In any case, I wasn’t entirely sure that the idea wasn’t fatally flawed—freedom from harm by simply telling the truth. Yes, okay, pulling the curtain off my existence might prevent our enemies from taking action against us because the world would be watching, or whatever.
But that “freedom” also looked a whole lot like exposure.
After all, how easy was it to make one person disappear? It wasn’t just GTX and its competitors involved in this, but the government. To what lengths would they go to hide that they’d been lying, not only about human experimentation but also the existence of extraterrestrials? Talk about bad press.
On top of it all, I had no idea which way public opinion would swing. Would they see me as an underdog, someone deserving of their sympathy, or a threat to all of humanity that the government had been trying to contain? I knew which way the Department of Defense would try to spin it. They’d stuck to that ridiculous weather balloon cover story for Roswell for more than half a century. Issuing official bald-faced lies was not new territory.
But if I took going public off the table because of the risks, that left us with what? Pretty much nothing, other than driving around the country in aimless circles until our luck or money ran out.
I held in the scream of frustration building in my throat. Even out here, GTX and the others were controlling me—limiting my choices and forcing me to react to their moves, like a stupid pawn being chased around the board. Vulnerable and powerless, worthy only as a sacrifice.
I hated this. Hated them. Jacobs. GTX. Even Laughlin and Emerson St. John, neither of whom I’d met.
They hate us so much. Mara’s words echoed in my head. She’d been referring to Laughlin’s hybrids, but it might as well have been me. She’d sounded wounded, almost surprised, by this, but I could well imagine it, if their experience was anything like mine.
And it seemed as though Ford had been taking action in her own way, playing a cat-and-mouse sort of game in the absence of the ability to really hurt or punish Mara for what she’d done. Laughlin would have likely forbidden that, as he probably considered Mara an asset, but mental games seemed like a potentially gray area. I didn’t condone it exactly, but I understood it. I might have even done the same thing, if I’d had the freedom.…
I sat up, making Zane’s arm fall to my lap. What was it Mara had said about them? That unless Dr. Laughlin had given the hybrids strict orders, they pursued their own interests. She’d also said something about them being in school and/or in public, an attempt to mimic the cultural immersion portion of my training. Either one meant the hybrids were at least sometimes outside of what was likely some pretty formidable security at Laughlin Integrated.
If I could find them, I could try to talk to them.
The idea sent chills skittering over my skin, in both excitement and uncertainty. They were, in all likelihood, the closest thing to blood relatives I had. But I knew from watching full human families, including Zane’s, that shared DNA was no guarantee of kindness or even similar perspectives.
And technically, I was a competitor. They might want to kill me. That had to be a consideration. Approaching the other hybrids, assuming I could find them, would mean gambling that they hated Laughlin more than they wanted to beat me.
But to have any hope of winning this game—and freedom for Zane and me—I needed to get on the board as a player instead of a pawn, and that would be a lot easier with allies, some extra hybrid help. If I could, for once, act instead of react, and take GTX, Laughlin, and whomever else by surprise, Zane and I might have a chance.
Of course, I wasn’t really sure mutual hate was a solid basis for a potential alliance, but it was worth a shot, right?
It wasn’t like I had any better options. Or, for that matter, any options at all.
Zane shifted in his sleep, pulling his arm tighter against me, and I lay back down.
Especially not with everything I had to lose.
8
Zane
I’D NEVER SLEPT WITH A girl before. Not actual sleeping, anyway. So I didn’t have anything to compare it to, but waking up and finding Ariane still next me was one of the best moments of my life.
The van was hotter than hell. Ariane was curled up against my side, making her seem even smaller than she was, which was a feat.
Her pale cheeks were flushed with heat, and her whitish-blond hair appeared darker, sticking to her skin in funny ringlets and waves. It probably wasn’t good for her—for either of us—to be so warm. We needed to get out of here. To where, I wasn’t sure. But not here was a start.
I sat up and shook her shoulder gently. “Hey,” I whispered to her. “Ari.”
She blinked at me, the blue tinted lenses in her eyes slipping a little with the motion.
“Hey,” she said, the word raspy with sleep.
“Don’t you need to take those out?” I asked, frowning.
Ariane stared up at me befuddled, as if she wasn’t quite awake.
“Your contact lenses,” I said with a laugh. Evidently she wasn’t a morning person either. “Aren’t you supposed to—”
She reached up and touched my face, her fingertips tracing the outline of my mouth lightly, and I stopped talking. Stopped breathing.
Then she pulled away, her eyes wide as if her action had taken her by surprise as well. But she didn’t retreat completely, her hand hovering between us, as if she wasn’t sure what to do.
I didn’t move. We were on the edge of something. She hadn’t let me kiss her at the motel. I didn’t know if she wanted me to now; we hadn’t since before GTX, since before that awful party at Rachel’s when Ariane had stepped up to help me and revealed herself.
And I wanted her to choose. She was a mind reader. She knew what I wanted, but it was up to her. Things were infinitely more complicated than they’d been before, when we were pretending to date to fool Rachel, and I wouldn’t hold the precedent over her head. We were, in effect, starting over.
Ariane sat up slowly, her pale and heavy hair loose and sliding around her shoulders. I could hear my breath rushing in and out as she moved closer, and I could see the pulse throbbing in her throat.
She curled her fingers hesitantly in the collar of my shirt, and keeping her gaze fixed on me, she leaned in.
Her lips brushed lightly over mine. So light, in fact, it felt more like one of those accidental mouth brushes when you go to kiss someone on the cheek and miss.
It was still electrifying, oddly enough, ramping up the tension and anticipation I could feel building between us, but I didn’t understand it.
She did it again, watching me carefully, her expression serious, cautious.
And it finally clicked with me. She was afraid. Afraid I’d pull back or run away. Afraid I’d panic. She was giving me an out.
I didn’t need one.
I slid my hand to the back of her head, my fingers tangling in her hair, and angled my mouth against hers, tasting her deeply, showing no hesitation, no fear. It was easy. I didn’t feel any.
Ariane clutched at my shoulders, her breath escaping in a quiet gasp, sending a gratifying thrill through me.
Then she wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled herself into my lap.
Blood rushing away from my head, I promptly forgot about pretty much everything except for her tongue in my mouth and her body against mine. I’d seen those slight curves before, in the motel, but feeling them pressed up against me was an entirely different sensation.
Framing her face with my free hand, I could feel the delicate bones of her cheeks and jaw under my questing fingertips. When she tipped her head back, I pulled my mouth from hers and pressed my lips against the pulse fluttering frantically at her throat, beneath damp skin.