Synthetic Dreams (13 page)

Her fingers curled away. He always would be.

Chapter Twelve

Sunlight slanted across her face, golden warm perfection. A soft sigh escaped her as the cool trade winds washed through the room, billowing the muslin curtains draped over the wall of glass surrounding the bedroom. The fast fall of water and the calls of exotic birds swept around her, so different to the thunk of old pipes and the scent of rot and damp.

Vyn stretched, finding kinks and bruises everywhere. Her head fell back into the plump pillow and she stared up at the smooth white ceiling. She had to be shadowing, her thoughts, her personality caught in the Mind, her physical body long gone. The place was simply
too
perfect.

She turned, pulled her sheets with her, and Paul’s scent on the pillow made her pause. There were vague dreams just on the edge of her grasp. Of him, the warmth of his body wrapped around hers, keeping away the chill of an empty bed. A wry smile pulled at her mouth. Definitely shadowing.

They’d landed and Paul had left her to hustle Liam out and into the care of the waiting medics. She’d stood, not certain what to do, the warm winds lifting her tangled hair, watching the uniformed people ease Liam into a chair and disappear into the glass-walled rooms of the sprawling private villa. The whirring of insects, the scents of citrus and unknown flowers filled the air. It should have been blissful, but she stood in the darkness. Alone.

She’d roused herself, found a shower and a bedroom overlooking the lush gardens and night-still pool. For a moment, she’d stood in the clinging top and shorts she’d discovered in a drawer and stared up into the star-filled night. The island was beyond beautiful. But she wanted more than that. She wanted him.

Had he prepared for her as he’d prepared for Liam’s arrival? Or did he always leave women’s clothes in his bedrooms? Vyn thumped her pillow. He hadn’t promised her anything, only a date, a bribe to use his body. Liam came first. She couldn’t, she
didn’t
argue with that. How could she be so needy with a man she didn’t know?

She rolled out of bed and sat on the edge of the thick mattress, her warm toes curling against the coolness of the marble floor. “Time?” Her voice was a croak, her lips dry.

“Sixteen-fifty.”
The clock’s voice, soft and synthetic, was a quiet whisper in the room.

Vyn did the calculations. She’d been out for more than twelve hours at least. Her stomach growled as she realised that fact. On the small table beside the bed was a coffeepot and croissants.

Shadowing. Beyond a doubt.

She pushed herself up, finding more aches and stiffness. Shuffling to the bathroom, she brushed her teeth and splashed water onto her face. A squint at her reflection showed her hair was beyond help. Still, she gave it one last pat before she grabbed a croissant and padded to the open window. And stopped.

A metal-railed balcony ran along the bedroom, and leaning against it, wearing nothing but shorts, was Paul. His back was to her and she let her gaze wander down the sleek-muscled perfection of his torso, the biteable curve of his backside, and legs that simply made her sigh. He even had nice feet.

She took a bite from her croissant. Chewing stopped her from saying something inappropriate. Stepping out onto the balcony, she squinted against the sharp burn of the sunlight. Heat swept over her, unexpected and surprising. “Hotter than I imagined.”

Paul didn’t turn and there was no surprise in any of his movements. He’d known she was there. “I’m sorry,” he said.

He wasn’t apologising about the heat. Vyn closed her eyes, her mind jumping to the obvious. She stared down at her bared arms, her intricate scars a burning silver against her pale skin. He was in paradise…and he was stuck with her. “So, what now?”

He faced her and she squinted up at him, his face lost to shadow. “I was tired.” His fingers hovered near her face, her hair, but didn’t touch. His hand dropped. “We need to talk.”

She lifted her croissant. “I need to eat.”

He waved her back into the bedroom, catching the billow of the curtains to let her pass. The cool air of the room made her breathing a little easier. She dropped onto the tangled sheets of the bed and poured herself a cup of coffee. She crammed the rest of the pastry into her mouth and cradled the hot cup.

Paul had paced the entire time. “I wasn’t sure we’d survive.”

Vyn stared into her cup, breathing in the rich scent, wanting it to calm her. “That makes two of us.” She looked up and her smile was wry. “Do you think we’re shadowing?”

He rubbed his hands together, the sounds dry and quick. “Everything would feel less…awkward if we were.”

Awkward.
Yes. Vyn folded her legs, wriggling on the bed to get comfortable and not spill her coffee. She needed to appear nonchalant, because her insides were crawling with nerves and aching disappointment. “What happens now, Paul?”

“Liam will recuperate here. His medical team believe the prognosis to be good.” A smile touched his lips, reached his eyes, and his relief was almost palpable.

Vyn felt like a heel for being so self-focused. “Good. That’s good. Great.”

“And then there’s us.”

“Us.” Vyn sipped her coffee, welcoming the hot burn down her throat. The sunlight played over her bare legs, ones she’d hidden for so many years, the swirl of scarring a reminder of how Paul would not want her.

“Ossian was right. I was thorough.”

She frowned. “What does that mean exactly?”

He stopped pacing. His hands locked and a wince briefly tightened his features. “He set me up, like he said, leaving a trail to your connection with Liam, to the possibility that you could get him out. They’ve watched me for years. I couldn’t do anything until I had something tangible. Ossian gave me you.

“You disappeared the day after Liam was replaced. They had to move you to S-District because he knew what you were. What you could do.

“Ossian leaked the information that they were taking you on the next sweep, forcing me to act. They’d moved you once. And you were acting…strange. So it was probable they would do it again.”

“Strange?” The almost fugue state in which she had created the simulacrum—not sleeping, her fingers working, moving without conscious thought, her brain, her thoughts hardly her own. Had he witnessed that?

“My brother noted it seven years ago. And I was seeing it. I remember him saying you were distracted, almost…lost. It coincided with the strike from the Warrick-Alder Group.” His mouth pulled downwards. “When Liam was replaced, you were on your way to building another simulacrum, protecting the Corporation.”

Vyn blinked. She was? The days around Liam’s disappearance, the accusations and her expulsion into S-District were a blur. Had they not needed her involvement then? A twitchy security system that overreacted to any threat. Lucas’s stupidity and Ossian’s games had obviously pushed her further than she had ever gone.

She put her cup to her lips, relieved to have something to do. The coffee burned her tongue. It was over. Her mind was her own again. For the first time in decades. She looked up. Paul was still watching, his eyes narrowed, his shoulders tensed, and what they’d originally planned to discuss hit her again.
Them.

She pressed her lips together, taking another taste of bitter coffee. “You said you were thorough.”

His fingers flexed and a tick jumped in his jaw. “I got close to you. Moved around your flat, found the drop boxes, knew your place as well as I knew my own. And—” his next wince screamed with unease, “—I watched you.”

Vyn stared at him. Her paranoia
hadn’t
been paranoia. “In my flat?”

“Yes.”

“You’re a pervert.”

“Yes. I am.”

Vyn rubbed the bridge of her nose, hard, not knowing what to think. Her whole life had been built on lies, on false reality. Why shouldn’t
he
be a lie too? She hadn’t believed Ossian, not really. But now Paul was admitting it. “Why? So you could play me, as Ossian has played us?”

“At first.” Paul was nothing if not honest. “Then…” A smile lifted the corner of his mouth and there was a distant shine to his eyes. The shine ran a quick and familiar need through her. If he was twisted, then so was she. “I began to like what I saw.”

“And we’re back to you being a pervert again.”

He dragged a stool from the vanity table in the corner and planted it in front of her. He sat. For a moment, his eyes held hers. “I didn’t expect you, Vyn. I expected some light-fingered Fomorian, a member of a skank gang strung out on white-fyre.”

“Pleasant image.”

“You were…new. Different.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Of course, the woman I first kissed you as was classic executive. Still tasted the same. I prefer the real you.”

Vyn felt the hot flush rise under her skin and she wanted to blame the heat of the coffee. She couldn’t. Paul had known it was her all along? “Why did you kiss me? In the club?”

There was that curl of heat in his eyes again, a dark hunger that formed an echo in her flesh. A hot, restless ache lying low in her belly. She couldn’t remember anyone ever looking at her with that level of…need.

“I wanted you. I still do.”

“Paul…”

He took the cup from her hand and with a clatter put it back onto the tray. “For you, this is insane. You met me yesterday.” He took her hands, his thumbs tracing over the deep scar bisecting her palm. The slow sensation of his touch shot sparks under her skin. “I suppose
I
met
you
yesterday.” He lifted her palm to his mouth and teased his tongue over her scar.

Vyn couldn’t stop her need to squirm, the sharp hit to her belly catching her by surprise.

Paul gave her his wicked smile. “But…I think we should begin to examine—in detail—where this could go.”

Her heart squeezed. Where could it go? He was insanely rich, his disconnection from the Corporation meant he was free to pursue anything and anyone he wanted…and that brought her to how he looked and how she looked. She was far too aware of her strangeness. He’d worked his way under her scarred skin—no doubt due to terror and her reliance on him, on each other to stay alive. She could see herself falling for him. And that scared her more than anything else in the previous twenty-four hours.

She had to push it now. Have him run screaming from her, before she found out if he was as good at everything else as he was at kissing. “And how far would that be? A week, a month?” She let her tongue wet her lips, watching him, watching his own mouth part in anticipation. “Longer?”

His head tilted and his expression sharpened. “Is that it, Vyn?” He dropped down beside her on the bed. “I fuck you, my curiosity is sated and I pack you off. Set you up in one of the small independent companies?”

The words sank through her and she could see that life, feel it, and it was…cold. She’d get over him. She had no doubt about that. Surviving in S-District had taught her how resilient she was. Still, to have him for a brief time and then nothing… It would be better to have nothing from the very beginning. “No. You can give me the money now.”

“I believe my body was the deal, Vyn.” He brought her hand up to his mouth again and pressed his lips to her palm.

The thrill of his touch, the way it connected with and deepened the ache in her flesh, forced her to close her eyes. “Don’t do this.”

“I intend to do exactly this—” his lips teased the pulse point at her wrist, “—for a week, a month—” he held her gaze and the familiar hunger caught her breath, “—
definitely
longer.”

“Paul.”

“I don’t want or need many things. In fact hardly anything.” The softness of his voice made her look at him. Sunlight gilded his face, touched his skin and promised a warmth to it if she pressed her mouth, her body against him. His hand slipped over her hip, finding the sliver of skin between her shorts and top. His thumb dipped under the band, slyly stroking. “I want and need
you.
”

Her throat closed and she simply stared at him. One word worked its way out. “Me?”

“You.”

Vyn jerked back until her spine hit the wooden headboard. “Why?” She winced.
How to look stupid.
She waved her hand at him, trying to put the words together, ones that would make sense. “I don’t get declarations like…that.”

“You saved my brother, you saved me.”

“So…gratitude.”

“I want to fuck you, not give you a medal. Vyn.” He ran quick fingers through his hair. “I let you kiss me when you were a
man.
”

Her mouth twitched upwards. “You did.” She paused. “I liked it. And that you called me…sir.”

Paul narrowed his gaze. He crawled the width of the bed, his attention focused on her with an intensity that had her heart drumming in her ears. “I never plan for the short term. You and me? Long term.”

“You’ve decided?” She let the sarcasm line her voice. “What if I had something different in mind?”

His hand stroked over her calf, tracing the swirls and knots. “Have you?” He dipped fingers behind her knee, his smile dark when she jumped, but his touching didn’t stop there. He teased along her thigh. “Tell me.”

Her mouth opened. She wanted to say something, but she didn’t want to call his bluff. If it was a bluff. And she didn’t want it to be that. More than anything.

A squeal escaped her as he pulled her down onto the mattress. He blocked her with his body, his hands planted either side of her shoulders. Leaning in, his mouth brushed hers. “I promised payment. I keep my word.”

“Only payment?”

His lips teased hers, warm and firm and setting off sparks. She arched into him involuntarily and he grinned. His breath stirred her skin. “You know it’s more than that.”

Vyn closed her eyes, the heat of his body wrapping around her. His scent, warm, musky and touched with the hint of lemon and mint, mixed with the smooth hint of jasmine brought in on the breeze. “This isn’t real.”

Paul pressed light kisses to her jaw, her throat, trailing the lines of her scars to the scooped neck of her top. The quick, impatient noise he made as the flimsy material impeded him broke a smile from her. She wriggled and he pulled the top up, exposing her breasts.