Page 51

Pinpricks tingled my fingers, and my hands numbed from lack of circulation. But I stopped fighting, my muscles heavy with exhaustion.

He straddled my thighs, his chest a lead weight against my restrained arms and back, and his forearms caged my head. “Take a deep breath.”

Seriously? The bastard was crushing my lungs.

He didn’t move, simply waited until he had my undivided, bound-by-a-fucking-belt attention. “If Shea’s recovery follows Elaine’s, she’ll experience flu-like symptoms for a week. Force fluids. Broth if you can find it. After a couple days, make her eat.”

What? I turned my neck to look at him, the grit from the shingles tearing into my cheek. “Why are you telling me this?”

His expression, threatening with its ruthless, sharp lines, was enough to shut my mouth. “I knew something was wrong within days after Aiman bit me.”

I thought back to that day in Iceland, when Michio lay on the edge of the lava canyon with the Drone’s fangs buried in his shoulder. I’d been so desperate to help him, I offered myself in his place, to be the Drone’s snack. What would’ve happened if the Drone had bitten me? How would it have affected my already changing biology?

Michio continued, “While you were training and hunting with Jesse and Roark, I tested my blood on the aphids I found in the mountains.”

And here I thought the sneaky jerk had stayed behind to take care of Elaine.

“My blood has the same lethal properties as yours. Explodes the aphid’s heart within seconds. I also concluded we are both immune. Neither of us carry the infection nor would we mutate from a bite.”

We’d already suspected my immunity. But his?

“You tested this?” Sweat gathered on my neck. “You let an aphid bite you?”

He nodded.

I balled my hands into fists. What a reckless fucking decision, one he’d made with the hope his science wouldn't be proved wrong. And those harrowing minutes afterward, waiting to mutate or not. What if he had? Did he even consider what that would’ve done to me?

“I hate you for taking such a selfish chance with your life.”

“You don’t hate me.” His palm swept down my arm, his voice soft and coaxing. “And now we know.”

“How is it possible? Aiman was infected. He would’ve transferred—”

“Before he bit me, he consumed Frida’s blood, remember?”

Frida. The nymph I’d cured in Iceland. The woman Aiman killed shortly after.

“Whatever you passed along to her cured Aiman of the aphid infection, because I don’t have any of the aphid traits.”

Then it clicked. “You have my traits. My speed, my night vision, my—”

“Sex drive,” he said.

I clenched my teeth. Once upon a time, I’d been diagnosed as a sex addict, but I thought the apocalypse had cured me of that. The whole fighting-everyday-for-my-life thing didn’t leave a lot of room for addictions.

Also, now knowing what I did about my high testosterone and its effect on libido, I wondered if I’d been misdiagnosed. “If what you’re saying is true, wouldn’t I be passing my traits to the nymphs I cure? Elaine might be a horny little man-stealer, but she didn’t show signs of evolving strength and speed.”

“Elaine is…” His eyebrows pulled together.

“Useless?”

“A weak sample,” he corrected, in his professional tone. “Time will tell with Shea.”

“Why did you tell me how to care for her? Where are you—?”

“Let me finish,” he snapped. “Have I made it clear enough that I have not contracted the aphid infection?”

I nodded, but it didn’t dismiss the fangy-spider shit poisoning his veins.

“And since a cured woman reversed Aiman’s aphid infection, it suggests that the cured can cure other nymphs.”

Hallefuckinlujah. I could actually feel some of the tension in my chest loosening and falling away. But with all good things, there was always a downside. Like how I could telepathically command aphids but needed physical contact with a man to power the energy. What was Michio’s handicap?

His body crowded closer around mine. He must’ve read the question in my eyes, and I suddenly feared the answer.

“When I take your blood for regular testing…” His hands gripped my head roughly, one on my nape, the other wrapped around my jaw. “I’ve been ingesting what I don’t use.”

Ingesting? Horror crashed over me. “You drink my blood?” My face ground against the rooftop as I tried to jerk free. “Oh my God, why would you do that?”

“Your blood doesn’t reverse my changes, but it makes me stronger.” Something nebulous and foreboding darkened his expression. “It satisfies the cravings.”

Ice enveloped my spine. “Blood?”

“Yes. The hunger is prominent during extreme emotion or pain.” He held my head in an iron grip, forcing my eyes to his. “And arousal.” He lowered his razor-sharp gaze to my neck, to the pulsing artery right there, an inch from his mouth. “And when I’ve lost a lot of blood. Like tonight.”

I curled my fingers, trying and failing to reach the belt that imprisoned me. “If you fucking bite me, I won’t think twice about testing the various ways your new genetics can heal you.”