Deviation (Clone Chronicles #2)(54)

I nod.

“Tell me something. Do you care for me?”

“Of course. More than I—more than I thought possible,” I say.

“A copy of someone else would only care for what that person cares for. You are your own person, Ven. You’re my person now, and I need you to be safe. Make choices that keep you safe. Not just for yourself, but for me. Can you do that?”

I want to cry and laugh and kiss him. “Yes. I can do that.”

“Good. So, first—”

“Don’t tell me to run.”

He grimaces. “Fine. I won’t. Not yet.” He casts his eyes to the ceiling and then says, “First, we should talk to Daniel.”

My brow lifts. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, are you sure you only want to talk?”

“Depends on what he says. For now, yes, talking is all that’s on the agenda.”

“And why should we talk to Daniel?”

“I think he knows more than he lets on.” It’s clear by his tone how hard it is for him to admit Daniel might be more than just someone to beat on. Someone worthy of conversation.

“What do you mean?” I think back to Daniel’s cryptic words to me that day I visited him in his cell.

“He said something to me last night—”

I’m thrown sideways, off Linc’s lap and onto the cushion beside him, as the knob engages.

The door opens and Maria pushes a breakfast cart into the room. I straighten and lean away from Linc, frantically smoothing my hair and sweater. Heat rises to my cheeks.

My panic is delayed and then visible as my expression shifts and freezes on the pile of disabled devices at Linc’s feet. It takes me a moment to realize Linc has covered them with his boot. Maria’s eyes flick over us, settling on me before following my gaze to Linc’s boot. Her brows wrinkle. She gives me a searching look as she wheels the cart to a stop in front of us.

“Breakfast. You two eat,” she says.

My stomach growls, suddenly ravenous at the suggestion of food. “Thank you, Maria,” Linc says. Maria nods and backs toward the door.

“Maria, how is Sofia?” I blurt before she can retreat.

She stops and considers me. Concern and a deep-set disgust fill her features. “She will mend.” Her eyes flick to Linc. “Thank you,” she says, although it’s curt. I realize she must think we’re being listened to. “I owe you for what you did.”

I make my way toward her and, although she looks like a spooked animal, I hug her anyway. She doesn’t hug me back but she doesn’t move away, either. I squeeze lightly and smile at her. “You don’t owe him anything. He didn’t do it for a favor.”

She shakes her head and, for a moment, the fear and sorrow break through in the form of brimming tears. Her hands shake and she grabs her apron and balls the fabric in her fists. “He’s everywhere. Always listening,” she whispers. “Don’t let him hear you care. He’ll only use it against you.”

“He can’t hear us now,” I whisper back. “Your words are safe.”

She looks as if she doesn’t quite believe me and glances at Linc. I look back at him in time to see him raise his foot, revealing all of the disabled listening devices. Maria’s eyes widen. She looks at him and back at me. “Don’t trust it,” she finally whispers, shaking her head as if to clear it.

I get the impression she’s talking about me rather than to me and my heart sinks.

She straightens, squares her shoulders. “Sofia will be fine. Back to work by this afternoon,” she says in a clipped voice. She closes the door with a decided click as she leaves.

My shoulders fall. Linc is right there to envelop me. His arms are warm and solid, chasing away the shakiness of the moment. “Don’t blame yourself. She’s seen too much to trust her eyes,” he says softly into my ear.

His hands rub up and down my back, smoothing the stress away. Eventually, his hands find their way from my back to my hair and then my face. I lean into his palm and he cups my cheek. The tension from earlier returns and I’m swept away by the look in his eyes and the welling feeling in my chest that I can’t name.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, tracing a line from my temple to jaw with his fingertip.

I lower my lashes, deflecting the compliment out of habit, but he doesn’t let me get away with that. He hooks his finger underneath my chin, forcing my gaze back to his. “You should look at me when I tell you you’re beautiful,” he says softly

“Why?” A flush colors my cheeks.

“Because, someday, I want you to realize it for yourself.”

His words seem to go beyond any surface meaning. I consider it carefully, still holding his gaze. When I can’t stand to be studied any longer, I press my lips to his cheek. “You make me feel beautiful, Linc. Thank you.”

Our lips collide, falling over top of one another to get enough. Enough contact, enough sensation, enough fulfillment. There isn’t enough of any of those to make me want to stop.

My feet move without much prodding on Linc’s part. In no time, I am backed against the wall next to the closed door and my sweater lands somewhere near my feet, leaving only my thin blouse. I want more. I have no idea where this came from, but I love that he’s no longer being careful. I am not as breakable as he sometimes treats me and this is such a welcome and thrilling change; I don’t want it to end before I’ve taken all I can get from it.