the sofa and closed her eyes, the slick heat of arousal glossing her thighs, her pussy sensitive and empty. This journal entry never failed to arouse her. She wanted this creation just as much as Sheba had, if not more.
She did not have the complete journal, and it fired her imagination as to what had ultimately become of the being they had created.
Sheba's words always had that affect on her. She was never bored by her entries, no matter how many times she read them. By this time she had them memorized, but she enjoyed looking at the woman's bold, flowing script. When she was younger she had wanted to be Sheba Ransom. How she wished she could have had the opportunity to meet her.
She had retained her father's passion for knowledge about the Ransoms. It ran deep and unquenchable. In her youth, pride might have kept her from meeting with Carter after everything that had occurred regarding the Ransom Project. Curiosity would have her running to keep the date.
Paul Cathcart was going to fail in his efforts to destroy her father's memory. With a certainty she didn't quite understand, Korrie knew she would get her chance to ferret out the secret discoveries the Ransoms had made. It was her destiny to do so and not even her ex-fiancé's machinations would change that.
Nothing would prevent her from delving into the mystery of Athan and finding out what had become of him.
Athan slowly surfaced from his dream of the woman. The pleasing scent intrigued him as it always did. He never recalled her face upon waking, but the smell of lavender teased him with her mystery. It reminded him of his garden, the place he loved best on the whole estate. Was she real? Or maybe a vague memory that refused to fade? Possibly it was the lingering yearning for a mate, yet a dream he knew could never be realized. A fantasy that he thought he had long ago let die. Right now his body's demands were far more basic, and he forced the dream to fade.
His cock stretched tightly, hot and pulsing with desire to sink into an eager body. Having been genetically refined by his makers, his ravenous hunger for sex never diminished. He turned to look at the lover resting peacefully at his side. Maybe the better term was exhausted lover. Reaching out, he placed a hand over the steady beat of the heart contained beneath the defined flesh of the muscular body; the rapid, demanding pulse beating in his cock slowed to match the man's seductive rhythm. He dragged his hand down his body, along the concave of ribs, over the tight abdomen, appreciating the touch of warm, arousing flesh.
Since Paul Cathcart's arrival at the estate, Athan's voracious sexual cravings had remained surprisingly satisfied, for the most part. There was still the parade of sexual partners he called upon right after his treatments, those who understood his special needs. Ones who accepted the electrical surges without question. Townspeople who embraced him as one of their own.
Paul was still an unknown to Athan, despite his stamina that on many occasions rivaled Athan's own demand for sex. He couldn't take the chance of allowing him to experience the full force of his desire. He still didn't dare trust Paul with his secrets as much as he knew Paul wanted to share them. The charming, attractive man had an ulterior motive.
Who was this intriguing new lover of his? A scientist from the Morgan Institute, but there was more, some elemental desire that went beyond the sex and the search for the Ransom research. Some darker hunger, a flare of lusty need that somehow mirrored something inside Athan. And since his arrival, Athan had found him rather difficult to resist. Paul never refused his advances. Whenever Athan's specially enhanced pheromones released, Paul somehow knew what he needed, and no matter where they were, he stripped immediately, eagerly servicing Athan, be it in the library, the garden, or here, in the bedroom.
Like now.
His fingers fastened possessively around Paul's semierect penis. The dream wasn't real, this pulsing flesh beneath his fingers was. He acknowledged the change in tenor of his heartbeats. Paul turned a slitted glance toward him. Athan found the tousled disarray of his blond hair and lazy expression in his eyes from a sleepless night of raw, uninhibited sex, very appealing. Yes, with this man it was about more than survival; it was about desire, the enjoyment of his flesh, and Paul's earthy responses.
"What's the matter? You're looking at me strangely."
"Am I?" His hand expertly masturbated Paul's cock, which had quickly flared to life under Athan's attentions. "You're ready. I want to fuck you now. Then I will suck you until you are soft and pliant."
Paul chuckled. "You're insatiable, Athan. Do you never get enough?"
He tossed back the covers and swooped down over Paul. "No. I probably would fuck nonstop if it wouldn't kill you. I am a sensible man. I'll allow you time to recover."
Paul pressed back against the pillows and spread his legs, allowing Athan to settle over him. Athan focused and felt his unique scent release to embrace Paul. The aroma made it easier to seduce, not that Paul needed enticement. But it pleased Athan to watch the lust flare to life, magnifying the attraction and his body's responses.
Paul inhaled deeply and then slowly exhaled. "You have to tell me what kind of cologne you use. It's damned sexy. Is it some kind of aphrodisiac-laced thing the doctors created? It makes me horny as hell."
Athan reached over to the nightstand for the bottle of special lubricant and prepared Paul's hole for his penetration. Dr. Sheba had taught him about herbs and essences and how to blend and create exotic substances. He enjoyed creating new recipes and mixing the oils he used with his lovers. There was a certain added sense of intimacy when he used the oils. This lubricant was one he had blended especially for Paul.
His lover grunted as Athan's fingers slid in and out of his channel, readying him. When Paul began to buck his hips and the look in his eyes darkened, Athan knew he was ready.
Setting the container of lubricant back on the stand, he positioned himself at his lover's entrance and slid his thickened tool easily inside Paul's slippery rectum, expanding him.
"They created the scent especially for me a long time ago. I don't have the recipe for it, if that's what you want to know." He leaned down to rub his chest against Paul's.
His lover grunted and arched up, pulling Athan's cock more deeply inside him. "Damn, how did you figure out that's what I wanted to know? You're a scary man, Athan. A fucking sex machine in bed. But you need to trust me more than you do."
Paul always had questions, wanted answers regarding the Ransom research. Answers Athan would not reveal, which he knew exasperated Paul to no end. Yet Athan had a way of making him forget the questions, and it was something he planned to use right now.
He leaned forward and captured his mouth, rubbing his body over Paul's. Paul's tight, little nipples pressed against Athan, driving his own passion to its peak. He sucked on his tongue, ate at his lips. Lifting his head, he rubbed his roughened jaw against Paul's morning shadow.
Making love to Paul was so different from the women he'd been with. He loved the women, too, with their soft, silky skin, but with Paul he didn't have to worry about hurting. Paul liked it rough; he liked to be taken hard.
Finally, Athan lifted up and rammed his cock inside the man beneath him. He hammered fast and hard and Paul met him with each thrust, a grimace of hard pleasure in his expression. The antique bed rocked beneath them, shuddering and creaking, shifting with their passion, until finally Athan exploded, pulsing with his release inside Paul. The other man gasped and stilled, lifted his legs onto Athan's shoulders, and Athan thrust forward, sinking his spasming prick more deeply into Paul.
"Fuck, yes," Paul shouted.
Once Athan was completely drained, he pulled his still-hard shaft from inside the man, lowered Paul's legs to the bed, and leaned down to suck his lover's thick penis into his mouth before Paul could come back to earth after the reaming Athan had just given him.
Paul had a very impressive cock, almost as big as Athan's, and that was saying something. Athan's prick had been enhanced to please his makers; to find a lover that had similar proportions was definitely special.
The glow of the electric passion infused into Athan's cum was still on Paul and seemed to dissipate at a slower rate these days. He circled his tongue over his lover's wide, mushroomed tip, hot and hard with his arousal. He was already close to bursting, and it wouldn't take long this morning to have him coming profusely down Athan's throat. He licked up along the length of the searing flesh then back down, tasting his earthy need. Finally he engulfed the head of his prick, and within seconds he was swallowing vast amounts of Paul's cum, milking him dry, infusing himself with his sexual energy. He sucked at the cock like it was a fat straw, draining him, until the steely shaft had turned into a pliable, softened mass, then released him.
But Athan was not finished with Paul, not by a long shot. There were times when they fucked for hours before Athan would leave him to rest. This time was no different.
"I need to go back to sleep," Paul mumbled, now replete.
Athan pressed his palms against the insides of Paul's thighs and spread him open. "Not yet, Paul. I'm not done with you."
"Oh, God. I should have known. I need breakfast. I need my strength."
Athan shot him a look and grinned. "Soon, dear lover, very soon. But I think you still have some energy left for me."
He lifted one of Paul's feet and began to lick at his toes, then moved up the muscular curve of his hairy calf and nipped at his thigh. Briefly, he looked at Paul's cock, which was now already half hard once again and was gratified at the knowledge it wouldn't be long before he would be stiff and ready.
Using one of his hands Athan began to stroke and fondle him as he licked his way up his body. He could tell by Paul's rapid breathing that it wouldn't be long before he was begging once again.
Athan's pheromones magnified Paul's lust, and it was not uncommon for him to come several times during a session with Athan. He had a strong sex drive, which, for Athan, meant the sex exchange was always intense and satisfying. This time he meant to watch him explode and then feast on his seed, taking his time because he knew before he licked him clean, he would be fully erect once again.
"Athan, you're going to kill me. Either fuck me or blow me."
Athan smiled and moved back down as he masturbated Paul slowly, watching the desire build, seeing the precum wet his broad, plum tip. So close, and so hot, until finally he exploded in his hand, high streams of cum shooting into the air, ribbons of white decorating his stomach. Paul arched and shouted with the release, gasping for air, bucking beneath Athan's hands, and then finally coming to rest.
Athan leaned forward, licking slowly at the white cream, watching Paul as he did so, dipping his tongue inside the man's navel. For him, this was breakfast, a feast of energy to satisfy his cravings. At least for the morning.
This was what his makers had made of him. He was not a man as other men were. His needs were not those of mortals. He needed this to survive. He wasn't just a research project for his makers. He was a living sex toy that survived on human pleasure. He was tortured by the need to give pleasure and to receive it. His existence was bound to it.
He lapped at Paul's belly until it was clean, then reached up to kiss him once again. "Are you satisfied, lover?" Paul asked.
The close, moist heat of Paul's breath flared across his lips. "Never satisfied. You know that. But maybe I should let you rest. There are things I must do." He levered himself off the bed and sauntered over to the chair where his clothes lay.
"I'll be in the library later," Paul said.
Athan turned to look at him over his shoulder. Paul really was a handsome man, especially when sated and with that heavy-lidded look he now wore on his face. Totally satisfied. Paul licked his lips and Athan saw his gaze slide lower to center on Athan's rigid member.
"You rarely let me suck you, Athan. Why? I love to feel you come in my mouth. I enjoy tasting you." His gaze grew more heated.
Athan shoved first one leg into his pants and then the other. Then he buttoned them and yanked up the fly, pressing his hard member into place. It never softened, he was never at ease, and it was the way it always would be.
"There will be other times. Be patient." It wasn't often that Athan's semen was weak enough for him to allow Paul to fellate him. The treatments infused his body with so much electrical energy that the jolts passing into his lover's body from the act of consuming his bodily fluids could be too strong for Paul's heart. He had to be careful.
Paul leaned up on his arm and gazed at him with an assessing expression on his face. Athan liked the way the sheet exposed rather than hid his male assets. "You know more about this place than you've told me. One of these days I'll get you to open up for me ‑‑ both your mind and your ass."
Athan glared at him. "I don't satisfy you enough?" He stalked over to the bed, reached down and twisted his hand into Paul's hair, yanking his head back. Dropping forward, he ground his mouth against Paul's, then released him. Paul fell back onto the bed, gasping. He lifted a hand to wipe a drop of blood from his lower lip where Athan had bit down.
"Damn you, Athan. Why don't you trust me? I can help you. I'm here to find out about the Ransoms' research and I think you know more than you let on."
Paul was a very satisfying lover, but even so, Athan could not reveal the secret of what he knew to the man. He couldn't take the chance on trusting him that far. Paul surmised the Ransoms were successful in creating life using body parts and alchemy, but as far as he, the Morgan Institute, and the rest of the world knew, that creation no longer existed, if, in fact, it ever had.
"I can't help you, Dr. Paul. Not with the research."
"You're an enigma, you know that. Sexy as hell and closed up as Fort Knox."
"That's why you want me. If you knew everything about me, you'd leave or grow bored with me."
"I doubt I'd ever grow bored with you, Athan."
He wasn't going to stay and banter with Paul any longer. There were things that required his attention at the cottage. Notations to be made. The Ransoms had ingrained into him the importance of writing down his readings after every encounter. Always keep records. Sometimes he waited, put it off, but he needed to get it done. It was important to gauge his requirement for the electrophasm treatments. Bad things could happen if he didn't follow procedure. Very bad things.
"I have to go. I'll see you later."
"In the library. I'll wait for you there. I want to make some notations on a couple of books I found there yesterday ‑‑ just before you interrupted me." He meant before Athan had stalked in and dragged him upstairs for the remainder of the afternoon and night.
"I'll meet you there later." Athan's mind was already on other things; he left the bedroom and strode down the hallway. The electricity hummed through his body but he already felt the wavering signs indicating he would need treatment soon. Although no longer a complicated process, it must be attended to. If he didn't maintain enough energy, he was doomed; if he didn't process the energy once he was charged, he was doomed. The correct balance must be preserved at all times. Once that was achieved, the cycle would begin once again, and the hunger would build as the energy to live sapped him.
No one knew what living hell was unless they walked in his shoes. And he was certain no one would want that pleasure.
God-play, and he was the result. Combine science, sex, and alchemy, and the good doctors had created him. He lived by pleasure, for pleasure, and because of pleasure. He was fed by sex, the anticipation of the hunt, the sex act, the energy of consummation, and the afterglow.
He was one of a kind, an experiment never to be repeated. One that could be turned monster or man. The Ransoms had wanted the man, but if anyone else found out the truth about him...the monster could be released if the wrong person learned his secrets. He couldn't take the chance, not even with a lover like Paul Cathcart. No one was to be trusted, that was the one edict that had been ingrained into Athan by the Ransoms.
Trust no one.
Korrie slammed back into her office at ten a.m. after her meeting with the chairman of the board, a million thoughts churning inside her head. Erik didn't give her much time to make up her mind. She dropped the thick folder onto her desk and spun away to gaze out the window.
Last night when she'd fantasized about finally being handed the project, she hadn't really expected it to happen. Yet the first words out of Erik Carter's mouth had yanked that fantasy right into reality.
"We're making a change in the Ransom Project. I'm offering it to you first, Korrie. But I need to have your answer by the end of the day."
It was abrupt, a complete about-face on the part of the institute. It should be an easy decision for her, and it would have been if she'd been offered the assignment first. If her father's death hadn't been caused by the very man whose place she would usurp.
But why now? What was Erik Carter not telling her?
Erik had avoided looking her straight in the eyes, and his face had gone all red. Well, he should be embarrassed after yanking this opportunity right out from under her feet, dammit. It should have been hers from the start.
She was the one who'd gotten permission from the trustees of the Ransom estate to go there to review and catalog whatever related documentation they could uncover. She had done all the groundwork, knew every bit of the history of the experimentation that was publicly available, and even some that she had gleaned from face-to-face interviews with people who might have been connected to the Ransoms in any way.
She looked down at the fat folder. In fact, most of the information contained in this folder was probably gathered by her.
When she'd been given the news that Paul Cathcart would be undertaking the project, she'd almost walked away from the institute ‑‑ for the second time.
But she was older, maybe a litter wiser, since her last confrontation with her ex-fiancé. The last time she'd run it had resulted in fatal consequences. But not this time. This time she knew what the devil looked like and he wasn't going to win.
What do you think, Dad? Have we finally arrived?
Of course, there was no response. There never was whenever she found herself looking to him for answers.
She still had the freedom to turn down the assignment, just walk away, but that would be foolish pride driving her reactions. This was the project she had waited her whole life to accomplish, the purpose she was destined to complete. Would she really let Paul destroy that for her?
She dropped down behind her desk and stared down at the file.
"I don't really have a choice, do I, Dad?" If for nothing else, she had to do it for him, the man she had let down by running away. She smoothed a hand over the top of the file. It was hers. All she had to do was walk down that hall and give the chairman the answer he was waiting for. The one she wanted to give.
"We're going to do it, Dad. We're finally going to get what we wanted. What you wanted."
Rising from her chair, she strode out of her office, through the lab, and toward Erik Carter's office. He wanted her answer by the end of today and she was ready to give him the only answer she could. There really was no point in waiting.
Knocking on the door, she heard a muffled voice tell her to enter. Opening the door, she stepped inside.
"Korrie." His gaze widened when he saw her standing there. He probably hadn't expected her to return quite so quickly.
He waved to the vacant chair on the other side of the desk. "Do you have an answer for me?" Dr. Carter always cut to the chase and never minced words. He often said life was too short to waste on small talk. He'd once been a good friend of her father's and had been devastated by his death.
Korrie eased down into the chair. No one at the institute knew the truth behind her father's obvious depression or why he'd killed himself. He hadn't left a note. Korrie wished she could have told him she forgave him, but she'd always kept putting it off. She would have to live with that knowledge for the rest of her life.
She gazed across the desk at Dr. Carter. "Why now? Just tell me that." He knew how much she had wanted this assignment right from the start.
He looked away from her and cleared his throat. "You know how it is, Korrie. We have powerful people watching what we do here. Paul has ingratiated himself with some of the more...influential people. There was pressure." In other words, Paul had taken a lover who had more clout than her. Or the chairman of the board for that matter. She couldn't help wondering who it had been.
She nodded. Yes, she knew how it could be, most assuredly. Whoever held the purse strings made the decisions. The money disappears and the whole institute goes down the tubes. And, no, she didn't want to see that happen.
"Yes, I can understand that, but that doesn't answer my question as to why you're offering me this assignment now? Paul's already at the estate. It's going to take time to get me up to speed on what he's uncovered."
His bushy black eyebrows drew together in a frown as he looked down at the papers resting on his desk. "According to the latest reports, he hasn't made the least damn bit of progress. Certainly not what I would like to see considering the time he's been out there."
"Is that why you're sending me in to pinch hit? You're not satisfied with what he's come up with?"
"Um, not exactly."
"Then what is it?"
He shuffled the papers on his desk and then cleared his throat. "I'm not supposed to tell you this, but there have been some discrepancies in several of the other projects he's done. And his...friends...are not happy with him at the moment. They want him back here."
She leaned forward. "Discrepancies? What kind of discrepancies?"
"I can't tell you that. It's confidential, but it was brought to my attention by someone I trust. When we looked into it further, we found a number of his reports riddled with what looked like false data. But there have been some rumors about his personal life as well. About his love life. Who he's been involved with to get him to where he is. We thought he had a good handle on his projects, but what's come to light indicates otherwise. And we need to find out the truth. Quickly. Our patrons want answers and they don't want to take the chance on him screwing up this important project as well. Bad publicity for the institute would not help in our efforts to gain continued financial backing." He leaned forward. "I personally know the kind of work you do, Korrie. And I have faith you can do this."
Korrie looked him straight in the eye. "Yes, I can. And I will. I'll take it on, but someone is going to have to take over with the experiment I've been conducting. I'll need a few days to wind things up."
He nodded. "That will be taken care of. I'll get you Kandie Mason. She's new, but she has some darn good potential. She's sharp and should catch on quickly. Can you get your other affairs in order before, say, Friday?"
Korrie nodded. "Yes, I think I can do that. I should meet with Paul, so I can figure out what he's done so far."
Dr. Carter leaned back in his chair. Tilting his head downward, he looked at her over his gold wire-framed glasses. "We'd rather that you didn't. Review the file and you'll have some idea of where he's at with his investigation. Probably more than if you took the time to speak with him."
"You're sure about this?"
He licked his lips. His faded blue gaze darted past her and then settled on her once more. "He doesn't know yet, Korrie. We're sending someone out to give him the news tomorrow. We don't want to provide him with a lot of time to cover his tracks, if you get my drift."
"Ah, you don't want to warn him of what's coming." She had to wonder exactly how much hot water he was in. "Are you going to tell him who's taking his place?" That would certainly yank his chain.
He nodded. "Yes, we aren't keeping that a secret. But that's about all he'll know right now. Something's not right with him and we want to get to the bottom of it."
Damn straight there was something wrong with him. But she'd never guessed it would be to this extent. Looked like his house of cards was about to fall.
She rose from her chair. "I'll get everything in order and be ready to leave by Friday. I hope, for the institute's sake, you're wrong about Paul Cathcart. It could lead to some very nasty publicity for everyone." Especially if word got out about how he slept his way to the top.
Dr. Carter stood up and reached across the desk to shake her hand. "I know you'll do a good job out there, Korrie. I've always thought you were a very bright young woman, as well as honest." She had a feeling he thought Paul had been less than honest with them all. She, on the other hand, knew it quite well.
Once she left the chairman's office she swiftly headed back to her own. She wanted to reacquaint herself with the background on the project and see if she could discover exactly what Paul was up to. Or not up to, as the case may be. If anyone could determine if he'd falsified information with this project, she'd be the one to do it. She was the most intimately familiar with the Ransom research of anyone at the institute.
Stepping into her office, she closed the door and sat at her desk. What part would her father have played in all this if he were here? He'd been the founder of the Morgan Institute. He hadn't seen through Paul any better than she had. At least at the beginning. Paul had duped them both. Would he have continued to help Paul under these circumstances? Had he covered up for him before?
She had come to the conclusion that she didn't read people very well at all, not like she did stats and formulas. People and their motivations just seemed to escape her totally. Paul was someone she had absolutely misread. With her father ‑‑ she should have known, shouldn't she? That her father and fiancé were sleeping together? Shouldn't there have been some indication that she could have picked up on? Had she been so inwardly focused on her budding career she didn't see what was occurring before her own eyes?
It was part of the reason she hadn't become seriously involved with anyone else. She was afraid to trust her instincts about people. She'd had several casual relationships, purely sexual in nature. They had been friends, colleagues who, like herself, were totally focused on their careers. No chance for personal commitment in any form. That had suited her just fine.
She opened the folder flap and gazed down at the sketchy reports. She guessed she was about to find out what Paul had discovered. She had to wonder what he would do when he found out who was replacing him. The man was devious and she could only hope he didn't destroy precious information in an effort to thwart her and the institute.
\*
Paul looked up and removed his glasses as Mrs. Grippen entered the library. "Yes?"
"There's someone here to see you, sir."
"Who is it?" He rose to his feet.
"Someone from the institute, I believe."
Hmmm. From the institute. What could be the problem now? "Fine, send him in. And if you wouldn't mind, would you please bring us some fresh coffee?"
"Yes, sir." Picking up the tray containing the dishes from his breakfast, she exited the room.
She was an odd sort, that was for sure. Never said much of anything and one never knew exactly what she was thinking. From his understanding, she'd been here a long time, but she was another one who refused to talk about what she knew. He pivoted around and gazed out the window at the expansive, lush, well-manicured lawn.
This was certainly some place. It was what he wanted for himself. But he needed to make a lot more money than he was right now before that was going to happen. And if he had his way, he'd lighten the place up a bit. Too drab and gothic for him. One day, when he had his own place, it would probably be in California or maybe Florida. Lots of light and fresh air.
His hope was that he would discover something here at the Ransom estate to ensure his future. So far his efforts had been futile. He'd been unable to ferret out much of anything useful regarding the so-called experiments the Ransoms had purportedly conducted, either good or bad.
He'd thought Athan might be able to help. He still had a feeling he was keeping something back ‑‑ he was a man with a lot of self-control. Paul had figured someone in his position as caretaker wouldn't hold out against his own sophisticated experience and charm. For that matter, most of the men and women, he'd screwed over the years had always crumbled and spilled their guts to him without much effort at all. But something about Athan was different. Paul was frustrated by his lack of success in that arena. If something didn't break soon, he'd have to start doctoring the reports as he'd been required to do on several other institute projects, just to give himself some breathing room.
He turned and glanced back at the door as it opened. He was surprised to see one of the young research assistants enter. Paul knew him, had even taken him to bed a time or two. All in the interest of furthering his career, of course. He had no clout at this point in his career, but one never knew where these new ones would end up. It always paid to garner some level of loyalty from them. And they were flattered by the attention of a man with his power at the institute. They were all pushovers, almost to the point of boredom. Unlike Athan, there was little challenge in conquering the tame little puppies in the city. But Athan ‑‑ there was such an earthy element to the man.
Paul stepped forward with his hand held out in greeting. "Hello, Edward. What brings you all the way out here? Have a seat." He indicated a chair.
Immediately, Paul could sense that something was wrong. Edward was extremely nervous and fidgeted with a loose thread on his wool trousers.
He forced a laugh. "Now it can't be that bad, can it?" At any rate, he certainly hoped it wasn't.
"Dr. Carter wants you back at the compound. Right away," he blurted out without preamble. Reaching into his pocket, he thrust a wrinkled envelope toward Paul. "Here. This should explain it."
Paul slowly reached out for the envelope, his eyes still focused on Edward, whose complexion had turned ruddy.
"It's not exactly the best time for me to leave right now. Is it that important?" Taking his time, he lifted the flap and slipped out the typewritten sheets. Whatever was contained in it, it was on official institute stationery and signed by the chairman.
It took all his self-control to keep his expression blank as he scanned the contents of the letter and not register his shock and dismay. He knew what the cloaked words meant. They wanted him back to the institute to question him about the information contained in several reports he had prepared. He had a feeling he knew exactly which reports they were. What he didn't know was how they had discovered the discrepancies. He was going to have to come up with some fast thinking to calm things down.
Carefully, he folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope. "Looks like there's some confusion. I'll get it straightened out when I return." He looked up as Mrs. Grippen carried in a tray of fresh coffee. "In the meantime, how about a cup of Mrs. Grippen's excellent coffee? I'm sure after that long drive out here, you could use some refreshment."
"That would be great," Edward responded with a relieved expression on his face. Had he expected some kind of outburst from Paul? It was not his way at all to expose his hand. Edward had a lot to learn if he was going to rise to the top at the institute rather than simply end up in some mediocre gofer assistant job where no one ever knew who he was. That certainly wasn't where Paul planned to be. He leaned over, poured out two cups of coffee, and handed one to Edward.
"How are things going with you? I've missed seeing everyone while I've been stuck out here."
Edward appeared to have relaxed a bit after accomplishing his mission and leaned back in his chair to sip at his coffee. "Same as usual. Nothing changes too much. It's quiet without you around. Dr. Odell's replacement is on board now, but that's about it for news. No new exciting projects at the moment."
Paul's ears perked up. "Korrie is leaving?"
Edward's face suffused with color once again. "I'm sorry, I thought it was in the letter. She's taking your place out here. She's going to be the one to finish up this project."
It was lucky Paul was sitting down and that at just that moment he didn't have the cup and saucer in his hand. Korrie was going to replace him? After all he'd done to make sure she didn't get this assignment, she was now the one to supplant him while he was called back like a naughty boy to answer a summons from the great chairman? What had she been up to while he was gone?
"No," he finally said, the calm words an effort. "I didn't know she would be coming out here." He casually leaned back in his chair. "Well, I hope she has a little more luck than I've had so far." He had to remain gracious before this tale-carrying young man. He had to keep up a good front.
The rest of their chitchat was rather mundane and anticlimactic. Right now the one thing he wanted was to be rid of the kid. He had things to do before he left. Like making certain that Athan knew who he owed allegiance to in Paul's absence.
One of the things he'd always found most annoying about Korrie was the way she could gain people's loyalty without even trying. That naive charm of hers had been so easy to manipulate when he'd first arrived at the Morgan Institute.
And her father, a lonely old man since his wife's death ‑‑ well, he'd taught him a thing or two about sex. And contrary to what he wanted to admit, Dr. Odell had loved every minute of it. It was only when his daughter had discovered them together that the guilt had weighed on him. But by then Paul had gained the leverage he needed to advance within the institute. If Odell didn't support him, he'd make certain the whole town knew about his gay affair with his daughter's fiancée. That would assuredly put paid to his career with the institute, even if he was the founder.
Half an hour after Edward left, Athan walked into the library.
"A visitor?"
"Yes. From the institute." He paced back and forth before the window trying to decide how to approach these difficulties. He turned back to Athan and studied him for a long time. He could use him to thwart Korrie. Whatever she had in mind, he would make sure she didn't succeed.
"Is something wrong?" Athan asked as he moved further into the room.
Paul had been here for a month and during that time he'd grown accustomed to this big, mysterious man. He'd become addicted to the sex. Maybe he needed some distance to regain his perspective. Becoming emotionally attached to any of the men or women he fucked was not in his best interests. He'd learned that lesson a long time ago. His mother had been a great teacher.
People were meant to be used to get ahead and make life more comfortable. Use 'em and lose 'em was the motto he lived by, what his mother had taught him very well. But Athan was almost a creature of another world and his fucking was stupendous. Paul had never really thought of himself as gay, but with this man... Mmm, it was hard to think of being with anyone else, let alone a woman. He already felt the desire jolting through him, and they'd just fucked that morning.
He turned away before he forgot what he had to say to him. They would fuck after, and he'd be certain Athan didn't forget him.
"I have to return to the city. That's why Edward was here ‑‑ to relay the message." He slid his glance toward Athan. The man never gave anything away. Maybe that was part of the mystique Paul found so attractive. He was an intriguing challenge.
"When do you need to leave?"
Now was the time to turn on the charm. He walked across the room. Reaching up, he stroked the firm jaw of his lover. "Tonight. They want me back there tomorrow at the latest."
"Why so soon?"
Paul shrugged. "Just a few things that need to be attended to and they need my direction to sort it out. Nothing major." He leaned up and kissed Athan, who returned it with full force. Athan's firm hands cupped Paul's head, deepening the kiss. Paul sighed. "I'll miss you, Athan."
"I will miss you as well, Paul." He started to unbutton Paul's shirt, revealing his hard chest. "You have a wonderful body; I have enjoyed you."
Paul was fast losing his perspective in the need to feel Athan's cock splitting his ass. There were times when just looking at the man made him want to come. And there was that scent that was uniquely his. It was something he'd never noticed before about the people he was attracted to, but apparently Athan gave off some very potent sexual pheromone that made Paul so hot he couldn't think straight. Another thing about him that Paul...enjoyed. If the Ransoms hadn't been dead for such a long time, and Athan so young, he might have thought they had done some of their experimentation on him.
He hated using the four-letter word l-o-v-e. It made him want to throw up to even use it inside his head without uttering it aloud. Yet, he found himself wanting to use it with Athan, and if he were honest, that scared him. It really was time for him to get some distance.
Athan sucked at his nipple as he unzipped Paul's pants, reaching inside for his cock. Paul's dick throbbed, hot and bursting. God, he was more than ready for him. He dropped his head back, enjoying the feel of Athan's mouth and tongue on his chest.
"They're sending someone else out."
Athan stilled, darting a quick glance upward. "Someone else?"
"Yes, a female scientist. And I'm worried about you."
Athan dragged Paul toward the couch and pushed him down onto it. He then proceeded to release his stiffened shaft from his blue jeans. "How so?"
Paul shoved his own pants and underwear down his legs and toed off his shoes. "She uses people, Athan. Be careful of her. She'll double-cross a person without a second thought." He licked his lips as he watched Athan undress. "God, you're gorgeous. I'm going to miss this."
Athan dropped over him, rubbing his cock against Paul's, and Paul moaned, spreading his thighs and wrapping his legs around Athan's tightly muscled ass. He was just so perfect. No man should be this perfect.
Athan ground against him. "I can take care of myself, Paul. I will miss your companionship. Who will I play chess with?"
Paul wound his fingers into Athan's thick, dark locks and drew his head down. "Who will you fuck?" he growled as he pressed his lips to Athan's, their bodies melding together. Dammit, he knew Athan's libido and his attraction. It wouldn't take long before Korrie was in his bed. He knew, from his first days here, that Athan couldn't have cared less which sex he was ‑‑ he fucked them both. He'd found him humping more than one female in the garden during that first week. But Paul had been determined to seduce him and find out everything he knew about the estate.
Somewhere along the line he'd lost his objectivity and the sex had become more important than the information. For the first time in his life, the sex had been more important than the manipulation he usually achieved with fucking.
"Suck me, Athan. I want to feel your mouth on me. And I want to go down on you."
Athan hesitated for an instant and then maneuvered around until his thick prick hung over Paul's face. Paul sucked in air as his own cock was swallowed into Athan's hot, wet mouth. He licked his lips, eager to do the same for Athan. Damn, but he was going to miss this.
He pulled him deeply into his mouth, swirled his tongue over the broad tip, across the top, and dipped into his slit. He felt Athan shudder and mimic his actions with his own tongue, and Paul bucked his hips. At this rate, it wasn't going to take long before they both came. It was one of the things he loved best about fucking a man. It was so hot when they came together like this, each swallowing the other's cum as they exploded in unison. With Athan, he knew it would be fantastic.
He felt close, damn close. The tip of his cock pressed against Athan's throat. But unlike Paul, who had never been able to devour a prick so completely, Athan's throat had a way of opening perfectly to effect full penetration. The feeling was amazing. It was like a flower bud opening and then closing around him, locking him in, and he knew no one would ever do that for him again.
He savored this moment, tried to hold back his orgasm, but it was just too much, too fucking beautiful a feeling, and he shot his wad fast and hard. Athan's cum wasn't far behind, and Paul swallowed for all he was worth. He'd never tasted anything quite so unique. Athan's cum had a zing to it that sent jolts of electricity slicing through him. Releasing his wet length, Paul gasped at the sparks that seemed shoot through it. Dropping back onto the cushions, he tried to catch his breath.
That was fucking fantastic.
When it was over, Athan rose from the sofa and pulled him up.
Paul hurried to accommodate him, wrapping his arms around Athan's shoulders, sucking at his neck. "That was awesome." He rained kisses all along his neck, down his chest, and back up to pull a nipple into his mouth, sucking greedily. He didn't want to let him go. He looked down and saw that Athan, as usual, was still hard as rock.
"There's lube in the drawer of the coffee table. I brought it with me when I came down this morning. Get it," he whispered as he licked at Athan's ear.
Athan swung away and reached down to grab the tube. He twisted off the cap and then turned back to Paul. "How do you want it, Paul?"
"Deep, man, as deep as you can get it. It's going to have to last me a long time."
Athan pushed him down onto the floor, grabbed a pillow, and shoved it under his hips. He folded his legs up and onto his chest.
Paul felt the cold opening of the tube at his hole as Athan squirted the squishy lube inside. Then the tube was gone and it was Athan's slick fingers preparing him. They'd just fucked that morning, so he was already opened for penetration.
Of course, the number of times they fucked in any given day made Paul more than ready to be penetrated by this man at any time. If he had anything to say about it, they were going to screw each other's brains out all afternoon. And he was going to be certain this lover remained his long after he was gone.
Oh yeah this was going to be phenomenal. And damned memorable.
Korrie pulled the photographs of the journal out one at a time, excitement making her hands shake as she thought about the trip she would be taking the next day. It was like a dream come true. Finally she would have the opportunity to locate the original journal and to look for the rest of the Ransom papers. There was no telling what else she would discover once she was actually at the estate.
The whistling wind rose outside and the windows rattled as she sipped at her bourbon and began reading, once again immersing herself in Sheba Ransom's life.
April 10, 1940
Journal of Sheba Ransom
Cornelius and I have accomplished the impossible and we are both delighted by the results. Cornelius wishes to make a few refinements, but all in all I am confident we have created perfection in human form, something never before achieved.
Currently, we are in the middle of testing his cognitive abilities, which so far are adequate and to be expected at this stage of the experiment. I am eager for him to be fully healed. He has exhibited some memories of our dear friend, Bardo, whose body this beautiful brain previously inhabited.
I miss Bardo. Poor man, whose body was infected, but his brain was as sharp at the day he died as when he lived. A poet and a philosopher, he eagerly listened to us as we discussed our plans, offering his assistance in any way possible, even going so far as to sign a declaration witnessed by his attorney, giving us the rights to his body after his death. He had such a beautiful spirit and I am hopeful a portion of his light will shine in our perfect Athan.
The energy infused by Bardo's brain appears to have integrated perfectly with the needs of this body. Surprisingly, there has been no evidence of rejection of body parts at this stage. I surmise the electrophasm process has much to do with this. And the chemical properties infused just after surgery. We have discovered that infusion is enhanced through other means as well. Although he does not seem to realize it, he is like a sponge and soaks up our mystical energy, particularly when we are in the act of making love. The air simply crackles with electricity.
When it is complete, he exhibits increased alertness. It has inspired us to have sex more frequently than ever before, and I am delighted by this turn of events. I might add that it does offer some added eroticism to know that he watches us.
Cornelius has taught him to play chess and he is a worthy adversary. Currently his physical activity is limited because we don't wish to overtax him, not just yet. As Cornelius says, we must take things slowly. He is already eager to begin a new project. And then it is up to me to wield caution.
We are terribly excited and encouraged by our success up to this point.
We have minutely studied Athan's responses to several stimuli from his two previous lives, but there is little recognition of personal items. He does seem to have a sense of feelings, but no solid connection. Which is just as well.
I have prepared several mixtures to help accelerate the healing process of Athan's incisions. They seem to be working quite satisfactorily.
Each day it gets harder and harder as I try to remain objective in my assessments. Athan is developing an endearing, rather magnetic personality, quite beyond human at times, intensely attractive. I must admit that it has now moved beyond mere experimentation and research. I think Cornelius has recognized my attraction to Athan as well.
As from the beginning, I am oddly drawn to our perfect creature and am eager to include him in our love sessions. I have seen his alert attentions and feel he would make a forceful and demanding lover. Cornelius means to alter certain chemistry compositions in his makeup to enhance his pleasure...and our own. But that must wait for a time. Or at least I had thought so until last night.
All I can say at this time is that I believe we are both infused with new life as we watch our miracle become more human each day with his own unique personality, combining those parts of the men who were separate before. I am inspired.
Last night he showed the first signs of independence and we were both so very pleased. It happened when we retired to our room. Athan is in all respects a part of us now and shares all of our intimacies. Well, almost all.
Athan is as much ruled by the passions of his body's memories as by his philosopher's root of energy ‑‑ his brain. Cornelius was in rare rutting form last night. Athan took his usual chair, his cock was already hard; on previous occasions it had taken some time for him to realize a full erection. But not last night. It may be a sign that he is healing as he should.
Cornelius brushed a tender kiss across my lips, and a hand stroked my hair as his other hand possessively cupped my breast. "I want you helpless tonight, totally at my mercy," he rasped against my ear. I shuddered at the deliciousness of his words. Was it the result from our earlier disagreement and he now meant to wrest control? Under these circumstances, I have no problem releasing my body into his control. I trust him implicitly.
He turned away. "Athan, I will need your help. Come to me."
I watched Athan rise from his chair and approach the bed, my breath already held captive inside my chest. Bondage is something we have experimented with before on several occasions, but I knew tonight would be different.
Athan usually does not actively participate in our sexual congress. My husband did not inform me ahead of time that he planned this turn of events. But he also knows me well enough to understand that I would find that exciting as well. Obviously, his plan for the evening included testing Athan's understanding of the mechanics of sex in a more assertive fashion.
"Athan, remove your robe," my husband instructed him. Athan immediately did as he was told and again I marveled at what a wonderful body he had as the robe dropped to the floor. I wanted to reach out to stroke his warm flesh.
My husband turned a firm eye on me. "Not yet," he said, as though he knew exactly what was in my mind. "Athan," he said, "pick up your belt and blindfold Sheba with it." I shivered at the implications as the room went dark. I must say, Athan was quite expert at it and I was able to see nothing, yet the knot was not uncomfortable. Now the only way I would have to identify each of these lovers was through scent and touch and sound. Those senses immediately vaulted to the forefront as I listened intently for what might come next.
"Touch her. I want you to arouse her and then tie her spread eagle to the bed."
I felt his hands upon my body, the touch intensified by my lack of sight. And that was when I realized my beautiful creature had magical hands. Every place he stroked me seemed to come alive, begging for more. Over and over his hands discovered the texture of my skin, of the hidden, sensitive crevices that aroused the wild nature imprisoned inside me.
"Athan." I couldn't help the cry that broke from my need as I arched up, pleading for the chance to enfold him into my body. By the time he was done, I was moaning and crying out for attention, my cunt ripe with my juices flowing steadily.
"Bind her," I heard my husband's disembodied voice demand.
Athan lifted me onto the bed, spreading me wide as he bound me to the four corners where I was unable to move, his earthy scent filling my senses. I didn't want to be bound, I wanted to be fucked, and I fought against confinement, reaching for him. But again, he was expert in his task.
From that point on, I don't know who sucked my stiff little clitoris into his mouth, but my orgasm was simply explosive, and though I know the feel of my husband's cock under any normal circumstance, at that moment I couldn't have said who fucked my pussy. It could have been both of them because it went on long into the night.
By the time they had finished with me and Athan untied my arms and legs, my spirit was flying above the bed looking down upon the three of us, hardly understanding that the sated woman was myself. It was an utterly amazing experience.
When the blindfold was finally removed and I came back into my physical form, I looked at Athan and saw the blush of life spread over his body. I could feel the essence of the man blazing through every corner of the room. The sexual energy in the room met and converged, feeding his need with a healthy glow of lust. He took the initiative to massage my arms and legs and helped me into my night garment, then tucked me beneath the blanket as Cornelius stood back and watched.
I happened to look down and noticed that Athan still sported a terribly stiff erection. After the amazingly wonderful experience I had just had, I couldn't leave him that way as I was certain it must be painful.
"He needs relief," I said to Cornelius, who stood watching our interaction. Then I turned back to Athan and rose to my knees, allowing the covers to fall away. Lifting my arms, I quickly removed the nightgown.
"Let me suck you." I reached for his stunning equipment.
He looked first to Cornelius as if seeking permission. My husband nodded.
I slipped from the bed and knelt before this perfectly lovely specimen of manhood and slowly began to worship his stiff prick. It was then I knew it was he who fucked me. Or at least, he had also fucked me. I could taste myself on his cock, I could taste his exotic flavor and took my time showing him exactly how much I cherished the moment.
He has a fine, worthy cock and I found myself wondering how many women had enjoyed its immense length and breadth. It rose tall to his belly, a proud instrument, the tip flared handsomely gleaming with the sheen of precum along the slit, and I licked at it slowly, savoring the taste of him, so different from that of my husband.
It had a hot, electrical sizzle to it, and when I touched it with my wet tongue, a shock raced through my body. He was so full of electrical energy, and I loved what sucking him did to me.
I trailed my tongue down his shaft and bathed his beautiful, heavy balls, sucking them deep into my mouth and then allowing them to spring free.
I felt the delightful shudder that passed over him and heard a soft, guttural moan escape him.
"Do it again, Sheba," I heard my husband say. I knew for him there was a clinical aspect to the request as he wanted to see our beauty's responses to my ministrations. And so I did as he asked. It was certainly no hardship to acquiesce to his command. And it was not for clinical reasons that I set to my task.
Athan grew harder and even more immense than he already was. He reached out with those beautiful, sensitive artist's fingers, and curled them around the cap of my head, steadying me in my attentions. Oh yes, those wonderful, magical hands. I could feel his energy fill me through that touch.
I felt the momentum building inside him as he caught his breath, stiffened, and then exploded inside my mouth. I swallowed his cum for the very first time, thrilling at the feel of him filling my mouth. I sucked him until he emptied the last drop, and then I released his slippery length with a final swirl of my tongue.
He staggered backward and landed on the bed, apparently overcome by his climax. It was magnificent.
I rested beside him and stroked his back.
"There, there, my boy, you were perfect."
He looked up at me and I saw confusion in his eye, as well as satiation. I couldn't help myself and I leaned forward to press my lips to his. I had merely meant to comfort and soothe his confusion.
Within seconds I found myself on my back, straddled by this new lover. Oh, God, how wonderful, how passionate. He spread my thighs and much to my delight he sank his burgeoning prick inside my already well-lubricated cunt.
He rode me aggressively hard, dominating me for the first time, a ride filled with elemental lust. And it was divine. I orgasmed quickly, not once but twice before he flooded my overfilled pussy with his semen.
When it was over, I looked to my husband who nodded in approval. His own cock had grown hard again and his hand still fisted around it was covered with his own juices.
We retired to the bathroom and soaked in the large tub which we had designed ourselves, easily accommodating all three of us. When we returned to the bedroom I looked out the window to find dawn was quickly approaching. It had indeed been a very long night. But such a wonderful, groundbreaking experience.
After a kiss filled with deep approval from me, Athan retired to his room and Cornelius and I snuggled in our bed, most contented with our session of love.
It is now afternoon, and I only arose a short time ago. There is still much to do. I sit here sipping my coffee and nibbling at a crumpet, musing about the simple contentment at this exact moment of my life.
It is too perfect and I'm not sure what is in store for us down the road. I would like to bottle this moment.
I am worried about what will occur when we disclose to the world the existence of Athan. How will it change him? How will it change all of us? Cornelius tells me I am foolish but I cannot help it.
I believe I have come to love our creation as I would any true man who had been invited to our home and into our bed.
True man. Now why would I say that? Athan is the melding of flesh and blood men. He is created from the parts of the best. But he is more than parts, there is his energy as well. And that is what poses the problem, because I don't know that he is reproducible.
It is more than fitting pieces together like an inanimate jigsaw. We have brought him to life, infused him with energy channeled from the earth, from the two beings he is created from. There had to be some symmetry of these beings that allowed us to lock them into one body.
Cornelius disagrees with me, but then he has never truly understood the vibrations of the earth as I have. Or soul as a spiritual entity outside of science. He understands the chemistry of the body, the electrical surges that make us who we are. But I'm not sure he understands the delicate balance that is required to bring not just life, but soul to a creature.
Athan is unique in this world. So unique I fear for his safety, and ours, if anyone learns of his existence. Cornelius wishes to reveal his vitalization soon, but I have encouraged him to wait. There is still so much more to learn.
In my opinion Athan is still not fully assimilated. Although he has shown aggression in our passion games, he has exhibited those tendencies in no other facet of his life. This primal response is to be expected. I believe it is those baser instincts, most likely instilled in the vibrations of the body of the young male prostitute we harvested. But there is so much more to teach him.
Korrie closed her eyes and leaned back. God, she would give anything to have known the creature the Ransoms had created. He truly did sound absolutely flawless. She'd never known a man who could be considered without fault. But then again, her experiences were rather limited.
What would it be like to be so thoroughly worshipped by not just one man, but two? She sighed as she considered the intriguing idea.
And what about Athan? What she wouldn't give to have talked to him, to know how he felt about the situation he found himself in. The more she read about him, the more fascinated she became. There were times when she almost felt she could reach out and touch him.
He's waiting for you. All the answers you need will be yours.
Korrie shivered at the hushed words of a strange female voice. She looked around the room expecting to see another person there, but knowing it wasn't possible. The doors were locked and the alarm was armed. It had to be her imagination taking over. It was just that she was so excited about the upcoming trip. Probably too wound up to sleep, but she wanted to be fresh and alert for the drive.
She placed the photos back into the envelope, then rose and placed the envelope next to her purse. As she headed for the doorway, a cold draft shot right through her. Tonight the house seemed a bit too quiet. Hurrying up the stairs, she headed toward her bedroom just as the lights flickered, but remained on. It was an old house and she was attaching too much importance to idiosyncrasies that had occurred all her life.
\*
After a restless night filled with erotic dreams of the Ransoms and Athan, the next afternoon Korrie finally drove through the immense, open iron gates of the Ransom estate and down a winding road lined with tall, ancient, mangled oaks. Because of the profuse vegetation, she couldn't see the main part of the house from this distance, although the tall twin spires did help to pinpoint its location. Excitement churned inside her in anticipation of her first view of the mansion itself.
Although the house had not been photographed in many years, she had studied the earlier renditions of the gigantic structure. The Ransoms had designed the structures on the property themselves after touring France and falling in love with the thirteenth-century architecture.
As Korrie veered around the last turn and the house appeared in front of her, the reality of it took her breath away. Pleasure and fear combined to swamp her. It was both beautiful and fearsome all at once and left her heart pounding erratically in her chest. It was almost like being drawn to the scene of a crime; the fascination clung to her like a spider's web, drawing her closer, seeking to entwine her within its grasp.
It might have been the fact that finally, after everything that had occurred, she was at last here. Possibly it was because Sheba's words had already made it so real in her mind. Maybe that was the root of the fascination that drew her. Buried within the awe was some sense of coming home, that feeling of a moment of rightness. It was both odd and comforting at the same time.
After parking her car, she just sat there staring, unable to absorb the reality that she was actually here and that for once she had beat Paul at his own game. How appropriate was that?
She studied the exterior of the powerful stone structure. It was built to last the ages and much too substantial to simply be called a house. Right out of a gothic novel, it was one of the most opulent pieces of architecture Korrie have ever seen.
Within seconds, the sun shifted behind a dark cloud and cool darkness settled over the property, shadows grabbing at the structure. And at her. She again looked up to study the architecture and this time her gaze settled on the towers. Just below the spires in the left column she noticed the blackened stone and boarded-up brace of windows. From the early photos, they had once held handcrafted stained glass.
It was a terrible tragedy when the Ransoms perished in a devastating fire that destroyed a great deal of the laboratory on the top floor of the mansion. It was reportedly one of their experiments that had gone horribly wrong. Most of their research papers were destroyed as well. At least that's the rumor.
That's what it said in the file. She should know because she was the one who'd conducted the interview with the retired newspaper reporter. One of the many reasons she wanted to come here ‑‑ to discover the truth. To walk in their shoes, so to speak. Now was her chance.
The lack of sun set a pall over the house, making it look like a fixture out of one of those old horror movies. A shiver spread up her spine, like tiny fingers gripping and tightening around her flesh. What experiment had the Ransoms been working on when they perished?
Shaking off the feeling of imminent doom, she pulled her key from the ignition and stepped out of the car. She'd see to her luggage later, after she had introduced herself and looked around a bit. The minutiae of unpacking were certainly not her first priority.
Paul should have been long gone by now, so at any rate she wouldn't have to contend with him. As she climbed the first set of stone steps, she saw a black iron gate out of the corner of her eye, and her curiosity and sense of adventure was aroused. It had been a long time since she had taken the opportunity to wander around a garden, and this one looked stunning.
The gate to the garden was well-oiled and made little sound as she opened it and stepped inside. Her senses were met with the bountiful fragrance of vibrant roses in a variety of colors. She saw blushing bushes of peonies, baby's breath, lilies ‑‑ a wealth of beautiful flora; it was almost too lovely to be real.
In the distance she saw a white gazebo off to the right, with climbing ivy twirling over and around it, and a bit further on she could smell lavender and rosemary; the scents threaded through her, reviving her after the long drive to get to the estate.
There were flagstone paths that veered this way and that. This was a place where she could easily get lost within the twining paths, and she was eager for the opportunity to do so.
As she walked beneath a wrought iron arch, a shiver of cold breeze passed through her and she gasped at the frigid sensation. It was almost the same experience she'd had at home the previous evening and she wondered what it meant.
The sensation dissipated and she moved further along the path. Everything was trimmed neatly, nothing overgrown or unkempt about it. Someone obviously tended the garden lovingly. In an open section of the garden where she could see beyond to a border of tall trees, she felt the pleasant vibrations pass through her, cleansing away the rush of the outside world as she moved along the path, farther and farther away from the house.
The sun danced in and out of the clouds, weaving its way just as she did along the path, as though following and trying to keep up with her. The hushed silence made it feel as though there was no one else in the world but her. No wonder the Ransoms had never left their estate; it was so peaceful and serene, so private.
She wanted to know who they were as human beings, not just as scientists. She had a feeling this house and these grounds would reveal a great deal if she could open herself up to the vibrations that she could already feel humming around her. Like now, in the quiet of this garden, she just needed to listen closely and not strictly see with her eyes.
She saw the slate roof of a small wooden structure in the distance and wandered toward it. As she drew closer, she realized it must be a gardener's shed as there were several hoes and shovels leaning up against the wall, as well as large bags of what looked like peat moss.
She was brought up abruptly as she noticed two people entwined in each other's arms near the corner of the building and she drew back behind a large tree of fragrant lilacs. Something about the couple caused her to pause from tiptoeing away. The man in particular drew her attention.
Did they work here? Had they taken a moment to meet clandestinely? Maybe during a lunch break? She knew she was prying, but she just couldn't pull her intent gaze away from the passionate couple.
It had been so long since she'd been involved with anyone. Her body responded, flooding her with heat and arousal at the scene she witnessed.
The man wore a white T-shirt with the short sleeves rolled back to reveal his bulging biceps, which rippled and tightened as he picked the woman up as though she weighed nothing at all. Her skirt hitched up as she twined her legs around his hips and he thrust her back against the wall of the shed. Their ravenous lips never parted as she reached down to unzip his fly. Korrie's own pussy flooded with her juices at the scene unfolding before her.
The man yanked the woman's skirt up further and pulled her legs wider, then shoved forward, burying himself inside the woman. Korrie could hear her squeal of pleasure from where she stood. She knew she should leave, that this intimate moment wasn't meant to be shared with anyone, but she just couldn't find the strength to back away.
His lean hips started to move in short, sharp bursts, and the woman dropped her head back, her mouth open as her deep moans of pleasure filled the air.
Korrie saw him dance his hips as he dipped and thrust again. Over and over. The look of ecstasy on the woman was too much for Korrie. She reached up beneath her skirt and inside the waistband of her damp panties to finger her own stiff clit that was hard as a rock. She swirled her finger over and around it, pushing herself toward the edge, unable to stop.
The smell of hot sex seemed to surround her, threaded through the fragrance of the garden. She saw the man increase his tempo and did the same with her nimble fingers. When he finally came, she exploded with him, biting down on her lip, drawing blood, in an effort to hold back her own moans of completion.
Sliding her hand from inside her panties and allowing her skirt to drop back into place, she licked the droplets of blood from her lips and gazed back at the couple. Much to her amazement, they didn't seem to be finished.
The man pressed the woman face-first against the cottage wall. Korrie couldn't hear their words, but the look on the woman's face was pure ecstasy. The man reached between her legs and then, to Korrie's shock, he pressed a finger inside the woman's anus as she arched her back and lifted her ass.
Her words filled the garden, as she was obviously unable to restrain her vocal pleasure. "Fuck me. Yes, oh, God, yes. Don't stop."
Korrie was utterly shocked by such abandon. She had never lost her control to that extent.
And then the man's rigid length was pressing into the woman, inch by marvelous inch. Korrie envied her in one sense, but in another, she simply couldn't imagine a cock like that up her ass.
"More!" the woman screamed. "I want you all the way this time, every inch."
The man took his time filling her. From the look of the woman, she was loving every minute of it. Korrie felt dizzy and exhaled. Had she held her breath the whole time she watched him ream the woman?
Again, the man began a steady rhythm of fucking her, and Korrie thought she would pass out from the need that raced though her as she watched them. The man's arm curled around the woman's body and Korrie knew he was massaging her needy little clit. Korrie could almost feel him touching her, and her body spasmed at the sensation of the powerful hands stroking across her body.
It was as though their sexual energy reached out to engulf her as well, tendrils of their lust twining around her and melding her to them. It was the most amazing experience she'd ever had without actually having sex.
She knew he was close, could see it as he hammered into the woman time and time again. The woman squealed as she came and Korrie could hear the man's grunts as he flooded the woman's ass with his cum.
As Korrie watched, the couple parted. The woman leaned up on tiptoes to kiss the man on his jaw as she righted her skirt. She looked up at him flirtatiously then skittered down the path away from the house. Korrie had to wonder if maybe she didn't actually work at the house after all.
She watched with interest as the man righted his clothing, and when he looked up she was shocked to see a tortured expression on his face. It took her breath away. She had expected to see passion, maybe contentment, or self-satisfaction after such a lusty tryst, but not pain.
He opened the door of the shed and was lost to her sight. When he disappeared from view it felt like something had been torn from inside her. It was the oddest feeling. Some instinct from deep within pushed at her to reveal herself to him, to find out who he was. She, who had been betrayed by a lover, had no thought for the woman he'd been with. She just wanted to be fucked by him.
"Can I help you, miss?"
She whirled around and came face to face with a woman with neatly confined salt-and-pepper hair and wearing a plain black dress and a white apron. Her closed, tight expression bored into Korrie and there was not a hint of welcome in her expression. How long had she been watching her? She cringed to think what this woman might have seen.
The woman had a basket slung over her arm filled with cut roses and greenery. Korrie tried to harness her emotions. She offered the woman a tentative smile and held out her hand.
"Hello. My name is Korrie Odell. I believe you were expecting me?"
The woman's lips thinned into a straight line, her eyes narrowed as she studied her. "I would have expected to meet you at the front door, Ms. Odell. Not here in the garden."
Korrie dropped her arm and straightened to her full five-feet-ten-inch height. "It's Dr. Odell. I saw the gate, and the garden looked too inviting. I'm not on a time crunch today, and I didn't call ahead with a time of arrival, so I didn't think it would put anyone out if I visited the garden first. Is there a problem?" She met the woman's stare firmly, not backing down one inch. She had learned well over the years how to handle difficult people.
The woman's gaze slid away. "Very well, Dr. Odell. I'm Mrs. Grippen, the housekeeper. If there's anything you require during your stay, just let me know. The people at the institute called ahead to say you would be arriving, and I've prepared a room for you. Do you need help with your baggage? I'm sure Athan can take care of it."
Athan. It couldn't be. Visions of the perfect creature in Sheba's journal sprang up before her. It wasn't possible, was it?
She had the greatest urge to turn back toward the gardener's shed. Was Athan the name of the attractive, studly man she had just spied on?
Mrs. Grippen waited, watching her closely. Korrie shuttered her expression. She would have to look for her answers later.
"No, I won't need any help," she responded as she accompanied the housekeeper back to the house. "I can handle it." Handle it or handle the people in the house? She was beginning to wonder. She looked up, and suddenly the house seemed to wear a sinister shroud over it, and she shuddered.
Mrs. Grippen apparently saw the movement. "You need to be careful this time of year. You could catch ill very easily. This old house is drafty, and the rain comes when you least expect it." She stepped through the French door into the house, and Korrie followed her inside.
They passed through the sunroom, down a hallway leading toward the front of the house. Mrs. Grippen set the basket of flowers on a side table as they passed into the front hallway. Korrie couldn't help looking up at the painted ceilings of the vaulted room. She could have sworn it looked like gargoyles tempting the angels high above her head.
"I've put you in a second-floor bedroom near the back, where it's quieter. It's called the Blue Room. I hope you'll be comfortable there."
Korrie followed her up the stairs and toward the left. There was little light along the long hallway. At night it would be pitch black without the sconces along the walls. Mrs. Grippen stopped at an intricately scrolled door and opened it, then stepped back, allowing Korrie to precede her.
Korrie's jaw dropped when she saw the immense room. Her whole apartment could probably fit inside it. The huge four-poster canopied bed dominated the room. There were Raphael angels adorning the walls and ceiling. Wow, talk about a bedroom from fantasyland.
"Thank you. This should be fine."
The woman nodded. "Dinner is at seven if that's all right with you. You can have your choice of where you would like it served."
"There's really no need. I can fend for myself quite well. Unless there are others here?"
"No, miss. Just you. It's my job to fix the meals."
Well, Korrie certainly didn't want to be stepping on toes. "The kitchen will do then."
Mrs. Grippen's eyebrows raised. "The kitchen? Are you sure?"
"Yes. Thank you. I'll be sure to be there at seven sharp."
"Very well." She turned and left the room, pulling the door firmly closed with a sharp crack.
Korrie turned back to gaze around the room in awe. Well, one thing was for sure ‑‑ she felt like she had just dropped into that spot between heaven and hell. Could this be purgatory?
One thing she really wanted to do was find out more about who this Athan was that the housekeeper spoke of and whether or not he was somehow related to the Ransoms and their creation. It was certainly a mystery she planned to solve before she left this place.
Three days later, Athan walked toward the kitchen door and hovered there for a moment, looking around, making sure no one else was there. Such as Korrie Odell.
He knew that the young, pretty scientist took her meals in the kitchen. That was one way in which she was different from Paul, who had taken his meals in the formal dining room.
"Come on in, boy," Mrs. Grippen called out. "She's gone." The housekeeper had a way of knowing things when nobody said a word. "Sit down. I've made a nice roast beef."
He could smell the savory meat with tinges of herb and onion.
He wiped his feet and stepped inside. "It smells wonderful. Your cooking spoils me, ma'am."
She turned from the stove and set a platter down on the worn maple table. "Well, sit. You don't want it to get cold."
"I'll wait for you."
He saw the hint of a smile nudge upward around the corners of her mouth. She wasn't one to laugh a whole lot, but Athan had been able to get a chuckle or two out of her on occasion. It had been hard for her ever since her husband died. Neither of them spoke of that time, but he understood that loss very well.
He missed his doctors and he always would. They were his creators, yet more than that. They were his lovers, his friends, his teachers. His whole world, and no one would ever replace them. He had wanted to stay with them until the very end, but they had built a necessary strength inside him ‑‑ self-preservation.
Yes, he had wanted to die with them, but the scorching heat and the inability to breathe had overpowered him, and the will to survive was too firmly ingrained. He had almost heard Dr. Sheba's voice in his head.
Live, Athan. You must live for us.
The night they were killed was seared into his memory forever. Mrs. Grippen had retained the presence of mind to call the firefighters. If they'd arrived any later, the whole house would probably have gone up in flames. As it was, it had been confined to the lab on the top floor.
The housekeeper moved to her chair on the other side of the table, and Athan walked around it and held it out for her. "They trained you right, boy," she said as she sat down.
He tried not to let the vulnerability of knowing what he was show. A science project and nothing more. He knew that all of his parts had parents, but not the sum of who he was. The housekeeper surmised many of the secrets of the estate, but he knew she didn't understand with complete certainty exactly what he was. At least he didn't think she did. She simply accepted him. But then, she also never spoke of the things she might question. He returned to his chair, sat down, and picked up the beige cloth napkin folded neatly next to the plate.
He didn't speak of such things either. There were many secrets buried on this land. He was the only one privy to the location of the Ransom's graves. And the other interred there as well. No one but he knew the nightmarish misery that lay beneath the moist earth on Heartbreak Hill. Not even the housekeeper.
These dinners were their small tradition. Mrs. Grippen was the one to say the dinner prayer, and he bowed his head and folded his hands. He wasn't sure what he believed in exactly, but he knew this little ritual gave her some comfort, and it was the least he could do. She had taken good care of him after the Ransoms died. She never failed to treat him with kindness and respect, not as though he was something evil.
After she finished reciting the prayer, she lifted her head to look at him, peering closely with clear gray eyes that seemed to be all-seeing. She reached for the bowl of buttery mashed potatoes and passed it to him.
"She's a nice lady, Athan. Nicer than that Cathcart boy. There's just something not quite right about him."
Paul liked grand displays according to Mrs. Grippen, and would never lower himself to eat in the kitchen with the help, as she termed it. To be honest, it was Paul's attitude toward the housekeeper and other small, undefined habits that had kept Athan from sharing his secrets with him.
"You never liked him very much, did you?" he asked as he spooned some of the fluffy white potatoes onto his plate and passed the bowl back to her.
"Not much." She peered at him. "But I know you did." She wasn't a woman of a lot of words, but she saw a great deal. "Hope he didn't go breaking your heart when he left like that."
Paul had made himself available to Athan whenever he wanted sex, but he could tell there was something murky lurking beneath the man's passion. Something not quite right that kept Athan from caring too deeply for him.
"No ma'am," he said with a slight smile as he ladled some rich, savory brown gravy over the potatoes. "He seemed nice enough to me."
She nodded. "That's as well. You might get to know Dr. Odell. She has a kind way about her. But she seems lonely and sad sometimes."
Truth be told, he found himself curious as to how similar Korrie Odell was to Paul. Or different. Her eating habits and respectful attitude toward Mrs. Grippen gave him pause. It was the philosopher-scientist part of his brain that made him look for answers beneath the surface. He hadn't found what he was looking for with Paul. What would he discover with Korrie Odell?
"Are you trying to play the matchmaker?" he joked and grinned at the motherly housekeeper.
"You could use a nice girl. Some of those floozies from town I see you with... Well, I just think you can do better."
She obviously knew about his nightly trips into Fall's Creek and although she didn't approve, she never said anything directly. After Paul's departure, he had resorted back to the men and women of Fall's Creek for the regular sex that he required. He doubted Mrs. Grippen knew the true reason for his nightly visits. The townspeople were very accommodating. All he had to do was show himself at the local tavern and they were lined up to be serviced by him. It made things easier for him. He thrived because of their sexual appetites.
He held a good deal of affection for Mrs. Grippen. Having lost her husband in the tragedy of the fire, and having no other living relatives, she now put her heart and soul into the house. She tended to spoil Athan, treating him more like a son than another employee of the estate.
"I'll keep that in mind, ma'am. If you think she's a good person, then that's good enough for me," he said just before he raised a forkful of delicious food to his mouth.
\*
Korrie curled up in bed and pulled out the last of the journal pages from the envelope she had brought with her. It was amazing how right it felt to be reading them, here in this house, with the possessions of the Ransoms surrounding her.
She'd spent the last couple of days wandering around the house, trying to get her bearings. And sitting in the garden. This place drew something from her, something intimate and close. It was going to be difficult to leave when the time came. Even with its tragic history and the cold breezes that seemed to sweep over her more and more frequently, it felt like she had come home.
She'd seen hardly anything of Athan, who she knew was the current caretaker. He seemed to be taking great pains to avoid her. Mrs. Grippen wasn't one to talk much and certainly hadn't been open to answering Korrie's questions. She just needed to give it a little more time; she was certain she would discover the answers she was looking for given a little more investigation. Patience had gotten her here and patience would get her the answers she was seeking. All in good time.
Her copies of the journal pages were her only intimate connection with the past and the passions that had once been a potent fabric of this house. She could feel the effects still lingering in the atmosphere. These glimpses into Sheba's mind, into a past she yearned with every breath to experience in reality, made her feel alive in a way she couldn't begin to explain to another person. Being in this house bound her closer to her secretive desires, and the ache of need inside her throbbed brighter than ever before.
With reverence she turned to the journal pages, drinking in the haunting script of Sheba Ransom. Becoming Sheba through her words...
September 5, 1942
Journal of Dr. Sheba Ransom
I was late entering the lab and was terribly afraid that Athan would suffer because of it. His electrophasm treatment was overdue as it was and having seen the results of earlier withdrawal, I knew we could take no chances on altering his schedule.
I was stopped short as I hurried into the lab and I know shocked surprise was evident upon my face as I beheld the arousing sight before me. Cornelius was on his knees in dog fashion, his trousers dropped around his knees and his lab coat shoved up over his back, with a naked Athan pumping his rigid, glistening cock deep into his rectum. I could see the rings of electrostatic energy surrounding his penis and saw Cornelius shudder each time he tunneled deep inside his cavity.
As I write this now, I realize I shouldn't have been shocked at all as I have seen Cornelius buggered before, but the circumstances just caught me by surprise somehow. And there was such a look of ecstasy on his face ‑‑ one I hadn't witnessed before.
Athan used him hard and their primal grunts and growls, the scent and vibrations of their sexual heat filled the closed atmosphere of the lab. I glanced at the equipment, saw the electrode pads still swinging as though having been removed but moments ago, and realized they hadn't waited for my attendance. And, of course, they shouldn't have.
I believe what bothered me was the knowledge that the electrical expend would not be mine as was the usual routine. On this occasion, Cornelius would benefit from my loss.
And it came to me that I had become addicted to that sensation, looked forward to receiving his energized cum inside my body, of the jolts that passed from him into me, particularly immediately following his treatment. I also realized it was greedy of me to not share the experience with my beloved husband.
I yanked off my lab coat and quickly shed myself of my underwear and stepped toward my husband. Hiking my skirt up to my waist and fastening it in my belt, I spread my pussy lips, exposing my swollen clitoris to Cornelius.
"Suck me," I demanded. His mouth quickly captured my needy clit, and he proceeded to do just that. He sank his tongue into my vagina, exited, and then nuzzled at my throbbing clit. I moaned as the climax started to build, as the electrical charges ‑‑ faint, but real ‑‑ pressed against me. It was a secondary experience to what he received from Athan, but enough to connect us in the moment.
And then Athan drove forward, crying out with his climax. His action pressed Cornelius forward, and I was forced backward, against the wall. The arc of electricity that passed through Cornelius as Athan came shot straight through me, and I came quickly, shuddering with the pleasure of sensations that enveloped us all.
"Oh, yes," I screamed. "Yes."
As I opened my eyes, I saw Athan withdraw from inside Cornelius. My husband gave one last swipe of his tongue and released me.
"That was incredible," my husband said. "I've never experienced anything like that in my life before." He looked up at me as I tried to put myself back in order. "Is this what you feel like when he fucks you?"
I released a shuddering breath and looked into his eyes. He trembled with the aftershocks, his eyes were dark and dilated, his breathing unsteady. I knew what he was experiencing and in that moment I felt we were closer than we had ever been before. "Yes." It was only one word but it said it all.
Cornelius slowly rose to his feet and straightened his clothing. "I must make a note of this. I must register the changes." His eyebrows drew together in deep concentration as he looked at me. "You should have been keeping track, recording the changes in your chemistry." Without a backward glance he hurried over to the desk, dragged out his journal, and sat down to record the experience. Absently, he reached into the cupboard above him to draw down a tray of needles and tubing.
I gazed down at Athan, who was still on his knees, his shoulders hunched, shaking in the aftermath. I couldn't just leave him like that. I touched his shoulder and he looked up at me. I saw the lightning in his eyes. He was still not fully discharged. Cornelius must have cranked the settings higher than usual.
"Come with me, Athan," I said as I helped him to his feet. "Let's get you cleaned up."
Just off the main room of the laboratory there is a small changing room and a shower. I led him there to get him cleaned up. He was already naked, but I removed the remainder of my own clothing and stepped inside the shower with him after making sure the water was the correct temperature. My husband, the scientist, could take care of the necessary record keeping and additional tests. I would take care of Athan.
Just touching him I received jolts through my hands, like magnetic waves humming through my limbs. I grabbed a bar of soap and a washcloth and began to carefully wash him. The warm water sheathed us from the outside world. Here, it was just the two of us. A man and a woman ‑‑ not a scientist and her creation.
I traced a finger down the length of the white scar that crawled down his broad chest. Even with the scars of death and surgery, he was perfect. He lifted me and pressed his lips to mine and I felt his tongue delve deeply as he bolted me back against the wall. He cupped my face and I felt a certain desperation in him that I had not felt before. I looked up at him and tried to determine its source, but all I saw in his eyes was the crackle of vivid lightning.
I caught my breath as he lifted me and sheathed his cock deeply inside me with one stroke. Shock waves chased through me and I gasped at the rippling sensations as though I were racing across a static field, snap after snap biting at my heels as I ran.
Each thrust was a shock wave of sensation ‑‑ one that I didn't want to end. I broke the kiss. "More. Don't stop." The heat and spark that drove through me time and time again as his cock pressed deep into my cunt retreated, and when he did so again I thought I would die. I wrapped my legs around his waist. He filled me and fucked me like I'd never been fucked before. My hands gripped his slippery, well-muscled ass as he drove inside me again and again.
I came. And then I came again. And again. The waves of my orgasms matching the heated shocks he spiked through me. And when he came inside me, my whole body convulsed in spasms as his electrically-charged spend pumped into me. I think for one moment my heart stopped ‑‑ everything halted, every breath stilled, as I clung to him. It felt like I floated above the world in a limbo of pleasure.
I remember gasping and the sounds of life, of the water pulsing down on us, begin again. I collapsed in his arms, eyes closed. And I knew it was enough.
As we walked back out into the main room, Cornelius was still nose-deep in his journal. He dropped his pen, checking his pulse, and then scratched into his notebook once again.
He looked up at me as I stepped closer. "Give me your arm," he instructed.
I did so and he checked my pulse. I turned to look at Athan and smiled. "Why don't you go on. I'll help Cornelius finish up here. I'm sure you're tired."
"I'm not tired. I'll be in the garden if you need me."
I turned back to Cornelius after he had left and frowned at him. "You went too far. You could have killed all of us."
His eyebrows show up. "What?"
"You upped the electrical charge, didn't you? He couldn't expend completely. I had to fuck him again to release the balance of what was left."
"Is that why your pulse registers erratically? You should have called me."
"So you could watch?" I asked softly.
His gaze clashed with mine. "Of course. We're scientists first, Sheba. I should have been there to see the effects of the extended charge." He turned as though to continue writing.
I cupped his jaw, forcing his head back up to look at me. "What about the pleasure, Cornelius? There was a time when you would watch me with another man for pleasure. I feel it's been a long time since you've done that."
"But he's not just any man, is he? He's our creation. How are we to produce another if we don't take note of everything."
"He may be our creation, but he's also a man."
His gaze studied me for long moments as though trying to peel back my skin to see inside. "That's the difference between you and me, Sheba. Your...science...and understanding do not come from the same roots as mine, no matter how much you may wish to disagree. Have you fallen in love with him, Sheba?"
How could I not? And he was our creation, as Cornelius said. Could any human being be more tied to another?
"I love you, husband, you must know that." I tried to skirt a true answer to his question.
"But do you love Athan? I am curious."
"Only curious? Not jealous?" It made me wonder at our relationship as husband and wife. Had the scientist taken over so completely?
"With Athan, I'm curious." He shrugged. "He's not someone simply passing through our lives. He's a...fixture. To be jealous, considering the dynamics of our positions, would be detrimental to the experiment."
The scientist truly had eclipsed the man...my lover.
"Yes, I love him. Is that what you wanted me to say?"
"Be careful, Sheba. Your loss of objectivity is showing. It could destroy everything we are working to achieve."
I dropped my hands. "Don't worry, I won't let it interfere."
"I think it may have done so already. You haven't been taking readings after intercourse. You've already admitted that."
What could I say? He was right. Maybe I had lost my objectivity. But Athan was different from a rat in a cage. It wasn't the same. How could one not care for the living, breathing entity that made up the sum that we had named Athan?
Cornelius turned away from me. "I have something else in mind."
"What is that?"
"Athan needs a mate. We must create one for him. Not right away. I want to make some enhancements to Athan first."
"A mate? Enhancements?" I asked incredulously. "Are you mad? We aren't ready for that yet."
"No, not just yet, I realize that. I told you, in relation to that, there is something I wish to try with Athan."
"He's perfect the way he is. What else could you possibly want? He's beautiful, intelligent, strong, adept, learns quickly. What more is there?"
Again, he turned to look at me. "You really are besotted with him, aren't you?" His gaze narrowed as he studied me.
"Enough, Cornelius. As you said, he's a part of us. He lives, he breathes. I don't want to see him hurt. He's not just another lab animal ‑‑ and those were bad enough. He's intelligent. He's a human being."
"I think you need to look again. He is an experiment. And we aren't finished. He isn't perfect."
"You're wrong, Cornelius."
"He can't exist on his own, not without our help. He isn't self-sufficient, you know that. He's been tested and you know what happened when we tried to reduce the treatments ‑‑ the monster that was driven to the surface."
I hated to admit he was right ‑‑ I wanted Athan to be truly self-supporting.
"You know he's going to live longer than us and he's going to need to be able to draw sex partners to him when we aren't here. Be honest, Sheba, admit it's the truth."
"Yes, I know. I don't want him to be alone, but how do you hope to change that?"
"Finding him a mate won't be easy. In the meantime, I plan to heighten his pheromone level."
Something told me that Cornelius was going too far with this latest experiment. I was afraid of what the outcome would be. And I fear for Athan.
Korrie leaned back against the pillows as she read this last entry. How alone must Athan have felt through all of this? According to Sheba's entries he exhibited all the emotions of a sentient being, yet it seemed Cornelius treated him as simply an experiment. How must that have made him feel? She felt an empathy with Sheba and the same desire rose inside her to comfort Athan and care for him. What she wouldn't give to have known the man and have become a member of their team as they breached this amazing territory.
She rubbed her slick thighs together. What she wouldn't have given to become a participant in their sexual discoveries.
Korrie returned the pages to the envelope and slipped them beneath the bed. Who knew if or when Paul might return and she wanted to make certain he didn't find them. Time was running out and she needed to find out the secrets this place held before his return. Paul was the type of person the Ransoms would never have wanted to share their experiments with and she had to make certain that didn't happen. The only way to do that was to find the documentation herself.
Paul sat in an uncomfortable, refurbished chair outside the boardroom and waited anxiously to be called in. The board had kindly left him to stew for more than a few days before summoning him to this meeting. Probably their way of letting him know who still held the reins to the organization, much to his dissatisfaction.
He knew he was probably but one of the items on the agenda to be checked off. That thought irked him. The secretary totally ignored him as she tapped away at her keyboard with long red, fingernails clicking at his nerves. Definitely fake, just like the rest of her body, with her white-blonde hair and doubleD tits.
He reached up to straighten the expensive, navy blue tie he wore. It was important he look his best. The blue silk suit had cost plenty, and the white Egyptian cotton shirt was handmade to his measurements. There was nothing wrong with enjoying the finer things in life. And the one thing he couldn't allow was for them to think he had anything to hide.
Exactly how much did they know about the falsified reports? How deeply had they penetrated his doctoring of the files? Once he determined the extent of the information they had, then he could decide how best to diffuse the situation.
If only he'd discovered the Ransom documents, he wouldn't need to be here now waiting on these elitist bastards. He'd already be on his way to securing his future. He knew what he needed was at the estate; he just required more time to ferret out the evidence. How he wished he'd gotten Athan to trust him before he left. But at least he'd fixed it so Athan wouldn't trust Korrie Odell.
The phone on the secretary's desk rang and she turned to answer it. Paul couldn't gather anything from the conversation, but within moments she had returned the handset to the cradle.
"Dr. Carter says you can go in now, Dr. Cathcart. They're waiting for you."
Paul rose from the plastic-cushioned seventies-era chair and straightened his jacket, smoothing out the wrinkles. He stopped at the secretary's desk and gave her one of his most engaging white smiles. "Thanks, sweetheart. You're looking gorgeous today. You have a good one."
She gazed up at him with her big baby blue eyes and batted her long fake lashes ‑‑ and then snapped her gum. "You have a good one too, sweetie," and then she winked before swinging around to face her computer screen.
Bitch. She was definitely banging Carter.
He wheeled away and stalked toward the closed door of the conference room. Whatever was waiting for him behind this door, he had to be ready for it. Grasping the knob, he opened the door and stepped inside.
It had the look of any boardroom ‑‑ long and rectangular, with an oblong mahogany conference table, and eight gray cushioned executive chairs to accommodate eight big-headed, soft-assed members. The institute had been founded in the midfifties and the Odell Building was actually the original structure that became the Morgan Institute. It had since grown to include a complex of buildings, both above ground and below, and the Odell Building now housed strictly the administrative arm. The laboratories and classrooms were rehoused and modernized in several of the outlying buildings.
This structure smelled old and reeked of old men, old ways. It was something that Paul had been hungry to change. That opportunity was gone now. Replaced by Plan B.
"Sit down, Paul," Erik Carter called. He nodded toward a chair at the end of the table. "We've saved this discussion for last, so we could give it our full attention."
Paul sauntered to the end of the table as though he didn't have a care in the world and sank into the chair, facing the others. Carter sat at the opposite end. To Paul's right were Arthur Grayson, Dorothy Morrison, Garver Tarrington, and Harvey Bickard. Arthur and Garver were retired professors, but Dorothy and Harvey still actively led research teams, although they were close to retiring. Dorothy often served as spokesperson and go-between with the various organizations that supported the Morgan Institute.
On the other side of the table was the younger crowd. At least compared to the right side of the table. In age, they were his peers; in intelligence, not even close. Mallory Parson was married to Carter's youngest daughter, Annie, and had smoothed his way into a senior analyst position without needing to start as an intern. He'd always been a burr in Paul's side, since the day he'd arrived.
Then, of course, there was Annie Carter Parson. Her specialty was DNA research. Now seven months pregnant, she'd pulled back on her work schedule until after the baby was born. Apparently, she had plenty of time to remain on the board. Lawrence Dixson had come on board about a year ago and had already risen to a senior research position in cell reconstruction. And then there was Dianne Montgomery; if there was a meaner dried-up hag than Korrie Odell, Dianne was it. She headed up human resources.
This sanctimonious representation of an organization now gone civilized by the government would be his judge and his jury. He studied each of them carefully, trying to weigh their expressions. How much could he get away with? He turned to glare down the length of the table at Erik Carter, concentrating on keeping his expression and body language neutral.
"So...why have I been royally summoned back here, Erik? There's a lot I need to accomplish out at the Ransom estate. A lot yet to be uncovered. This wasn't a good time to be called back."
Erik frowned. The vibrations of his disapproval raced like a tidal wave down the length of the table to drown Paul. "This wouldn't have happened if it wasn't important, Paul. And besides, from your reports on the work you were doing at the Ransom estate, it didn't appear you were making much progress. We thought" ‑‑ he nodded to the others at the table ‑‑ "this might be a good time to reassess as well."
Paul knew damn well what game the old man was playing. He'd been good friends with Tom Odell and had taken Korrie under his wing after Tom died. The whole damned institute knew Korrie had wanted this assignment, but based on the very reports Erik now had setting before him, Paul had managed to land the project. Of course, there had been a few side negotiations that had gotten him the choice deal.
His gaze again circled the table and settled on Annie Carter. He fixed on her protruding belly. Just whose brat was she carrying? It wasn't too long before the wedding that he'd spurted his semen into her cunt. Had she been on anything? Sort of made one wonder.
She met his gaze with a hard look and a protective hand over her belly and subtly leaned closer to her rather new husband. Maybe there was more to him getting the job than just marrying the chairman's daughter. Paul leaned back in his chair. Well, at least fucking her, and in a roundabout way letting her know what he wanted, had helped him pull the choice plum off Korrie's little tree. At least for a while.
"What exactly seems to be the problem, Erik?" He folded his hands and placed them on the gleaming table, pleased to see the turmoil inside him was not evident. Steady as a rock.
"It has to do with the discrepancies that have been flagged in these reports. The initial documentation was all done by you. Many of the lab experiments were ones you coordinated. What we want, Dr. Cathcart, is for you to review each one of these files and provide us with a written report explaining your position and, in some cases, backing up your research to our satisfaction."
He shoved the pile toward Mallory, who rose from his seat, picked up the folders, walked the length of the table, and dropped them before Paul, a smug expression on his face. Then he returned to his chair. Paul studied the pile, zeroing in on the small multicolored, florescent flags, which apparently marked each and every discrepancy. Then he looked back at Carter.
"And just when do you need this report, Dr. Carter?"
"As soon as you can get it to us, but no later than thirty days from today."
He flicked a finger down through the stack of files. "And if I don't get it to you in your designated time period?"
Erik glared at him, his expression stone hard. "Then you'll leave us no recourse. You'll be dismissed and someone else will have to redo each of the experiments, probably costing the institute steeply as well as putting us in a very embarrassing position with our contributors. And if any problems are discovered that can't be explained, we are prepared to take appropriate action. Are we clear?"
Paul saw flames of red flash before his eyes; his fingers itched to surround the leathery, wrinkled neck of the man facing him across the table. "Very."
He looked at Garver, who had a tape recorder resting in front of him, as well as a legal pad. "One month from today we will meet here again and Dr. Cathcart with provide us with his updated findings."
Garver scratched a note on the pad, then looked up at Erik. "I'll give these notes to Violet to transcribe and ask her to put Dr. Cathcart's report on the agenda for next month."
Erik looked at Paul. "Thank you for coming, Paul. We'll look forward to receiving that report next month." He looked around the table. "Any new business?"
It was Paul's signal to leave. Scooping up the files he stalked out of the room and headed toward his office. Bastards. Slamming the door to his office shut, he flung the files onto the floor where they slid and scattered across the smooth parquet surface. Everything he'd worked for, everything he'd built, was about to come crumbling down around his feet. One day he'd make them pay for treating him this way.
He'd made a fatal mistake in pushing Tom Odell to an early death. He should have waited just a little longer. He'd had Tom and this institute by the balls, right where he wanted them. He'd squeezed just a bit too tight, too soon; unfortunately, it was a mistake he was going to have to pay for. What he really wanted to know was how they'd discovered his doctoring of the reports.
He looked at the files scattered over the floor. Maybe if he could slide through a few of them, he could get an extension. All he needed was enough time to get back to the Ransom estate, get rid of Korrie Odell, and do what needed to be done.
He looked at the phone, then reached over to pick up the handset. It took five rings before someone picked up.
"Hello? Donald? It's Paul Cathcart. I'm in town for a few weeks and thought we might hook up for a drink?" Always have a secondary plan in place.
\*
Korrie trembled with excitement, as well as fear, as she stumbled into the library the next afternoon. She was still stunned by her discovery. She had taken the morning to delve into some of the shadowy nooks and crannies these older structures seemed to hide, looking for someplace else where documents might have been hidden away. She had even gotten up the courage to go into the master bedroom. And that's where something very odd had taken place and why she was ready to burst right now.
She wasn't sure it was a room she wanted to return to any time soon. But it certainly did give her hope that there were more documents in this place to be uncovered ‑‑ that maybe Paul hadn't found. Documents that had been hidden by someone not so earthly bound as they were.
In that room, more so than any of the others she had entered that morning, it was as though there was still a presence in residence, hovering just out of sight as she scoured the room. Then the ice-cold breeze she had become accustomed to over the last few days descended, drifting over her like a misty cloud, drawing her deep into its lair. She'd never been one to believe in the supernatural, but after this recent experience, she held a healthy respect for things not seen.
Whatever energy that was in there had drawn her to a silken powder blue and gold chair near the window. Vibrations of sensual excitement spun around her like ribbons of oozing honey, overpowering in its sweet clinging texture, imprisoning her in the sexual atmosphere that now hovered within the room. She could smell the scent of lust that clung to the air. And to her.
Korrie turned to look at the canopied bed and it was as though she could see the imprint of bodies sliding seductively over the covers. Shadows of movement pressing against the bronzed satin comforter; the indentation of a head on the pillow, thrashing wildly.
Then she sensed that someone had once sat in that chair, watched the twining of bodies, the pressing and penetration, heard the moans and the slapping and sucking of heated, damp flesh, smelled the scent of musky bodies. She felt his presence, and it was definitely a man; unable to stop herself, she pressed a hand to her throbbing, feminine flesh. The room grew darker, the lighting subdued, as she concentrated on the bed.
It was no longer her own female flesh she felt beneath her hands, but a large prick at full mast, hot and throbbing, as whoever it was that was watching the display of passion stroked himself. Electrical impulses seemed to emanate from the thick stalk, shocking the palm of her hand, shooting down through the tips of her fingers.
As surely as she knew her own name, she knew the name of the man whose body she now seemed to be wrapped in.
Athan.
She dropped her head back and closed her eyes, feeling the male arousal fill her. She felt his hand stroke the heat of his sex, smearing the liquid across the glans. More and more pre-ejaculate coated her fingers as she gripped the massive tool. One hand moved downward as the testicles drew up close to the male body. The hum of arousing energy spiked through her body.
The groans and murmurs of pleasure coming from the bed were clearer now, and she was no longer alone. The past now seemed her present, and her body was no longer female, but male in full, frontal arousal. She gripped the cock between her legs, no longer aware of her own physical form, so deeply entrenched in the essence of this room.
Come join us. She heard the whispered words of a husky, feminine voice.
The body she now inhabited rose from the chair and walked toward the bed.
A woman lay there, and a man rested at her side. She spread her legs and Korrie, through the eyes of the man, could see her glistening lips peel away to reveal her reddened, engorged clit.
I'm waiting, Athan. A moment of recognition spread through Korrie at the name the woman uttered, but she was thoroughly immersed in the trance and couldn't seem to break out of the illusion. This body she inhabited climbed onto the bed and Korrie could smell the scent of roses mingled with sex flooding the air.
The head of the heavy cock stroked at the wet lips of the woman, then pressed slowly inside her channel. Korrie gasped at the sensation of being surrounded by the wet silken texture of a woman's vagina. This was different than when she pleasured herself. So very different.
A strange feeling of masculine desire consumed her as the body thrust deep, retreated and thrust again, and she felt the cock tunnel through moist, pliant flesh. She felt the rhythm of his hips as he surged forward time and time again. She felt the orgasm rising inside him like a tidal wave that dragged her along in its wake. She heard the woman scream, echoed by the male groan of the body she inhabited, felt her own orgasm pulse deeply inside her. It was the most amazingly erotic moment she'd ever had in her life.
The next thing she remembered in that odd room was waking and finding herself in the middle of the huge bed, two fingers buried deeply inside her pussy, drenched with her fluid. She quickly rose from the bed and tried to reorient herself. She stared at the chair, then back at the bed. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before.
Something was different and she looked again, narrowing her gaze. Her heart pounded in her chest as she slowly rose from the bed and walked toward the chair. Her breath trapped in her throat, she reached down and picked up the journal lying there. Where had it come from?
She wasn't the type to go into trances and have out-of-body experiences. It frightened her that it should happen now. There was something in that room that had tried to draw Korrie into the nucleus of the energy contained in this house.
Quickly, she snatched up the book and left the room, closing the door firmly behind her. Her heart thundered painfully against her ribs. She glanced down at the journal and with shaking hands opened the book to the first entry. It exactly matched the photographic copies her father had made. In her hands was the missing piece of the puzzle that she had yearned to find. She couldn't believe it was resting in her hands. Someone in this house had wanted her to have it. But who?
She rushed down the hall to her own room. Hurrying inside, she slammed the door behind her. Peering down at her watch, she realized it was almost lunchtime, and Mrs. Grippen would look for her in the library. When she didn't find Korrie there, she would come upstairs looking for her here.
She realized she'd been caught up in that episode in the master bedroom, within that trance, for almost a full hour. She didn't want anyone finding her with the journal ‑‑ not just yet. This was too precious a discovery for her to make a mistake now. God, how she wanted to read it, to consume those last entries made by Sheba Ransom.
Patience. She was so close, and it wouldn't do to rush things now. She went over to the small bag containing some essential supplies, that she always carried with her, and pulled out a roll of electrical tape. Moving back across the room, she pulled the dresser away from the wall. Anchoring the journal to the back, she then shoved the dresser back into place. The journal should be safe there for the time being. Tonight, when it was quiet, she would take her time in finally reading the words she'd waited years to find.
Hurrying down the stairs, she headed for the library. For now, until it was safe, she'd go ahead with what she'd planned for the afternoon. She wanted to look again at the books on genetics that she had noted on the shelves. Maybe there was some key, something stuck between the pages, some notation she had overlooked. A lot of people stuck notes in the pages of the books they were reading. She might find something of use.
As she walked into the library she thought about the incident in the bedroom, about the essence of the people involved in sexual intercourse on the bed.
It had to have been Cornelius and Sheba on the bed in the master bedroom. Didn't it? But the name that the woman had called out ‑‑ Athan ‑‑ was an unusual name, and there was only one man she knew called by that name. At least there was only one man with that name, until her arrival at the estate and her discovery of the name of the current caretaker.
Too many questions yet to be answered. So much she didn't understand. She wondered exactly what Paul had discovered while he'd been here. If he'd found anything of importance shouldn't it have been noted in the file? Had Paul gone into that bedroom and experienced any strange occurrences? And who was this modern-day Athan? Was he more than simply a caretaker and were his ties to this place deeper than she had first imagined? Was he hiding something?
She had assumed that Sheba's Athan had perished in the fire along with the Ransoms. But what if he hadn't? The possibilities were mind-boggling. She needed to find hard evidence to support her suppositions before confronting him. There were too many unanswered questions.
An ache throbbed through her temples and down her neck, and she rubbed at her forehead as she reached the door of the library. She'd ask Mrs. Grippen to bring her a cup of tea, and she'd take a painkiller before the headache got out of hand.
Stepping inside, she closed the door behind her, shutting out the rest of the house. Coming around the side of the leather couch, she stopped dead in her tracks as she saw who was lying stretched out there reading a book. He set it down on the floor and slowly rose to a sitting position. She heard the couch creak, and the scent of leather filled her nostrils, along with something else she couldn't quite identify.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded. Was he real or had she just conjured him up after her experience upstairs? She was fast losing her grip on reality in this place.
His searing gaze studied her closely. "Where should I be, Ms. Odell? Do you think the help shouldn't have access to the house and library?" His smooth, deep voice tracked through her and she found herself stumbling over a response.
He made her feel uncomfortable. "It's Dr. Odell. I-I don't know. I guess I just didn't expect to find you in here. Shouldn't you be out weeding...or something?"
With a fluid motion, he rose to his feet like a predatory wolf, towering over her. "What has you so flustered?"
She sensed something different about him and an unusual scent clinging to the air. What was it? She stepped back. "I don't know what you mean."
His gaze sifted over her and suddenly she felt her nipples tighten with arousal and her pussy seeped excitement.
"Something isn't right," she said as she backed away from him. "Things don't make sense." She found herself backed up against a wall of ancient tomes. Athan moved closer and the fragrance and intensity of the atmosphere drenched her in desire.
"What doesn't make sense, Korrie Odell?" His voice was a soft whisper that rushed through her like a gust of warm, summer wind just before a rising storm, and she gasped as her body responded unexpectedly.
"Don't come any closer. Something's not right, something..."
His large hands were at her waist, lifting her as though she weighed less than a feather, pressing her close to his hot body, his cock notched at her crevice. And his mouth descended to lock with hers, imprisoning her completely within a sensual vortex that left her dizzy and ungrounded.
Give him what he needs.
The words drifted through her mind. She had no idea where they came from, but she wanted to do exactly what they suggested.
The room spun and all she could do was wrap her arms around his neck and hold on tightly to keep herself from being swept away on the tide of Athan's seduction.
His tongue drove deep into her mouth, tasting her, savoring her. She should break away, but couldn't bring herself to do so. His hard body pressed her closer, pasting her along his length, his musky scent filling her nostrils.
Let him have you.
Her experience in the room upstairs had only teased her desire. She needed to feel Athan inside her. She felt herself moving as Athan turned and walked back to the sofa and spread her on it. She felt the course fabric of a wool blanket beneath her back.
Yield to him.
He stared down at her. Suddenly it was as if someone else took over her body ‑‑ yet again. Arching, she smoothed hands down over her aching breasts, cupped the dampness of her mound as she watched the molten look in his eyes deepen. Reaching up, she worked the button free on the front of his worn denims, peeled the zip open, and shoved his pants down over his hips. He dropped forward, reached under her skirt, and with one quick yank ripped off her panties. Shoving her skirt and slip up, he pressed her slick thighs open, opening and baring her to him. His hot hand cupped her, and she gasped when she felt a finger slide through her juices. Pure primal heat engulfed her as she arched her hips up to meet him, like a plant rising from beneath the earth to reach for the life-giving sun.
His eyes bored into her. "You're wet. Do you want to be fucked, Korrie Odell?"
"Yes. Fuck me." She was so hot, so turned on. She'd never felt like this before. She couldn't wait, not an instant longer. She reached out to wrap her hand around his cock. It was just as she'd imagined upstairs. She remembered his silky, hot length, and she knew what it was going to feel like when he pressed it inside her. Knew exactly what to expect. "Now, Athan. Right now."
A short rap at the library door shocked Korrie out of the sexual haze. Gasping as though she had been drenched by a bucket of cold water, she quickly released Athan and sprang up from the couch, stumbling and almost falling to the floor.
Athan yanked up his pants and refastened them before the door opened and Mrs. Grippen walked in carrying a tray with Korrie's lunch.
Korrie shook with the aftermath of what she had just experienced, unsure exactly what had gotten into her. She pressed a shaking hand to her hair to smooth it into place, but she couldn't turn around to face the other occupants of the room.
Oh my God, what did I almost do? She pressed the palms of her hands to her burning cheeks. What had gotten into her?
She could feel the dampness on her thighs, the sensitive brush of her labia lips, the vulnerability of her emotions. She whipped around and her guilty gaze searched frantically for the evidence she was no longer wearing.
Mrs. Grippen and Athan were standing by a table near the window overlooking the front lawn. She had to get herself together. There wasn't a hint of her white undies anywhere to be found. Attempting to regulate her breathing, she could still feel the fierce heat of passion radiating from her face. There wasn't much she could do about it now. Lifting her head and setting her jaw, she walked over to join them near the window.
"Thank you, Mrs. Grippen."
Mrs. Grippen looked up from settling the sandwiches and tea on the table. "It's no problem, Dr. Odell. I saw you when you came downstairs and thought you might be hungry. I hope you enjoy your lunch. I didn't realize Athan would be here or I'd have prepared more food."
"I won't be staying," she heard Athan respond, but it sounded as though it came from far away. Korrie still couldn't quite get her bearings, still caught in the aftermath of sexual heat. She didn't dare look at Athan.
Mrs. Grippen nodded. "If that will be all then. I'm baking a pie for dinner tonight and I really need to get back to the kitchen."
"What kind?" she heard Athan ask with boyish interest evident in his tone.
Mrs. Grippen chuckled. "This boy has a sweet tooth to be sure. Huckleberry, and before you ask, I made an extra because I know how much you like it."
"Thank you, ma'am."
She turned back to Korrie. "If you need anything else, just let me know."
She shuffled out of the room. Korrie skirted around the table and took a chair, keenly feeling her lack of panties.
"I don't know what just happened," she said in a low tone, "but it won't occur again."
Athan didn't move any closer, but she could feel his presence keenly. "Are you so certain?" He was silent for a moment. "What happened, Dr. Odell? Before you came into the library? It seemed to me you were already primed for a good fucking."
Her attention shot to his face. "How dare you!"
Then he did move closer. "How dare I? My prick was in your soft, pretty hands. You wanted it. I could smell you. Are you going to deny it?"
She turned away to look out the window ‑‑ anywhere but at him. "I-I don't know what came over me. There's something about this place. I don't understand it. I've never felt it before. There are ghosts here." She turned to look at him. "And I think you know what it's all about. But you aren't saying, are you? Did Paul gain your confidence, Athan? Did you tell him what you know about this place?"
Athan reared back as though she had bitten him. "I have work to do. Enjoy your lunch, Ms. Odell." He pivoted around and stalked out of the library.
She watched him until he'd left the room. Then she turned back to her plate, picked up half of the ham and cheese sandwich, and took a bite, no longer particularly hungry. Athan definitely knew something, and he was most certainly tied in some way to the Ransoms. She was just going to have to find out what it was.
Later that night Korrie pulled out the precious journal and opened it carefully. The house was quiet, and she was alone. Excitement built as she began to consume the words she had waited years to read.
August 22, 1943
Journal of Sheba Ransom
I was right to fear the outcome of Cornelius's plan. The pheromone enhancements have drawn more bees to the honey than we could have foreseen.
It was through my creation that the two men ‑‑ the bases we used to create the one known as Athan ‑‑ were fused. I had created that mythical essence known among my alchemical colleagues as the elusive Philosopher's Stone. It is that magical essence, the true Elixir of Life, which has provided Athan his unique soul and the essence of immortality. Cornelius thought it was through his science alone ‑‑ through the conduit of electricity and man-made processes that our precious Athan had been formed.
I was afraid to tell him that I administered my concoction ‑‑ the purity of the golden elixir more true than I had ever seen. It was the instinct of rightness which made me give it to him that night and in the end made him an ageless being of absolute perfection.
Cornelius had gone to bed. He'd spent those first forty-eight hours after Athan's revival monitoring his breathing, the rhythm of his heartbeats, and the patterns of the newly joined brain. I sent him to bed and took up the vigil, making notes of any changes, checking the stitches for assurance no infection set in and the IV line to be certain no air bubbles developed to destroy all our hard work.
It was near midnight that the irregularities in his heartbeat became evident and the brain wave patterns turned erratic, and I knew I must do something, and do it quickly. I had one last resort and so I went to my private lab, removed the element I had created the previous night, and administered it to Athan through the feeding tube. I had no idea if it would work, but some unseen hand guided me in its creation and I had to try.
I held my breath, afraid it would do no good, but within the hour all of his vital signs stabilized and his heartbeat returned to a strong and steady rhythm. I breathed a sigh of relief. If nothing else, it had halted the progression of fading life.
It wasn't until much later that I realized what it had truly accomplished. I should have told Cornelius, but I don't think he would have believed me. Athan has not aged one day from that moment, nor has he at any time taken ill with the usual mortal diseases. Any injuries sustained heal at an amazingly rapid rate. My elixir was true.
Sadly, I have been unable to duplicate it. And thus lies the crux of the problem. Cornelius seeks to create a perfect mate for Athan. But without the elixir of life, I fear that we cannot accomplish what he would wish to do. Each attempt has met with tragedy and if it continues, there will be questions from the outside world. The existence of the graveyard on the hill at the back of the estate, and those who lie there, makes me shudder every time I think of it. There are more spirits that remain with us than I care to consider. At night there are times when I seem to hear their cries of anguish. The price of our success remains heavy.
This is why I have come again to my laboratory ‑‑ to attempt to combine what I should not. All in an effort to halt more experimentation. By altering Athan's pheromones and drawing the right eligible woman to him, perhaps, at least for a time, Cornelius will stop attempting to create the perfect mate.
Is this how Frankenstein's monster was created? Because the doctor refused to see the truth, to stop his experiments before it was too late? Will the spirits of those we used in the end come back to destroy us as retribution for our experiments in God play?
If I think too long on these unhappy thoughts I will make myself insane.
In creating the secret to immortality one time in my life, I have surpassed what I would have expected to achieve in this world. It is too much to expect that the conditions would be repeated and that such a miraculous elixir could be duplicated. Like Athan, it is one of a kind, obviously created for one special purpose ‑‑ one special man.
On that one night I felt the harmony of the earth; the vibrations were in sync with my own, and with the elements I combined in that mystical darkness, a full, yellow moon high in the spring night sky, and the elements of new life forming beneath the moist earth, our vision was given life. No night has ever been more perfect than that. And when I looked at the flask and saw golden sunlight gleaming back, the excitement that bled through me most assuredly would equal and surpass the heights of sexual orgasm. It was the culmination of my life's work.
Yet I could not share my secret, not even with my husband. He'd always had difficulty in understanding my science ‑‑ the science of the elements of the earth.
It was this magical element that had given Athan his immortality and his soul ‑‑ I am certain of it. I went back to my lab, to my instruments, to the elements of the earth, to find a way to draw a perfect woman to his side.
This was a difficult task for me because I wasn't certain I wanted to be usurped in his affections. And it was quite possible that would occur.
I am no longer a young woman, and this comes difficult to me. She will become a part of our unusual household, but will she understand? Or will feminine jealousy destroy what we have already attained? Am I overly protective of our creation?
I do not wish to see Athan hurt and maybe that is my flaw. I try to hide my concern from Athan and from my husband. How can a man understand the workings of a woman's mind, of her emotions? Cornelius's concern is about the science, the awe of life created by combining and infusing immortality through his science.
My awe rests in the beauty of life, in the expression of life force through intimacy and connections, through the primal vibrations of the earth. I cannot begin to express my pleasure in watching Athan tonight and enjoying the touch of my husband as we observed from this very window.
Cornelius has a way of holding a part of himself from me ‑‑ his scientific mind, separate from the passion of intimacy. A part of him remains clinical and observant, even in the throes of climax. Perhaps that is why I enjoy the raw intimacy with Athan so very much. He is so fully engaged in the sex act, in the pleasure of bodies and emotions connecting in passion. We observe him now as he draws upon that glorious primal nature.
Cornelius and I watched from the window as a young woman entered the moonlit garden, drawn to Athan out of the night. It was not an unusual event; the women from the town often wander into our garden to find him. I remember that this one was particularly entrancing.
"Do you think she might be the one?" my husband asked as he cupped my breasts. We both witnessed as Athan bowed his head to press a kiss to the woman's eager lips. With her own hands, she reached to unbutton her blouse.
My breath stuttered as Athan lowered his head to suckle at her milky white breasts highlighted by the moonlight. Cornelius pulled my sweater up over my head, then released the catch on my bra, baring me to his attentions. I felt the cool night air sifting in through the open window, fluttering across my bosom.
Cornelius's hands were at my breasts, tugging at my nipples, drawing them into tight beads as we watched the tableau unfolding in the garden below us.
The woman was now naked; her skin glowed almost like she was bathed in fluorescence beneath the moonlight. Her arms were stretched above her head as though in supplication to the moon goddess as she arched and pressed against my beautiful Athan.
I closed my eyes for a moment, shutting out the searing scene playing out in the garden. It was Athan's hands I suddenly felt on my body. I could smell his strong, masculine scent as it wafted up from the garden. It overpowered me, making me hot and needy as my husband's hands played across my body. I could only imagine how it acted upon the woman he held in his arms.
Opening my eyes, I saw her reach down to unfasten Athan's trousers, saw the length of rigid flesh spill out into her hand, watched her grip him and slide her hands along its length.
The wind carried their passion-filled voices to us as we stood there and witnessed their coupling. She spread her legs and pressed his penis to the shadowy opening of her vagina.
I felt Cornelius's finger slash across my slit and then his cock entered me from behind.
"Grab onto the window sill," he growled in my ear. "Arch your back."
He entered me swiftly and completely, and I gasped at his penetration, even as I witnessed the acts of the lovers below.
Athan lifted the woman and carried her to the stone bench resting near the fragrant white lavender bush near the path to the gardener's shed. I knew that bench ‑‑ he had fucked me there on more than one occasion. I knew the feel of it beneath me, and the press of him inside me. I felt my liquid gush, coating my husband's cock thoroughly as he slid in and out of my pussy.
I watched Athan fold her back, split her, and enter her. I heard her scream ‑‑ not the sound of fear, but of blinding pleasure as he penetrated. I watched him work his way inside her, saw the gleaming muscles of his ass clench and release. I saw the flash of electrical surges as he spent inside her.
She stiffened beneath him and I knew full well the jolt of orgasm he gave her. I felt Cornelius shudder, heard his grunt of completion. I reached down with one hand to finger my clit and came within moments, my gaze still enviously locked on the lovers below.
Cornelius pulled from inside me, and Athan left the woman, rising to stand beside her, to help her up from the bench.
"I need to get back to the lab to finish my notes," Cornelius said from behind me. I heard him dress, and then I heard the door open and close, as his sperm dripped from my vagina.
I straightened away from the window. I watched as Athan picked up the woman's clothing and led her away down the path. I knew he had not spent completely and he would fuck until long into the early hours of the morning. It was his need, the drive built into his creation.
I turned away and headed toward the bathroom. Athan would not come to us tonight and I felt bereft. I had become accustomed to the jolt of expended energy that passed into my body from his.
As I was about to pass by my dresser, I stopped, knowing what I needed. Reaching into the top draw, hidden beneath my lingerie was what I was looking for. It wasn't the same as having Athan expend inside me, but it had become a necessary substitute.
It was something I had designed myself from bits and pieces of electrical parts. I walked over to the wall near the bed and plugged the device in. There it was ‑‑ the vibrations of life that I held in my hand. Violet sparks arced and diffused between the electrodes. There wasn't a sufficient current to harm anyone, but it was enough to take the edge off my craving.
I brought it close to my needy body, felt the static heat moving across my breasts and I inhaled sharply at the connection. Slowly, I drew it down my naked body, and folding my lips back I touched it to my sensitive vulva. I lay back on the bed and spread my legs wider. I pressed two fingers into my slippery center and flicked the violet staff over my stiff clit. The combination of my fingers thrusting deeply, and the mellow, static jolts to my clit, sent me over the edge.
It wasn't the deeply embedded surge I received when fucking Athan, but it was better than nothing at all. I unplugged the unit and set it aside as I lay there, gazing out the window, thinking about refinements to the new sex toy I had designed for my solitary pleasure.
There had been more than one time that I had been tempted to bind myself to the electrophasm machine, just as we bound Athan for his treatments. Even though I wasn't that foolish, I was still intrigued by the idea.
Athan was more than a man; he needed the surges of electricity to survive ‑‑ they were a mainstay to his existence. But for me, it would be suicide.
I realized in that moment that I didn't want to share Athan. Not with anyone. Even my husband. And my thoughts frightened me.
\*
Korrie's lids snapped up and she was met with the dense blackness of night. She had no idea what had roused her from a deep sleep. The journal lay next to her, having apparently fallen from her hands when she fell asleep.
The cottage. Leave now if you seek the truth.
Not again. She trembled at the whispered words that seemed to be coming from inside her head. Ghosts.
She shoved back the blankets and slipped out of the warm bed. The air in the room was chill. Glancing over, she saw the time registered two o'clock in glowing, florescent numbers. Whatever it was that had awoken her had obviously done so for some specific reason.
She had tried to forget the incident in the master bedroom earlier. For the remainder of the day she'd kept away from that particular room, as well as circuiting the attractive, magnetic caretaker. How she had almost let him make love to her she had no idea. But she trembled at the remembered feel of his penis against her wet slit as he'd been about to penetrate her. If it hadn't been for Mrs. Grippen, who knows what would have happened.
The words from the journal came back to her and shock coursed through her with a flavor of understanding. Sheba's Athan had higher levels of pheromones to draw women to him. Sheba's Athan did not age. She shut the door on where her thoughts were leading her. It couldn't be possible. Could it?
She slipped into the robe at the end of the bed and then donned a pair of slippers.
The cottage. She'd seen it in the distance. Was she really crazy enough to go there alone at this time of night? She had to be if she was even considering it, especially at the behest of some voice inside her head.
She knew how to get to the cottage, but why she would learn anything from that location at this time of night she couldn't imagine. At this point she was almost inclined to call a friend of hers who was a parapsychologist and ask her to come out to the Ransom estate, but the thought that the trustees might take some issue with bringing someone in from a different organization stopped her. She didn't want to take the chance on losing the opportunity to gain access to the Ransoms' research, and any action such as that could lock the door forever. It just wasn't worth the risk right now. Not when someone at the estate had already produced the journal and apparently trusted her with the information. She was too close to discovering the whole truth.
She reached into her top drawer and pulled out a flashlight. Always come prepared on these assignments. It was a directive her father had instilled in her. The batteries were fresh as she'd changed them just before leaving for the estate, so she wouldn't have to worry about the light fizzling out on her.
Switching it on, she left her room. She hesitated in the silent corridor, listening. What she expected to hear she had no idea. There was a hiss of sound, whispering of hushed voices echoing through the air, and goose bumps raced over her skin. This was not the time of night to be wandering about in a strange place all by herself. This was the oddest experience she'd ever had while on assignment. But she was a scientist and it was her job to investigate.
The cottage. Go there now!
She couldn't ignore the directive. If nothing else, her curiosity was piqued. She had to see if this was all her imagination or if there truly was something she could discover. Possibly related to the Ransom research. Carefully, she made her way down the steps, circled the foyer, and headed toward the back of the house. On second thought, she swerved to the living room and grabbed up a poker from near the fireplace. Just in case.
She made her way through the kitchen and out the back door, past the kitchen herb garden, through a small white picket gate, and into the main garden grounds. It was silent except for the night music of the chirping crickets, the croak of a bullfrog, an owl's hoot from the trees above her. The fragrance of mint and pine meld in the air. She looked around, squinted to see if anyone else lurked there, but everything seemed silent and asleep ‑‑ just like she should be.
Her footsteps were amplified against the quiet night. She winced as the loose gravel cut into the tender soles of her feet through the thin protection of her slippers. Suddenly, the scent of lavender was overpowering. She turned and flashed the light, catching the presence of a white lilac bush. Something made her veer toward it; reaching out, she touched a branch and then was almost overcome by the heavy, floral scent. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she drew it closer and inhaled deeply.
Within a flash she smelled the scent of sex permeating the air, mixing with the floral aroma. Hot, searing sex intertwining man and woman. Her legs wouldn't hold her and she dropped to the stone bench next to the bush.
Some unseen force pressed her to lie on the bench, strong hands pushing up her gown, exposing her intimate parts to the rush of cool, moist air.
It was happening again. The vibrations of this strange place took control of her body just as before. Hands on her body drove her into a frenzy of need she couldn't seem to pull out of.
"No..." She tried to draw away, but the pleasure caught hold of her and refused to let her go.
Again, she heard the voices filling her mind, the groans and grunts of two lovers wrapped in primal passion. She arched up to meet hands that weren't really there, a strong body pressed to hers. Her lids snapped up and she saw a light shining down from one of the windows. There was a silhouette of two people, obviously watching from above.
Shock whisked through her and she shot up from the bench, the hem of her gown dropping to whip about her ankles. She pivoted back to look up at the house, but there was no light, no people. It had to have been another image from the past. A memory from the journal entry she had just read.
Somehow she had dropped her flashlight and the poker. She saw the glow of the flashlight from beneath the stone bench where it had rolled. Reaching down, she picked it up. A bit further along she saw the poker and grabbed for it. What in the world was happening to her in this place?
He's waiting. Go to the cottage now. Before it's too late.
She whipped around, landing flat on her ass. Who was it that spoke to her? Whose voice was it that kept trying to draw her attention?
She rose to her feet, flashlight and poker in hand, her body humming from the attentions of ghostly hands, her thighs damp with unrealized pleasure. Every step caused searing friction to her engorged pussy and she wanted to reach down, to bring herself ease, but the voice kept pushing her forward across the flagstone, down the stone steps, across the garden, and toward a damp, dew-covered field, onto a forest path beyond.
This was crazy, totally off the wall. She was not someone who threw caution to the wind and acted on instinct. But since her arrival at the estate, nothing had been as it should be. The ghostly whispers, the trances, her attraction to the caretaker ‑‑ none of it made any sense at all.
Yet she continued on her solitary path, unknowing where it would lead or what she would find at the end of it. The sounds of the forest were all around her, the whispering of the swaying tree branches, the call of an owl, the crack of tiny branches breaking, the creak of larger branches bending to the will of the night wind. As she hurried along the path, her steps crushed needles, sending more woodsy fragrance into the air.
Finally, she left the shelter of the forest and entered a clearing where she saw the cottage in the distance. There were odd lights flickering inside, flashes at regular intervals. She hurried across the clearing, uncaring that the hem of her gown and slippers were soaked from the dewy grass.
Stepping onto the porch of the granite-faced English-styled cottage, she peered into the darkened window but could see nothing in the black abyss that met her gaze. Another flash of bright light and she fell back. It was like a surge of electricity that turned every light on in the house for a second and then quit. Was there a problem with the electricity? Should she call the power company?
She reached for the door handle and pressed the latch. It was unlocked and carefully she pushed it inward and slipped inside. She looked to the left and saw the red coals of a burned out fire in a stone-faced fireplace in the front room.
Korrie beamed her flashlight and caught the shadowy interior of what looked like a small kitchen ‑‑ the corner of a table and chairs, the white sink, a darkened counter. An open, wooden door hid the balance of the room from view.
She peered down into the cavernous darkness that apparently led to a basement. The sound of a hoarse voice raised in an echoing roar filled her ears. Then there was another flash, lights dimmed and brightened, and she could hear the buzzing vibrations of electrical energy. She could smell the hot sizzle. Was someone in trouble? Had Athan been hurt?
Carefully, with as much speed as she could gather, lifting the soaked hem of her gown high enough so that she wouldn't trip, she slowly descended the stairs, scanning first the ground and then the ceiling, searching for any signs of naked, damaged wiring that might be the cause of the electrical surges.
It didn't have the smell of a dank, damp basement. There was dryness to the air; electrical static seemed to fill the atmosphere. The flashlight clattered to the stone floor as she rounded a corner and entered a large room, finding another opened door that appeared to lead to a tunnel. She followed the path of light, the passageway leading downward, until she came to another room. A shocked gasp escaped her.
"My God, what is this place? Athan! What are you trying to do?"
A surprised glance around the room told her this was a laboratory, far removed from the main house. Unable to take her eyes off of the man hooked to some sort of machine in front of her, her sense was of bottles and tables, books and notes. There was a computer on a desk off to the side and an examining table and a machine of some sort that Korrie had never seen before.
Suddenly, like a veil lifted revealing a wealth of knowledge, she saw it all.
Athan was hooked up to the machine by wires and electrodes, clamps bolted into place. His eyes opened and he saw her across the room. What seemed like massive amounts of electricity were surging around and through his body. Cuffs were attached to his arms and his ankles, wires running to pads placed over his nipples, a band of metal surrounding his cock with wires leading from it. Another pad across his heart; two more at his temples.
"Stay away," he ground out. "Do not come closer." His words were hoarse and stuttered as the electricity encircled and blasted through him. She couldn't leave him like this. He was going to kill himself if she didn't try to stop what he was doing. He shuddered and shook beneath the immense power, like a man suffering with convulsions. Yet the look on his face was not one of purely pain. There was more to it than that ‑‑ almost a look of agonized pleasure. That was the only way to describe it.
The bands of electricity radiating through his body slowly dispersed and Athan dropped forward. The smaller metal bands at his wrists, ankles, and cock sprang open of their own accord. The band at his chest remained in place, apparently holding him up.
With a shaky hand he reached across and flipped a switch to release the band. He yanked off the nipple pads and the ones at his temples. He inhaled deeply before straightening his spine.
And then he looked at her. The being that gazed back at her was not any mortal man. What stood before her was a being that went far beyond human.
"Athan?" She pressed a hand to cover her thundering heart and fell back. Distantly, she heard the clatter of the poker as it fell from her hand.
Electricity surged from every pore of his body. Her gaze was drawn helplessly to his rigid cock, lines of lightning encircling and surging through its stiff length. His pectoral muscles bulged, his abs tight and steely, his body glistening with sweat.
So much came into sharp focus for her. The narrow white scar running the length of his chest, the secrecy he seemed to maintain, and now she could smell the strong scent of predatory male pheromones ‑‑ the tendrils of primal male on the hunt for his mate.
She recognized the scent, an age-old understanding drawing her across the room toward him. She saw the look of primitive lust in his flashing eyes, the flare of his nostrils, and the set of his jaw. Something ancient grabbed hold of her in a way she'd never experienced before.
A growl erupted from her throat as she ripped at her wet garments.
Take him. He's yours, Korrie. You belong to each other. I give him to you.
She heard the words, yet ignored the instinct screaming inside that he belonged to her. She didn't need anyone telling her that. Her whole being acknowledged the fact. Like a springing lioness, she vaulted, and he caught her against him as she cemented herself to him, wrapping her long legs around his lean hips.
She felt the sparks snap and bristle against her flesh, driving her sexual delirium higher. She rubbed her body against his.
"Take me now, Athan. Oh, God!"
There was no turning back. She knew that once he claimed her there would be no return trip. And she was about to experience personally what Sheba had written about so passionately.
She shouldn't have been there. When he looked up and saw her standing in the doorway as he was caught up in the throes of the surges, he knew there would be no hiding what he was. He needed to expend, and there was no way he'd be able to hold back the urge, to let her go, to find another willing recipient.
He had been shocked when she jumped into his arms, but he would not refuse her. The electrical current undulated, raging through him. Just after the electrophasm treatment he was at his most vulnerable, submissive to the primitive drive of his body's needs. He had to fuck her, he didn't have a choice. It could turn on him if he didn't expend.
Usually he indoctrinated his lovers slowly to the electrical impulses. He built their stamina bit by bit. No one had ever taken a full burst of passion the first time except for the Ransoms. Could Korrie handle the surges of electricity that would beat through her body?
He ground his mouth against hers, shoving his tongue deep inside. He felt the static shock as their tongues dueled, tiny jolts that drove straight through him. It was almost as though she was a conductor to his need, magnifying the responses. She did not simply accept, but responded in kind. And it was something he'd never experienced before ‑‑ not even with Dr. Sheba.
Each thrust of his tongue against the roof of her mouth unleashed another shower of sparks that had her shuddering against him. He felt her wet pussy clutch and surround his burning prick, enfolding him into her heat, and he thrust his hips against her. She shuddered, and the purring growl that had been emanating from her throat deepened to a cat scream of release as she orgasmed.
She arched back, pressing his cock deeper into her crevice, driving him closer. He had to be inside her when he came, he had to fill her with his seed. Savage instinct took control of his body.
Dropping to his knees, he pulled her down to the floor, opened her, and dove quickly into her slick channel. Opening his eyes as he sucked at her lips, he looked into her dazed depths.
He knew by her dilated pupils that she was beyond coherent thought, caught in the tumult of lust-induced need and the surging scent of his altered pheromones. He wished he could let her go, wished she hadn't been drawn into his world. Once he took her, mated with her, there would be no going back. Would she survive the spend? He could only hope it would not scar her for life. That she would not hate him for what he must do.
Slowly Athan pressed inside her, felt the jolts that threaded through her sheath as his cock slid against her tight, silky walls. God she felt wonderful. He watched her for any signs of fear or revulsion. He attuned his body to hers, alert for any signs of distress.
He gazed down at her. "I cannot stop this."
Korrie reached up to cup his jaw. "I don't want you to. It seems I have wanted you forever." She arched up against him. "Deeper. I've never felt anything like this. The surges, the shocks. They make me...need you, have to have you. I've never experienced this primitive need. Not like this." Her lids fluttered closed. "I've waited for you all my life."
She was so tight, so wet, so willing. Two thrusts and he was buried deeply inside her, shuddering and expending. She stiffened. Her eyes flashed open in shock ‑‑ but not fear. He felt the bolts of his seed fill her. She shuddered and he felt her climax. It surrounded him, clutched at him, bonded them.
"Yes, Athan, oh God, yes."
It was not a look of fear and revulsion that crossed her face, but one of wonderment and pure ecstasy, almost as though she had known what to expect. She exhaled on a long breath, her teeth chattering as she sank back against the floor.
But he knew it was far from over, the energy too fresh to stop now.
He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers, and the golden sparks flashed brightly between them. "I need more."
Her attention focused on him. She studied him for a moment, her hands fluttered over his back, causing him odd sensations of connection. "I am your vessel, Athan. Fill me to overflowing." She arched her hips, driving his stiff rod deeper. "Fill me."
Athan again began to move inside her, slowly at first, circling and sliding over her entrance and driving inside her. He felt the energy that sparked between them, and it drove him faster. Korrie was right there with every thrust, meeting him, greeting him, and accepting him in a way only one other person had ever done for him.
It was the clarity in her beautiful eyes, the complete acceptance, and an innocence twined with knowledge and understanding he'd never experienced before. He tried to be gentle but the electrical current pulsing throughout his body wouldn't allow for it. Not yet.
He lifted up, trailed a hand over her tight, dusky puckered nipple, drawing a line of sparks along her body. He reached down between them, circling her clit, and she screamed as she climaxed once again, more powerfully than before.
One thrust, two, and he was over the edge once again, filling her with his energized seed. He gasped for air as he poured himself inside the precious cup of her womb. A moment of profound tenderness enveloped him as he gazed down at her in awe.
Who was this woman? She was someone who now held the power of life and death over him. Could he trust her? Could he not?
And then she smiled, and it was as though she lit up not only the room but every corner of darkness inside him. Her tenderness, her sweetness, her acceptance ‑‑ this was a perfect human.
Without warning, she rolled, and he was flat on his back beneath her, still fully lodged inside her moist depths. She placed her hands on his chest and rose above him.
"I don't think you're finished yet, do you?"
He looked up at her in surprise. "What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to ride you. I'm going to do it slow and easy. These shocks you send through me...do you have any idea how amazing it feels to me? I never knew sex could be like this." She looked down into his eyes and tilted her head. "Tell me how it feels to be inside me, Athan. What does it feel like to you?"
She rose up and slowly wiggled down over his cock, and it was the most astounding thing he'd ever felt. "You're torturing me."
"But in a good way. You've climaxed twice, one right after the other. You should be weak as a kitten and ready for a nap. But you aren't. And neither am I. Tell me how it feels."
"Is this the scientist asking, or the woman?" Dr. Sheba had always remained a bit of the scientist when they fucked, and Dr. Cornelius always the scientist, never letting up even for pleasure.
Korrie flexed her hips. "It's the lover who wants to know what the delicious man beneath her feels like when he penetrates her vagina." She leaned closer, her hair trailing over his chest. "What does it feel like to be buried so deeply inside my cunt?"
His cock surged at her words. No one had ever spoken so plainly to him during sex or wanted to protract the experience. With the women and men of the village, once he expended and brought them to climax, they wanted him gone. It was as though the enhanced pheromones held them in a trance long enough to be pleasured and when it was over, the haze lifted and they scurried away as quickly as possible. Even Paul had not wanted any true intimacy.
But Korrie was different. In so many ways.
"You wrap around me like the best-made hand-tooled leather glove, conforming to my size. So wet and silky and perfect." He thrust his hips and she sighed; her eyelids fluttered, but she kept his gaze. "You are my vessel, but so much more than that. You are the lips that suckle me, the hungry mouth that drinks eagerly of my seed." Her juices dripped down, the sounds of slick mating surrounded them, her scent filling him.
She jerked forward and in seconds she was convulsing over him. And then he was again filling her with his charged sperm. She collapsed against his chest when it was over. He slipped from her well-lubricated vagina and cradled her against his chest. Within moments her breathing grew more rhythmic and he knew she slept.
Carefully, he rose from the floor and, with her in his arms, carried her upstairs to his bed. He spooned around her, holding her in his arms. Within an hour he was awake, needing to expend again. He kissed her shoulder, turned her, and suckled at her breast. Her eyelids fluttered open and a smile curved her lips.
He separated her legs and pressed inside, slid within their combined juices, jolts of electricity shifting through him in waves. He lifted one of her legs and sank deeper; her keening was laced with pleasure and need as she gripped the bed sheets, twisting as her climax met his, his fluids melded with hers. Her scent intertwined with his.
Again, he dropped beside her. She curled up next to him. He couldn't catch his breath, couldn't understand how this had come to be, why she had come to him on this night when he was at his most vulnerable.
As the dark hours sped away, he filled her time and time again, until the gray wisps of dawn curled down around the land and drew in upon them. When he awoke, he knew something was different. The bed was empty beside him. He shot up and then he saw her standing in all her naked beauty just outside the window of his bedroom, staring up at the rising dawn, the pale mists stroking her skin. He opened the French door and padded outside. The air was still damp and clinging. The dew sparkled against the lush, green lawn.
"I've never seen the dawn before. Not through these eyes," she said quietly, almost in a sense of awe. "She was so right about you."
"How is it different?"
"You filled me to overflowing last night, Athan. I felt like a bottomless cup with a heavy thirst that could not be quenched completely. Even now, as your semen drips onto my thighs after a night like I've never experienced before, I want more." Finally she turned her head to look at him. "You have instilled an appetite in me that won't be easy to contain. And I'm not sure how to deal with it."
He drew her back against his chest, trailed a hand down across her abdomen, cupping her possessively over her dripping pussy, his fingers splayed over the wet curls of her mound. An odd sense of completeness, and of satisfaction, filled him as he felt the slick evidence of his seed upon her smooth flesh.
"I can't answer that for you, Korrie. I don't know how you came to be here last night, but I'm glad you did. Do you hate me for what I did?"
She whirled around. "Hate you? Heavens, no. That's not it at all. But I think I've uncovered at least one of your secrets. You aren't just a caretaker here, are you? You are Sheba's Athan."
He was shocked at her words. "How do you know?"
"I've wanted to find you for years. I never thought it could be possible. This is like a dream come true. I've read her journal."
"Her journal? How?"
"Years ago, when my father was a young man, on a dare he snuck past the gates into the mansion and found the journal. He photographed pages from it. Reading them made me so hungry to find you. And now I have," she finished softly.
She turned back around in his arms and gazed out into the mist. "Does Paul know the truth?"
He hesitated before answering, unsure how much he should share about his relationship with Paul. How much could she accept of his last lover? "Paul knows none of my secrets."
"Why me, Athan? Someone here wanted me to discover the truth."
"What do you mean?" No one living knew the truth. Not even Mrs. Grippen, although he suspected she knew something odd was going on and understood more of the truth than she would say. She had come to the Ransom estate as a young woman, and now she had reached her golden years, yet Athan had remained the same. She never questioned. But had she said something to Korrie to make her investigate?
"Someone woke me. I didn't see who it was, but the voice followed me, made certain I would come to this cottage last night. Someone wanted me to find you. Someone wanted me to be with you."
A feeling of presentiment bolted through him. Who would have sent her to him?
"Do you know what I think? I think it was Sheba." Finally, she turned to him once more and looked up at him, and he saw the knowledge expressed there. "She's been trying to find you a mate and that's why she sent me to you."
\*
It was that last entry she had read, just before falling asleep, that made Korrie realize in a flash of insight why Sheba Ransom had allowed her to find the journal. She had wanted Korrie to know as much about Athan as possible.
Sheba had made one mistake in trying to find a partner for Athan, and she obviously didn't want to make another.
June 15, 1944
Journal of Dr. Sheba Ransom
Adele was not the right woman for Athan. I knew it at the time, but the need was so great. She did not understand his special requirements. She did not understand our little family. She was too delicate and I'm not certain she realized the depth of commitment we would demand of her.
Adele was not like the other alley cats who constantly scratched at our door looking for a quick tumble with a virile tomcat. Adele was quiet and deep, a butterfly yet to reach her lush, succulent maturity. Athan realized it as well and maybe that is why he was so drawn to her.
After several revealing conversations with Adele, she became an intimate part of our family. It wasn't until much later that I realized she hadn't known the complete truth. Not about Athan. And that secret would be her destruction.
We were in the middle of Athan's regular electrophasm treatment when she stumbled upon the laboratory in the basement of the cottage. I had never seen such a look of horror on anyone's face.
Athan was just coming off the machine, totally filled with electricity, pulsing in every fiber, needing to spend the excess quickly.
"Stay away from me. You're not human. You're a monster," she screamed at him. "What have I done?" She screamed and whirled around to race back along the tunnel and up the stairs.
Athan would have run after her if we'd let him. I pressed my hands to his hard chest.
"Not like this, Athan. You can't go after her so fully charged. You must expend. Let us help you and then we'll find her. I promise you."
He had no choice and he knew it.
If only we had known what she would do. We'd had long, violent rains the night before and the river was engorged to the upper banks and raging. We searched through the night and finally found her the next morning, washed up on the banks of the Fall's Creek River near the border of the estate.
Athan was devastated. No one had ever called him a monster before. Certainly not someone he loved. He didn't understand. But he blamed himself for her death.
The cause of her death had been listed as accidental drowning. She's had no other relatives to care for her. We buried her on the hill with the other casualties of our experiments. I began to think of that place as Heartbreak Hill. All that rested there were the broken bodies of what Athan called our God play. It seemed never more true than at the moment as we buried our sweet Adele.
"Do you think I'm a monster?"
The slice of buttered toast Korrie had just been about to chomp down on was halted from entering her mouth at his question.
"What? Why would I think that?"
His gaze locked with hers. "Because of how I was made." He turned away to gaze out the kitchen window. "There was another woman who discovered my secret. She called me a monster."
"I know ‑‑ I read the journal. I can't imagine anyone calling you that." She reached across the table. After a moment's hesitation, he laced his fingers with hers. "Adele was a fool. She couldn't have really loved you and thought that. You are not a monster."
"What will you do with the information, Korrie, now that you know my secret?"
She crumbled the toast and brown bits of bread rained down onto her plate. What would she do? By rights she should inform the Morgan Institute of the astounding discovery she had uncovered. Especially now that she knew he was real. But suddenly things seemed far more complicated. She wasn't sure she could do that to Athan. Or that she wanted to. She understood why Sheba had kept his existence a secret.
"How much does Paul know?"
"He knows nothing. It didn't seem right to tell him. I was waiting for the correct time. But he left." His gaze connected with hers once again. "He said you were not to be trusted."
She laughed unpleasantly. "Paul and I go back a long way."
"You were lovers."
Her eyes widened. "You're very intuitive for someone who hasn't seen us together. We were engaged. I was very naive back then. I trusted him and I shouldn't have. He was nothing like the man I thought he was."
"What happened? What caused your love to turn to hate for each other?"
"Paul doesn't make friends; he uses people. He'll use you if he gets the chance and then discard you quick as a flash." She looked away from him. "He used my father and he used me to get to my father."
"How did he use your father?"
Korrie pulled her hand from his and got up from the table. She walked across the room, uncertain if she could bring herself to share those painful memories. It wasn't strictly the fact that Paul had been having an affair with her father that had practically destroyed her. It was how he had ingratiated himself to her to get close to him and then to exploit her father in his climb up the ladder at the institute. She crossed her arms over her breasts.
"This isn't easy for me to talk about," she began. "Paul and I were engaged. I was finishing up college so I wasn't home much. Paul and I were planning to get married as soon as I graduated. Near the end of the second term, I decided to surprise my father, and I came home early for a break. I found him and Paul... Well, let's just say they were in an extremely intimate and compromising position. I can't tell you how betrayed I felt. It wasn't the fact that my father was involved with a man that disturbed me so greatly ‑‑ it was the fact that Paul had betrayed our relationship ‑‑ our commitment to each other. I felt so used."
"I'm sorry he hurt you."
"It wasn't just me he hurt. He betrayed both my father and me. My relationship with my father was never the same. He should have told me, not tried to hide it. That's what I couldn't forgive him for. After I graduated, I took a position at another research facility. I just couldn't face either one of them." She was silent for a long time, unable to continue, tears close to the surface. The betrayal still hurt too much. "It was several years later that my father committed suicide."
She felt strong hands on her shoulders, bracing her. She dashed a hand across her wet cheeks. Spinning around, she latched onto him, breathed him in, and tried to tamp down her raw emotions. "I can't seem to forgive myself for not going back and talking things out with my dad. Maybe it would have ended differently if I had."
"Secrets can destroy us. And they can destroy the people we love."
She raised her head to gaze up at him. And she remembered Adele. "You've experienced the same thing haven't you? When Adele died."
"I was lonely and I wanted a woman of my own. I thought I had found her. But like Hamlet's Ophelia, she wasn't emotionally strong enough to handle the truth about me. When she learned what I was, she killed herself ‑‑ drowned in the river. It was called an accident, but I knew what drove her to it. I had seen the horror in her eyes ‑‑ the revulsion."
"Athan, I'm so sorry."
"She's buried on the hill ‑‑ Heartbreak Hill is what Dr. Sheba called it. It's where all the pieces that were broken are buried. Where all the secrets of this place are hidden beneath the dirt."
She led him back to the table and they sat down. "Sheba mentioned Heartbreak Hill in the journal. Tell me about them, Athan. What were they like? I can read Sheba's words, but I want to hear what you think of them. I want to know your thoughts."
"The Ransoms? They were my makers. They were my lovers. They were my family. All that I am is because of them."
What she wouldn't have given to have been a part of that relationship back then. What she wouldn't have given to have been Adele. "You never yearned for a more...I guess...acceptable relationship? Like having the woman you love all to yourself? Not sharing her? I know Sheba loved you. Was Cornelius ever jealous of your relationship with Sheba? Were you jealous of Cornelius? And what about the other lovers you've taken over the years?" It wasn't that she was trying to be judgmental of the situation; she was just curious. She had so many questions.
He looked at her, his expression shadowed and she could see the flashes of lightning shot through his pupils. Such an oddly beautiful being they had created.
"I have read the definition of monogamous. In theory, I understand it. But in practice..." He shook his head. "I am unable to practice it. I have needs, Korrie. I am what I am. I am not like other men."
"Do you think you need to be?"
"If I were to go out there," he waved a hand toward the window indicating the outside world, "I would not fit."
"I think you would, Athan. You're wrong."
"Don't you feel it when you are physically close to me? The doctors altered my chemistry to draw partners to me. Even in death, they control me. To assure that I would always be able to expend as I am required to do. And sometimes I need more than one partner to satisfy my desires."
"You didn't last night."
His expression grew darker, the flashes of lightning more intense. "You are the first woman to have ever satisfied my needs so thoroughly." He reached out to trace her cheek. "I've never had so complete a cohesion that went beyond the physical with another person as with you. Not even with the Ransoms."
She felt the heat of embarrassment flood her face. "Athan, I don't know what to say. What happened last night was totally amazing to me as well. If I think about it, you're right; there was something that had me ripping my clothes off to fuck you. And maybe you're correct ‑‑ it had something to do with pheromones ‑‑ but after the initial rush... Well, it wasn't why I stayed."
"You should go," he said as he pulled away from the table.
He was right. But first she had to know something. "Was it all about the primal need, Athan? And nothing more?"
For a long time he was silent. "I don't know how to answer you." He turned around to look at her. "I don't know how to explain any of it. This isn't easy."
"Take your time. I'll wait."
Quickly closing the distance separating them, his gaze was a thunderstorm of emotion. "I don't want to use you, Korrie. For the first time, I don't want it to be just about expending. I have no right to ask, no right to want more."
She stretched up a hand to cup his shadowed jaw. "I do have a right. I said it all last night, and early this morning. And I haven't changed my mind." She leaned up on tiptoes. "Let me be your vessel. I want this, more than I think I've wanted anything before."
Fastening his hands onto her waist, he drew her up as though she weighed less than one of the plates situated on the table. "You don't know what it does to me when you say that. But you don't know me. You don't know what I am capable of if I forget the process or fail to expend."
"Teach me what you need. I won't betray your secrets. Somehow I'll find a way to put the institute off."
"They sent Paul away. Why won't they do the same to you if you fail to give them what they want?"
"There were other issues with Paul. This was supposed to be my project from the beginning, not his. He stole it from me. Something he's very good at. I won't reveal anything you don't want me to. You can trust me."
"There'll be a price to pay. There always is."
"Talk to me Athan. Trust me."
"I want to trust you, but if I'm wrong..."
"Trust me."
Finally, he released her. "I have something to show you. Then maybe you'll understand. There cannot be secrets between us. Not now."
Her heart thundered against her breast. "I promise, Athan, I won't share anything. Not unless you tell me I can."
He nodded. "I've been alone too long, I have to trust someone." It was as though he was trying to convince himself of the need.
"Wait here, I'll be right back. There's something I must get." Quickly he left the kitchen and descended to the basement. She sat back down at the table and waited. It wasn't long before he returned, carrying two old red, leather-bound books. Hesitantly, he held it out to her. "These are the research notebooks for Dr. Cornelius and Dr. Sheba. They are from the very beginning, when they made me. No one has ever seen them, or knows that they exist. I would not want them to fall into the wrong hands. If you are to know me, you must understand not only Dr. Sheba's personal feelings, but the scientific findings as well. Maybe this will help you to understand better the needs they ingrained in me. I have never trusted anyone as I trust you, Korrie. I don't know why, and I hope I'm not wrong."
"You're not, Athan." She accepted the books from him with all the reverence he seemed to give them. She didn't open them, but clutched the books to her chest. With the experimental notes, he was handing her his faith and trust ‑‑ his very life. "You won't be sorry, Athan. I promise." She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll see you later, won't I?"
He nodded. "If you want. After reading these."
"I will want. We'll have dinner together."
He gripped her arm and she turned back. "Is there something else?"
"I ‑‑"
"What is it, Athan?"
"There's something else I need to tell you. So there are no secrets that can be used to harm you. To hurt us. No surprises."
A sense of foreboding stretched over her. "Then tell me and let's be certain there can be no room for infection. Just tell me."
"While Paul was here ‑‑"
And she knew exactly what he was going to reveal to her. "I don't know if I want to hear this," she whispered.
"You know, don't you? Will you make me say it? Make me hurt you?"
She shook her head. "No, you don't have to say it. From everything you've already told me, yes, I think I know what you're going to say."
His grip on her arm tightened, his gaze branding her hotly. "Then say it, so we both can let it go."
She'd didn't want to hear the words. "And if he comes back? What will happen then?"
Athan's hand dropped away from her arm. He ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't know, Korrie. I can't change what I am."
"You were his lover."
He nodded his head. "It is something I cannot deny."
Her grip on the notebooks tightened. "I'm trying to sort everything out. I don't know how I feel about all this. I need time to think."
"I understand."
She turned and left the cottage. If anyone saw the way she was dressed right now, they would really wonder. She had grabbed an old flannel shirt of Athan's and found a pair of jogging pants to throw on. They were huge on her. And her slippers didn't protect her feet very well. It was already late in the morning and she could only hope she could slip past Mrs. Grippen without being seen. She would eventually have to make her way down to the kitchen to let her know why she hadn't been around for breakfast.
Nothing ever worked out the way one planned because Mrs. Grippen was in the kitchen garden, harvesting herbs, and looked up as Korrie approached.
"Ah, there you are, Dr. Odell. I was worried when I brought up your breakfast and you were nowhere around."
"I'm terribly sorry. I had an important errand to run." She tried to hurry past the extremely alert housekeeper.
"He's all right, isn't he, Dr. Odell?"
Korrie's face burned with embarrassment. She couldn't look at her. "He's fine. You don't need to worry about him."
"And you? Are you fine as well?"
"Yes, Mrs. Grippen, I'm fine as well."
Quickly she made her way into the house and up the stairs to her room. She carefully put the notebooks and Sheba's journal in the drawer next to the bed. Then she stripped and headed for the shower. When she got out she felt much better, more able to face the decisions she would be required to make.
She brushed her teeth and dried her hair. She found a sweater and a pair of black jeans to slip into and then, unable to help herself, she picked up Athan's shirt. Raising it to her face, she inhaled his masculine scent.
It was hard for her to believe he wasn't like everyone else. He had been created from parts, through the scientific melding of separate pieces.
Dropping the shirt onto the bed, she pulled out the journal and crossed to an armchair by the window. Apparently, while she was in the shower, Mrs. Grippen had brought in a tray with fresh tea and muffins.
She curled her legs beneath her and opened the book, studying the handwriting. What new secrets was she about to uncover? She remembered what Sheba had said at the beginning.
I never realized what a work of art was...
Now she knew how very true that was.
And then she thought of Paul and how he could warp a person, destroying them completely. Thank God, the institute had called him back. She shivered at the thought of what he could have done to Athan if allowed to remain here much longer. Thank God that hadn't happened. Someone was watching out for him. But hadn't she had the sense of that someone for some time?
She vowed that Paul Cathcart would never be allowed to hurt Athan the way he had devastated her father and her. She turned her attention back to Sheba's words, drawn to them with the need to feel the emotion and then she would begin the work of deciphering Sheba and Cornelius's scientific notes. But that was for later.
\*
"Donald, it's good to see you," Paul swiveled around on the bar stool to greet his young ex-lover. They shook hands and Donald took the stool next to him.
He had a mutinous, set expression on his face and Paul knew he was going to have to make up the ground he had lost in the months he'd been at the Ransom estate.
Donald ordered a shot of tequila and sat back to wait for his drink to arrive. "So, Paul, why did you call me? Knowing you, it wasn't just to reminisce about old times. What do you want?"
"Right to the point, Donnie. I thought we were better friends than that." He placed a casual hand on Donald's inner thigh, just above his knee and lightly squeezed. "I've missed you. You said on the phone you weren't seeing anyone regularly." He leaned a little closer and Donald didn't back away. Paul took it as a good sign. "I've missed you," he repeated in a husky voice, his hand shifting a little higher along Donald's leg.
Donald's tequila arrived and Paul straightened away. That would give his ex-lover something to think about. "I don't know, Paul. I don't think this is right. I shouldn't be seeing you under these conditions."
Paul took a gulp from his martini. This is exactly why he'd called Donald. He wanted to know what the board had planned for him. He looked up and into the mirror behind the bar at the reflection of the two of them sitting there.
Donald wasn't bad looking, but he was a spoiled, rich kid, whose daddy happened to be friendly with the chairman of the board of the Morgan Institute. Even now, he looked like a sulky little kid with a lock of his blond sun-streaked hair falling into his eyes. He belonged on a beach, not in an office. Paul supposed he'd once thought him cute, but that was as far as it went.
If he dreamed of any man, it was that hulking god back at the Ransom estate. Now there was a man to give one wet dreams ‑‑ both rugged and gorgeous with that earthy, primal beauty. If Paul hadn't been on the fast track to power and wealth, he might have considered something a little more long term with that one. In the end, Athan had been unable, or unwilling, to give Paul the information he had wanted.
He turned toward Donald, dismissing his erotic memories of the lusty caretaker. He reached out to fold back the misplaced lock of blond hair. "I need your help, Donald. There are a lot of files I'm going to be required to wade through and they've only given me a month. Do you have any idea how much information I'm going to need to double check?"
"Did you do it, Paul? Did you fake the results on all of those research projects?" Poor Donnie. He had that same innocent look they all had. The ones he could easily manipulate. Even the old farts had that certain naiveté about them.
"Of course I didn't do what they're trying to say I did. But I'm going to need help to prove it to their satisfaction."
"I don't know, Paul. You know I'm Dr. Carter's assistant. I'm just not sure it would look right if I helped you. Not now."
"We don't have to tell anyone and I can make it worth your time." He again placed his hand on Donald's leg. There was a reason for the intimacy with these well-placed employees of the institute. He knew exactly how to reach their most vulnerable spot. His hand shifted upward and squeezed. He dropped his gaze down and deliberately licked his lips. "Just you and me, Donnie. What do you say?"
He heard the sharp intake of breath and knew his ex-lover, soon to be current lover, was folding. He'd never been able to resist Paul, even when he was totally pissed at him about one thing or the other.
"I could lose my job over this," he muttered.
Paul squeezed again and this time his gaze dropped to Donald's crotch. He saw the rising bulge there and knew it wouldn't take much more.
"What do you say we skip this dinner and go back to your place? We can pick up some Chinese takeout at that spot you like so much."
He slid his glance slowly back up to meet Donald's dilated, hungry gaze. Oh, he was ready all right.
Paul saw the tug-of-war in his expression. He stroked his hand a bit higher, felt the heat of his stiff erection.
"All right," he answered in a raspy voice, giving in the way Paul knew he would. "I'll do it."
Paul gave one last squeeze. "You won't be sorry. I'll make sure of that." He threw some money on the bar and then rose from his stool. "Let's go." He slung an arm around Donald's shoulder. "What do you want to eat?" He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. "I'll call ahead so it'll be ready when we get there. I don't want to waste any time.
They stopped just outside of the restaurant and Paul drew him off to the side, pressing closer to him. Donald was about a foot shorter so Paul dipped his head. Donald licked his lips. "Something nice and spicy. Maybe some of that shrimp and some fried rice."
Without raising his head, he glanced at his phone and dialed the number, ordering quickly. Hot and spicy shrimp for Donald, and moo shu pork for Paul, with a generous portion of fried rice, and a serving of egg rolls. He snapped the phone closed and dropped it back into his pocket. "All done," he said just before he kissed Donald, cementing the deal.
His taste was young and wealthy, so unlike the earthy, wild taste of Athan. It didn't turn him on the way it used to. With any luck he'd get the information he wanted sooner rather than later. The thrill of the chase was no longer there with this young pup. Once he had the information he wanted, he was gone.
He raised his head and dragged his eager lover toward a taxi. It dropped them just outside the Chinese restaurant; they went in to pick up their takeout, and Paul paid for it. Then they walked around the corner to Donald's apartment.
Once they'd entered the apartment, Donald took the food into the kitchen and Paul shrugged out of his jacket, loosened his tie, and slouched down on the sofa. Donald came back in carrying two plates and set them on the coffee table. Then he sat down next to Paul.
Paul leaned over and licked Donald's lips. Donald opened his mouth and Paul deepened the kiss, his hand going to the front of Donald's pants.
"I don't want to wait. I want to taste you now, Donnie. Get naked for me, handsome."
Donald quickly divested himself of his clothing and so did Paul at a slower pace, watching Donald slip down to pure vulnerability. Once he was ready, Paul pulled him down onto the couch. He sucked at his nipples, then rode lower to pull his engorged cock into his mouth.
Donald loved it when Paul went down on him. He'd always reveal the deepest secrets in the afterglow ‑‑ so easy to manipulate. He could tell Donald was close and he wasn't quite ready for him to drop over the edge. Not just yet. He stopped and tilted his head up to look at him.
"Hungry yet, Donnie?"
Donald looked down at him with lust-glazed eyes. "Fuck you! Finish it. Your blowjobs are better than anyone else's. God, I want to feel your mouth again. I've been thinking about you ever since you left for that damn Ransom estate. I don't know why the hell you had to go there. But you're back now and that's all that matters."
There was something in Donald's voice that warned Paul. In a flash, he suddenly knew why he'd been called back and who had instigated it. Lashing out in the heat of anger wasn't going to get him anywhere, not just yet.
With deliberate movements he sucked Donald's cock into his mouth and brought him off quickly. The little traitor bucked beneath him, then dropped back onto the couch. He needed to find out exactly what he had done.
Paul reached over, picked up one of the plates and a set of the chopsticks, and began to feed Donald, who had a contented expression on his face.
Afterglow.
He held a piece of shrimp in front of Donald's lips. He opened his mouth and Paul placed the morsel on his tongue. Casually, he searched for another tempting bit and held it out. When Donald reached for it, Paul pulled it back.
"It was you, wasn't it, Donnie?"
A guarded look settled into his expression. He wouldn't look at Paul. "What are you talking about?" He felt him stiffen beneath him; the smell of fear permeated the air. Paul already knew the answer. Son of a bitch! He'd ruined everything.
"You're the one who suggested they review my research, aren't you? Why'd you do it, Donnie?"
Donald straightened up and turned away. "You walked away, Paul. I loved you, would have done anything for you, and you fucking walked away. That damned project meant more to you than I did. What we had meant shit to you."
"So you wanted to get even with me."
"I wanted you back," he cried. "I wanted it the way it was between us before you left." He jumped to his feet.
Paul realized he had seriously underestimated the young man. This was one jilted lover who was obviously more dangerous than he'd anticipated. Even Tom Odell wouldn't have done something like this.
But Paul knew that it only took one miscalculation to lose everything. And that's what was about to happen to him.
He had to be careful about how he played out the rest of this hand. Very, very careful. He reached out for Donald's smaller, sweating hand and yanked him back onto the couch. He stroked his face.
"It's all right, Donnie, we'll get this straightened out. You should have called me rather than doing something like this."
Donald looked up at him with teary blue eyes. It really was a shame. "I'm sorry, Paul. I just didn't know what else to do."
Paul was going to lose the one big break he could have had with the Ransom estate, because of this little bitch's jealousy.
"Where's the lube?"
"In the bedroom," Donald muttered.
"Go get it. I'm going to fuck you right here. I don't want to wait."
"Not in the bedroom?"
"No, Donnie, I want to do it here. Now hurry up."
Donald scooted off the couch and practically ran to the bedroom. And Paul made his plans.
He looked up as Donald reentered the living room and handed the lube to Paul.
"Kneel on the floor and face the couch and put your hands behind your back."
Donald looked at him hesitantly. "What are you going to do?" He bit his lip.
"You've done a bad thing, Donnie, and you need to be punished. Do what I tell you to do. And I'm taking you doggy style."
It wasn't Donald's favorite position, but he obviously knew he was treading thin ice with Paul. "I'm sorry, Paul. I'll fix it, I promise." He knelt on the carpet facing the couch and put his hands behind his back.
There was no fixing what he'd done. It was too late for that. Paul picked up Donald's tie and wrapped it around his hands, tying them tightly together.
"Ow, that hurts," Donald whimpered.
"It'll stop hurting soon, lover," he soothed. Satisfied with the restraint, Paul leaned down, squirted a generous amount of lube into Donald's hole, and readied his own cock. Donald had no idea what he'd done, how he'd ruined all of Paul's carefully constructed plans.
He pressed the tip of his prick against Donald's anus. It slid in easily with the help of the lube.
"Oh, yeah," Donald whispered as Paul sank deeper. He closed his eyes as Paul began to build a powerful rhythm, and Paul knew he was ready. Reaching over, he picked up his own tie that he'd discarded earlier.
Donald was going to have to pay for what he'd done. There was no going back, no fixing it. He looped the tie around Donald's throat, crossed the ends, and yanked hard. Donald thrashed beneath him. If Paul had retained less control he would have come right then, but he didn't. He waited until the last bit of life was sucked from him and then he slid from inside the silly, dead bitch.
Quickly he cleaned himself up and dressed. He checked the apartment carefully, thoroughly. He methodically cleaned the food from the plates into the garbage disposal, wiped everything down that might have had his prints on it, and stuffed the tie he'd used to strangle Donald into his pocket.
He was fucked at the institute; there was no going back. What Donald had done destroyed everything. Donald, of course, hadn't known about the falsified records. He'd simply tried a ruse to get Paul back to the institute. But he'd opened a can of worms that Paul couldn't close.
His only hope was Athan. The caretaker knew something about the research files and he would have been able to discover exactly what it was if only he'd been given a little more time. He had to get back there because time was running out. He had no more options. And this time he wasn't going to be so nice.
Silently he closed the door on poor, deluded, dead Donald.
Since her arrival, Korrie had taken to eating her meals either in the kitchen with Mrs. Grippen or in the library. The dining room seemed much too formal for her tastes, although she expected Paul had enjoyed the ostentatious atmosphere of the more formal room. Maybe that was another reason she didn't like to eat in there.
Tonight it was the library. She looked across the table at Athan. She still had difficulty believing he was a man made up of parts of others, that he had been reanimated by scientists. And that his need for sex was more voracious than anyone's she had ever met.
"Do you believe that man should be able to artificially create life?"
She had to smile. Athan's question was one as old as time. Many scientists at one point or another ask that question.
"I think we can animate life into an object. Can we infuse it with soul? That might be the better question."
He nodded. "You are speaking of spirit, the individuality and humanity infused into a body. The vibrations."
"The music of soul."
There were questions in his eyes. He had a thirst for knowledge. She tried to use her scientist's mind to dissect him. After reading through quite a bit of Sheba Ransom's journal, Korrie understood she wasn't the only one who sometimes felt that she had a split personality.
"Do you believe in the mysticism of soul? That it cannot be replicated? Or do you think it is simply the brain that fuels the body and creates personality on its own?"
"Looking at you, Athan, I have to believe there must be a way or you wouldn't exist. Would you?"
His gaze turned away from her. "That's just it, isn't it. I shouldn't exist."
She laid down her fork next to her plate. "But you do. Yet, you aren't strictly a product of the science, are you? Cornelius Ransom's theory, according to Sheba's journal, isn't strictly valid, is it?" She laced her fingers together and settled her chin against them. "Sheba spoke of the elixir she produced to revive you. But she doesn't speak of it again after the first entry. And according to Cornelius's research notes, she never did tell him what she had done, did she? Or I would have found indications in his documentation." She leaned forward. "What type of elixir did she use?"
His focus turned back to her. The ebb and flow of his intense, electric gaze already had her melting. His magnetism reached out to grab her. "I have studied both their sciences. I worked closely with each of them. And yet, I do not understand how I have come to be. I have searched, but have discovered no 'golden elixir.' And I know it was never used in any of the other experiments that came after me." He drained the wine glass setting next to his plate. The candlelight flickered and the shadows traveled over the contours and angles of his handsome face.
"I wish I had the answers you need, Athan. I'm a researcher like many others. I seek answers. I would love to have discovered the secrets to life, but they elude us."
"They changed over the years. They became more...I'm not certain what the right word is...desperate, maybe. For the Ransoms time was running out like the sands sifting through your fingers. Life is made up of finely grained moments that shift away never to be reclaimed."
"It's true. And we can't bring the past back as much as we would like sometimes. We have to move forward. We have no choice. I do believe destiny plays a large role in the paths we choose."
"But isn't destiny something that is intertwined with that mystical spirit?" He leaned closer. "What am I, Korrie? I don't know if I contain any sort of divine spirit that can put me on a course with some mystical, chosen destiny." He jumped up from the table and paced across the room. "I am alone. As you said it ‑‑ unique. Bound and tied to an existence that no one can possibly understand or relate to."
Korrie rose from the table. "Athan, we are all unique beings in one way or another. We have to listen to our heart. My destiny has brought me here."
He turned to look at her, his expression dark and brooding. "My brain comes from one man, my body from another, my chemistry in many ways man-made. Parts of different beings, different sources. How can that cohere seamlessly into one? There are so many times I feel torn between the demands of this body and the morality of this mind. You have no idea what that's like."
She reached up to cup his cheek. "Athan, I'm so sorry for your pain. God, I wish I knew the right words to help you."
"You were born of parents, tied by blood to ancestors, those that came before you. I am tied to nothing but creators with no shared blood. I watched them try time and time again to create others as they created me. All failures. Those lives, those bodies reside in my memories. They do not die. I cannot make those images disappear. I helped them, Korrie. I helped them to create monsters, simply because my need was so great to connect with another like me."
"Athan, we aren't going to solve the mysteries of life, not tonight. I wish I could take your torment away. Come walk with me in the garden. This house holds too many ghosts." She reached for his hand and they left the library. He had lived his whole life isolated by his circumstances, tormented by what the Ransoms had forced upon him. She didn't know if there was a way to change any of it.
They stepped out into the walled garden and she inhaled the intermingling scents of herbs and flowers. "This is your creation, Athan. Anyone who can grow and nurture this much beauty has to have a sensitive soul. You aren't some monster because the Ransoms blended their sciences. You were born as surely as I was, but simply through another process. I was nurtured in a womb, you in a laboratory. In her way, Sheba loved you. I can sense it in her writings."
Kneeling down, she pressed her hand into the moist earth. "What you create here in this garden, you nurture life. We all nurture in our own way. Some scientists nurture through experimentation and the desire to prolong our humanity. I don't know what's wrong or what's right; I don't know that any of it can be considered wrong or right. It just is. And we have to work forward from there."
She felt his hands on her shoulders, lifting her, turning her. His magnetic gaze, reflecting the starry night sky, held her motionless. "You are you, Athan. As individual as any living thing on this planet."
"You, Korrie Odell, are a most unique woman." He lowered his head to capture her lips. "You offer me hope where I have never been sure there is any for someone like me. There's a purity and truth in your words that I have never known before." He pressed her closer. "I need you, Korrie. I need to be inside you, to connect with you. I need you as I have never needed another living being in my life. You cleanse me in some indefinable way."
"I'm yours, Athan. I don't know why or how, but I'm here for you. I said it last night. I'm your vessel, only yours. Fill me to overflowing."
His lips branded her as he lifted her into his arms. She didn't know where he was taking her, and she didn't care as long as he held her.
Carefully he lowered her and she felt the firm coldness of a bench brace her. She could smell the lilacs and just beyond see the mammoth outline of the mansion seeming to hover over them. Shivery fingers raced down her spine.
"You're cold," he murmured.
She tightened her arms around his neck. "No. Oh, Athan, I need you."
Slowly, he unbuttoned her blouse and peeled it away, exposing her flesh to the cool night air. She wasn't in the least cold; the air actually felt wonderful against her overheated skin. He removed her blouse and then unhooked her bra, carefully drawing it from her body.
Leaning down he nuzzled her breasts, licking a path down across her abdomen as he lowered her slacks and panties, after first removing her shoes. Within moments she was naked. The material of his soft, silky shirt brushed against her skin.
"Athan." She ached for him. She yearned for that special electricity that emanated from him. The tiny shocks of pleasure that accompanied his flesh as he filled her completely, fitting so perfectly, the tip of his penis nudging the opening of her cervix.
He reached over her head and the perfume of lilacs filled her senses. He brushed a small length of fragile fragrance across her closed eyelids, over her lips, and down the exposed column of her throat. Each nerve reached out to embrace the path of the flowering branch as it slowly traversed down her body, swirled over each puckered nipple and down to tease at her labia lips.
The delicate branch brushed against her thigh, a soft request and she answered by separating her thighs. His thick fingers were at her engorged entrance, delicately spreading her outer folds, delving into her hot, moist depths.
"You're wet for me. Your center, so tight and hot."
Her body demanded more and she arched up, forcing his fingers deeper. His thumb circled her clit, and she felt herself lifting, her vagina conforming to and welcoming his penetration. Then his fingers left her and he rose, pulling her to her feet, raising her arms above her head, forcing her up on tiptoes.
"Dance for me, Korrie. When you first arrived I watched you from the shadows when you came out into the garden. And you danced. Dance for me now."
She couldn't refuse him. Stepping away onto the damp stone, she twirled and dipped, flung her arms out, felt the weight of her breasts in unconfined freedom, her hair sifting across her shoulders.
"Touch yourself, Korrie. Show me your femininity; let me feel your passion."
Her lids fluttered closed and she allowed the scents of the garden and his masculine passion to surround her. Dropping her hands in a delicate arc, a fluid movement ingrained from her years of ballet lessons, she separated her outer lips, exposing the sheen of her inner core.
She balanced on one leg and slowly lifted the other one vertical and straight, a line of motion and flesh. She angled the leg, pressing the sole of one foot to the thigh of the other. She offered him her vulnerability, her femininity, her soul. There in the moonlight, in the garden he had created and nurtured.
"Look at me, Korrie."
Lowering her leg, she opened her eyes. Primal urges rose swiftly. It was a mythical god who rested on the stone bench in front of her, haloed in moonlight, legs splayed, cock stalk-tall, glistening with precum. She glided toward him and halted, gazing down. Reaching out, she gripped his thick shaft and felt the mild electrical impulses pass through her fingers and up her arms.
Already she had become too needy for his particular brand of passion. She could fully understand how Sheba had become so addicted to this man. His electrical energy was nowhere near the level of last night when he had just stepped out of electrophasm, yet still he was quite potent.
"Mount me," he growled.
Without hesitation she straddled his legs, pressing the tip of his penis against her opening. Slowly, she lowered herself onto him, her soft recesses opening and cleaving to his hard flesh as she embedded him deeper and deeper. He stretched her as he had done the night before, filling her. Wave after undulating wave of tender electrical impulse melded her to him. He gripped her hips, lifted her, and dropped her again and again. She balanced herself against his shoulders, allowed him to set the pace, enjoying the sensations he induced in her.
She felt his explosion, felt his seed pour into her welcoming body, the vessel she offered him freely. Her own orgasm tumbled her into the electrical storm as it gripped and surged over her. He wrapped his arms around her, steadying her until she landed on earth once again.
An odd tingle raced up her spine. Someone was watching. Her head shot up, her gaze narrowed as she searched the surrounding area. And then her focus shifted to the house. There was a light on in the library. Her eyes scanned upward and she caught her breath. She saw the shadows of two people in a window on the third floor.
After reading the journal she realized exactly what she was seeing this time. And she remembered the bench from the night before. They had to be the ghosts of Sheba and Cornelius as they had watched Athan with another lover on this very bench. Sentinels watching and waiting. For what?
Suddenly the cold night air descended, crawling into her bones. Something was going to happen. Something very bad. And there was nothing she could do to stop it.
\*
Paul, get up. We have to go.
Paul's eyes snapped open late the next day, his heart pounding. He thought he'd heard his mother's voice. Not having fallen asleep until the wee hours of the morning, he wanted the last few days to be a dream, none of it real, beginning with the visit from Edward. The reality was that he'd thoroughly burned his bridges and there was no going back.
Donald and his fucking betrayal burned deeper than he cared to think about, leaving a scorched and blackened trail in his wake. Everything ruined because of a jealous ex-lover. Everything he worked for destroyed. Why hadn't Donald just done him the favor of going out the way Tom Odell had done? It would have been much easier, and cleaner, for him that way.
One thing he'd learned from his dear mother before he'd been shoved into the foster home was that great sex and a smooth line could get him anything he wanted if he was good enough at it. If he satisfied his partners enough.
He'd learned to be a chameleon, changing his colors as often as he needed to achieve what he wanted.
What was required.
What he deserved.
He was very good at becoming what anyone needed at a given time if the prize was right. He'd risen far and fast, passed classes in high school and college on charm alone when the occasion warranted. He bluffed his way in and out of any situation smooth as you like and with no one the wiser.
Charm won't get you far this time, my boy. You're a liability, you always were. That's why I never came back.
"Stop it, damn you," he screamed into the empty room. Would he never be free of her?
Damn Donald for ruining it all.
He'd never been forced to kill before. He'd never been angry enough to snuff out a life with his own hands. There had been those who'd done it because of him, but it hadn't been by his hand. He might have been the reason, but never the ultimate instrument.
I never killed anyone. If you'd been smarter, it wouldn't have been necessary.
He was smart ‑‑ smarter than that bitch, Korrie. Smart enough to fuck her and her father at the same time. Smart enough to get where he was without going to prison.
He paced the living room floor. It wasn't the largest apartment in the city, so it didn't take long to wear a path back and forth. But at least it was in one of the trendiest sections of the city.
He kept going over it again and again in his mind, retracing his steps. Had he picked everything up? Was anything left behind? He was certain he'd wiped every surface down completely.
It won't matter, baby boy. They'll catch you. It's only a matter of time.
God, he hated that smug attitude of Jenna's. She always thought she knew best. He wheeled around, glaring into the empty corners of the room. "It's not my fault. None of this would have happened if hadn't been for Donald. It's his own fault he's a corpse in his living room. It never would have happened if he'd kept his mouth shut."
The minute Donald had run that line to Carter, thinking it was just a harmless ruse to get him back in the city, he'd signed his own death warrant. Everything could have been so different. So perfect.
How could she have done it any better? She'd always been so good at talking her way out of things. Right up until they'd sent her to jail. That last husband, her fourth, the one who'd really acted like he wanted to be a father to Paul when he was fourteen, had been her downfall. Paul could have told her he was too smart for her games. Too principled. She thought she knew it all. And she couldn't use sex to buy her way out of it that time.
Embezzling the money from his company, the one he'd built from the ground up, had been the last straw. They'd both been kicked out into the streets after that ‑‑ her to jail and Paul to a foster home. And she'd never tried to find him when she got out. Yeah, he'd learned all about what love did for a person at an early age.
Love. Not worth a dime if they're the ones to finish with you first. Cold, hard cash, that's all they're worth. So look at you. What's all that prestige worth now that you've got to run? Money, that's something you can fill your belly with.
"I was going to have the money. And the prestige. A damn sight more than you ever had. All you had was a body to get you what you wanted," he yelled back. He needed just one good breakthrough project with his named stamped on it. And the Ransom research was supposed to have been that project.
He looked up at the clock. Later than he'd expected. He wondered if anyone had found Donald yet. Walking over to the front door, he opened it and picked up the newspaper, then shut the door as he turned away. Slowly he opened the paper.
"Dammit!" He shouldn't have been surprised when he looked down at the headlines emblazoned across the front. He studied the news item dispassionately. Donald looked much better in the photo than he had the last time Paul had seen him ‑‑ slumped over on the floor, his head on the sofa, hands tied behind his back with his own necktie.
Morgan Institute Employee Found Dead! Search on for Murderer the headline screamed up at him in bold black letters.
He slapped the paper closed and flung it across the room. It hit a vase that shattered when it struck the floor. He wasn't going to get the time he needed. He'd hoped no one would discover the body for at least a few more days. One last trip to the institute to scrounge something to sell, enough to keep him going for a while. He usually tried to be careful about what he sold so it couldn't lead back to him, but this time it wouldn't matter.
Unfortunately, there was no time to make that mad dash. If it had hit the headlines then that meant the police would be crawling all over the institute grounds. No way could he even consider going to the compound. He couldn't take the chance. He wasn't going to prison. Not for falsifying the records on his research and sure as hell not for murdering a young nobody like Donald.
Time to go, Paulie.
He stalked into the bedroom, pulled down a suitcase from the closet, and haphazardly jammed shirts, pants, and underwear into it. He'd spent a lot of money obtaining just the right wardrobe to make the best impression and now he'd have to leave most of it behind. When nothing more would fit in the suitcase, he forced it shut and zipped it up.
He strode into the living room and found his briefcase, then brought it back into the bedroom. Throwing it on the bed, he then flipped it open. Moving back to the dresser, he grabbed the small cherry wood box resting in the middle. Striding back to the bed, he tipped the box and dumped the contents of gold and silver jewelry ‑‑ gifts of watches, rings, and cufflinks ‑‑ into the briefcase. They'd be worth a bit of cash down the road. Tossing the wooden box over his shoulder, he then slammed the briefcase shut and snapped the locks into place.
There was one final item he couldn't leave without. Bending to the nightstand next to the bed, he opened the bottom door and pulled out the black leather case containing the Beretta he kept there for emergencies. He'd only ever used it on the firing range, but that didn't matter right now.
Athan knew where those records were and Paul was going to make him hand them over. The sex had been great, but now the gloves were off. He'd do what he needed to get them. He already had several international buyers lined up that were interested. All he had to do was give them proof and they'd set him up in his own lab, money no object. They were the type of backers who wouldn't be squeamish about providing him whatever he demanded as long as he produced results.
He checked the clip in the gun, made certain the safety was on, and then pocketed it. One last scan of the room told him there wasn't anything else he couldn't do without.
If it's replaceable, leave it. Never get attached. His mama had taught him well about expediency.
Unfortunately for him, he'd been on her list of replaceable possessions. He wanted to get her out of his mind. He didn't need the distraction. As far as he was concerned, she was as good as dead to him.
Not so dead as you might like, Paulie.
Dammit. No. He wasn't going to let her inside his head.
I'm already there, baby. I'm so much a part of you, and you know it. You can't ever get rid of me.
He grabbed his keys and raced out of the apartment. He had to get to the Ransom estate before the investigation pointed a finger at him. He knew it was just a matter of time.
He got to the parking garage, dropped his suitcase into the trunk, and slammed the lid closed. He threw the briefcase into the back and got in. Just as he was about to turn the ignition, his cell phone rang and he froze.
Pulling it out of his pocket, he looked at the number. It was Carter's number at the Morgan Institute. He flipped the phone open.
"Cathcart." Play it cool.
"Paul, it's Erik Carter. We need you at the institute as soon as possible."
He took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves. "What's the problem, Erik? I have some errands to attend to and then I was going to head on in."
"Something terrible has happened. Have you read the papers?"
"Ah, no, not yet. I didn't have time to take a look at it. What's occurred?"
"You remember my assistant, Donald? He was found murdered in his apartment late last night. His brother came to town unexpectedly to visit him and discovered his body. A terrible thing. So young."
Fuck. No wonder it hit the papers so fast. Luck was sure as hell not with him right now. But he was going to change that.
"Damn, that's a shame. He seemed like such a promising kid."
"Yes, he was. Anyway, the police are here questioning everyone and we need you to come down here right away."
"Let me finish up what I'm doing and then I'll be right over. Anything else?"
"No. Just be as quick as you can."
Paul flipped the phone shut and tossed it onto the dash. Hell would freeze over before he'd head down to answer any questions. Because of Donald's big mouth there were several people who worked there that knew of their past association. It wouldn't take them long to zero in on him. And he wasn't going to let anything stop him from getting to his destination.
He shoved a classical CD into the player and the soothing music surrounded him. The farther he got out of the city, the better he breathed.
His mind then turned to Korrie Odell. He had to wonder what she might have discovered while she was at the estate. Had she already found what he was looking for? Even with his warnings to Athan, had he confided in her?
His foot pressed down on the accelerator. There was no time to waste. Korrie Odell would not beat him out of what was his due. He reached one hand inside his jacket pocket, his fingers closing around the cool grip of the gun. And if she thought she could...well, he would just need to take care of that little problem. The same as he'd done with Donald.
Korrie frowned. The research notes stopped before the next dated entry in Sheba's journal. There must be other books. After reading the entry, she thought she understood why. And possibly the reason that Athan had only given her the two notebooks. He said he trusted her, but she wasn't certain he trusted her completely. She had the feeling that the other notes would have eroded into more ravings of a lunatic than the dispassionate scientific findings of a scientist.
Just her first words in this latest entry were enough to concern her.
February 1, 1956
Journal of Dr. Sheba Ransom
I am worried about Cornelius. Since Adele's death he has become fanatical about creating another woman for Athan. There have been so many failures. He will not listen. He gets no sleep. I tried to tell him about the elixir ‑‑ that it had made the difference but he just won't believe me. I am fearful for his sanity.
He has now enlisted Athan to assist him in these endeavors as I have refused to have anything more to do with it. He has become distant and uncommunicative. We will be discovered if he does not cease. More and more he purchases the services of disreputable people to provide the parts he requires for these experiments. The last one makes me shudder to think about it.
It, and I must use that term for it certainly was not human in its reincarnation, lived long enough to rise from the table. But there was no soul in its eyes, no spirit remained. It truly was a monstrous creation. It took two steps and then folded, lifeless to the floor.
It is left for Athan and I to dispose of the remains. He usually goes to the hill alone to dig the grave. I don't know what thoughts run through his mind when he goes up there alone. He is so silent as we do what must be done. This time he returned to wrap the body in a tarp and carried it to the hill. He took great care to be as gentle as possible and sometimes, like now, I believe I know what he's thinking. At midnight when the rest of the world sleeps, I follow behind and say a prayer for another soulless life that rests in the grave.
Cornelius and I had such high hopes when we first embarked on this project together. We worked closely, side by side. He understood and respected my science as I did his. But in these last months since poor Adele's death he hardly sleeps. When he does, usually it's on a cot in the laboratory. He has taken to using the main laboratory on the top floor here in the house rather than the smaller one beneath the grounds at the cottage on the other side of the property. It is larger here, taking up the whole of the top floor.
He allows no one inside except Athan and locks the door so no one can disturb him. He has even locked me out. I feel abandoned by him. Forty years we have lived as man and wife, partners in all ways, of one mind. Suddenly it is as though a part of me has been ripped away.
I do not know what to do. There is no one I can call or confide in. There is only Athan. And yet I see the look in his eyes each time we make the journey to Heartbreak Hill. I see the knowledge that it could have been him. What has made him so different from those who have not survived?
I wish I could make him understand the spiritual nature of what I believe. But all he sees is the monster he so very easily could have become. I do not know how to help him.
I grow weary, so very weary of being the safeguard for my husband. What if I make one misstep and we are discovered? What will happen to Athan? Who will take care of him?
I can hear Cornelius even now, ranting away at the futility of what he is trying to do. Is it his age that makes him so frantic? Does he feel the impending end to his research? He will not talk to me. He no longer shares his thoughts.
There was a time when I understood him so well there was hardly a need for words to pass between us. We are past the time when there can be a remedy to what has gone before. We have breached the point of no return.
I am so very tired. Athan tries to bear the brunt of the responsibility on his shoulders, but there is only so much even he can do. Cornelius listens to no one.
I feel his mind has gone but there is no way to have him institutionalized. Even for the ramblings of a crazy man, someone might believe his words and seek to discover the truth. I cannot allow that to happen.
It is midnight once again and I cannot sleep for the decisions I have had to make. It tears my heart out but we have come to the end. I must do it for his own protection. I never would have thought it would come to this, but there is no other choice.
I can no longer remember my life before Cornelius, before the time I became his assistant. I cannot imagine my life if something were to happen to him. I could not go on. Not without him. I must see to his safety and that no more harm can be done, not only to him but by him.
Athan is for the most part self-sufficient and can take care of himself as long as he remains on the estate. I have taken care of matters so that he will be well cared for no matter what happens to us. Since his creation he has never left the grounds, except to go to the town. The outside world would never understand him and I fear would treat him ill. He must be protected at all costs. I do not wish to see him harmed. Because of this I will take steps to be certain our research will never come to light.
Two hours ago, he came to me and we discussed what must happen in order to protect Cornelius and our life here. Athan has taken it upon himself to prepare apartments in the west tower. He is seeing to the installation of the locks on the doors and the windows. There is no other way. I can't stand the thought of it, but there truly is no other way to protect Cornelius from himself. Oh, God, how has it come down to this?
In youth we do not foresee the end. We think we shall continue forever. As Athan will do. He is the perfect embodiment of all we hold precious--youth, freedom from disease, and immortality. In Athan we have created perfection.
He came to me tonight and we spoke of what needs to be done both to contain Cornelius and to secure the estate. All through dinner we listened to the rantings of my husband, knowing we must bide our time for the moment. Tonight he is again to meet with the body thief to procure another corpse for his twisted deeds.
I sometimes wonder if it is Cornelius who has changed, or is it me? Is it that Athan fills all the void places inside me and I have no wish to delve further? Have I become too content with what we have achieved in Athan?
I went to my own lab early this morning and prepared the mixture we will require to subdue Cornelius until he can be confined. The vial is now with Athan. He will see that Cornelius imbibes it at the appropriate time once the rooms in the tower are complete.
Athan has everything he needs in the cottage to continue his treatments on his own. We have altered the electrophasm equipment so that he will be able to work it himself. It is now hooked up to a self-timer and we have several of the connections and brackets wired to open and close automatically.
The only thing I fear is his need to expend immediately. We have worked on his self-control but the minute anyone sees him in that condition of charged energy they are likely to run in horror from what they do not understand. As Adele did.
We have arranged a temporary solution in the form of a disguise of sorts to shield the effects from his lovers. I am no longer a young woman who can satisfy his demands, and Cornelius has lost interest. All I can do now is create an atmosphere in which he may thrive without fear of discovery of his true nature. If we allow Cornelius to continue on his tangent we will be lost and everything we have accomplished thus far will be destroyed.
I have turned to Athan for my strength. I have imparted all the knowledge that I am able. He is almost as familiar with my science as I am and learns quickly. We no longer speak of what goes on behind the closed doors of my husband's laboratory. I cannot bear to know the extent of the deterioration of the man I have loved for what seems eternity. It is my job now to care for him as best I can.
Korrie closed the journal. So much pain contained in these pages. The words seemed to tie her closely to the woman who had written them. Sheba had been her mentor all these years, sharing her secrets, her passions, her science.
And now she had given her the man she had loved with the most captivating passion of all. She had given her Athan. She was certain it was Sheba's voice that had sent her to the cottage. These were her last, desperate attempts to protect her beloved creation. Her spirit still hovered over the halls and garden. Korrie doubted she would leave until she was absolutely certain Athan had the one thing he wanted more than any other--to no longer walk alone.
\*
"Athan, show me where they're buried."
His expression changed, grew guarded. "I haven't been to the hill since you arrived. It's not a good place, Korrie. Why would you want to go there?"
She shrugged. "I guess I need to see for myself. I'm here to study the Ransoms and their research," she reminded him softly. "I'm going to need to write a report...something to satisfy the institute."
"And you'll tell them about me in this report?"
She reached out to touch his face, needing the connection. "No, Athan. I won't tell them about you." She exhaled on a long breath. "I've been thinking about it. This is very hard for me. It was my idea to broach the estate about examining the records and documentation on the experiments the Ransoms did, for their historical value. I never thought ‑‑"
"That you would find me," he finished for her. "Dr. Sheba never made me feel like an experiment."
"But Cornelius Ransom did," she surmised. From reading the journal and the notebook, everything Cornelius Ransom did was in furtherance of his experiments on the creation of life. He even used sex to study Athan's reactions and responses. "You're a gift, someone so special; revealing your existence could destroy the one beautiful thing out of this whole mess. Sheba wanted you protected, and I can understand why."
She straightened away. "I have to tell them something, give them at least a morsel more than what Paul did to appease their curiosity. It may not be what the Ransoms would have wanted, but it's the only thing I can do to keep them from calling me back or sending someone else out here."
He looked at her, and she felt him trying to dissect what was going through her mind. Heavens, she didn't even know herself. She was about to do something she had never done before. She was going to purposely falsify a report. Oh, she'd give them accurate information, just not all of it. And they would have to find a way to destroy any record of Athan's creation so there was no chance of anyone ever finding it.
Research on cloning and organ transplants had far surpassed the experimentation done by the Ransoms. But Athan was another issue. His immortality posed a problem. If the institute found out about him, there would be no peace for Athan ever again. She couldn't bear the thought of what they would do to him in the name of science.
She leaned across the patio table, reaching for his hands. "Help me, Athan. Show me what I need to know in order to protect you and your privacy."
"Why would you do this for me?"
She could see his brain working as he tried to sort out her motivations. She drew back, needing some distance. Having known him, even for such a short time, she had become aware of the distinct, overpowering masculine scent he exuded on occasion. Being a scientist, she made note of her responses when the pheromones kicked in. And she tried to control the desire that was already building inside her. She could not allow herself to be blinded by the sexual responses he instilled in her.
"Do you know what love is, Athan? Outside of the primality of your instinctual drive for sexual intimacy? Do you understand that Sheba loved you? Have you ever loved anyone?"
He dropped his head forward and she couldn't see his expression. He was quiet for a long time. Then he looked at her, and she saw the flashing emotion in his eyes. "I looked it up once. In the dictionary. I have felt protective of Dr. Sheba and Dr. Cornelius. I know I would have given my life to save them. I have felt lust for the lovers who have come to me for satisfaction. I have been grateful to the ones who have allowed me to expend. I have felt sadness at the deaths of those I have cared for." There was a question in his eyes when he looked at her. "I don't know if this is love or not. It seems sometimes to be such a fleeting, fragile emotion, elusive to me in some way. I don't know if I can use just one word to describe my emotions for the people who have passed through this immortal existence of mine."
"God, Athan, every time I'm near you, when you speak to me, when I listen to your words, I feel like I ‑‑" How did she tell him she fell deeper in love with him each time she was in his presence? He was the most fascinating and sensitive person she had ever met in her life.
"What, Korrie? You feel what?" He leaned across the small, circular mosaic table and pressed his lips to hers. It wasn't a demanding kiss; it was soft and seductive. His large, warm hand cupped her jaw, a finger stroking along the lines of her chin. She was hypnotized by the odd lightning of his expressive eyes. "When I am with you, so deep inside you, I feel the frantic beating of your heart. I think this connection I have with you is something so special, so unique. It is a feeling, a peace, I have never known before."
"I feel it, too, Athan," she whispered. "And I don't know what to do about it. I can't stay here. I have a job, a duty to the institute, to my father's work." He released her and straightened away.
"Of course. You have a life outside my world. You will leave."
"Oh, Athan, if there were any way for me to stay, I would. But if I did that, there would be questions, lots of questions, that neither of us would be willing to answer. It would draw attention to the estate, the exact sort of attention you don't need or want."
He gazed off into the distance, and she felt the tangible withdrawal and. It left her cold and alone. She could only imagine what he was feeling--the solitude he had to live with, the secrecy.
"If there were any other way, I would take it. I'm falling in love with you, Athan, and I don't know what to do." There, she'd said it. She was scared to death about what it would mean to her in the future.
His gaze flashed back to hers and there was a warmth in his expression she'd never seen there before. She dropped her head forward and clenched her fists. "I don't know what to do. What's right."
"It's all right, Korrie. Don't think about it right now. Not today." He rose from his seat. "If you want to go to the hill, we will go there so that you may write your report. Do you have sturdy walking shoes on? It will be a steep climb."
She got up. "Yes. I'll be fine."
He turned toward the steps leading from the patio into the garden, then veered toward the left.
He led her to another path through the woods, one shifting away from the one she had followed to the cottage. They came out at the edge of a wide, uncultivated field. Korrie shivered as dark clouds drew in to cover the sun's rays. Athan shrugged off his worn tan corduroy jacket and slung it around her shoulders.
"On this side of the estate, the sun never shines. It hasn't for a very long time."
She saw a hill in the distance rising up, almost meeting the lower-lying gray clouds. A feeling of dread settled over her the closer they drew to the hill. It was an odd sensation of sadness and despair that suddenly seemed to grip her.
"This is a sad place, Korrie. The spirits do not rest peacefully here."
"I can feel them," she whispered.
"Are you certain you want to do this, to go up there?"
She nodded. She had to know the worst of it. They stopped at the base of the hill and she looked up. The top was cloaked in mist, the wind whistled and howled in this desolate corner of the estate. The loud keening of the wind seemed to be voices crying out, filled with pain. Again, she shivered, but it wasn't because of the chill air. She could smell the dank atmosphere of wet earth, clinging silently above. Of death.
The expression on Athan's face was bleak, the look in his eyes stormy, matching the image of the hill.
"Sheba called it Heartbreak Hill in her journal."
He nodded. "Yes. It was her name for it. She always felt the sadness here when she accompanied me. None of those who are buried here rest peacefully."
Korrie lifted her head and stared upward. "Let's go," she said with determination. Everything inside her said to run the other way. And do it quickly. Slowly, they ascended along an overgrown path, Athan first, clearing the way for her.
Near the top, they came to a set of stone steps that ended at the crest. Athan paused and Korrie sat on the bottom step, needing a moment to catch her breath. She'd thought she was in rather good shape, considering she ran regularly. But the steepness of this hill was something else entirely. Or maybe it was also because of what awaited her above.
"It's not much farther," he said as he hooked a foot on the step and looked down at her, waiting as she rested there. The wind whipped around them.
She looked across the estate toward where she could see the towers of the house in the distance. Beyond that, the sun was shining, clear and bright, not a cloud in the sky. Warmth awaited her upon her return from this place of death. She could almost smell the decaying corpses that lay beneath the earth, and she shuddered at the nightmarish visions that entered her mind.
Abruptly she rose and turned to the hill. "Let's go. I think I want to get this over with."
He straightened and led the way up the remaining distance to reach the top. It was a journey she hoped never to make again.
She stopped, hovering on the last step, staring across at the yawning, leafless tree that looked as ancient and dead as the atmosphere around it, branches reaching out to the sky, to the land, sharp and pleading for relief from the earth.
The ground itself at the top of the hill was barren of any living vegetation. "There are no grave markers," she gasped in shock.
"Yes. There are." He walked a few steps, looked at the moist ground, and pointed. "They are lodged into the earth ‑‑ stone markers. I know they are here." He led her across the open space, walking carefully, pointing out each marker to her.
She looked past the daunting, lifeless oak tree and saw something beyond. "What about over there?"
She felt the heaviness of his deep sigh. "That's where Dr. Sheba and Dr. Cornelius are buried. And Adele."
She noted that their graves were marked with headstones and separated in a black iron enclosure. She circled around the tree and stepped to the entrance. Reaching out, she grasped the iron gate and felt a bone-chilling coldness envelope her.
All around her this place was permeated with the smell and feel of agonizing death. She noted the bouquet of cut red roses residing in a vase between the headstones. They looked fairly fresh. She turned to gaze up at Athan.
"You come here regularly, don't you? To tend them. You care for all of this." She now realized that even the others with the flattened, stone-carved markers were kept from disappearing altogether. This sad graveyard was tended regularly.
"Someone must remember them."
"Oh, Athan. The terrible secrets you must carry." She couldn't help herself as she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her head against his hard chest. She could hear the strong thunder of his heart.
He lived. He breathed. Just as she did. Just as they all did. He may have been created differently, but he was still as human as any of them, in her opinion more so than many people she'd met over the years. He was so much more than the caretaker of the estate. He was the caretaker of these poor souls and the dark secrets this place hid from the outside world.
"Let's go back, Athan. I've seen enough. I need the sunshine." She looked up at him. "I need to feel you inside me. There's so much sadness here, I don't know how you bear it."
She felt his arms tighten around her, but he said nothing. She didn't know how to begin to help him. It wasn't just a mere lifetime he had to deal with this ‑‑ it was eternity. How did one even begin to understand the enormity of that existence?
She reached for his hand, clasped it, and pulled him toward the stairs leading away from this place. The wind moaned and tried to capture her. Suddenly, she had to get off this hill before she became a part of it forever. Ghostly hands reached out to grab at her as she traversed her way to get down as quickly as possible.
She didn't think it was a place she could ever visit again. Some sense of survival had her running, racing down the slick steps. She jumped from the last one, feeling she was racing for her life. Slipping and sliding, she finally reached the bottom in record time and knelt on the ground, gasping for air.
Long moments later she felt Athan's hands on her shoulders.
"It's all right, Korrie. Just take deep breaths."
"I'm sorry," she gasped. "I don't know what came over me."
"I'm used to the feeling. I didn't realize how deeply it would affect you. I've never brought anyone up here before. I should have been more careful of you."
Stiffly, she rose to her feet and reached for his hand. "I asked you to bring me. I just didn't realize ‑‑"
He led her away. "I know. It is a sad and lonely place. It's why she named it Heartbreak Hill. As much as Dr. Sheba felt the sadness, she always came with me to say a last prayer for the soul we buried. Even in later years when it got worse and she could hardly make it to the top, she always came. She felt it was her duty."
"What about Cornelius?"
Athan was silent for a long time before answering. "Dr. Cornelius only came up here once. When I buried them both."
Korrie felt goosebumps rise on her arms and then mentally shook away the images. "Let's leave this place. Take me back to the cottage and make love to me."
"Don't I disgust you? Adele called me a monster and she didn't even know about this place. She killed herself because of what I am and because she couldn't live with the horrific knowledge of having been made love to by something so evil."
"My God, Athan, you aren't evil and I don't know how anyone could think you are. I certainly don't. I came here to try to understand a little more of this place. By coming here, it doesn't change how I feel about you. I just can't understand how Cornelius Ransom let it go so far."
"Dr. Sheba tried to stop him. It worked for a time." He turned away and began to head across the field.
Enough questions for now. There was only so much of the history of this place one could tolerate on a given day. She raced to catch up with him, refusing to leave him alone in the darkness the doctors had created for him. Somehow she had to find a way to help him.
A fatal feeling of foreboding descended over her. Time was running out.
Athan hated to let her go. As he watched, she stretched lazily against the pillows of the bed and smiled up at him. He had fucked women and men, had expended as his humanity demanded, but he had never made long, leisurely love to them the way he did with Korrie. Never so tenderly. She had unlocked a part of him that he hadn't known existed.
Even with Dr. Sheba, there had been pleasure and enjoyment, but not the same depth of passion he now felt. Not that deeper, elemental connection. Is this what Dr. Sheba had felt for her husband? This sense of commitment, of not being able to breathe without the other person close by? Of a shadow falling to enclose him when she was not with him?
Korrie rolled over onto her stomach and was looking out the window. He sat down next to her and started to massage her shoulders.
"Mmmm, that feels wonderful. You have gifted hands, Athan."
His hands moved over her flesh slowly, learning every nuance as though for the first time. He loved touching her.
She twisted around and gazed up at him. He saw worry in her eyes. He wished he knew how to make it disappear. He cupped her breasts, leaned down, and started to lick her salty skin.
"You taste beautiful. Just like the sunshine."
She arched against him and he felt her hands thread through his hair. "Athan..."
He'd hoped he'd forced the memories of the hill away, but there was worry in her voice. He sucked at the gently rounded mound of her stomach, swirling his tongue into her navel. A throaty gasp escaped her lips and her fingers tightened in his hair. He moved downward, needing to taste her.
Athan spread her legs and moved between them. He opened her carefully, breathed in her scent.
"Athan, oh God, yes." She pulsed and spilled her delicious cream as she orgasmed, and he sucked every sweet drop, licking along her lips, her clit, savoring her. Then he moved over her, sliding inside her, burying himself to her core. He felt the hum of his surges pass through her, pushing her upward as she opened herself to him. He lifted to his knees, his arms anchored around her, drawing her with him.
She bowed over his arms, her eyes closed, her lips parted, arms stretched above her head as she yielded to the electrical waves humming through her. She looked every bit the goddess at that moment ‑‑ the mate of his dreams, the partner he'd never thought to find. Someone who understood him completely, who knew all his secrets and still accepted him for who and what he was.
"No one will take you from me," he vowed. "No one."
Pulling her toward him, molding her flesh to his, he spurted his energized seed deep into her womb. She gasped and growled, his cum infusing her, magnifying her desire. Her eyes opened and he saw the primal passion flare brightly.
"I love you, Athan. Give me all of you. Never hide from me." She dragged his head down and fastened her lips to his. The waves of electricity connected them. He didn't have to control his own brand of passion. She had seen him at his worst, when he had just come off the electrophasm machine, and still she remained, accepting him just as he was. She belonged with him, to him, and he would not let her go.
\*
Korrie had returned to the house to begin work on creating the report she planned to send to the institute. And she said she wanted to finish reading Dr. Sheba's journal, but they would meet for dinner later.
Athan's energy was beginning to drain, and he knew he would need the electrophasm treatment soon. The monster that lurked inside him weighed heavily on his conscience. Paul had been a pleasant, constant diversion. But, Korrie. Her inner beauty lit up his dark world in ways he wasn't certain he fully understood. He simply knew he didn't want to lose her. And yet, he didn't know how to keep her.
He walked toward the walled garden deep in contemplation, planning to prune the roses and trim back the lilacs. Working in the garden always helped to settle him, allowing him time to sort through his thoughts.
"Hello, Athan."
He stiffened at the sound of the familiar voice behind him, then whirled around.
"Paul, you have returned." He studied the man who had been his lover, saw him through different eyes. Attractive in his way, Athan now knew why he had never confided in him. There was something superficial about him, a slyness in his eyes, and right now there was something sinister, in some way frantic, in his expression. "I didn't see your car."
The twisted smile that rose to Paul's lips did not seem to be one of pleasure. It was more of a grimace and his eyes remained cold and assessing. Athan's instinct told him to be on his guard.
"It broke down just outside the gate. Maybe you can take a look at it for me a little later." His gaze scoured over Athan. "Have you missed me, lover?"
He could not lie to him, but some instinct told him that he must protect Korrie. "You made me believe you might not return."
Paul's expression turned stone hard. "You've been fucking the Odell bitch, haven't you? I saw you together, so don't lie."
Athan drew himself up straighter. "I have never lied to you, Paul." Every warning instinct inside Athan shot to alert. "But you were not truthful about her. Why, Paul, what did you hope to gain? Why didn't you tell me that you were engaged to her? What purpose did it serve to be untruthful?"
"She's done exactly what I thought she would. She's turned you against me, hasn't she? And you shared with her what should have been mine. The Ransom discoveries belong to me. She's nothing."
"They don't belong to you, Paul," Athan responded softly. There was a wild glint in Paul's eyes. He was dangerous, just as Korrie had known he would be.
"Did she tell you why we broke up?"
Athan nodded. What was Paul up to? What did he hope to gain by this discussion? "Yes, she told me you had taken another lover."
"Did she tell you who that was? Did she tell you it was her father who was infinitely more satisfying than a brainless bitch of a naive college girl?"
Athan took a step toward him. "Do not speak of her that way. You hurt her with your actions."
"You're in love with her, aren't you? How the hell could you want her after what we had together?"
Athan had hardly admitted it to himself, although Korrie had used that word with him. "We had great sex, Paul, nothing more. You know that. Yes, I love Korrie."
"You're a fool," Paul bit out. "She'll expose all of this and won't think twice about it. You've told her everything, haven't you?"
How much did Paul know? "I don't know what you're talking about. What could I have told her?" He didn't like lying, but something told him that he must tread carefully with Paul.
"I've been to your house, Athan. I know what's in the basement. I've seen the lab. How long did you think you could keep it a secret from me?"
Athan stiffened. He didn't dare glance at the main house to be certain Korrie was safely inside and not somewhere close by. "You were spying on me? You broke into my house?"
Paul shrugged. "It didn't involve much breaking. You left the back door open."
"When?"
"This afternoon while you were upstairs fucking that bitch."
Athan took a meaningful step toward him. He hated violence ‑‑ he knew what it could do, how terrible the consequences could be.
He stopped short as Paul drew a gun from his pocket, the ugly, dangerous barrel staring straight at him. "Don't make another move, Athan. You and I have some unfinished business. We're going back to that basement and you're going to unlock that safe. I want everything you have secreted away in there about the experiments."
"You don't know what you're talking about. You don't know what you're asking of me. I can't give you what you want."
"Would you rather I talk with Korrie?" he asked menacingly. "Do you think you can bring her back to life once she's dead? It might be interesting to find out. Do you want to take that chance? It all fits now. You had what I came here looking for all along. Everything was true, and I want it. And I'll do whatever I need to get it."
Athan shuddered to think about Paul following through on his threats. No matter how lonely he got, he'd sworn never again to test the boundaries of life. Even for Korrie, he didn't think he could bring himself to breach that nightmarish experiment again. But what would happen if he gave Paul the files? What would he do with them? He needed to stall for time to plan a way to stop him.
"All right, Paul. Let's go back to the laboratory." He wanted him away from the house, and maybe he could buy the time he needed. "You'll leave once you have what you're looking for? You won't hurt Korrie?" He had to let Paul think he had won. Athan only needed a moment for him to drop his guard.
"If I have what I came for, I'll leave."
Athan wasn't certain that answer satisfied him, but he would have to let it go for now. Paul stepped back as Athan moved past him.
"Keep it slow," he instructed him. "I don't want to use this if I don't have to."
They made their way back to the cottage and down to the laboratory.
"Tell me about the experiments," Paul said. "I'm surprised they didn't go public with their findings. They would have made a much bigger name for themselves and probably gotten some really decent financial backing to continue their experiments. And how do you figure into it?"
Paul obviously didn't know the whole truth. "A familial relationship. My father knew them." Lying to him was certainly getting easier. Thank goodness Dr. Sheba's journal and the earlier research notebooks were with Korrie. At least Paul would not know her deepest, most heart-wrenching admissions, nor exactly how Athan was made. Or for that matter, that Athan was the experiment. The only things left in the safe were a few of the experimental notes of the failures that had resulted in later years. Convoluted and rambling information at best. Some of the more recent information was from his own work with chemicals and powders, including the recipe for the oils he'd used with Paul. But Paul would not know that, not until he began reading through the notes and hopefully he would be far away by that point.
"How far did they go? How successful were they? What were they working on when they died?"
Athan cringed at the memory of the many instances when Dr. Cornelius had attempted to recreate the experiment. Many of those later records were burned up in the other laboratory fire, thank goodness. He chose not to answer Paul's question.
Paul pointed, waving the gun in the air, toward the wall where the safe was hidden. "Open it and give me those research papers. All of them."
Slowly, Athan made his way to the wall and opened the hidden panel. Then he opened the safe. Stepping back, he made room for Paul to access the contents.
"Oh no. You reach in and get them out. And it better be exactly what I expect to find."
Athan leaned forward and pulled down the pouches containing the research records, several computer disks, a few notebooks, and then turned back to Paul.
"Set them on that table and then step back," Paul ordered.
Athan did as he was told. "You'll leave now."
"You could come with me, Athan. You'd have a great life in a foreign country."
"You aren't taking these back to the institute?"
Paul shook his head. "Hardly. I have buyers waiting. Very affluent buyers. They're going to set me up in my own lab and I'll have unlimited financial backing. This stuff is my ticket out of here. I'd make you come with me, just for any information you might have, but I have a feeling you'd be more trouble than you're worth." He tilted his head and looked up at Athan. "Too bad. Really too bad." His expression hardened.
He looked at the safe and then back at Athan. Stepping back, he levered the gun higher. "I can't just leave you here, you know that, Athan. Damn, but we'd have made a great team, if only you'd told me what I wanted to know in the beginning. And now Korrie Odell just complicates everything. Well, the whole damn situation has gotten way too complicated and I need to simplify it." That feral gleam was back in Paul's eyes, and Athan knew Paul had gone over the edge into madness.
"Paul, you promised not to hurt Korrie." He took a step toward him.
Paul shook his head as he raised the gun, aiming it at Athan's chest. "Well, I don't think I exactly promised that. She's gotten in my way much too often. I think it's time to end her interference once and for all."
"Don't do this. We won't get in your way. Take the documents and just leave. There's no reason to kill anyone." If he rushed him and failed, Korrie would die. He took another step.
"But I've already killed one person. I'm thinking it gets easier each time." He offered Athan a cold smile, his eyes dark.
Without warning, before Athan could move closer, Paul pulled the trigger. Athan felt the deep burning in his chest before the echoing report of the gun registered in his brain, before he had a chance to duck. He raised his hands to his chest and blood poured through his fingers as he staggered and fell to his knees. He'd underestimated his ex-lover, and now Korrie would pay the price.
If he'd taken care of his electrophasm treatment he wouldn't have been as weakened as he was right now. He fell to the floor, unable to move.
He felt Paul's presence above him. "I'm sorry it had to be this way, Athan. Now I have to go take care of Korrie. Whether you actually die or not, won't really matter after all, I guess. Especially once I lock that door."
Hazily, Athan heard him moving around the room. He had to let Paul leave, he was too weak to stop him. Once he was gone, he would have to get to the machine. A treatment would seal the wound and he would be imbued with the electrical resurgence. His flesh did not hold up to such a vicious assault, but it could be mended as long as he could pretend to be dead and Paul left. It was his only hope.
He could only pray that he could complete the treatment before Paul had a chance to get to Korrie. Once he had his strength back, he could stop Paul.
After what seemed like a century of time, he heard the door close and the lock bolt into place, then footsteps echoing down the corridor.
Athan dragged himself across the floor and pushed the buttons on the machine to warm it up. Too much time was passing. He wasn't certain he could get to Korrie before Paul hurt her. What if Korrie was killed? He couldn't consider that possibility. It couldn't happen again. The loss of blood was making him lightheaded, and he forced himself not to lose consciousness.
Holding on to a corner of the machine, he painstakingly pulled himself up. Ripping at his clothing, he finally managed to divest himself of everything until he stood, weaving and naked, blood still pouring from the gunshot wound. Wheeling around, with halting steps, he got himself into position. He attached the wires, positioned the cock ring around his penis, then placed his legs and arms into the clamps. The machine reached the half charged mark and the clamps and chest brace closed, bolstering him up.
Blood pumped from the wound in his chest. Thankfully, Paul had missed hitting anything vital like his heart, but it had been a near miss. Athan watched the dial on the machine as it reached maximum voltage. The steady, loud hum evened out and he felt the first waves of voltage pass through his body.
For the first time in all these years, he welcomed the surge of energy that passed through him, without the usual dread. And for once he opened himself to receive every volt of electricity. He felt the wound seal in the stretch of his skin, smelled it in the scent of burning flesh, and experienced the ragged pain that razed across his chest.
The zing of electricity was like a lightning bolt passing through his body, and he convulsed with its fiery, painful absorption. He felt his strength returning, bit by bit. He tried to clear his mind of Paul and what he had done. The anger made the sparks of fury burn his flesh, and he could only lessen it by calming his mind at least until the electrophasm treatment was completed.
He leaned back into the machine to absorb the treatment. He needed his full strength, not only for his own sake, but for Korrie's as well. Her life depended on it.
Korrie sat at the desk in her room trying to make sense out of what she had learned over the last few days. How was she going to piece it together to write a report for the institute?
The walk up to Heartbreak Hill had shaken her. There was so much about the Ransom estate that called to her on a more personal level other than that of scientist. She didn't know what she was going to do. She had come to the conclusion that she didn't want to leave, that she wanted to stay with Athan.
She realized now after reading the remainder of Sheba Ransom's journal, that she had loved Athan for years, just as Sheba had, seduced by her passionate entries. The woman had cared for him deeply and it was evident in almost every word. None of what she'd found in the journal could be included in the report to the institute.
Listening to Athan speak, seeing how tortured and alone he was, reading Sheba Ransom's innermost thoughts, and perusing Cornelius Ransom's research notes made her think hard about the research experiments being conducted at the institute. It was difficult not to see how one could be made crazy by bringing someone to life the way the Ransoms had done. Both Sheba and Athan had referred to it as "God play," and how true that was. No one wants to lose a loved one, but how far does one go to save them?
In much of Korrie's research in the labs at the institute, everything seemed based on the purely tangible, rather than any part of the alchemical. Could one create life or extend life by melding alchemy with logical science?
She had dabbled in alchemy but never taken it very far because her father had looked upon it with disbelief. When she was engaged to Paul, she had tried to discuss her concerns and ideas with him, and he had choked her thoughts lifeless as being unsubstantiated and not worth pursuing further.
But what if she had listened to her own heart and followed her own instincts to research and take her studies down a different path ‑‑ just the way Sheba Ransom had done? What if she'd had more faith in her own beliefs?
There were times when she read passages in the journal that she became excited and eager to experiment herself. But this was a new day, not the thirties and forties when the Ransoms had done the majority of their transplant research. Now there was cloning to consider, cell creation, DNA testing, stem cell research, and the technological advances including bionics engineering.
She had been lucky enough to interest the institute in the historical aspects of the Ransom experiments, but little had she known what she would discover here ‑‑ in the form of Athan. He made the records not just important for their historical significance, but to find out how the Ransoms had discovered the secret to immortality. And that was something that would be groundbreaking, even in today's climate.
Rules applied in structured research such as that which took place at the Morgan facilities. And the Ransoms had really followed no rules in what they had undertaken in their private experimentation. They would have been considered rogue. Bringing the dead to life. It was a taboo area in many respects, surpassing God and man. It was still something that horror books thrived on.
Yet Athan lived, and he was no monster. Far from it. He was unique and there was no getting around it. If the institute's scientists got their hands on him, she couldn't begin to imagine how his humanity would be reduced to primal survival.
As much as she wanted to share the discovery of the Ransoms' successes, she couldn't do it. She could only pray that Paul Cathcart never found out the truth about Athan. What were they going to do if he came back?
She turned to Sheba's journal and opened it. Near the end, her writing had turned sketchy and difficult to read. Her thoughts were haphazard. Korrie had not yet approached Athan about how the fire had started and how the Ransoms had died.
Now knowing that Cornelius was insane at the end, why had he been in the laboratory and not confined in the tower? There were some things that didn't make sense.
Sheba Ransom had been close to eighty years old when she died in 1970, yet for the most part still in her right mind. How had Athan felt when he remained youthful but watched as the two people who had made him deteriorated so badly?
If Athan was created in 1939 he would be around seventy years old ‑‑ at least in this incarnation. If one added the twenty-odd years that he looked, that would make him close to ninety or even one hundred. Not only had he witnessed the changes in the Ransoms, but in mankind. How must that feel to see the changing nature of man? From typewritten documents to computer-generated forms, from certainty of death to immortality.
Yet the electricity he needed had always remained constant. He said he'd made alterations to the equipment over the years. He was an intelligent man and apparently had continued to study long after the Ransoms perished. How much more of a scientist and doctor was he than those who attended years of college and instruction? Including herself. There was so much about him that she still didn't know or understand.
She had barely tapped the surface here and was eager to learn so much more--if not for the institute, then for herself.
Yet it truly went beyond that because she wanted to protect him in any way that she could. To have all this information and not be able to share it was indeed a difficult choice, but she was quickly coming to the conclusion it was necessary.
There would never be normalcy in her life if she stayed here. There would be no children. She would grow old, and Athan would stay forever young. She guessed that would be many women's fantasy. But it simply made her sad.
She had envisioned another sort of life for herself, but how can one ever know what's in store for them, what their destiny will be?
In this moment she felt alone, but she had the option to leave, to go back to her life away from the Ransom estate. Athan had nothing, no one. Not really. There were choices she was left with. Decisions she must make.
Suddenly she had to wonder if her life had been built around what her father had wanted for her, rather than what she wanted. The institute had been his life, and that's what it became for her. Everything she had done with her life was to please him.
A knock sounded at her door, pulling her thoughts away from hard decisions to be made.
"Come in," she called as she closed Sheba's journal and slid it beneath some papers on her desk.
Mrs. Grippen walked into her room. "I just wanted to check, Dr. Odell. Would you like dinner up here or will you be eating downstairs?"
"Downstairs, thank you. I'm just finishing up some work here."
"Very well. I'll be leaving shortly and I'll keep dinner warming in the oven for when you're ready." She turned to leave.
"Mrs. Grippen. You worked for the Ransoms when they were alive, didn't you?"
The housekeeper stopped, and Korrie could see her shoulders straighten and her spine stiffen. Her hand tightened on the doorknob. Then she slowly turned around, her face expressionless. "I was a young woman then. My husband was alive. We both worked for them back then. Until their deaths. The trustees of the estate asked me to stay on."
"Did your husband die in that terrible fire?"
"Yes, ma'am." She wouldn't look her in the eye and suddenly Korrie knew there was more to Mrs. Grippen's story than she was saying. Secrets she didn't want to talk about.
"It was your husband who looked after Dr. Ransom, wasn't it." She couldn't help pressing.
"Yes, ma'am. He looked after Dr. Cornelius."
She started to shuffle her way out the door. "I really shouldn't be discussing this. I'm sorry, but I need to get back downstairs to finish dinner." She hurried out the door and closed it softly behind her.
Every day Korrie discovered something new about this place and the people who lived here. Was she ever going to find out exactly what happened in that fire? It appeared that Mrs. Grippen and Athan were the only ones alive who knew the truth from that night, and so far they weren't talking.
The answer to one question led to a series of more questions and seemed to solve nothing. It was like a maze getting to the truth in this house. She wanted to see Athan. Setting down her pen, powering down the laptop she'd been using to organize her thoughts, she stood up.
She couldn't concentrate on this report right now; the thoughts in her head were far too jumbled. She needed to get some fresh air to clear the cobwebs from her brain.
She made sure to put the journal and notebooks away in her desk drawer and then shuffled the remainder of her papers into a pile. Then she pocketed her cell phone before leaving her room, just in case someone from the institute tried to reach her. Instead of heading toward the stairs that would take her to the main floor, something drew her in the other direction, to the staircase leading to the tower.
Now that she had read the latest entries in Sheba's journal she wanted to see the rooms where Cornelius Ransom had been confined. She should wait for Athan, to ask him about how it was, but something drove her onward. She didn't want to wait. Maybe she would sense something if she went by herself. The ghosts in this place had been willing to reveal things to her before. Maybe they would do so again. Later, she would ask Athan more about the night of the fire.
Climbing the steps, she reached the top, arrived at the door and found it unlocked. Pushing it inward, she stepped inside. The sunlight streamed in through one of the curved windows. They were barred, and she imagined that had been done when these rooms were reinforced for Cornelius. There was a four-poster bed, and dusty white sheets covered most of the furniture. Walking to the far side, she stopped in front of one piece of furniture, pulled off one of the sheets, and found a writing desk beneath. A green fountain pen and inkwell rested to one side, and a notebook lay in the middle with a page half written.
Korrie leaned closer to try to read what it said, but the handwriting was so bad she couldn't make out the words. She walked over to the wall and looked at the books that lined the bookshelf, the numerous scientific journals scattered about. Every book on the shelf was about some form of scientific research, much of the experimentation done in the 1950s and 1960s. Cornelius seemed to have an extensive collection of writings on the first successful organ transplants in the fifties.
Her gaze crept downward, and she encountered other titles. She lifted one from the shelf and opened it. The title struck her ‑‑ Prometheus Bound ‑‑ the story of the titan who stole fire from the gods and gave it to humankind. For doing that he was bound to a mountain to suffer for centuries. She remembered the story. She scanned the other books on the shelf.
Obviously, Cornelius was struck by this myth for there were various versions on the shelf. She carefully replaced the volume and stepped back, almost tripping over something lying on the floor.
She looked down and saw a book, the volume lying on its spine, opened and discarded. She picked it up to look at it. She shouldn't have been surprised. It was a copy of Shelley's Frankenstein. A well-worn volume to be sure. She walked back over to the desk and set it down.
Better that her research be into the minds of the creators than the creation. What had they been thinking to embark on such experimentation?
To some extent she understood Sheba's desire to create. Somewhere deep down she apparently had the need to climb past the barrenness she felt in being unable to bear children. For her, Athan had been the fruit of her body ‑‑ her mind and knowledge had helped to form him. Her nurturing had helped to strengthen him to survive long after their deaths. And upon attaining this success, she felt no need to continue. Whatever came next was for love of her husband. It was all done because of that emotion. For Cornelius and for Athan.
But what of Cornelius Ransom? What fueled his passion to continue, driving him ever deeper into insanity? This room spoke of a learned man. None of it made sense. Such driving ambition that ultimately destroyed not only him but apparently his wife as well.
She turned and left the room. The next room she wanted to see was the remains of the laboratory. Why she needed to see it now, she didn't know, but it somehow seemed important that she go there. Something was waiting there to be discovered.
She stopped as she reached the door of the scorched laboratory. It was a sense of danger, something not right. She waited a moment, then gave herself a mental shake. It was this old house getting to her, its creaks and groans as the wind started to build outside. An unexpected shiver ran up her spine. She could smell it in the air. A fierce storm was approaching.
Like ghosts walking across her grave.
October 30, 1970
Journal of Dr. Sheba Ransom
We have reached the point where we need to hire additional help. The last housekeeper quit and I was required to find another to take her place. It has all become too draining, but the new couple is working out better than I expected. I hired a nice, young couple, Karen and Howard Grippen. Karen attends to the housekeeping duties and Howard monitors and cares for Cornelius.
Howard served in the war and was injured and apparently is unable to work in his chosen profession as a pipefitter. I have paid for additional classes in nursing care so that he can attend to Cornelius's needs. He is a heavyset man with thick muscles and a quick mind. We have given him the title of companion. And in this sense, for the first time, we have been required to take people into our confidence.
Howard and Karen and their families have long been residents of Fall's Creek. Both are only children and their parents have passed away. They had previously made the acquaintance of Athan on several occasions and are aware of the rumors. We spoke plainly, at least to some degree, about the nature of the experiments, but that Cornelius's mind has faltered and he sometimes utters things that are completely untrue.
They have some understanding that Athan is different and they do not ask questions. Both are hard working and do their jobs with dedication. I pay them well for their silence on certain matters and the arrangement seems to suit us all.
I hear Cornelius ranting late into the night, angry at not being allowed to continue his work. I am now limited in my mobility as arthritis has set in, making movement difficult and painful on the best of days. I feel my mortality keenly. I do not give in to the exhaustion of life for I must remain vigilant for Cornelius.
Howard sees that he is challenged with a game of chess on occasion and reads to him, for Cornelius's eyesight is failing. Howard says he paces the floor at night mumbling to himself about experiments he plans to conduct. Some nights he has been able to slip in a sedative to quiet him. Others he is not so lucky, and Cornelius can be wily.
It was difficult to explain his recent request for the services of the body thief. That is a part of our experimentation I had not shared with the Grippens and it took some creative explanation to cover Cornelius's outburst and demand. But Howard seemed satisfied with what I told him.
I visit Cornelius rarely these days because my presence seems to agitate him and it makes it more difficult for Howard to deal with him.
I think back to our youth and our many adventures together. Our life. From the moment I met him while in my first year of medical school, I have loved and admired him. It wasn't until I was in the first year of internship at a local hospital and assisting one of the doctors when I looked up and saw him standing there across the corridor staring at him. I didn't realize until that moment that he might actually notice me. He was so handsome, younger than me by five years, but that didn't seem to matter. Even then he exuded confidence in his abilities. He knew what he wanted to do with his life and on our first date he said I would be his wife, his partner, in every way. In all these years, nothing has changed.
He never forced me into choosing research ‑‑ it was a decision we came to together. I wanted to work with him and he always encouraged me to investigate the alchemical sciences as he knew I found it fascinating even though he had no interest in those aspects. We always found a way to work out our differences.
He is my soul mate if such a thing exists. Even now I cannot bear the thought of our separation.
They still come to Athan in the garden. I seem to live vicariously through them now when I watch the heat of their passion beneath my window. Particularly on those nights when he has just been infused by the electrophasm treatments and the electrical impulses surge through him deliciously. I remembered well the stunning shocks of ecstasy as we made love.
This body and heart can no longer stand up to that much voltage and so I am a voyeur now, and I remember how it once felt to have him inside me that deeply and to feel the jolts as he spent into my womb. I long for those days when he made me feel as immortal as he.
Yet he has not forsaken me entirely ‑‑ he will not allow it. And he still looks at me with love in his expression. Just last night, before he left for his laboratory to induce the electrophasm treatment, he came to me.
Without a word, but the look of determination in his eyes.
"Tonight," he said, as he lifted me from my chair and carried me to the bed, "I will be inside you."
I shivered with anticipation as he peeled back the layers of my nightgown. For this night I don't feel the frailty of my body as Athan looks at me with passion and love. I allow him to do as he will, to again make me feel like a desirable woman in his arms.
"You are beautiful to me, Dr. Sheba. Never doubt your importance to me."
I felt his hot, moist lips on my body and the flutter of passion blossomed inside me. Frail I may be, but the desire has not lessened. He took his time as though learning my body for the very first time, just as we had learned each other so many years ago. I twined my fingers into the locks of his thick, resilient hair. God, he was beautiful and would always remain so.
He reached for a bottle in the drawer of the nightstand and I smelled the scent of the special lavender oil he had created in the lab.
I flew above myself as he applied it liberally to my pussy and I felt his thick fingers press inside me. My beautiful Athan.
The scent of the lilacs reminded me of the garden and if I closed my eyes I could feel my youth and the moist earth beneath me as Athan entered me slowly.
He took a chance by allowing himself to bleed out the electrical energy and coming to me at his lowest ebb, but before he applied his treatment. He did this for me, so there could be no chance of a stray surge stopping this frail heart of mine.
Tonight, for a moment, I had my youth back as he pressed inside me and my vagina expanded to accept him. He leaned down to kiss me, a gentle kiss of passion and devotion. I felt his fingers between our bodies as he circled my clit. His hand and mouth were tender, yet demanding and I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders as I reached for the ecstasy I had always known with him.
I have truly loved but two men in my life though there have been many in my bed. I have experienced ultimate joy with them both. I would give my life for either of them. For both.
Athan's thrusts were slow and deep and he fucked me to multiple orgasms ‑‑ those that he never failed to elicit from my body.
I reached up to sweep a hand over his hair and he looked down at me. I saw the faint lightning in his eyes as he stared at me, driving his body deeply.
"I love you, Athan," I whispered. "My love will always surround you. And you will never be alone. Always remember that."
I saw something flicker in his eyes just before his lids fluttered closed and I felt his seed pulsing into my body.
I clung to him as a bee is forever drawn to its hive, sweetness and need washing over me. I couldn't let him go. He leaned down to kiss me and then withdrew from my body leaving me less empty than when he had been welcomed inside.
He came back to the bed with a wet cloth and cleansed me with his loving hands. His touch so welcome, so needed. He then lay down beside me and held me in his arms and lulled me to sleep, warmed and content in the afterglow of his protection.
I missed Cornelius in my bed and I think Athan understood this. There have been nights when he stayed with me throughout, but I knew that night could not be one of them. His energy was dangerously low, and I hardly felt a ripple when he fucked me.
"You must go," I mumbled through the lazy strands as sleep tried to claim me. "You can't wait any longer."
I felt his lips at my temple. "Always the scientist, Dr. Sheba," he whispered. "You cannot leave me yet. I need you to stay."
"I have no plans to go anywhere right now, Athan." I turned my head to look up at him as he hovered above me. I reached up to cup his jaw. My darling, Athan. "Go."
I smiled even as he rose from the bed, and I felt the moist pressure of tears. When had I become so weak? I never used to cry and now I find the tears are often not far away for a variety of reasons, both sad and happy.
Tonight I am weary but I still bask in the feeling of well-being he instilled in me last night. He always seems to know when I need him most.
I must go for now. Something is wrong and I hear shouting down the hall. I can feel my heart thundering in my breast. The sounds are coming from the tower. Cornelius ‑‑
\*
Paul stood on the second floor of the mansion, listening. She must be here somewhere. She wasn't in her room, he'd already searched that and found the cache of Ransom journals she'd stuffed in her drawer, which were nicely pocketed in his coat for safekeeping. Added to the other stash he'd left in the tool shed, his future was made.
But damn her. Korrie had gotten more out of Athan in the few days she'd been here than Paul had gotten out of him in weeks. Even though he'd made himself available for fucking any time the bastard wanted. What the hell was it about her that got her what she wanted every single time?
She was nothing. A nobody, especially now with her father gone, and she had no real clout at the institute. So what made them all trust her and treat her like gold?
Swiftly moving toward the other side of the hallway he waited and listened. And then he heard the distinctive ringing of a cell phone. This was it. Now he knew where she was.
Making his way toward the stairs leading to the third floor, listening closely, he could hear her voice. He pulled the gun from his pocket and checked the clip. Yeah, he was ready for this. As he'd told Athan, after the first kill, the second comes a whole lot easier, and this one wouldn't be any problem at all. He listened again and pinpointed where she was.
Inching up to the doorway, he saw her standing in the room just beyond. It was the destroyed laboratory. Korrie leaned against the wall, one arm anchored horizontally across her chest as she supported her other arm, with her hand holding the phone to her ear.
"Erik, slow down, I can't understand what you're trying to say," she said as she listened intently, gazing up at the ceiling. Paul saw a dawning look of shocked comprehension cross her expression. "Donald is dead? But how?"
Paul could tell her exactly how and why. Korrie was talking to the wrong person.
He saw her knuckles whiten as she gripped the phone tighter. "Paul's disappeared? How can the police know he had anything to do with it?"
What had he forgotten to do that they'd immediately assumed he had something to do with the murder? He'd wiped the apartment down completely. He'd been certain to leave no clues. He watched her as she listened intently to whatever Carter was saying to her on the phone.
"I see. The cashier at the Chinese restaurant saw them together. And that was the last time anyone saw Donald alive? You really think Paul did it? That he might come here?"
Of course, they'd stopped for that damn food. He should have realized someone would have seen them together. He hadn't planned to kill Donald at the time so he hadn't really thought or worried about who saw them together.
"Yes, I know this project was an obsession with him. When will you be here? Do you want me to call the local police or will you do that?" She listened for a moment. "No, I'll let Ath-- I'll let the caretaker know to be on the lookout for him." Again she seemed to be listening intently. "No, the housekeeper is gone. I'll be sure to lock all the doors and I'll see you tomorrow." Another pause. "Really, I'll be fine."
Yes, she'd be fine and dead, and by the time anyone arrived, he'd be far away. And this time he wasn't leaving any evidence behind.
He watched as she scanned the room.
"Damn you, Paul Cathcart. What have you done now?" He just barely heard her murmured words. She whirled toward the doorway, but before she could take a step toward it, he moved to block her exit. Her expression registered shock and disbelief. He watched with dispassionate interest as she tried to cover her fear.
"Paul. What are you doing here? I thought you were back at the institute."
Slowly, he moved into the room, cutting off her retreat. She stepped away from him. He smiled, knowing he had her right where he wanted her.
"You look good, Korrie. How have you been?"
Her eyes grew wary, and her attention skittered around the room. "I'm fine. Why don't we go downstairs and I'll make us some tea."
He shook his head. "No, but thanks. Have you been able to find out anything since you've been here?"
"Ah, no, nothing of use." She shrugged.
"I think you're lying, Korrie. I think you've found out quite a bit in my absence and I'm not very happy about that."
He saw the look of fear flicker in her eyes. "I don't know what you mean."
He reached into one pocket and pulled out the journal. "This is what I mean. How did you get this?"
Sheer panic spread across her face. "Where did you get that? You were in my room? Going through my things? How dare you!"
"I dare quite a bit, Korrie. You will never beat me. And I'm going to make sure once and for all you don't have a chance to try." He shook his head. "You could have been married to me, if you hadn't been such a naive, stupid bitch and tried to ruin it all. But that's over with now and I'm afraid you're going to have to pay the price for trying to take what belongs to me."
Her frantic glance shifted to the door, but he knew there wouldn't be anyone coming to save her ‑‑ not before it was too late.
"Athan ‑‑"
"Is dead," he finished for her. "I took care of him before I came here.
"No. Damn you, what have you done?"
"Just cleaned up some unfinished business." He returned the journal to his pocket and pulled out the gun, pointing it at her. "Good-bye, Korrie. Too bad because I really did think you had some potential as a scientist. You could have been my assistant and become famous. You had to ruin it instead."
"No, Paul."
A shot rang out, echoing around the gutted laboratory.
The electricity passed through Athan's body, healing him, strengthening him. Finally, the timer shut down and the cuffs automatically separated. Athan allowed the surges to wrap through him. Inhaling deeply, he felt the waves of energy radiating through his body making him more powerful. Under normal circumstances he would immediately find someone and expend the excess in a pleasing manner, a nonviolent, sexual intimacy.
But not this time. Penetrating and mingling throughout the intermittent surges of energy was an overwhelming anger, similar to what he had experienced on the night the Ransoms had died. He'd thought he never wanted to experience those feelings again. But now he needed them.
Ripping off the remainder of the wires, he removed the brace from his rigid cock. The wound in his chest had been welded closed, leaving a blackened, angry scar.
Athan shouldn't have waited to induce the treatment. Maybe he would have been more prepared to meet Paul's unexpected presence.
The man was insane and he should have detected it when he was here the first time. Hadn't he witnessed a similar insanity in Cornelius near the end?
But it was different with Cornelius. There wasn't that same deviousness in the man's character. At least not until the end, when the madness had completely destroyed his mind.
That night he'd somehow found a weapon and had killed Howard, then gone to the laboratory. By the time Athan had gotten upstairs, Dr. Sheba was dead and Cornelius was dragging her body to the laboratory table determined to revive her. Athan remembered the nightmare all too well of when he'd tried to stop Dr. Cornelius. The madman had come at him with a scalpel. When Athan had deflected the bloody weapon and pushed him away, he'd fallen onto his own instrument.
He'd had no choice but to make it look like an accident. His creators were both dead and he couldn't let anyone know that it was Dr. Cornelius who had murdered two people that night. He'd had to drag Howard's body into the laboratory as well. That was when he'd started the fire and made it look like an experiment gone wrong. The only other person who knew the truth was Karen Grippen. And she had kept the secrets of the house all these years.
Did the house induce madness in the weak? Had it latched onto something inside Paul and wouldn't let go? No, he couldn't believe that.
With Paul, it must have been present all the time beneath his smooth, polished exterior, boiling beneath the surface. He was a handsome man with a black soul. From what Korrie revealed to him, Paul came to the estate with greed in his heart. Athan had had no problem fucking him, but he had made sure the secrets of the estate remained locked away. Looking back at what had occurred and trying to figure out why he hadn't seen the signs wouldn't help him now.
Paul assumed that by locking the door, it would stop Athan. How little he understood about the electrophasm treatment and what Athan really was. Paul had no idea of the monster he had aroused. Sometimes Athan felt he was merely a conductor for the electricity that ran through him. Right now the power pulsing through him was at full capacity. He could sense it rippling in wave after wave of surging energy, bolts reaching outward from his flesh. The anger building inside him only fueled it, and the steady rings of lightning surrounded him completely.
If anyone tried to touch him right now, with the magnification of that anger, there was a possibility that person could easily be electrocuted. It's one of the reasons he tried to be very careful with his emotions and about who he touched and when. Sexual connection was something else. He could funnel and control to some extent the excess energy into his orgasms without endangering his partner. Why it worked that way, he wasn't sure; it apparently had something to do with his chemical makeup and his self-control. Right now, he had no desire to utilize self-control in any form.
He reached for the door and yanked back, easily pulling it off its hinges. He threw it aside like it weighed no more than a two-by-four.
There was no time to find clothes; he had to get to Korrie. It might already be too late.
Every time he came close to grasping a strand of peace, of happiness, it was ripped away from him. He could not go on endlessly without her warmth. Not this time.
Ripping open the front door, he raced out of the cottage. One quick glance around and he knew Paul was long gone. Athan hadn't stopped to check to see how long he'd been linked to the machine. It could have been fifteen minutes or an hour and fifteen minutes. It shut off automatically when a full charge level had been reached. Like a battery, but not like one.
He ran through the field, sparks shooting out as his bare feet blackened the pathway beneath them. He felt the heat, the vibrations, the slight pain as sparks bounced back, but it didn't stop him, or slow him down.
Why had Paul done this thing? He did not understand this type of greed in a human being. And life having so little value? In his world, life and being able to create life always had more value than gold.
Living all his life on the estate and associating only with the people in Fall's Creek, he had remained isolated from people like Paul Cathcart who seemed to worship money and power. Maybe if he hadn't agreed to open up the estate, Korrie's life would not be in danger.
He shot through the forest and out the other side, reaching the garden gate. He vaulted over it and down the path to the house, noting absently that Mrs. Grippen's car was not in sight. That meant Korrie was alone in the house with Cathcart. He strode through the kitchen and into the front drawing room, whirled around and headed toward the library. Where the hell were they?
If he called out to her and she answered and Paul was in the house, he could get to her before Athan did. On the other hand, he'd be taking a chance by not getting to her quickly.
He turned and mounted the stairs to the second floor. He'd check her room. Paul wouldn't know which room Mrs. Grippen had assigned her. Time was running out. He took the stairs two at a time and ran down the hallway. He could smell the scent of singed wood and carpet as he went.
Bursting into her room, he scanned quickly. Someone had obviously been in here other than Korrie. Her papers were strewn all over the floor and her purse was lying beneath the window, the contents scattered. The drawer on her desk was open, and her computer was lying on its side on the floor next to the desk.
He ran out the door and tried to think where she might be. And then he quaked as he heard the echo of a gunshot, his heart stuttered and seemed to stop in his chest as the sound reverberated through him. He was too late.
Damn you to hell, Cathcart.
Athan flew up the steps to the third floor and shuddered to a halt before the open laboratory door. He hadn't been in there since the night of the fire. He shook himself free of the memories of the past and plunged into the room only to see Korrie lying in a pool of blood.
"Damn you, Paul. Why?"
Paul was near Korrie and pouring something onto the floor. It looked like one of the older, dusty vials containing chemicals that must have remained on one of the shelves.
Paul whipped around to face Athan, shock registering on his face. His gaze went to the table resting against the wall and Athan's gaze followed his. Paul didn't have his gun. He'd thought they were all dead. Athan stalked toward him.
"You should be dead," Paul yelled. His eyes widened. "My God, you're the experiment!"
He dropped the flask, which shattered, liquid pouring out onto the floor. His gaze shot to the table where the gun rested and he moved to sprint past Athan.
But Athan was at full strength and he rushed Paul, pouncing and dragging him down to the floor. Anger swamped Athan like he'd never felt before. He wanted this man dead, as dead as Korrie, as dead as Dr. Cornelius and Dr. Sheba. He didn't care what happened to him when it was over, better that he die ‑‑ if that was possible.
But he knew that even that would be denied him. He was a thing that did not die. But Paul would.
Paul managed to squirm away from him and crawled across the floor. He had a lighter in his hand and suddenly Athan knew exactly what he planned to do.
"No!"
But again, it was too late and flame licked at the liquid quickly, hungry and all-consuming. Fury filled Athan as he grabbed for Paul's leg, dragged him back, and lifted him up. Blindly, he tightened his fingers around his neck. The bastard deserved to die. The electrical energy passed through his body and it was like a lightning bolt passing through Paul's body. He went into convulsive shuddering. All Athan did was hold on and direct the angry bolts to pass through his body and into Paul's, time and time again, until Paul was dead. Athan tossed his lifeless corpse across the room, and it landed near the table he had so wanted to reach. But now he'd have no use for it.
The flames licked at Korrie's body. Her clothing, soaked in the chemicals, acted like an accelerant. As she burst into flame, Athan raced to her. The scent of burning flesh filled his nostrils as he beat out the destructive flames, but her body was already covered with murderous third-degree burns. He had lost her.
He picked her up and carried her to the center of the room, dropped down and cradled her in his arms. He no longer cared what happened to him. He had lost the final precious thing in the world that could have given meaning to his life.
He rocked back and forth with her in his arms as the fire ate hungrily at the floor and the walls. Soon it would gather momentum. The last time he'd made certain it didn't extend beyond this room. There were reasons back then, but not this time. He could smell the smoke as it swirled around him, filling his lungs. He deserved to suffer for failing her so bitterly.
Athan, she's not dead.
His head snapped up. It couldn't be.
You have to get her out. And Cathcart, too. Get them back to the lab.
"You're wrong," he screamed into the smoke-filled room, his lungs searing from the smoke. "She's burned beyond belief. I can't help her like this."
But I can help you. I will help you. Get them out. Now.
He knew the voice, had always obeyed. He could do no different now. Unable to see clearly, he used his instincts to find his way toward the door. Once there, he held the lifeless, burned body of the woman he loved against his chest with one arm, then leaned down to grab Paul's shirt collar with the other to drag them both out, the hungry flames of the fire licking at their heels.
"Now what?" He had no idea whether he'd get an answer or why he should expect one.
Take them to the lab. There will only be one chance to save her.
"But I can't do it. You know what will happen."
Just do it. I am here to help you, but I can't stay for long. You have to hurry.
Just then, Korrie moaned. The vibrations of sound emitted were ones of agony beating against his throat, her head flopped against his shoulder. Dr. Sheba was right; she was alive, just barely.
Knowing that she still lived infused him with energy and he quickened his footsteps. If Dr. Sheba was going to ask him to do what he thought she was, he wasn't certain he could agree.
"Athan," a hoarse voice whispered against his chest.
Athan hesitated for one moment and looked down at Korrie. One eye was opened and focused on him, the rest of her face was red and swollen, some parts blackened, unrecognizable, bits of her beautiful hair burned away.
"Korrie, I'm going to help you."
"No. Just let me die. It's no use." Her eye closed and her head dropped forward against his chest.
His grip tightened around her and his other hand clenched on Paul's collar. He pushed determinedly to exit the house, the suffocating smoke clinging to his lungs.
In one moment, he knew clearly what he had to do. He'd never thought it was possible for him to consider it after all they had been through. All he had seen. But right now there was no other choice.
"All right, Sheba. I'll do whatever you tell me I must."
Coughing in fits from the inhalation of smoke, he stumbled down the main staircase and out the front door. He didn't know why he obeyed the voice, but he didn't have the will to deny her. He only knew he could smell Korrie's burnt flesh and the thought of her pain gave him no other choice.
Having taken time to quickly dress, Athan descended to the lab. He looked at them both as they lay side by side on the tables. Korrie had not regained consciousness.
She will not live long, Athan. You must prepare.
"I don't think I can do this." He'd assisted Dr. Cornelius with many experiments, but to attempt this alone and with someone he had grown to love was a different matter entirely.
I am here to help you. Relax and I will provide the knowledge you need to succeed.
"What of the elixir? You weren't able to duplicate it before."
The knowledge I have now far surpasses what I had in that other life. Trust me, Athan. Take a deep breath and let me do this one last thing for you.
He tried. He desperately wanted to succeed. He needed Korrie to live. Resting his hands on the counter, he closed his eyes and tried to focus.
Think of your love for her, Athan. Let it be the only thing that fills your mind and your heart.
He thought of her, of the way they were that afternoon, wrapped in each other's arms, so closely bound together almost as one, shockwaves of passion still quivering inside them, linking them. He remembered the strong beat of her heart, her breath against his moist flesh, her lips caressing the pulse at his throat.
She must live. He could not go on without her.
She is here with me, Athan. She wants this. She needs to be with you.
"Korrie." His cry was one of anguish at his impotence when she needed him most. At the pain she suffered because of him. He touched the charred skin of her face and leaned closer. He could hear the rattling struggle for each breath, the lapse of time growing lengthier between each one.
"She will not understand. If this works she won't know who I am. She'll remember nothing."
Nor will she remember the pain of these last moments in this body. Which would you prefer? Do you think she won't recognize you? Is that what you fear most?
Was it? Was he afraid she'd remember nothing and flee when she didn't understand what had happened?
He remembered what it had been like for him. The loss of self, not understanding the responses of his body, the flashes of disjointed memory that occasionally struck him, the unknown reasoning behind some of his actions.
You will be there to help her adapt. As we were with you. Prepare them now before it is too late. Her brain cannot be allowed to settle for long, this much you know.
He pulled away from Korrie and looked down at Paul's corpse. He wanted to kill him all over again. Would he be able to deal with the look of the man who had virtually destroyed the woman he loved? And how would Korrie feel when she woke up housed in the body of a murderer?
But then again, she wouldn't know. Wouldn't remember. Not unless he told her.
Again, he closed his eyes and focused on Korrie and on his love for her. And then he felt the knowledge flood into his mind. He dropped forward as it overpowered him.
First, he undressed Paul. Then he attached the electrodes to Paul's body and hooked up the IV lines to provide for nourishment and fluids when the time came. He shaved his head, as well as Korrie's. Taking his time, he gathered what he needed. It had to be right. Exact. There could be no mistakes.
He pulled out the instruments necessary, the scalpels, forceps, needles and sutures, and other surgical requirements. Packages of gauze and bandages. And the glass container. He sterilized everything. He was conscious that Korrie's breathing grew more shallow, the rattling more pronounced. He washed his hands. And then did it again.
He pulled out the special equipment that the doctors used and created themselves. It was as though someone else directed his movements, had taken control of his body and his mind.
It's time, Athan. You must prepare the elixir.
He moved over to the cupboards where the herbs, chemicals, and other necessary items were kept. He removed the flask, extractor, and condenser from the shelf. As Dr. Sheba continued to instruct him, he pulled down containers including ones holding angelica, water lily, moonwart, southernwood, and several others. He also pulled down the alcohol base. And then one more jar.
He mixed them together and set them to liquefy. Then he returned to the tables where Paul and Korrie lay. He moved the tray with the instruments to Paul. He must prepare him first by removing the cranial bone flap and then the brain itself.
Slowly he did what he needed to do, careful not to nick or cut anything vital that could cause a problem later. Each cut must be clean and precise. His hands must be steady. Even with care, severing the cords would cause certain parts of the memory to be lost and in some cases altered. He willed his gloved hands to remain steady as he removed Paul Cathcart's brain, preparing his body to receive a new source of life.
She is dead, Athan. You must hurry.
Quickly, he stripped off his gloves and donned another, fresh pair and moved the second tray to Korrie. He checked her pulse. God, how could he do this? What if it didn't work? Suddenly, his hands shook.
Athan, control your emotions. You do her no good. You are her only hope now.
Carefully, he made the necessary incisions. He moved the glass container holding the special pinkish liquid and reverently placed the precious body part into the liquid.
He moved back to the body of Paul and began the surgery necessary to introduce Korrie's brain. Sweat dripped down his brow as he did what was necessary to complete the task. Precisely what was required. Long hours later, he straightened and dragged an arm across his dripping brow. It was done.
Throw the switch, Athan.
He turned to the mobile panel and adjusted the settings. Praying for success, he flipped the switch. The electrical current zapped through the body, sending it into convulsive fits. The machine stopped. Athan quickly grabbed up a stethoscope and listened for a heartbeat. He checked for a pulse. There was none.
He flipped the switch again, then one more time, and hoped against hope that this time it would work. Leaning close, he checked for a heartbeat that he had no hope of hearing.
Seconds ticked by and then there it was, faint at first and then stronger. He checked the pulse, found it fluttery but still recognizable.
"They live."
The elixir, Athan. See to the elixir. You must let it cool and then introduce it into the IV line.
It was the last step ‑‑ the one Dr. Cornelius was insistent was not necessary to achieve and sustain life. Athan was taking no chances. He poured it into another container and allowed it to cool. He returned to Paul and replaced the cranial cap and repaired the incisions. Then he carefully applied the healing ointment and bandages. He could not leave Korrie's body as it was and carefully did the same for her.
He returned to the elixir.
There is one more thing to add.
He looked up. "What?"
There is a flask at the end of the shelf, behind the last one. It is blue. Add the contents to the elixir.
"All of it?"
Yes.
He'd never seen that particular flask before, maybe because it was concealed behind the others. He emptied the iridescent contents into the elixir and stirred it. Then he poured it into a plastic bag that he hung on a rack at the side of the bed and attached the IV, opening the tubing.
He stepped back and watched as the blue liquid flooded the tubing and began to enter Paul's system.
Athan, Korrie's body must be taken back to what's left of the house. As well as Paul's remains.
He whipped around, trying to see someone that wasn't really there. "No. She must be buried, the same as the others."
No, Athan. This is the only way there will be no questions later. You must do this.
He tried to clear his tired brain. Dr. Sheba wanted them to find the remains. She wanted anyone coming to investigate to think they had both died in the fire. He nodded his head. He had done it before.
"All right. But I can't leave her yet."
You have done what you can. This other matter must be taken care of tonight while it is still dark. Firefighters are already here. You must be careful. Do it before the fire extinguishes completely. There is still time.
He seemed to go on automatic, turning off his emotions as he proceeded to do what was necessary to protect Korrie from discovery. It wasn't easy. There were firefighters all around the house trying to put out the blaze, but it was out of control. The best they could do was contain it from reaching the rest of the grounds, spreading into the forest and beyond.
It was a moonless night and Athan was able to sneak in through the kitchen, which was at the side of the house where the fire had not reached yet. He went in as close to the fire as he could to do what must be done.
This house had been his home since his first breath. The way the blaze was raging through it, there would be nothing left within a matter of hours and everything would be lost. He had grabbed several containers of liquid from the lab ‑‑ chemicals that would detonate when the temperature reached a certain point. He sprinkled them around the room before leaving.
He backed away, unable to comprehend the enormity of what this night had wrought. He looked at the remains of the woman he had come to love and then finally broke away and ran out of the house. He had to get back to the cottage and to the lab. Back to the living.
The night and the smoke covered his escape. He ran into the forest, circuiting around and back to the cottage just as an explosion rent the night. Overwhelming pain pulsed through him at the horror of these hours and the fear of the results.
He returned to the lab. As far as he could tell, Korrie remained stable. He rolled the table into the next room and carefully transferred her to the bed, the IV still attached to her arm, the bag with the elixir almost empty. The electrodes were still attached, running a gentle, steady current through Paul's body. Enough to keep them alive until Korrie was strong enough to withstand the full electrophasm treatments. And understand what was necessary.
After checking Korrie's vital signs, he went back into the other room and cleaned everything up, until the room was spotless.
He dragged a chair back to sit beside Korrie's bed. He had no idea what time it was and he was too tired to worry about it. He reached out to touch the hand of the male body she now inhabited. Would she awaken? Many of the others had slowly drifted away. The ones that did awaken were like mindless zombies. Is that what would happen to Korrie? He couldn't stand the thought of something like that occurring with her.
But he'd had to take the chance.
She will live, Athan. I have given you the mate I promised. And now I can move on.
He jumped to his feet. "Wait. You can't leave. Not yet."
She will be fine. There will be much you must teach her. I hope you find some happiness. I love you, Athan, and I could not move on until I had provided what you deserved for your devotion.
He dropped back into the chair, no longer feeling Dr. Sheba's presence. He rested his arms on his legs and dropped his head back against the chair. He didn't think he'd ever been as tired in his life as he was at this moment. Yet it was his brain, not his body, that was exhausted. The electrophasm charge still pulsed through him.
The anger that had kept him fueled throughout these last hours had dissipated and all he felt was fear at the thought of losing the one person who was destined to be by his side. Korrie Odell, the woman doctor, was no more. But Paul Cathcart no longer existed either.
The person who would awaken, if he did so with his mind intact, would be a whole other person. If the elixir worked, he would be immortal as Athan was.
He shoved his fingers through his hair. It was a huge gamble that he had taken tonight. For a moment, he wondered if Dr. Sheba had really been here. Everything seemed so silent now. So quiet. The cottage was far enough away from the main house, and they were deep enough below ground, that he couldn't hear the firefighters as they fought to contain the blaze. He should be there, but Korrie needed him more.
He looked up at the bag containing the elixir and rose to his feet. He went for another bag of clear fluid and attached it in its place.
Again, he reached out for Korrie's hand and linked their fingers. He studied the even rise and fall of his chest. Leaning back, he closed his eyes. He needed to sleep, just for a short time. There was little more he could do tonight, except pray that what they had done was successful. He wouldn't even consider that it might not be.
\*
Athan's eyes shot open, and he glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was early morning. He had put it off as long as he could, and it was now time to deal with the repercussions of the fire and Paul's actions. He checked Korrie's vital signs, went upstairs to take a shower and change his clothes, and then walked over to the remains of the house. He could see the plumes of smoke still rising and could smell the strong, pungent scent of the remnants of burning wood as it clung to the air. It was better than the burned flesh.
Life as he had known it would be altered forever. After the Ransoms' deaths he'd made a point of not changing anything, of continuing as though they still lived. Every act had been carefully balanced so as not to alter the rituals of his life. Routine. Every aspect of his life almost completely unchanged.
He hadn't realized until today that the reason it had been so was because Dr. Sheba's spirit still lingered. She had been so much a part of him that he simply hadn't realized she still hovered nearby, guiding him.
She'd never spoken to him before that night, never tried to contact him. He didn't understand how it had all happened. And when he woke up this morning, he remembered very little of what had occurred the previous night beyond getting Paul and Korrie back to the lab. From the moment he'd shaved their heads everything beyond that point was a blank. It was as though Dr. Sheba took him over completely and his body was simply an instrument for her to wield to do what must be done.
Korrie had not yet awoken, and he didn't know how long it would be before she did. He needed to return to the wreckage of the house, to make an appearance before someone came looking for him.
Her name was something he would need to change. Although Korrie's mind, her brain, was female, her body was not. And whoever awoke would not understand. In fact, Korrie was no longer Korrie and he would have to come to terms with that as well.
If he had never opened the estate to inspection by the institute, none of this would have happened. The house would still be standing, and his life would have continued on as it had always done.
He reached the edge of the forest and slowly looked up at the place where the house had once stood, and a blackened skeleton now remained, smoke curling into the sky. Today, the sun was concealed by darkened clouds threatening rain.
"Athan. Oh, thank goodness." Mrs. Grippen hurried toward him. "I was afraid ‑‑" She began to cry and quickly dashed the tears away with the back of her hand. He had never seen her cry, not even the night when her husband died. She had always been the stoic force of the estate remaining low-key and patient, quiet, yet keeping them all organized.
He put an arm around her. "I'm fine. I wasn't in the house."
She sniffled again. "That poor Dr. Odell. How terrible." She looked up at Athan. "She was special, wasn't she, Athan? I'm so sorry."
"We'll be all right." He turned to face her and clasped both her hands. "I need your help," he said solemnly.
"Of course. But, how?"
"At the cottage." They had never conversed outright about the things that had happened in the house, the experiments that the Ransoms had undertaken, or the deaths that fateful night. He saw it in her eyes that she knew he was different, a part of what had gone before.
And he saw that she understood now that more was going on here than he was saying. Slowly, she nodded her head. Her fingers tightened on his. "Tell me what you need."
"For now, just go to the house and as soon as I talk with the people here and do what needs to be done, I'll come." She started to turn away, but he drew her back. "No one gets in. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Athan, but you're scaring me."
"There's nothing to be afraid of. I just don't want anyone in the house while I'm not there. I need your help. You know I couldn't do without you."
He saw her lips tremble and she reached up to cup his jaw. "Athan, you're like a son to me. Whatever you need me to do, I'll help you."
He squeezed her cold hands one last time and released her. "There's a driveway and you should be able to get there from here without too much trouble. I'll meet you at the house later."
She nodded. "The men you need to talk with are standing on the other side of what's left of the house. The sheriff is there, as well as the fire chief and another man I didn't recognize."
"Thank you. Did they question you?"
"Yes. I think they're done with me. They were looking for you, so I'm glad you came. They'll want to talk with you. We all thought at first that you might have been in the house. I think they sent someone over to the cottage, but no one answered."
"I'll take care of it. Don't worry."
"You're all right, Athan, aren't you? I think something terrible must have happened in that house last night." He saw the shadows of memories in her eyes. She was obviously remembering the devastating night of that other fire and the people whose lives were lost there and what she had helped him to do to keep the secrets that resided there.
"I'll talk with you later," he assured her quietly. He watched her as she slowly made her way to her car and got in. He was going to have to tell her the truth about last night. He needed her help. Korrie would need her help.
Now he was going to have to deal with all the questions about the fire. There were blank spots in his memory from the night before. Huge blanks. Like he didn't remember what happened to Korrie's body, or how he'd disposed of the rest of that night's work.
He looked back up at the burnt wreckage. Dr. Cornelius's tower, though blackened, still remained, and the rest of the house lay in carnage around it. It reminded him of the people, those who were buried on Heartbreak Hill, all because Dr. Cornelius sought immortality to the point of insanity.
He turned away, unable to look at it any longer. He would talk to the sheriff, and to the others, and give them the answers they needed to end this.
Athan moved toward the huddle of men he saw standing across from him at the other side of the house. Among them, he recognized Sheriff Kirby, the local law enforcement for Fall's Creek, and Fire Chief Jackson. They'd had a nodding acquaintance over the years in passing time at the local pub. They were local people and there was silent understanding between them. The other people with them, he didn't know.
Sheriff Kirby nodded to him as he drew closer. "Athan. Terrible thing here."
"Yes. Have you determined how it started?"
"We tried to reach you, but you weren't home." There was a question in the statement from Chief Jackson.
"No, it was one of the few times I was away. I had an errand to run."
Chief Jackson studied him closely. "Do you know if anyone was in the house? Your housekeeper thought there was a doctor" ‑‑ he looked down at his notepad ‑‑ "by the name of Korrie Odell who might have been inside."
Athan tried not to wince at the name, remembering how he had last seen her. "Yes, I believe she was."
"We found a car parked outside the gate," Sheriff Kirby inserted. "Registered to Paul Cathcart." He turned to two of the men that Athan didn't know. "This is Investigator Smith and Dr. Carter. They came in from the city. Apparently this Cathcart guy was wanted for questioning in a murder. Had you seen him around?"
"No," he lied. "Dr. Cathcart was here before Dr. Odell arrived, but I understood he'd returned to the Morgan Institute."
"He did," the man named Carter said. "We're worried that he might have come back here to do harm to Dr. Odell." He turned to look at the charred and smoking remains of the house. "He might have blamed her for some of his misfortune back at the institute. We believe he finally cracked and just went over the edge."
"Dr. Odell seemed like a very nice lady. I would hate to think something terrible had happened to her." He tried to keep his voice noncommittal, tried not to show the emotions that surged inside him.
"If you can think of anything that might help, let us know," Sheriff Kirby said. "Chief Jackson will inform you what he finds out after their investigation." Kirby pinned him with a hard look. "Anything else you think you might be able tell us?"
"No, nothing at all. I didn't know either Dr. Odell or Dr. Cathcart very well. The estate trustees allowed them to come here to see if they could locate the research done by the Ransoms. I don't know if they were successful."
"Sad state of affairs." Sheriff Kirby turned and looked at the burned out rubble. "That house was quite the showpiece of this town. Amazing architecture. Just too damned bad." He turned back and clapped a hand on Athan's shoulder. "You going to be all right?"
Athan nodded. "I'll be fine. You know where to find me if you need anything else."
"Yes. We'll keep you advised of what we discover. We'll let the trustees know as well. Someone from my office called them this morning to let them know."
"Thanks, Sheriff. I appreciate your help with this."
"If you need anything you let us know." His eyes held that hint of knowledge that no one spoke of. "You're one of our own, boy, and we'll take care of you."
It had always been that way in Fall's Creek. It often had the feeling of a closed community with its little secrets that no one talked about with outsiders. Not even when it came to something as horrible as this. No one, not even the sheriff or the chief, would share what they might or might not know about Athan and the Ransoms. That was just the way it was here in their little town.
Athan turned and headed back to the cottage. He didn't want to be away too long.
As he entered through the front, making a note that he needed to fix the broken door, he could smell the scent of fragrant fresh coffee. He walked into the kitchen and found Mrs. Grippen already at work, bacon frying and the cinnamon scent of sweet rolls in the oven.
She turned to look at him. "I thought you might like some breakfast." She leaned down to pull the tray out of the oven and set it on the counter. "You know," she said as she scooped each roll from the baking sheet, "I don't think I've ever been in this house before. There was never any need."
Once all the rolls were on the plate she carried them to the table. "Sit down and have something to eat." She poured him a cup of coffee and brought him a plate from the stove. Then she took the chair across from him and set a cup of coffee in front of her on the table.
"Talk to me, Athan. Tell me why I'm here. What you need me to do." And more quietly, "What went on here?"
He didn't have any choice and slowly, in a low voice he related the horror of the night before. As much as he could remember. When he was done, she looked at him across the table and was silent for a long time. She lifted her cup and took a sip, then set it back down. Her hand trembled and the cup clattered against the saucer.
He saw her lips tighten and determination set in her shoulders. "You know, Athan, we've been through a lot over the years in this place. Seen and done some things we'd rather forget." She looked at him. "But I don't think there's one of us who would ever do anything to harm you." She shook her head. "There's something about you, Athan, that draws people. You've got the magic. I can't explain it. But the whole town feels it. I'll help you. And I don't scare easy."
He reached across the table and gripped her hand. "I've always thought you were a good woman, ma'am."
"I think you can call me Karen. It's past time."
"Karen, it means a great deal to me to be able to depend on you."
Her fingers squeezed his. "You can always do that. For as long as I draw breath, your secrets are safe with me." She pulled her hand away and rose from the table. "Now, go do what you need to do. And let me handle things here."
He got up and carried his dishes to the sink. "Thanks," was all he said and then he went to the place where he needed to be. Where he would stay until Korrie opened her eyes.
It was several days later that he walked into the lab and crossed to the bedroom on the other side, immediately checking to make sure everything was as it should be. Mrs. Grippen never asked questions, but took it upon herself to make sure he stayed fed. He knew eventually he would have to indoctrinate Mrs. Grippen into what needed to be done as the need arose. For now he just sat back down in the chair and reached for Korrie's hand. Since the night of the fire he hadn't left the lab for more than an hour at a time.
The hand in his grasp was warm, slightly smaller than his own, but pliant with life. He was intimately familiar with the body of the man, had fallen in love with the mind of the woman. Who was the person who would emerge?
Right now, all that mattered was that she lived. He'd need to think of a name. "Korrie" would be too obvious for anyone who might have a connection with the institute, and he couldn't take that chance. He studied the young man who lay in the bed for a long time. He had to start thinking of Korrie as he.
The fingers jerked against his palm, and Athan's heart seemed to thunder in his chest. He looked at Korrie closely, saw the eyelids flutter and then slowly rise. He held his breath and remained silent. Watching.
He looked around the room, licked his lips, and then his gaze turned to Athan. His eyes widened. Athan saw intelligence shining from them.
"Where...am...I?" he asked in halting words. The voice was neither Korrie's nor Paul's, but a blend of sound that was intriguing to Athan. Haunting in some ways.
The eyes were different as well, swirling confusion in their depths. "You're safe," Athan answered and squeezed his hand. "You've been in an accident and you are healing."
His eyebrows drew together as though trying to figure something out. He raised a hand to his head and his fingers traced over the thickly swathed bandages, then dropped back onto the covers.
"I don't remember." He looked at Athan. "You seem familiar." He frowned. "But I don't know you. Do I?"
"You need to rest. It's going to take time for you to heal."
"I don't know my name. Who am I?"
Athan studied him for a long time. The fresh, new look of him. This new creation from broken bodies and minds. Just like him, yet different. This was how he had begun. Confusion and pain.
"Your name is Bellamy. Bellamy Andrews."
He seemed to roll the name over in his mind, trying to place it. "Bellamy. I don't remember. It doesn't sound familiar."
"You need to rest. Everything will come together for you in good time. Trust me."
There was a quiver of a smile that rose to his lips. "Something tells me I always did."
Bellamy. It meant beautiful friend. Everything would be all right.
"I want to get up. I've had enough of this." Bell stared up at Athan mutinously.
Athan noted that he was stronger and his mind had become sharper. He still had a lot of questions and there were moments when a flash of some fleeting memory would draw something to the forefront of his mind.
"Soon. I don't think you're strong enough yet."
"That's not true. It's been three months and this is getting old. My hair's growing back, the scars are almost completely healed ‑‑ you said so yourself.
He was right. His hair was growing, and the color was both odd and beautiful. Pure white with streaks of golden caramel. When the light struck it just right it seemed to shoot off sparks. The angles of his face were different from those of Paul's as well. No one would have recognized this man as ever having been a part of Paul Cathcart. It was sharply defined angles of shadowy perfection with deep set, haunting eyes the color of an early evening sky in autumn. There was still a certain fragility about him, although he looked well enough, considering what he'd been through. And truthfully, because of the change in his looks, no one would question that he might have some slight similarity to a man that had been pronounced dead in the fire.
Fire Chief Jackson had called last week to give him the final word. With the remains they found among the rubble, the conclusion had been that Korrie Odell and Paul Cathcart had perished in the fire. They found a spent bullet near Korrie, but very little of Paul's remains were discovered. They could only assume that Paul had killed Korrie and then started the fire to cover up what he had done. They also found a gun that had been registered in Paul's name. For some reason, he hadn't been able to make it out of the house and was also consumed by the blaze. The case was closed.
But Athan still worried. He still needed to explain Bellamy's sudden appearance. Karen assured him the townspeople wouldn't ask questions. They never had, about anything that occurred at the Ransom place. That was just the way it was. If only he could be as certain as she was. Nothing must hurt Bellamy. Athan felt it was his job to protect him, just as the Ransoms had done for him. They had created him, and he had created Bellamy.
"We can't take a chance. Not just yet."
"Dammit, Athan. You can't keep trying to protect me like this...or hide me away." He leaned forward. "You have to teach me how to survive. You gave me Sheba Ransom's journal to read for a reason. You told me about what happened ‑‑ how I came to be here."
Bell reached for Athan's hand and looked up into his eyes. Athan had found Dr. Sheba's journal and the disks and notebooks in the pocket of Paul's coat. Bell had a right to know how this had all come about. He couldn't keep the secrets because one day he'd discover the answers on his own.
Damn, but he wanted to take Bell and fuck him right now. The waiting was as trying for him as it was for Bellamy. But he couldn't take any chances. "You don't understand."
"I understand very well, but Athan you made me. You wanted me to live. You have to let me do so. I want to be strong enough to be with you. Is it that I'm not really this Korrie Odell and you don't want me, the way you thought you would? Or do you see Paul Cathcart, the man who killed her? Talk to me so I understand." He dropped back against the pillows.
Athan looked at him, the wires that fed him the electricity for basic survival. The IVs were gone, the bandages were gone, and he was healing well. He neither looked nor talked like Korrie or Paul. He was Bellamy. Someone wholly different and someone that Athan found disturbingly appealing.
"I know you go to the town after you think I'm asleep. Do you think I don't know what you do there? Am I ugly to you, Athan? Are you repulsed by me?"
Athan shot to his feet and stalked across the room, away from the bed. "Let me think about it, okay?" He whirled around. "Don't you understand I can't lose you? I know you're not Korrie, nor are you Paul. But you're important. The woman I loved is a part of you, and although I see pieces of her in you, I don't want to take a chance on Bellamy Andrews dying. I can't go through that again. And I don't want to be alone ‑‑ not any longer."
Bellamy leaned back and sighed, a smile spreading across his face. Athan thought it might be the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen. "All right then." He patted the side of the bed. "Come sit with me and tell me more of the history of this place."
Athan walked over to the bed and Bell looked up at him. "Sit next to me." Athan started to sit on the edge of the bed. "No, not there." He shifted to the side. "Sit here, beside me."
Athan's breath ceased as he looked at the spot where Bellamy wanted him to sit, so close, stretched out beside him. "I'm not sure it's a good idea."
"I think it's the best idea. I'm well, Athan, and I want to feel you next to me. The only thing I'm waiting on is for you to give the okay for the first treatment. I'm ready, you're not."
Sitting this close to him was going to kill Athan, but he stretched out beside him. Bell grabbed one of his arms and dragged it around his shoulders. "That's better." He was almost the same height as Athan and he stared into his eyes, man to man. "I've been waiting for this a long time. You're gorgeous and watching you every day is starting to wear on me." Their lips were barely inches apart. Suddenly, he whirled around and rose up on his knees, the sheet that had been covering him falling away to reveal a perfect body.
Bell reached for Athan's arms and drew them above his head, bracketing them to the headboard.
"You shouldn't ‑‑"
And then they were no longer separated as Bell intertwined his fingers with Athan's and pressed their lips together. It was a deep, hungry kiss of longing, of need, of understanding. Bell lifted his head and looked deep into Athan's eyes, and Athan saw things there ‑‑ half-formed memories, full-blown desire, and raging, primitive need.
"You've taken care of me all these months." Bell released Athan's hands and dipped forward to shove back the opening of Athan's shirt, leaning down to suckle at a beaded nipple. His mouth roved over Athan's exposed chest, his tongue dipping into the valleys and peaks, driving Athan crazy.
"Let me take care of you for once." The words vibrated against his pecs, then he felt Bell's teeth tug, his mouth suck, and his quick tongue explore the broad landscape of muscle that was bared for his attention.
Athan leaned his head back against the headboard and closed his eyes, trying to gain some self-control. He'd dreamed of this moment so many times over these long months. Substituting the willing bodies offered by the Fall's Creek residents did not satisfy his desire for Bellamy. "Bell, you're not ready for this." He wondered if he was trying to convince Bellamy or himself.
Bell looked up at him, his eyes dilated and heavy with lust. "You have no idea how fucking ready I am, Athan. This body remembers you and so does this mind. Everything about me wants you in every way there is. I want you. I want to give you what you need." He leaned up with his mouth close to Athan's ear. "I want to be your vessel, Athan. Fill me."
Athan lost the ability to breath. He knew those words, heard them in his dreams, in his nightmares. He gripped Bell's head and seared his lips with all the need he had tried to lock away, driving his tongue deep inside, tasting him and consuming him. He was ravenous to have him, to expend in him. And for the first time in his life he was eager to become the vessel Bellamy would require when the time came. There was nothing he wanted more than to make Bell his equal in every way. But was he really ready?
Bellamy leaned back and lay on the bed, looking up at him. He licked his lips. "Let me suck you, Athan. Right now. I can't move much because of these goddamned wires you have me hooked up to." He reached for the opening of Athan's jeans, unhooked the button, and pulled down the zipper. Slowly, he pushed his pants down, exposing Athan to Bellamy's hungry gaze. His hand brushed against Athan's cock and he shuddered with just that small touch. He finally pushed the jeans all the way down over Athan's hips and then just stared at the bulging head of Athan's huge, throbbing erection.
"Dammit, Athan, you're more gorgeous than I thought." Reverently, he reached out to stroke the engorged head. Precum oozed from the deeply reddened tip. Athan saw a hungry gleam enter Bell's expression. He looked up at Athan. Athan studied his face, light and dark shadows, his hair gleaming in the lamplight, his nostrils flared. "You're hot, Athan, so damned hot. It feels like you have an iron lightning rod trapped beneath your skin. Feed it to me. I'm so hungry for you." Bellamy lay back against the pillows, waiting, watching.
Bell's words had him burning hot enough to melt metal. Careful of the wires, Athan re-arranged himself so that he straddled Bellamy's head and then slowly he fed the wide tip between his open lips. He enjoyed watching Bellamy's sensual lips stretch over the head of his prick, his eyes gazing up at Athan. He watched as Bell took him into his perfect mouth, watched the length of his prick disappear slowly inside. He felt Bell's tongue swirl over the head, suck him deeper, pierce into his slit to taste him, and slide around the circumference beneath the hooded head. He shuddered with sensations.
He sucked him in, and Athan fed him as he requested, inch by slow inch, receded and fed him more. The glistening length rode in and out of Bell's mouth, becoming wetter and wetter. Bell's hands were at Athan's scrotum, kneading and playing with his balls. Weighing them, fondling between them, beneath them. Athan felt his orgasm building, like an oncoming storm building momentum. It wasn't just a matter of spending, this was pleasure, pure and simple pleasure, and he wanted it to go on and on.
"Bellamy," he growled. "Damn you. I'm going to come."
Bell gripped him tighter, sucked him deeper, letting him know he wasn't going anywhere, and his mouth and tongue drew on him, driving him quickly over the edge. There was no going back and he came inside Bellamy's heavenly mouth, pulsing spurt after spurt down his throat. The room spun around him, like his heart and soul were sucked completely from his body and into Bellamy's gorgeous mouth. When it was over, Bell took his time licking him clean, then finally released him.
Athan tried to catch his breath and dropped beside him onto the bed. It felt like his cock was still pulsing, still spewing with aftershocks. He closed his eyes and tried to gain back some of his self-control, then stiffened when a warm hand grasped him and Bell leaned over and kissed him on the mouth. "Let me show you how really perfect this can all be, Athan."
His hand rode his cock, cuddled and cradled his balls. A finger trailed along his crack, then pressed into his sphincter. No one had been inside him like that since Dr. Cornelius, and that was a long time ago. "Let me show you, Athan," he whispered. Damn, he needed this man.
"All right," he finally rasped out, unable to refuse him another moment. Already he felt like he was going to come again. Bell's finger burrowed deeper inside his hole, retreated and did it again. "All right," he screamed as he came again, this time in Bell's hand. "I'll set it up for tonight. I just hope, for both our sakes, that you're ready."
\*
Athan prepared the electrophasm machine that night. This was what Bellamy wanted, and Athan felt he had no right to hold him back any longer. Certainly not because of his own fears. When all was ready with the dials reset for Bellamy's weight and height, Athan powered up the machine in preparation for the transfer and went in to get Bellamy.
"It's almost time. Are you certain you're ready for this?"
Bell nodded firmly. "I'm more than ready. No more waiting, Athan. How will it work?"
"You'll enter the electrophasm unit. Somehow the elixir acts as a protective barrier in your system and as a conductor to the electricity. It will provide you with the food your body needs to survive. I don't know all the hows and whys to the procedure. I don't think even the doctors knew, or there would have been more of us."
"But you don't remember creating me?"
Athan shook his head. "Nothing at all. But I remember Dr. Sheba speaking to me and then something must have happened. I can only surmise what occurred from the bottles that were still out on the table. I've tried to remember, but it's gone. Everything else was cleaned up and you were...well, as you are. I know I must have been the one to complete the procedure, but I don't know how or what chemicals I introduced into your system."
"But this electrophasm should work?"
"Yes. Without the process, if I hadn't connected you to the temporary charge during your recovery, you wouldn't have died, but your higher intelligence would be reduced to your most primitive nature with no societal restrictions."
Bellamy looked up at him. "You experienced that, didn't you? According to Sheba's journal."
"Yes. I haven't tested the treatment since then. I have learned to be able to tell when I need treatment. It's one of the reasons I don't venture far from the estate. I do not wish to harm anyone and there is no one left to stop me if something should occur."
"I'm here now. We'll just have to watch out for each other."
Athan smiled. It felt good to have someone with him again whom he could depend on.
Bell was quiet for a long time. "You would have asked Korrie to stay, wouldn't you? She would have been your companion."
Athan looked into his eyes. He leaned forward in the chair, placing his hands on Bellamy's shoulders. "Yes, I would have asked her to stay. I would have kept her with me until her death. Just as I did the Ransoms. I loved her. But she is a part of you now and we can't go back. Does it bother you, knowing how you were created?"
"I don't know. I guess sometimes it does. I don't think I feel like a whole person yet. And I'm not sure about you. Who do you see when you look at me? Who is it you really love?"
Athan sighed. "I've truly loved few people since my creation. I am the only person who knows what you feel, what you are going through. I was created from the body of a prostitute and the mind of a philosopher. Both men, but very different sorts of people. It took time to adjust."
"And you've created me from the mind of a female doctor and the body of a male murderer. I have a feeling it's going to cause me more than a few moments of displacement."
"Bellamy Andrews is neither. Bellamy, just like me, you will become your own person."
"But the sex rules you, doesn't it? You need it to survive. Is that the prostitute or the intellect? That's what scares me."
"I wondered about that for a long time. I have come to believe it is neither. The treatment is what magnifies the need, partly because of the necessity to expend. And partly because intimacy is a necessary part of all human nature ‑‑ it is simply magnified in us."
Athan heard the steady humming of the machine behind him in the other room. "You will find your way, Bell. Trust me. And it won't be the path of the murderer. Of that, I'm certain. Now, I need to get you unhooked. We must move quickly. The machine is ready. Are you?"
Bellamy stood. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be. I hope you're right about all this, Athan."
He stood quietly as Athan removed each of the wires that connected him to the mobile machine. Athan then led him to the other room, where the electrophasm machine was waiting.
"It feels strange after all these months of not being able to move freely, like I've been attached to a leash. The odd exercises when you let me get up still kept me connected to that damn machine. I'm really looking forward to this."
Bellamy approached the machine and studied it.
"Turn around," Athan instructed. He positioned Bellamy into the machine with his arms outstretched and the cuffs, chest, and leg locks ready and prepared to close. He pulled down the ring and enclosed Bellamy's cock inside.
"This is getting a tad scary, Athan."
"Relax." He attached the electrode patches over his nipples and his heart and two more at his temples.
"I'm thinking this might be worse than that damned jailer you had me attached to. You're not leaving, right? In case something goes wrong?"
Athan finished the adjustments and then looked at Bellamy. "Relax. I won't leave you. I'll be right here waiting for you. Nothing will go wrong." He leaned forward and pressed a passionate kiss to Bellamy's mouth. "Right here." Athan reached over and flicked the switch, then quickly stepped away.
He watched as the machine revved up and the cuffs closed around Bell's wrists. He saw him stiffen as the juice began to course through his body. His eyes rolled back as rings of lightning surrounded him, lighting up the whole room.
Athan was awed by what he witnessed. This is what he experienced every time he used the machine. He'd had no idea. He just knew what it felt like to feel all that energy passing through his body. The power he was imbued with.
The electrical surges continued for a long time ‑‑ long enough that Athan was concerned it wouldn't shut off automatically. Then he heard it begin to wind down and the arcs of lightning lessened, until finally they ceased completely. But the rings of light surging through Bellamy were strong and bright.
Athan could tell he was okay as he returned to consciousness. The clamps released. Sluggishly, Bell removed the electrodes and the band around his penis. He stepped off the platform and fell to his knees.
Athan rushed forward to help him up.
"No, stay back." Bell's head snapped up to pin him beneath his lightning gaze. He shifted and glowed, glimmered brightly, the pupils of his eyes surging with white electricity, and Athan caught his breath at the wild beauty kneeling before him. Every bit of him exuded stunning power.
He had to wonder how he hadn't frightened any of his own partners away before he could expend. Now he knew why Dr. Sheba had given him the cape with the hood to wear when he left the grounds.
Slowly, Bellamy rose from the floor--Atlas rising--and he faced Athan. He tilted his head as he gazed at Athan. "It is more than I expected. So much more. You and I, Athan. We are the only ones." He took a step in Athan's direction.
"Yes." Athan watched him approach with predatory steps, struck by the grace and masculine power exuding from him. His body was drawn into tight, glowing, magnificent lines.
"You know what I need." He took another step, watching Athan as he did so. "You look different to me."
Athan nodded. "I know. It is the power you need to expend."
"But you are like me, and with you I don't need to worry about self-control, do I? I can't hurt you in the same way we might other, more mortal, people."
Athan caught his breath. He'd never been able to allow his self-control to slip. He could have killed someone if he had. Just as he had done to Paul.
Bell rushed Athan just then, powerfully driving him back against the wall, the bottles on the shelves clattering. "I can do exactly what I like to you, can't I?" He ran a finger down his chest, raising sparks in its path. Athan felt the heat and crackle of every inch of that touch.
"Yes, Bell. Whatever you want, I'll give it to you." He'd never been in this position before. Yet, he found it more arousing than anything he'd experienced thus far.
Bellamy grabbed his cock possessively, and Athan thought he was going to die of the pleasure. The shocks surged through his body at the firm, possessive touch.
"Mine, Athan. You have made me and I am your equal. Do you realize that?"
"You're the one I've waited for all this time. That part of me that's been missing ‑‑ the part that I needed."
Bellamy grabbed his wrists and clamped them to the wall above his head. Athan had no desire to break the hold, his breathing quickened. Bellamy licked his lips, rimmed them with his tongue, and small shock waves coursed through Athan's body. It felt like a sparkler trailed all over his flesh as Bellamy rubbed against him. It was invigorating and arousing, better than he could have imagined. Is this what his partners had felt? God, it was amazing.
Athan's lips parted. He wanted this more than he could have thought possible. He wanted to be fucked by this man.
"Into the bedroom," Bellamy growled, his eyes snapping flames and lust. He yanked Athan away from the wall and shoved him toward the bedroom. When they reached the bed, Bell shoved him down onto his back. "Lubricant."
Athan could hardly speak, he was so filled with anticipation. "On the table." He pointed across the room. "Over there."
Bellamy quickly retrieved it and returned to the bed. Uncapping it, he poured some onto his hands and around Athan's anus. Then he thrust two fingers inside, stretching and preparing his puckered orifice to be penetrated.
"Have you let any of your lovers fuck you, Athan? In all of these years. Did you let Paul?"
"No," he gasped and arched. "None of them. Except Dr. Cornelius. Only him."
Bellamy added a third finger, and Athan groaned at the penetration and the electrical shocks that surged through him.
"You're practically a virgin then, aren't you?"
All he could do was undulate with the pleasure and arch up, begging for more. The fingers left him and Athan felt the tip of Bell's thick erection at his entrance. He shoved in and Athan felt like he was being split apart. It was as though he was being possessed by the wrath of Mother Nature ‑‑ wild and beautiful, frightening and primal.
And he wanted more. He needed him deeper.
Harder.
Faster.
"Fuck me," he screamed. Bell grabbed his stiff nipples and twisted as he drove into him. Athan hissed at the pleasure-pain of sensations that shot through him.
Bellamy was so right. There was no need for self-control between them. He could give and take with total abandon. Without fear. Because this was his mate ‑‑ the other part of himself that he'd waited an eternity for. There would be no secrets, no fear between them. They would depend on each other to survive. They would love each other without restraint or fear.
Bell's thick cock hammered him over and over until finally he buried himself completely, his seed spilling deep into Athan's core, reaching the heart of him. Touching that spot that no other lover could reach.
I am your vessel. Fill me.
Wave after wave of electrical energy surged through him, pouring into him, expanding inside him. Passing magnetic power between two sources that thrived together. Souls united in body. Parts melded together ‑‑ welded as one.
"Yes, Bell, yes."
Bellamy didn't stop. He possessed Athan over and over again, expending inside him, filling him to overflowing each time. Driving him higher and higher with each orgasm that took him to the stars and beyond. Taking control of him in ways he could never have imagined, never have thought possible.
This was how it was meant to be, the pieces that fit so perfectly. His mate. For eternity.
October 28, 2007
Journal of Bellamy Andrews
He is beautiful. He is everything I could have wished for in a lover. It has been two years since my creation and I have only now decided to write this down. There are moments when I feel the thoughts and emotions of Korrie Odell, but I have absorbed her inside myself. The woman he loved has become a part of the man he cannot live without. I have made certain of this. Some days it is an odd feeling blending male and female, but I have become used to two parts of one residing in this body. These parts of separate body and mind have come together in agreement. I have no regrets.
Perhaps my passionate jealousy comes from the root of the man and not the woman. I no longer can tell the difference, nor do I want to. What I am, he created. What I will always be is the mate he desired. That perfect counterpart to him, as he is to me.
He has chosen not to rebuild the house that was burnt to the ground and I don't blame him. He says there are no longer spirits here ‑‑ they have all left. The rage of the inferno two years ago has somehow cleansed this place. Enough for us to live in peace.
We spend our time studying the sciences and philosophy and the creation of life. We argue, we play, we make love. We live.
We are still protected in the world we have created here in Fall's Creek. Sometimes I would like to see more of the world, but for now I listen to Athan's caution. He has survived much longer than I and until we find a way to mobilize the machine, I am content. For now.
It's time to prepare. Athan must take his electrophasm treatment tonight. Maybe one day I'll document all these adventures. The other day we were working in the garden near the tool shed and found the experimental folders that Paul hid. Athan was shocked at their discovery.
Between the journals and the disks he found in Paul's coat and now the folders, all of the Ransoms' experimental notes have been recovered. They reside once again in the vault in the lab. Athan thinks we should just burn them, so they can never be used as a means to greed again. But I cautioned that we should wait. One never knows if they might be useful once again. After all, immortality is a very long time.
I hear the hum of the machine as Athan readies it for his treatment. Tonight I shall be his vessel, I shall be the one possessed and mounted. Again and again. No two creatures have ever been so perfectly mated as Athan and I.
My soulmate calls.
THE END
Adrianna Dane
The first defining love story Adrianna read back in junior high school was Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte, and that set her on the road to her long standing love affair with the romance genre. Her inspiration in writing often can be found by listening to song lyrics and reading poetry by such poets as Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Edgar Allen Poe, and Ranier Maria Rilke. But finding inspiration for her stories truly has no boundaries for Adrianna.
She freely admits she is a romantic by nature and adding sensual heat to romance with a dusting of suspense is her motto. Esmerelda's Secret, released by Amber Quill Press in June of 2004, was Adrianna's first book, and with that story and her subsequent books has firmly established herself as a voice within the sensual/erotic romance genre.
Adrianna always looks forward to hearing from her readers and she may be contacted at adriannadane@yahoo.com. Find out more about her current releases as well as planned future releases and book signings by checking for updates at www.adriannadane.com.

