Page 12 of Vital Signs
When he didn't immediately respond, I made my move. I ran one finger up the inside of his wrist. His skin erupted in goosebumps, a shiver running through his powerful frame. His pupils dilated, and his lips parted slightly.
This was dangerous. I was playing a game I'd sworn off after Paris, using attraction as a weapon, manipulating desire for information. But the rush of it made my pulse quicken. I was still Misha Vasiliev. I could still make dangerous men weak.
"Three people," he said abruptly, shifting in his seat. A slight flush crept up his neck as he adjusted his position. "Three people from the camp have disappeared in the past month. All in Wright's trials."
My finger continued its slow exploration of his wrist, circling the pulse point where his heartbeat had noticeably accelerated. "Disappeared how?"
Hunter caught my wrist suddenly, his large hand engulfing mine. "I know what you're doing. It won't work."
I didn't pull away. "But it's already working. Here you are holding my hand."
His grip tightened before he released me. "They're just gone. Belongings left behind. No word to anyone."
I pulled out my phone, showing him the photos I'd taken of the pill bottles. As I held out the device, I leaned in unnecessarily close, allowing our shoulders to touch. "These were with Tyler's body. Did you see him take these specifically?"
Hunter stiffened at the contact but didn't pull away. "Yeah." He cleared his throat before continuing. "NervEase made him jittery. The AdrenaCore was new, though. He'd just started that one before winter break." Hunter's hands clenched around his coffee cup, knuckles whitening. "Wright doubled everything for winter break. Said it was to 'maintain consistent data collection' while they were gone."
"That sounds deliberately negligent at best."
"And murderous at worst," Hunter finished, meeting my eyes.
We sat in silence. The coffee shop buzzed with normal morning activity. Students laughed. Professors graded papers. Life continued around us, oblivious to the darkness we were uncovering.
"I need to know more about these trials," I said finally. "Official documentation, participant lists, monitoring protocols."
"You won't find that online. You need access to the research files."
"Can you get me the names of the other participants? People who might talk?"
Hunter's hand twitched. "Maybe. Few would trust an outsider, though." He paused, then added quietly, "They barely trust me anymore. I've... not been reliable lately."
The admission cost him something. I could see it in the tension around his eyes, the way his fingers curled into a fist.
"What about you?" I asked, leaning in slightly. "Do you trust me?"
Hunter's eyes locked with mine, searching. The intensity of his gaze made my breath catch. This close, I could see flecks of amber in his dark brown eyes, could count the individual lashes, could imagine what those eyes would look like in a completely different context.
"I don't trust anyone," he said.
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I've got." His voice dropped even lower. "Why are you doing this? Tyler was nothing to you."
WhywasI doing this? For Tyler? For justice? Or because sitting this close to Hunter made me feel alive in a way I hadn't since before Paris?
"I was held captive once by a man who thought of people as objects to be collected and studied," I said, meeting his eyes. "I won't let another person become someone's specimen. Not Tyler. Not anyone."
Understanding flickered across Hunter's face. "Where?"
"Paris," I said simply. "Another life."
He didn't press, which made me want to tell him more. Want to share the parts I'd buried. Want to let him see the broken pieces.
Dangerous.
"We should work together," I said instead. "Officially. You have connections. I have resources. Together we can—"
"I work alone," Hunter said automatically, jaw set stubbornly.
