Parahuman (Parahuman Series) (27 page)

     He
noticed Laney starring at him with her eyebrows raised in astonishment. 

    
“Sorry, did you want something beside milk?”

     “No,
no, milk’s fine. I’m just impressed by your know-how in the kitchen. But then
I’ve noticed you seem to be good at everything you do.” She slipped her jacket
off and sat down, taking a sip of the milk.

    
“There are quite a few things I don’t do very well.” He contested. The timer on
the microwave buzzed announcing that the lasagna was done. Grabbing that and
the bread out of the broiler Devan set them on the table. He spooned a heap
full onto both their plates and placed the empty lasagna dish in the sink
before sitting down.  

    
“Thank you, but do I look like a growing boy to you?” She chuckled and stared
in amazement at the food in front of her. 

     Devan
looked at both mounds of food. He had never really paid attention to how much
girls ate before. “Is it too much?” He asked uncertainly.

     “I
normally don’t eat a whole plate full,” she laughed, picking up a fork. “So
what aren’t you any good at?” She spooned a small amount of the lasagna into
her mouth.

     “I
already told you I’m not any good with animals.” Devan recapped, spooning a much
larger amount into his. 

     “I
would assume that’s because of the predator lurking inside of you.” Her green eyes
twinkled and she waggled her eyebrows at him. The complete casualness of her
statement almost had him choking on the food sliding down his throat. He
assisted it down with a swig of milk.

    
“Something like that.” Devan choked out.

     They
ate quietly for a few moments before Laney broke the silence.

     “So
what other things are you possibly
not
good at?” She reached for some of
the garlic toast.

    
“This.” Devan admitted, spooning in another mouthful of lasagna.  

     “Eating,”
she smirked. “Except for possibly taking smaller bites I think you have it
mastered.”

     Devan
nearly rolled his eyes at her obvious obtrusiveness which surprised him because
he wasn’t the rolling of the eyes sort of person. “No, not eating; I’m talking
about conversations, one on one interaction, the daily dialogue between two
individuals.” 

     “You’re
not doing to bad at the moment, and anyway, not everyone can be a dynamic
conversationalist. Something like that takes practice and it sounds like you
haven’t been allowing yourself to get any…practice that is.” She quirked an
eyebrow at him as if questioning his logic in not getting any practice. 

    
“Practice isn’t a viable option in my situation.” Devan snagged some garlic
bread, eating half of it in one bite.

     “Only
because you’ve made it that way.” She retorted.

     Devan
swallowed his bread. “I’ve made it that way because it’s necessary for our safety
and the safety of others. The Company is dangerous Laney. To invite people into
our lives will only put them in harm’s way.” Devan took the last bite of his
lasagna and looked longingly at the half filled plate still in front of Laney.
“That’s why I presented the opportunity for you to forget everything you
observed; I don’t want you to be in danger.” He gave her a significant look,
eager for her to comprehend the harm she was getting herself into, but at the
same time he was hoping she would ignore it.

     She
actually gave him a sardonic smile as she caught the hint and ignored it…just as
he’d hoped she would.

     “I
can’t stuff anymore inside of me.” She groaned, slumping back in her seat and
pushing the plate away. “Would you like the rest of it?” She offered with a
grin. 

     Devan
had a feeling she had caught his wistful look at her plate. Plucking up her
plate he set it atop his―no need to let it go to waste.

     “Did
you finally get some rest this afternoon?” She asked, smiling as he dug in.

     “No,
I came back and got to work on the samples I collected.” Devan said in between
bites. 

     The
smile disappeared from her face. “You were supposed to be getting rest. Do I
have to stand by your bed and make sure you get it?”

     The
thought of her doing that almost had Devan choking on his food again. “I’m not
really a nap sort of person.” Finished with Laney’s left over lasagna he
grabbed the plates and carried them to the sink. He heard the clinking of
glasses and Laney’s chair scraping over the floor and knew she was bringing the
rest of the dirty dishes. Twisting the water tap he began filling the sink to
wash the dishes, but found himself being moved to the side.

     Laney
was literally pushing him…and confiscating the plate out of his hand. 

     “So
you haven’t even sat down since almost bleeding to death this morning?” She
accused as she began scrubbing the plate.      

     Devan
looked at her in uncertainty. Was she expecting him to just stand here doing
nothing? He went to put the milk away, which didn’t take long, as he answered
her question. “Some of those minutes were spent in a sedentary position. I feel
fine.” And he did, the sensations in his arm could be compared to the feeling
of an appendage falling asleep; slight pinpricks of needles tingling up and
down his arm. His arm was in the process of healing; at a quicker rate than that
of an ordinary human.

     She
turned away from putting the last dish in the strainer and he became instantly
nervous. Now that they’d had eaten he wasn’t sure what to do.  

     She wiped
her hands with a towel and looking at him with a frown on her face. Devan
thought she was going to continue criticizing his lack of rest, but she ended
up switching topics on him again. “Why do wear those when I already know what’s
underneath them. I’ve already told you your eyes don’t bother me.”

     Her
reference to his glasses was unexpected, and his hand reflexively rose to touch
them. “Going without them makes me feel exposed.” Devan replied frankly. 

    
“Well, you’ve already exposed yourself around me so you don’t have to keep
wearing them.” She chuckled softly. Walking closer she lifted her hands toward his
face. His hand reflexively seized hers responding to the threat of exposure.  

     They
stood there silently for a couple seconds in a stand-off. Devan was intensely
aware of her wrist in his grip, of how close her frame was, and of her green
eyes trying to penetrate the mirrored glass concealing his. The pulse in her
wrist where he had hold of her was increasing in tempo the longer they stood
there, and Devan could feel her underlying body temperature rising also. Her scent
had permeated the kitchen, and it would linger for days reminding him of this
moment.   

    
“Please, I would really like to be able to look you in the eyes when we talk;
at least here in private.” She entreated breathlessly.

     The
‘please’ made it really hard to say ‘no’. Devan slowly released her
wrist—recognizing that the much of his reluctance was from having to let go of
her wrist.

     She
gently slipped the glasses from his face. Devan knew what she was viewing;
yellow eyes with overly large black pupils that were probably at this moment
constricting and dilating as she gazed into them. His eyes were sensitive to
every little nuance of light and emotion, which caused them to constantly
adjust.

    
“You’re eyes are really quite beautiful,” she said, looking entranced. She remained
standing close to him and Devan found himself equally spellbound by the emerald
green quality of hers.

     His
gaze drifted over the golden tenor of her skin becoming fascinated by the tiny
freckles that adorned the tip of her nose. Her mouth parted slightly which
instantly snagged his attention and he became equally if not more fascinated by
the curve of her bottom lip. There was a new fragrance coming off her skin that
was starting to stimulate Devan’s senses in a way that was both disturbing and
exciting at the same time. A pulsating urge swelled from deep inside of him, and
he almost groaned from the ache of it. The urge, whatever it was, seemed to focus
on her mouth because he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from their lushness,
and the tiny breathes coming out of them.

     The
vibration of Devan’s phone as it danced on the kitchen table tore through the air
like a knife; he actually felt pain as it severed the connection that seemed to
bind them together. He stumbled away from Laney in bemusement, noticing that
her face exhibited the same.

    
Turning swiftly he snatched the phone off the table. “Hello.” His voice came
out as a croak. 

     It
was Brett of course. “Sorry, did I wake you up?” 

     Devan
cleared his throat, “No.” His tone was more level this time. Laney shuffled
behind him but Devan kept his back to her. He wasn’t feeling composed at the
moment.

     “I
was just checking in to make sure that everything was alright?” 

    
“Everything’s good, I just had some dinner.” He reported, not elaborating that
Laney had it with him…too many questions.

     “I
work until eight tonight, so I will see you later. If you feel up to it you
should probably change the dressing on your arm if you haven’t already.” He
directed before hanging up.

    
Feeling he could have used several additional minutes to get more control Devan
turned to face Laney. She had her back to him gazing out the window which
allocated him more time. 

     “Do
your names change each place you go?”

    
Laney’s out of the blue question surprised him. “Yes.”

     She
turned from the window, her expression confused and sad. “How can you guys
remember so many name changes and not screw up?”

    
“Brett forgets occasionally, but we’re around so few people that it hasn’t
become a problem.”

     Laney
stared thoughtfully at him. “Can I ask what your real name is?”

     Devan
frowned. “My real name?”

     She mimicked
his frown. “The name you were born with.”

     Devan’s
frown cleared understanding her question. “I wasn’t given a name like you. My
number was ten-thirteen.”

    
Laney’s frown amplified. “You had a number for a name?”

     “I
was an experiment. Test subjects aren’t given names. I was sometimes referred to
as ‘boy’, but that was just an expression some used because of my gender.”

    
Laney’s frown turned fierce and she shook her head angrily. She tilted her head
heavenward for a few seconds and then bent it down toward the floor. He watched
her actions in fascination. Her eyes eventually lifted to his and there was a sad
gravity to them. 

     “Do
you have any resentment towards Brett, in regards to everything?”    

     “Can
you clarify that?” Devan needed a little more elaboration on that ‘everything’.

    
“Well, he’s the scientist who made you and got you into this whole mess. Do you
feel any kind of bitterness because of this fact?” She asked, curiously.

     Devan
considered her question. 

     “Certainly,
if not for Brett I wouldn’t be in this…mess, but if not for him I wouldn’t be
standing here at all. He’s always been good to me, and he risked his life to
get me out of the facility. I can only be grateful that he took that chance and
didn’t just succumb to The Company’s plans.” He paused, remembering his time sequesters
inside the facility. “When I was at the facility I was never allowed to go
outside. Brett made it possible for me to finally run free and breathe fresh
air; I’ll always be thankful for that.”

     Her
eyes went wide. “You weren’t allowed outside for ten years,” she gasped. Then
her eyes lowered and narrowed in thought. “That’s what you meant before, when
you said you were stuck inside for a long time, wasn’t it?”

      Devan
thoughts drifted back to those years trapped inside with no opportunity for
true sunlight, or a breath of real fresh air, of not being able to run free. He
could never go back to that again, would
never
go back to that again.

     “Yes,
that is what I was alluding to.” He said grimly. 

     “The
outside world must have been a real shock to you.”

     “I
don’t know what I would have done without Brett when we first escaped. Setting
my foot outdoors for the first time was disorientating and alarming. It was a
completely different world. I probably would have settled for living off the
land like the animal I am.”

    
Annoyance covered her face. “Just because you have some animal DNA that doesn’t
make you an animal; anyway we’re all classified as animals.” She waved her hand
in general implication.  

     “I’m not
classified as just animal, or mammal, I’m also bird and reptile. My precise
classification is parahuman, or transhuman, which means mostly human, but not
quite. Not quite anything.”

    
“Reptile too?” She blurted out surprised. She recovered quickly and scowled
severely. “You always seem to be putting yourself down. It’s not what you are;
it’s how you act that’s important, and you’ve saved two lives in the little
time I’ve known you. That puts you in a higher species classification than many
other so called humans.”