Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
“Why are you being so open with facts all of a sudden?” I placed a hand over my eyes as we stepped outside, granting much-needed shade from the golden glare. After being locked inside for most of the day, my body felt the slap of heat, brightness, and intensity of the island all the more.
“Because you’ve tried and failed. You won’t try again.” He smirked. “No one does. They accept. And… I’m guessing, you’ve accepted. Now you’ve spent a night in the lab?”
I shivered, still sore on my soles even with the soft sand beneath them. “So those cages did come from his labs?”
“His…and others.” He chuckled under his breath. “I keep telling him to bring a scientist over and test on the goddesses that are unruly. He refuses to allow animal testing…but human testing is okay.” He nudged my shoulder with his as if we were friends walking through a tropical paradise. “Pity he doesn’t heed my advice and just uses the cages as a timeout. If you’d been injected with half-cooked inoculations or smeared with untested ointments, then you’d have the true experience.”
My chin arched, doing my best not to be affected by Calvin’s taunts but suffering a chunk of ice in my stomach. “If he’s forbidden animal testing, how does he create products that work?”
He grinned like the devil. “By paying idiotic humans to be guinea pigs, of course. They’re the ones who use the stuff. They’re the ones who should die if they fail.”
I swallowed hard.
I agreed with Sully about refusing to test on animals, but I didn’t agree with testing on humans either. Wasn’t there some way to create a lab generated molecule that mimicked a human’s skin or system? I’d heard of meat being created in test tubes for a future set to be plant-based. I’d watched documentaries on scientists gleefully proving their ability to copy the enzymes in animal tissue and creating the perfect steak without ever having to butcher a cow.
Couldn’t something like that be conjured to be tested on?
My questions filled my head, and my feet drifted toward the fork that led to my villa. I needed to use the bathroom. To sleep. And then to eat…in that order. I’d always be grateful for the privacy and sanctuary of my own villa.
But harsh fingers wrapped around my elbow. “Ah, ah, ah. Where do you think you’re going?”
I forced myself to meet his cold eyes. “To rest. I’ve served my punishment. Surely, I’m free to—”
Calvin chuckled. “You truly are high and mighty. Sullivan has let you get away with far too much.” Dragging me away from the path that led to my villa, he added, “You’ll rest after.”
“After? After what?”
He smirked. “After Euphoria, of course.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
I MANAGED TO STAY away longer than last time.
I spent the night pacing my villa, watching Nirvana splash in its never-ending water suicide, catching myself again and again as I stalked to the door with intentions of retrieving Eleanor from her cage and letting her go.
Of bringing her back here.
Of spreading her on the bed and—
Fuck.
Tens of times. Hundreds of times, I stopped myself. An endless night full of repentance and unease.
By the time the sun rose, I dragged myself to my office to work.
I did my best to bury myself in lab notes and read through pages and pages of successful and unsuccessful trials of new products.
By the time Calvin flew in from his little excursion, I sat with my hands buried in my hair and Pika sulking on my desk. The poor parrot had tried to cheer me up. Dancing his crazy dictator dance, throwing paperclips on the floor, shredding a Post-it note, and twittering a love song in my ear.
When all that failed, he’d plopped himself down on my laptop and stared up at me. He didn’t even try to tear out one of my laptop keys, his little wings drooping and eyes sad.
I tried to console him, but all I could think about was Eleanor.
Still trapped.
Still locked away like so many other pitiful things.
I’d wrenched up my head and tried to be the bad motherfucker who ruled his empire with no leniency as Calvin stepped into my space. He gave me a grim look, then folded into the chair facing my desk. Jetlag and overwork etched around his eyes. Just like me, he didn’t like international travel or large masses of humanity.
Thankfully, he provided a welcome distraction.
He told me in crystal detail the type of warning he’d delivered to my brother.
Courtesy of me. An extension of my wrath and violence.
Drake no longer had an operational lab in my building. He had a smashed and destroyed room with beakers and test tube glass glittering on the floor. The man himself no longer had an operational body either.
Thanks to Calvin’s chat, Drake had two broken fingers, bruised ribs, and possibly a fractured ankle.