Page 75 of Hunter

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he muttered.

“No. It’s best to be honest about the danger.”

“Staying is more dangerous to you than trying to escape. But—”

“But it’s not going to be a piece of cake,” she finished for him.

“It has something to do with eating?”

She laughed. “Sorry. That means it’s risky.”

“You’re right. It’s not a piece of cake,” he repeated.

She rested her head on his shoulder for a moment. “If anybody can get me out of here, you can.” She couldn’t hold back another laugh. “Because Beckton and his team taught you everything they know.”

“Damn right!”

She raised her face toward him. “I’ve never heard you use that kind of language.”

“I’m experimenting.”

“You’re loosening up.”

“Is that good?”

“Yes.”

He bent toward her, his free hand gently stroking her arm, her shoulder. “We have a little time together before we have to leave. There are so many things I want to talk about.”

“You’ll have to make a choice,” she said, wondering what he would decide.

“Can I ask you questions?”

“Of course. I like answering your questions.”

He reached for a lock of her hair, wrapping it gently around his finger, playing with it. “Is making love and—and the sexual climax—always that good?” he asked.

So, he had been thinking about their lovemaking. “I don’t think so,” she answered. “Only when a man and a woman—” she stopped, swallowed. “Well, I can only speak for myself. For me, it was wonderful because my feelings for you are very strong.”

After the easy give and take of a few moments earlier, his reaction wasn’t quite what she’d expected. She’d thought he’d be pleased. Instead, he looked sad.

Raising her head, she searched his face, knowing she should say what she really meant. “Why do you think I can’t—love you?” she asked.

“Love,” he said softly. “You should not love me. I’m not a real person.”

“Of course, you are!” Her hand opened and closed spasmodically, then settled on his arm. “Don’t say things like that,” she ordered, holding on for dear life. “Genetically, you are a man named Ben Lancaster. Maybe you even have some of his memories.”

He made a dismissive sound. “It’s not that simple. What about the other men Dr. Swinton is growing in his tanks?”

She shivered at the memory, then watched as his face took on a sad, angry look.

“I am like them. And none of us has a soul,” he said with sudden vehemence.

Chapter Twelve

Hunter’s words brought a strangled feeling to her throat. “Where did you get that idea?” she managed.

“Dr. Swinton said it.”

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