Page 61 of Unnatural
“I don’t think there’s anything about me that’s lovable.”
Her hands stilled. Her heart cracked. And though they were both naked, in what felt like a warm, intimate cocoon, the tenderness she felt for this terribly wounded man suddenly eclipsed her desire. “Does that feel true, Sam?” she said, leaning forward and kissing his back.
“I don’t know. All I know is that if desire is weakness, then I’m weak. My desire for you goes on and on. It has no end,” he finished quietly.
Oh.
She leaned forward and kissed his shoulder. “Sam,” she said.
He turned around slowly in the small space, and she gazed upon his unguarded expression. Beautiful. Raw. A gift he’d given her. She raised her fingertips and ran one along his bottom lip. He let out a pained sigh. She wanted so badlyfor him to kiss her.
“And yet,” he said, his voice raspy, “it can’t matter. I can’t let it. And you don’t want me to.”
“I don’t?”
“You shouldn’t.”
He reached behind him, turned off the shower, and pulled back the curtain, stepping from the small space that had felt like a sanctuary for a brief moment. He picked up a towel and attempted to wrap it around his waist to the same result as before while also clearly struggling to keep his eyes averted from her body. After a moment, he gave up on the towel and started walking from the bathroom nude.
Despite the situation, she suppressed a smile. She was tempted to feel rejected, but she also had a feeling Sam had rarely, if ever, let anyone as close to him as he had just done, had never allowed his heart to show in his eyes the way he had earlier. So she decided to feel lucky instead.
Autumn stepped from the shower and grabbed a towel.
When Sam got to the door, he turned halfway. “Do you still want to make a cake?”
“Damn straight I do.”
She saw the corner of his lip twitch before he walked out of the room.
As she wrapped the towel around her body, she decided to take heart. He’d allowed her to touch him, and he hadn’t flinched away. He desired her. Clearly. And he wanted to experience closeness, she could tell he did. He just had no idea how to let another person in, even though desire usually made that part easy.
Nothing was easy about Sam.
But Autumn cared about him.
She desired him too.
And she’d always liked a good challenge.
“Watch out, moonlight boy,” she murmured under her breath.Because my desire for you goes on and on as well.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Mark opened a search engine, typing Dr. Heathrow’s name in the browser window. A list of hits came up, and Markscrolled, reading one title after the next, opening one article, quickly reading the copy, and then opening another. It only took him about twenty minutes to get a more complete picture of the man who, as Salma had already told him, had worked as the head scientist and lead physician of the ADHM treatment protocol that had started twenty-five years before when the first ADHM babies were born. In article after article, the doctor was lauded for his research on pioneering drug protocols and surgical innovations that had helped ADHM kids live longer lives.
Mark tapped his fingers very lightly on the keyboard as he considered what he’d just read. So the doctor was a scientistanda surgeon. He heard Salma Ibrahim’s voice in his head:He helped manufacture the drug cocktail all ADHM babies were put on at birth. Nasty stuff. Caused awful, debilitating side effects.
Okay, so it seemed Dr. Heathrow had been in charge of all facets of ADHM care. He’d carried out the actual workat Mercy Hospital in New York, but he’d come up with the protocol used at all care facilities nationwide. Dr. Heathrow had invented the drugs used to treat all ADHM kids, and he also outlined and performed the surgical procedures they’d undergone. That was a lot of responsibility given to one man.Power.Mark felt a buzz of unease, the old quote from Lord Acton running through his mind:Absolute power corrupts absolutely.How many examples of that had he seen in his lifetime, not only in his work but elsewhere? He tapped on the keyboard lightly again. The doctor couldn’t have done it completely alone. If he’d helped manufacture the drug cocktail, he’d done it in conjunction with a pharmaceutical company.
Mark opened a second browser page and did some more digging. The information wasn’t difficult to find. “Tycor Labs,” he muttered, typing in the company name and reading through the available data. He’d heard of the company, of course, as they were a manufacturing giant. He scrolled through the list of their pharmaceutical products, noting the majority of them were cancer treatments. So it made sense, he thought, that they would have manufactured and sold the experimental drug that treated ADHM babies and children riddled with cancerous tumors. The medication had been subsequently taken off the market after it failed to pass long-term safety protocols, but it was still praised for its use with ADHM kids.Why though?Mark wondered. If it couldn’t pass safety testing, how did they know it’d helped ADHM kids at all?
Perhaps a better question was how would they ever prove whether it did or did not? Most of the ADHM kids were already dead.
To put it bluntly, the ADHM kids had been guinea pigs for the drug that, in the end, had never gone to marketbecause of its adverse side effects. Of course, its experimental use had been justified by the fact that they were dying anyway. The risk-reward ratio was one that favoredtrying anything. Risking anything. Giving them any possible chance. But what if it hadn’t really helped them at all? What if it had only made things worse?
What if there were some who knew in fact that it did but considered those children of such little value that they continued to give it to them in the name of their experiment anyway?
I’m a nurse. Or…I was. But I’m also a mother. And a mother knows when her children are naturally sick…and when they’re being poisoned.
