Chapter Twelve
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Clara woke up soreand stretched her limbs out, fighting the endless pile of blankets to catalog her aches. Even so, everything was perfect.Almost.Nothing was ever perfect, but sometimes it got close and right now she was close enough. She sat up and looked for Reid, her hand emerging from the sheets to investigate his side of the bed.
She frowned when her hand came across nothing but more blankets. Her gaze lifted to find the room empty, the bathroom panel open, and the room beyond dark and empty as well.
She dropped back into the pillows and huffed, reaching one hand back over to his side, finding it cold.
He’s not here and hasn’t been here for some time.
She shuffled the fabric away from her and stood up, groaning from the tight pain that flooded through her calves, thighs, and even her lower back. Clara looked down at her body, expecting the worst. Red marks lined her skin in stark contrast to her pale body, perfectly sized and shaped to Reid’s fingers. She was marked from toe to shoulder by him.
A whimper escaped her and if she hadn’t felt well and truly fucked, she sure looked like it. The spot between her legs hurt, but it was a satisfying type of pain.
Clara trailed her fingers over her scars and felt little—not sadness nor anger—for once, it was the only part of her that was numb. For once, she had them but they didn’t have her.
Her thoughts shifted. She had his seed.
An anxiety-riddled shock of excitement shot through her. Reid told her it only took once.Once.That with him it was a one and done kind of deal. It didn’t make sense to her why the facility was even open if that were true—open and with a zero-percent success rate.
Maybe because the sperm the cybernetic doctors stole was useless?
Karma?
Thinking about it made her head hurt. She’d only come here for the surgery anyway. The baby—if there happened to be one—was a bonus.
He said it only took once...She tried not to dwell on it as she stared down at herself but it wouldn’t go away.Does it even matter?If there were secrets to the facility and between Reid and the rest of the world, did she really care? It didn’t sit well with her. The elation she felt was marred by it.
Clara ran her fingers through her mussed-up hair and headed to the bathroom, took her time showering—hoping Reid would join her but didn’t—then got dressed.
The panel to his room didn’t open when she approached it. She stepped back and tried again and it failed to open the second time. She jiggled the handle.
She jiggled it harder. Nothing.
What?
She called out for Reid, loudly, hoping it was a mistake but as the minutes ticked by and there was no answer, she gave up.
Clara refused to think the worst. It wasn’t her room after all. Maybe it wasn’t coded for her to access. Maybe he was in the lab and didn’t realize she was stuck? Maybe he was getting them food? She looked around her for a clock.How long was I asleep?
I’ve been up for an hour...ish? If he stepped out for something quick... he’d be back by now?
The security screen beside the panel didn’t respond to her touch or her voice. With defeat wafting off her in waves, she left the door behind to explore.
The giant bed held nothing but a couple hundred blankets (she guessed) and the only piece of furniture was a table beside it with a single drawer. Inside she found a square contraption she’d never seen before and various bits of hardware she assumed was for Reid’s internal cybersuit. Touching the pieces did nothing, so she moved on.
There was nothing under the bed exceptanotherblanket that had been kicked underneath.
The bathroom was standard. Clara was eventually left standing in front of another panel door that didn’t open at her approach but when she tried the manual handle, it opened and slid into the wall.
Reid’s smell engulfed her even before the door was all the way open. Her nostrils twitched at the worn metal smell of him, which was not as pleasant as when it was coming from its source. Inside were suits, at least a dozen, alone and behind plexiglass. There were no other clothes lining the small space—nothing to get a better read on her Cyborg—nothing but several pairs of matching shoes, ties, and other tech-gear.
On one shelf was a worn dog-collar, with a worn military tag attached to it.
