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I knew my plan was working when I began to hear them in my mind. They broadcast without even realizing what they are doing—they should die for that alone. I knew that even though they have severed a connection with Four and the others, that they would prove useful—and I was right.
For days, all I’ve heard is whining that the others are lying to Seven’s mate. It fucking burns that Seven managed to foil my plans to grab Grace. I knew she was a mate to our kind. The pups don’t know how to identify them yet and Four hasn’t bothered to tell them. There’s a sickly sweetness to their blood that can be hard to detect unless you know what you’re looking for. Of course, you can only detect that in a mate’s blood that is not your own. Since my mate is dead, that is no longer an issue. It also makes finding the others even more fun.
I haven’t given up my plan to get Grace. She will be mine. Seven has made it a little more challenging, but I have a plan in motion, and it only took putting a few mental thoughts in some doctor’s head to set it in motion. It’s imperative that I know what is planned and make sure there are no surprises. Draven was weak when he ran the facility.
I won’t make that mistake.
As I sort through the chaos-pea-sized brain that belongs to Eight, I discover that they’re all planning a meeting with Seven and a couple others from the compound. That’s good information to have—but the best information is the fact that Seven will drop Grace off for her checkups with only Ten to watch over her. I eavesdrop until I get the date and time and disconnect. I breathe in the clean air of my apartment until the scent of dog no longer burns my nostrils. Only then do I grin.
It’s time to put my plan into motion…
13
#7
(STARK)
“I don’t like leaving you here,” I grumble under my breath.
I’ve only had Grace at the compound three days, but those three days have been the best of my life. We haven’t really touched. We don’t even share the bed. I don’t want her to feel rushed. Besides, my mate is under my roof. I’m happy enough sleeping on the sofa in the common area knowing she’s close and safe. She’s been reserved and it may be my imagination, but I think she’s starting to like me. This morning while she was eating breakfast she reached out and touched my hand to get my attention and didn’t remove it until we stopped talking.
Involuntarily, my gaze drifts down to my hand. I find myself smiling. My hand is warm, and my blood feels as if it’s buzzing. I feel… alive. That’s when it hits me. I was merely existing without Grace. That’s why I’ve been so desperate to find her. I look back at her. She’s staring at me. Her blue eyes are large, round, and soft. They are beautiful and full of kindness. I could stare at them forever and be happy. Still, I can see the confusion in them and that makes guilt hit me. I wish I could be completely honest with her. The need to be that way is so strong that if I allow it, it will bring me to my knees. I can’t though. I can just see how that conversation would go. So, Grace, I’m basically a test tube baby that was raised in captivity. Also, I’m not sure how old I am, but I’ve looked like this since I was four, and I feel like I’m a hundred years old. Oh, by the way, I’m basically a vampire except my skin doesn’t glow like in that movie Ettie likes. Still, I would like to bite you, take your blood, and give you mine? Okay?
Yeah, I don’t see that working.
All at once, Grace frowns and starts shaking her head.
“What’s wrong, Gracie?”
Her nose curls. “I thought we weren’t going to use that name, and I don’t really know. It’s probably a good thing I am seeing a therapist like they suggested. I keep hearing weird voices in my head.”
“Weird how?” I ask, instantly worried.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s not real. It’s just a product of the stress from the accident. Well, that and not remembering my past. I’ll be fine… Hey, what did I call you?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, every time I start to call you Stark, it just feels wrong.”
“It does?” My heart speeds up as she explains. I don’t know why, but it just feels like she knows I’m lying to her and she’s picking apart things.
“Yeah, did I have a pet name for you or something? Stark seems so… severe.”
“Well, shit.”
“What?” she asks sounding startled but laughing.
“No man wants to think his name is too severe for his woman,” I explain.
