Numbers

  “Okay.” She was aware that New Species never left Homeland so he couldn’t take her anywhere far.

  “Don’t be startled.”

  The warning did nothing to prepare her for when he bent and scooped her into his arms. He straightened, spun and strode to the wall. She wrapped her arms around his neck, expecting it when he jumped over the three-foot divider since he’d done it before.

  “Why are you carrying me?”

  “You have short legs and I want to move fast.” He kept looking in all directions as he quickened the pace. He wasn’t exactly running but it was close.

  “What’s going on?” Dana knew something was wrong.

  “Darkness keeps patrolling the area. He’s watching for me.”

  “The guy you fought with? The one who put you in the clinic?”

  “Yes.”

  She felt a little fearful as she glanced around as well. It was too dark to see much, and Mourn moved fast. “Are you going to get into another fight?” she asked, worried.

  “Possibly.”

  “Put me down. I can run.”

  He ignored her request and began to jog. It was a little jarring, but his arms cushioned her for the most part. She clung tighter until they came to a small building. He paused, turned and studied the area.

  “Do you see him?” she whispered.

  “No. It’s windy again, and it will be difficult for him to pick up my scent. That’s another reason I carried you. I rubbed my shoes in the grass to make tracking me more difficult. You would have left a trail for him to follow.”

  “Wow. New Species can do that?” She filed that information away. New Species had to have a highly advanced sense of smell.

  “He’s feline like me and we’re not as good at tracking as the canines, but he could call one here to assist him.” He shifted her weight, opened the door to the shed-sized building, carried her inside and placed her on her feet. He closed them in.

  It was pitch dark. Dana held very still, afraid she might run in to something or trip if items were on the floor. “Where are we?” She kept her voice low.

  “It’s a storage building for our sporting equipment. I’ll turn on the light. Close your eyes so it doesn’t cause you difficulty. It can take a second to adjust.”

  She lowered her head and did as he asked. She heard the soft click of a light switch and peeked, blinking a few times. It wasn’t a bright overhead light, but it was enough to see by. Shelves had been built along one wall and a long bench ran opposite it. Under the wood seat were boxes filled with various balls.

  “It’s private, and warmer than outside. You may sit if you wish.”

  The wood slats weren’t the most comfortable seat but she sat. Mourn hesitated and then joined her, a few feet away. He didn’t look at her, but instead stared forward at the cupboards. The silence grew a little awkward until Dana spoke.

  “How was your day?”

  “Fine. How was yours?”

  “I got a tour of the offices, the Security building, and we had dinner at the bar.”

  He looked at her, and his mouth curved downward in obvious distaste. “You danced with Species?” His nose flared as he sniffed. “I don’t smell any of them on you.”

  “No. I watched a lot of them dance though. A few men asked me, but I’m not at ease with that.”

  “You don’t dance, or you don’t like males touching you?”

  “I’m not social, and I didn’t want to draw that much attention to myself. I know how to dance, but I don’t like to do it with strangers. Paul and Becky went out on the dance floor a few times. I just stayed at the table.”

  He relaxed, the straight line of his back easing somewhat. “I don’t dance. I would be afraid others would laugh at me. We didn’t have access to music before freedom. It’s new.”

  “What about your wife? Did she dance?”

  “My mate was ill when we were freed. She spent all her time in our home, hooked to machines. She didn’t want to stay in Medical so they set her up inside a home to accommodate her needs.”

  Dana nodded. “I understand. We did that with Tommy too, near the end, but he wanted to try one more treatment that had a very slim chance of success. He was admitted to the hospital ten days before his death. We thought he’d last longer, or I would have insisted that he be taken home.” Sadness rose but she tried to push it back. “I think he planned it that way so I wouldn’t have the memory of his passing in our bedroom.”

  “I moved into the men’s dorm after I lost my mate. I couldn’t stand the constant reminders at the home we shared.”

  “It is tough,” she admitted. “I probably should take that step too, but I love our house. There are so many good memories there that they outweigh the bad. We were fortunate enough to buy our dream home the first time.”

  Mourn’s brow furled.

  “Most people buy what they call a starter home, and later upgrade to a house they wished they could have afforded the first time. Tommy inherited money from his family and he owned his own business. He sold it after he realized his health issues were serious, but we were always financially blessed. It wasn’t a problem.”

  “I understand.”

  The silence stretched and Dana realized Mourn wasn’t much of a talker. She’d have to gently prod him. “Do you want to talk about her?”

  He looked away. “No.”

  That’s going to make conversation tough, she decided. “What do you want to discuss? Do you want to ask me questions? You can.”

  “What is the one thing you miss most about your mate?”

  It was a complicated question. She pondered it. “I can’t really say it’s just one thing, but if I were to list a few, first I’d have to say the laughter.” She smiled at the memories that filtered through her thoughts. “Tommy was very funny. He could make me laugh no matter what.” She sobered. “I miss him when I climb into bed too. I felt safe and right snuggled up to him before I fell asleep.”

  Mourn turned to face her directly. She looked up into his eyes, awestruck by the tears she saw in them. The blue and autumn hues seemed to brighten, and it took her breath away.

  “My mate gave me purpose, and now I have none.”

  Dana could understand that. “What was her name?”

  A muscle along his jaw jumped and the tears cleared from his eyes. “I can’t say her number. It hurts.”

  “Number?”

  “She never chose a name. Mercile assigned us numbers. I refused to take a name until after she died since she wouldn’t.”

  It was horrific to Dana and heartbreaking. The woman Mourn had loved had been ill when she’d finally gained her freedom and had probably never enjoyed any of it. A mental image formed in her head of a gravestone with just a number engraved on the face of it. It was beyond tragic. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault. Not all humans are alike. I know this. You had no part in her death.”

  “I’m still sorry for what both of you endured. Call it a general apology for all the assholes in the world. Life isn’t fair.”

  “It isn’t.” He reached toward her, but didn’t make contact.

  Dana clasped his hand and held on. “Things are going to get better. I thought about Tommy nonstop when he died. It was constant agony. Time passed and it eased. Some days can go by when I don’t think of him at all.” She allowed her thumb to caress the side of Mourn’s fingers, hoping it would comfort him. It did her. “Then I feel guilty.” She smiled. “You wish for those days, but when they come, go figure, you feel crappy about it. I’ve been assured that it’s part of the healing process.”

  “I try not to think of her.”

  “That’s normal too.”

  “I have guilt.”

  She nodded. “Survivor’s guilt. That’s the term they call it.”

  “I hate being alone.”

  “You aren’t. I’m here, and you’re surrounded by other New Species.”

  “You know what I mean. Sleeping alone. Eating alon
e. The utter silence is horrible.”

  Dana nodded. “It is.” She inched closer to him. “You should try to make friends. They do help. I lost a lot of mine after Tommy’s death. Some of them avoided me because they couldn’t face his death, or maybe they just didn’t know what to say. Some people I avoided because I couldn’t take the way they looked at me. Pity sucks.” She paused. “Or some people acted as if the loss of someone is like a contagious disease they can catch from you. It’s a reminder to them that their own lives can come crashing down around them. I was exhibit A.”

  He turned his head and peered at her. “Exhibit A?”

  “Proof that it could happen to them, that they could lose the person they love too.”

  “Some Species use me as an example of why they shouldn’t take a mate or want one. It makes them vulnerable to pain.”

  “Exactly. You’re exhibit A too, for them.” She smiled. “I made new friends who didn’t know Tommy. They weren’t comparing the before- and after-me. It helped. I was just Dana to them.”

  “Everyone knows me here and at Wild Zone.”

  “You still made a new friend.” She leaned over a little and bumped his arm with her shoulder. “Me.”

  He smiled, and it was devastating. It transformed his features and she had to avoid gawking a little. He was good-looking before but a happy-looking Mourn proved that he wouldn’t remain single for long, if other women could help it.

  “I’m glad you annoyed me.”

  “Me too.”

  “I looked forward to talking to you today. It gave me purpose.”

  “I thought Paul and Becky were never going to go to bed. I was looking forward to talking to you too.”

  “What is your life like outside the gates?”

  “I went back to work about nine months ago. I took an office job that keeps me busy. It gets me out of the house five days a week. That’s where I met new friends. I’ll go to a movie with a few of them on the weekends from time to time. That gives me purpose and it beats sitting in my home staring at walls, feeling sorry for myself. The pity party was over. I did that routine far too long.”

  “Pity party?”

  His confused look amused her. “It’s a saying. It means I was feeling sorry for myself, and that I didn’t do much to change that for a while. I just wanted to immerse myself in my pain. Even I got sick of it eventually.”

  “I’m not assigned duties at Homeland like other Species are.”

  “Maybe you should be.”

  “I’m not sure they’d trust me. They know I’m unstable.”

  “So don’t be. Tell them you need something to do. It helps you start keeping track of what day it is again.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  She figured he would. “It’s Saturday. At least, at the end of it.”

  He chuckled. “Thanks. I didn’t know that.”

  “I’m sure the NSO will do whatever you need. Paul can’t say enough great things about them.”

  “They are good people.” He looked away. “What about sex?”

  That threw Dana. “What about it?”

  He cleared his throat. “A few of the females have offered to share sex with me. Will it heal some of the pain if I touch one of the Species females? They have said it might help me get over her.”

  “You mean the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else?”

  He jerked his attention to her and scowled.

  “It’s a saying I’ve heard often. It means to have sex with someone new. I don’t know. I have gone on a few dates since Tommy died, but I haven’t gone to bed with any of them. It would have been too weird, and I wasn’t sexually attracted to them. We discussed it in grief counseling. Some of them swore it helped, while others said it made them feel empty inside. I guess it depends on the person. What do you think?”

  “It would be uncomfortable.”

  “I agree.”

  The silence stretched between them. He finally spoke. “She was the only female I knew.”

  They had something else in common. “Tommy and I were together since we were young. He’s the only man I ever dated. He was my first kiss, my first everything. My last too.” Depression threatened. She shook it off. “But I have hope. That’s new. I think I’m reaching the point where I might want to find someone to date again. I’m lonely. At first I wouldn’t even consider remarrying. It’s progress. You’ll get there too. Give yourself time.”

  He seemed interested in the floor, studying it. “Have you found a male who interests you? Will he be angry that you’re staying here longer than planned?”

  “There’s no one. One guy at work keeps asking me out, but he’s totally not my type.”

  Mourn lifted his gaze and stared at her. “What is wrong with the male?”

  She smiled. “He’s kind of an office player.”

  His eyebrows drew together and he frowned.

  “Morgan hits on a lot of women. It’s his thing. He’s a flirt. I don’t want that. He’ll probably be the type who cheats.” She winced. “That’s a fear of mine.”

  “Your mate was loyal? I hear some humans aren’t.”

  “Tommy was special. He was pretty intense, and he loved me. He set a high mark that I fear no one else can reach. He also had germ phobias.” She laughed. “It kind of made me feel safe that he wouldn’t sleep with other women. I was the only one he would touch without fear. Do you understand?”

  “You are worried no other male can treat you as well and be loyal?”

  She nodded.

  “I don’t think any other female will wish to be my mate. Species females resist commitment. They share sex with other males, and don’t allow us to stay with them to sleep in their beds. I miss having her next to me.”

  “Tell me something about her.”

  He resisted for a long minute. “She was primate and tall.” He paused. “She snorted when she laughed. It was cute.”

  Dana smiled and stroked his hand, urging him to tell her more.

  “She didn’t talk much, but she always said important things when she did.”

  “Intelligent.”

  He nodded. “We were young when they put us together. She was terrified of me.”

  “You’re a big guy.”

  Mourn didn’t look at her while he spoke. “I was the first male they’d taken her to, and she was my first female. They said we were a mated pair and told us we’d share the cell forever. We had to learn to live together. She kept far away from me, but I was curious. I kept trying to approach her. She’d make these funny noises so I’d back away. I didn’t want to frighten her.”

  Dana could believe that of Mourn. He was a nice guy.

  “I gave her the sleeping mat and would sneak onto it after she fell asleep. I liked to hold her. She’d wake in the morning and move away from me at first. It took a while for her to learn that I wouldn’t hurt her. We started to talk. Then she went into heat.”

  That tidbit surprised Dana. “Heat?”

  “Sexual need. She smelled so good and I wanted her bad. I might not have shared sex before, but I hurt. My dick was constantly hard.”

  Startled, Dana stopped rubbing his hand, but then started again, encouraging him. It was a reminder of what he was. New Species did have animal DNA. “I take it you two worked it out?”

  “She was suffering and didn’t know what was wrong with her.”

  “I didn’t think primates went into heat that way.”

  Anger deepened his voice. “Mercile probably put something in her food. She didn’t eat the same things that I did. They wanted us to breed, and we weren’t doing it fast enough. I later learned how dangerous it would have been if they’d drugged me. Males grow very aggressive, and the pain is so intense that they suffer memory loss. 139 and I figured it out. I learned fast that if she enjoyed my touch, she’d allow me to mount her often.” He grew silent.

  “Her number was 139?” It made Dana think. “What was your number?”

  “
140.”

  She pondered that. “A number one off from yours.”

  “I don’t know why we were given numbers close together. Mercile never explained things to us. They might have planned to make us mates from the beginning and only waited until we were old enough to breed before they put us in the same cell.”

  “Do you know how long you were together?”

  “No. There’s no sense of time at Mercile. It’s endless. A long time. Then we were taken from there to somewhere worse. They kept giving her injections, and it made her weak and sick. The humans kept promising me they’d make her better if I did everything they ordered me to do. They were using her to control me. I did it. Her life was all that mattered. The NSO freed us but she didn’t get better. They lied to me.”

  “The NSO?”

  “Mercile.” He snarled the name. “They couldn’t make 139 better. They were overdosing her with experimental ovulation drugs, hoping they would make her get pregnant. Our females can’t breed though.” His voice remained deep, his pain and anger clear. “It caused massive harm to her internal organs. The damage couldn’t be repaired. They wanted a Species infant bad enough to kill her in the attempt. I didn’t know what they were doing to her until we were freed. Doc Trisha said it poisoned her system and parts of her organs had suffered too much damage by the time she arrived at Homeland. The healing drugs kept her going for a long time but they couldn’t repair what was done. She just lingered longer.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Me too.” He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. His voice softened. “I should have killed 139 when she begged me to. She suffered so much. I was a bad mate.”

  “You had hope she’d get better.”

  He turned his face and tears glistened in his eyes. “She said, if I cared about her, I would snap her neck and stop her from breathing. I just couldn’t do it.” He tugged out of Dana’s hold and stared down at both his hands where they rested on his thighs. “I was weak.”

  “Mourn.” Dana choked up, suffering his pain too. “Don’t do this to yourself. You obviously loved her a lot, and couldn’t hurt her. That isn’t weakness. There’s nothing wrong with not giving up hope on someone you love. That’s all you’re guilty of.”