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I was much more beast than man when the military liberated me from the facility where the evil scientists held me prisoner. The staff there rarely spoke to us. We were trained only enough to take orders and be good soldiers. Between my genetics and the constant abuse, I was angry and bestial when the soldiers opened the door to my cage and told me I was free three years ago.
Since then, I’ve worked to tame my inner beast, though with all the animal DNA coursing through me, it’s sometimes a struggle.
This is one such moment. My inner lion wants to roar loud enough to blow back Jenna’s pretty brown hair. I want to tell her it’s one thing to take orders from every male I’ve ever met and quite another to take orders fromher.
Perhaps she reads my every thought, because she shrugs, returns the broom she offered me to the corner, turns her back on me, and sweeps a pile of leaves toward the still-open door.
She turned her back on me. Does she not realize I’m furious? Does she have no idea my tail lashing low to the ground and my soundless snarl are threats?
I’m paralyzed as I assess this moment.
I may not know her well, but I’ve seen enough to know she’s not stupid. There may be two armed males not ten feet from us, but she’s smart enough to know I could leap at her just as I did the mouse. I could take her down and have her vulnerable throat clutched tightly in my fangs before the males could protect her.
She’s giving me choices. Not ordering me around.
This female smells delicious and I think she’s pretty. I thought that was the extent of who she was and why I was interested. But there’s more to her than that. She’s smart and kind. Perhaps we might become friends.
I grab the broom and move to the other corner to sweep, not wanting to crowd her.
“Noble? Are you… purring?”
Chapter Nine
Jenna
My heart is pounding loud enough to be the percussion section of a symphony. I don’t know what special power these splicers have, but I imagine Noble can hear my heartbeat.
What he did to that little mouse? I think he was contemplating doing it to me. I don’t know where I found the courage to turn my back on him, but I think it diffused the situation.
The purring? That’s another thing entirely. I can’t fathom what it means.
Now that the tension in the room has evaporated and I’ve given his adrenaline a few minutes to dissipate, I strike up a conversation.
I’m not ready to ask about his past. Frankly, I doubt there’s much I want to know. He was kept in a cage his whole life. My imagination is good enough to know how difficult his life has been.
I start to chatter, trying to ignore our two armed guards, wanting to connect with the male who volunteered, no matter his motive, to help me get this bakery up and running.
Since we’ll be working as a team for a while, we might as well get to know each other.
I tell him about my background, giving him my history in broad brushstrokes. Only child. Middle-class family. Average grades.
Then I tell him about the Easy-Bake Oven and my efforts to create the perfect cupcake.
“I don’t like sweets.”
He said it matter-of-factly, with no malice. Whatever happened when I handed him the broom is ancient history.
We’re now wiping down the walls with extra cleaning supplies one of the soldiers brought at my request. I stop in mid-stroke, my body almost paralyzed as I stare at him.
I’m a chubby girl. I’ve always been one as far back as I can remember. Not liking sweets as much as I do? I can understand that. Not liking sweetsat all?I can’t comprehend.
“You don’t like sweets?”
“No.”
He’s still washing decades of dust off of the walls, but must sense my confusion because he stops working and gives me eye contact, though we’ve been avoiding looking at each other since he almost attacked me when I asked him to sweep.
“Maybe… you’ve just never tasted something really yummy.”
