Joy rose to her feet, trying to gain Moon’s attention. She crept closer. His nostrils flared as he sniffed loudly but he still refused to stop the back-and-forth trek inside the small cell. She did however note that with each turn, his gaze flashed her way. He watched her but did it on the sly.
Five feet from the cell was close enough. She brushed at her skirt, wishing she had a pair of pants. She hadn’t expected to stay at Homeland when she’d received the call from the NSO. They’d brought her some spare clothes but no pants. She had T-shirts, some gym shorts, and two skirts.
“Moon?”
His head snapped her way and his upper lip curled back to reveal straight, white teeth and sharp fangs. He snarled but stopped pacing. His dark eyes narrowed as he glared at her. If looks could kill, she knew she would be dead at that moment.
Her fingers shook slightly as she unbuttoned her shirt. Ah-ha. His gaze locked on her chest and heavy breathing replaced the angry sounds he’d made. She parted the silky material enough to give him a better view of her push-up bra and cle**age. It also showed him her bare waist to the waistband of her skirt.
“Now I’ve got your attention.”
He glanced up and held her gaze a moment before dropping his focus to her br**sts. A soft rumble came from deep within his throat as he stalked closer to the bars and gripped them.
“Can you understand me? Nod if you can, Moon.”
His fingers clenched the bars tightly enough that his knuckles whitened.
“Moon?”
He stared into her eyes and she watched him. He pointed to the area in front of him.
“You want me there? Talk to me. Let me know you’re not going to hurt me.”
“Come.” His voice came out inhumanly deep.
Goose bumps broke out over her skin.
One step closer and she paused. It would encourage him to keep trying to communicate with her, she hoped. She wasn’t willing to allow him to put his hands on her until she could get a better fix on his state of mind.
“Here.” He pointed again.
“Not yet.”
Her heart pounded. Moon had always intimidated her with his sheer size and strength. That had been when he’d been her client and in full control of his mental faculties. He’d only gotten more muscular and bulky since he’d left site four.
Anger flashed in his eyes. “Now.”
Three words. Joy was keeping track of everything he said. “Do you know who I am?”
Confusion clouded his expression. It wasn’t the response she was hoping for.
“I’m Joy.” She pointed to herself. “Joyce. Dr. Yards. We used to know each other. Think, Moon.” An idea came to her. It might make things worse but she really didn’t see how it could get much worse. “466? I need for you to talk to me.”
He wanted the female to come to him but she stayed out of his reach. It incensed him. Rage swirled in a red haze inside his mind. Then she spoke and called him 466. Some of the fog thinned enough for a memory to surface. He tried to concentrate on it. It was something important…
Delicate pale hands with long red fingernails became clear in his mind. He wondered how they would feel against his skin, on his back particularly, since they weren’t real. Humans wore fake nails. It seemed curious to him that the females would do that. He stood, closed the distance, and grabbed hold of her wrist. It was delicate too. He could easily crush the bones if he wished. His gaze lifted at the sound of a feminine, soft gasp.
“What are you doing? Let go.”
There was a hint of fear in her pretty eyes and it pissed him off. He ran the pad of his thumb over the tip of her fingernail. Smooth, not sharp at all. He doubted she could break skin with them. He bent forward and she drew back in her chair but couldn’t get too far away with him refusing to release his hold.
“I’d never hurt you, Joy.”
“Joyce,” she corrected. “I mean, Dr. Yards.”
He laughed. “Why do you have these, Joy? What is their purpose?”
The question appeared to startle her. “Um, they look good and I guess they remind me of my feminine side.”
His gaze swept over as much of her as he could see with the desk blocking his view. “Everything about you is female. Why would you need a reminder?”
He couldn’t resist sliding his thumb over her palm. Soft and smooth. He wanted to feel the glide of it across his skin too. Preferably while she was na**d under him. He’d even take her facing him the way humans preferred. He’d never tried that position but then again, he’d never wanted to mount one of them before.
She didn’t attempt to jerk out of his hold but she didn’t seem happy either. “It’s a human thing. Um, women like to feel pretty and they wear makeup and get their hair and fingernails done.”
He studied her face. “You don’t wear makeup.”
“I do.”
That surprised him. He sniffed, leaning closer until he was bent over the desk, hovering near her face. “I don’t see or smell it.”
“I don’t wear much.” She finally tugged weakly, trying to free her hand. “Please take your seat. You know the rules. You’re being ornery today, 466.”
His humor surfaced. “I want you. I’m curious about your body.”
“Curiosity killed the cat,” she whispered.
That amused him and he laughed. He liked to ruffle her and get responses that weren’t expected. He loosened his grip and she pulled away. Relief washed over her expression but then he leaned over the desk so far that the edge pressing against his h*ps was the only thing stopping him from falling over. He carefully gripped her face with both hands to avoid bruising her skin and she gasped again.
Five feet from the cell was close enough. She brushed at her skirt, wishing she had a pair of pants. She hadn’t expected to stay at Homeland when she’d received the call from the NSO. They’d brought her some spare clothes but no pants. She had T-shirts, some gym shorts, and two skirts.
“Moon?”
His head snapped her way and his upper lip curled back to reveal straight, white teeth and sharp fangs. He snarled but stopped pacing. His dark eyes narrowed as he glared at her. If looks could kill, she knew she would be dead at that moment.
Her fingers shook slightly as she unbuttoned her shirt. Ah-ha. His gaze locked on her chest and heavy breathing replaced the angry sounds he’d made. She parted the silky material enough to give him a better view of her push-up bra and cle**age. It also showed him her bare waist to the waistband of her skirt.
“Now I’ve got your attention.”
He glanced up and held her gaze a moment before dropping his focus to her br**sts. A soft rumble came from deep within his throat as he stalked closer to the bars and gripped them.
“Can you understand me? Nod if you can, Moon.”
His fingers clenched the bars tightly enough that his knuckles whitened.
“Moon?”
He stared into her eyes and she watched him. He pointed to the area in front of him.
“You want me there? Talk to me. Let me know you’re not going to hurt me.”
“Come.” His voice came out inhumanly deep.
Goose bumps broke out over her skin.
One step closer and she paused. It would encourage him to keep trying to communicate with her, she hoped. She wasn’t willing to allow him to put his hands on her until she could get a better fix on his state of mind.
“Here.” He pointed again.
“Not yet.”
Her heart pounded. Moon had always intimidated her with his sheer size and strength. That had been when he’d been her client and in full control of his mental faculties. He’d only gotten more muscular and bulky since he’d left site four.
Anger flashed in his eyes. “Now.”
Three words. Joy was keeping track of everything he said. “Do you know who I am?”
Confusion clouded his expression. It wasn’t the response she was hoping for.
“I’m Joy.” She pointed to herself. “Joyce. Dr. Yards. We used to know each other. Think, Moon.” An idea came to her. It might make things worse but she really didn’t see how it could get much worse. “466? I need for you to talk to me.”
He wanted the female to come to him but she stayed out of his reach. It incensed him. Rage swirled in a red haze inside his mind. Then she spoke and called him 466. Some of the fog thinned enough for a memory to surface. He tried to concentrate on it. It was something important…
Delicate pale hands with long red fingernails became clear in his mind. He wondered how they would feel against his skin, on his back particularly, since they weren’t real. Humans wore fake nails. It seemed curious to him that the females would do that. He stood, closed the distance, and grabbed hold of her wrist. It was delicate too. He could easily crush the bones if he wished. His gaze lifted at the sound of a feminine, soft gasp.
“What are you doing? Let go.”
There was a hint of fear in her pretty eyes and it pissed him off. He ran the pad of his thumb over the tip of her fingernail. Smooth, not sharp at all. He doubted she could break skin with them. He bent forward and she drew back in her chair but couldn’t get too far away with him refusing to release his hold.
“I’d never hurt you, Joy.”
“Joyce,” she corrected. “I mean, Dr. Yards.”
He laughed. “Why do you have these, Joy? What is their purpose?”
The question appeared to startle her. “Um, they look good and I guess they remind me of my feminine side.”
His gaze swept over as much of her as he could see with the desk blocking his view. “Everything about you is female. Why would you need a reminder?”
He couldn’t resist sliding his thumb over her palm. Soft and smooth. He wanted to feel the glide of it across his skin too. Preferably while she was na**d under him. He’d even take her facing him the way humans preferred. He’d never tried that position but then again, he’d never wanted to mount one of them before.
She didn’t attempt to jerk out of his hold but she didn’t seem happy either. “It’s a human thing. Um, women like to feel pretty and they wear makeup and get their hair and fingernails done.”
He studied her face. “You don’t wear makeup.”
“I do.”
That surprised him. He sniffed, leaning closer until he was bent over the desk, hovering near her face. “I don’t see or smell it.”
“I don’t wear much.” She finally tugged weakly, trying to free her hand. “Please take your seat. You know the rules. You’re being ornery today, 466.”
His humor surfaced. “I want you. I’m curious about your body.”
“Curiosity killed the cat,” she whispered.
That amused him and he laughed. He liked to ruffle her and get responses that weren’t expected. He loosened his grip and she pulled away. Relief washed over her expression but then he leaned over the desk so far that the edge pressing against his h*ps was the only thing stopping him from falling over. He carefully gripped her face with both hands to avoid bruising her skin and she gasped again.
