Mercury Striking (The Scorpius Syndrome #1)(27)

A pretty pink dashed across her high cheekbones. “Don’t hurt me.”

The plea, made as a statement, tunneled deep into him and planted hard. He closed his eyes. Of its own volition, his body began to move. He dropped his forehead to hers, skin to skin, heart-to-heart, and started to thrust. Slow and powerful, he shoved inside her, a sense of urgency and coming home surrounding him.

He altered his angle, and she gasped. His lips formed a smile against her damp skin, and he did it again. Caught up in the moment, caught up in the woman, he pounded harder, allowing them both to just feel. Enough thinking.

She broke first, his name a cry on her lips. The vibrations clawed into him, and he pushed deep, coming hard.

They panted against each other for the briefest of moments, their heartbeats slamming to the same rhythm.

He fell to the side, his gaze captured by the blue glow. Holding his hand over her heart, he counted the beats. “Amazing.”

She shut her eyes and struggled for air. “That’s one description.”

“I’ve heard rumors of how the blue happened, but what’s the truth?”

She rolled over onto her stomach and stretched her arms above her head, revealing her long, smooth back. “I don’t want to talk about it.” The pillow muffled her voice.

He had to get to work, but instead flattened his hand between her shoulder blades. Blue glimmered between his fingers. They should start at the beginning. “Did the Scorpius bacteria really come from a meteorite, or did the government create a biological weapon?”

She sighed and turned her head to face him. “Meteorite. A group of Stanford students went meteorite hunting in the Nevada desert, which was quite common. They found a meteorite that had probably fallen after the Scorpius comet passed by, and they cut it open, letting loose the bacteria.”

So the CDC had been telling the truth. “The story seems impossible.”

She shrugged against his hand. “Not really. NASA had been worried we’re sending bacteria into space with every shuttle mission, and we’ve successfully experimented on bacteria living in space.”

“Yeah, but really? Bacteria from outer space.”

She snorted. “Everything on our planet came from outer space, Jax. All the bacteria here. It’s totally plausible.”

When she put it like that, he guessed it made sense. “The strain was instantly deadly? Without any mutations caused by the government?”

“Yes. Scorpius killed 99 percent of the people infected.”

“Did you create the Scorpius strain that turned your heart blue?”

She shut her eyes. “Yes. My team at the CDC took the original strain and mutated it in an effort to find a cure—colored it blue. The mutated strain was special and one of a kind, and no matter how hard we tried to copy it, we couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

She sighed. “We used DNA from a rare squid, and it appears the little monster had a mutation of its own, and we were never able to find another one. Well, we didn’t have a chance to find one before all hell broke loose, you know? I’m sure there are more out there somewhere, but now, how will we ever find them? And do we care? I mean, I’m not immune, and I don’t seem to have any gifts except for a blue heart.”

He nodded. “I guess. It seems like you have to be different, even if we haven’t figured out why yet. So, what happened after you created the mutation?”

“A lab aide, not even my aide, purposely infected me before going on a rampage to spread the contagion.”

“Was he crazy?”

“Yes. He’d been infected, was one of the people who’d become a sociopath. I mean, if he wasn’t one already.” She sighed. “Scorpius is capable of stripping the frontal cortex of a victim and turning him or her into a serial killer. We tried to figure out who and why, but as with any illness, it affects different people differently.”

“Where is the guy who infected you now?” Jax asked softly.

“I have no clue. Zach was captured and secured somewhere to be studied by the government, and I don’t know what happened to him when everything went south.”

Jax caressed down to the small of her waist. Small. Definitely delicate. “Is Zach the person you want me to kill?”

She opened her eyes and seemed to stare through him. “If you ever run across Zach Barter, microbiologist, feel free to cut off his head. But no, he’s not the one you bargained to end for me.”

End? “Kill.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“If you’re contracting for me to take a life, then you’re not allowed euphemisms. Kill. You want me to kill.”

Fire lit her eyes. “Yes. I want you to kill.” No hesitation, no regret in her tone. But fear? Yeah, enough fear filled her eyes to amount to terror.

He pressed against her tailbone, his fingers extending across her waist. “I won’t let anybody hurt you, Lynne.” It was as close to a personal promise as he could make in his current situation, but he meant every word.

“I know,” she said softly.

Even if they hadn’t slept together, he’d protect her as one of his own. Sex did create a deeper motivation, and a smart woman would know that. He moved his hand. “Is that why you slept with me?”

She angled her head to better study him. “I’ve made it this far and this long without bartering my body, Jax. I slept with you because it felt good, and you intrigued me.”