Fate of Perfection (Finding Paradise Book 1) Read online

  “Do you know what this means?” she asked, following him in a daze. “It means I will actually grow life within my body. I will get to have an offspring. Of my likeness!”

  “Just like the humans of days past, yes. A true product of nature. In a way. This way, please.” Mr. Gunner opened a door and guided her through.

  Millicent looked at the words again, not hiding the smile curling her lips.

  “You have a beautiful smile. Pity you communicate with snarls. Just here.” Mr. Gunner stopped her in front of a foreign craft, snapping her out of her reverie.

  “Where are we going?” She rose eight centimeters, this time not caring. Arm stilts. Batons rocketed from her sleeves and then pressed into her waiting palms. The paper fluttered to the ground.

  “Uh-oh. You’ll want that.” Mr. Gunner, completely ignoring her defensive readiness, jogged toward the piece of paper. He scooped it up and walked back toward her, holding it out. “I hear women like to hold on to this.”

  “Women probably like to live more. Where are we?”

  “East gate eighty-four B. We’re leaving the back way. You can no longer stick to the same routine. Security is always amped up for breeders, but they are applying extra precautions this time. They don’t want anything happening to you until you are ready for phase two and can be moved to a secured location. I’m in charge of the security for this building now and, specifically, for this floor. Also, those arm stilts won’t help you against me. You really needn’t put yourself out.”

  She heard what he was saying—the relevant parts. She was already important to the organization, but now she was beyond prized. They would spend a lot of money to make sure this pregnancy went well—they couldn’t afford to lose her halfway through, or worse, near the end before the baby was safely delivered.

  “I see. What about the other breeders?” she asked, retracting her arm stilts. She sighed when the accursed heels refused to follow suit.

  “All the breeders have amped up security, but San Francisco was especially in need of restructuring. Why they hadn’t done it before now is beyond me . . .”

  The blue sky disappeared to reveal inky darkness. Soft light rose up, and then the craft’s door opened and its walkway extended. A bolt of lightning zipped down beyond the far glass wall, followed by thunder so close it rattled the windows.

  “It wasn’t in the budget,” she said as she entered the craft. The inside was empty. “We had some issues with a few of our weapons that ate up our reserves. Where are the . . .” She cleared her throat, pushing away the image of the dead guard staring skyward with sightless eyes. “The guards. Where are they?”

  “Being replaced.” Mr. Gunner stepped in behind her and sat near the door. “What’s the matter? Afraid to be alone with me?” He tapped the door closed. “Don’t worry, I only bite in certain situations.”

  Millicent rolled her eyes and clutched the priceless piece of paper. A warm glow spread through her. She’d get to have a baby!

  After a while, she noticed his continued gaze, one lacking the usual spicy violence to which she’d grown accustomed. She lowered the paper to her lap. “Running after the piece of paper was a change from your normal stodgy asshole persona. What changed? I’m of more value now, so you’ve conceded I’m worth hearing?”

  “I’m on the job, cupcake. Have to wear the right emotional uniform in the right social situations. Surely someone taught you that in all your extensive training. Or do your superiors have such little faith in you?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I’d say something witty, but all I want to do is stick something sharp in your eye to get you to stop calling me cupcake.”

  “Yes, yes, here we go. Here we go.”

  Millicent sat with a straight back and dangling bare legs as a man in a white coat walked into the small exam room. A blue sheet with armholes wrapped around her front and draped open in the back, the conglomerate insignia displayed on her breast pocket. It had been a week since she’d gotten the news, and life had almost gone back to normal. Four guards now awaited her in the craft each morning, but Mr. Gunner was not one of them. In fact, other than noticing him standing off to the side in the entryway as she arrived to work, and occasionally seeing him striding through her floor with his annoyingly entrancing voice, she didn’t have any interaction with him at all.

  She was now in the exam room of the creation lab, waiting for the most amazing of life’s miracles to happen to her.

  “So, shall I explain a little of what we’re doing here, or would you prefer I just go about the task?” The man in the white coat gave her a serene smile and clasped his hands in front of him.

  “And you are?”

  “Oh!” He laughed to himself softly. “I do beg your pardon. Excuse me. I get so excited during these times, and this is the most exciting of all. Yes, my name is Mr. McAllister, but you can call me Trent. I am a manager in the creation-synergy department and work very closely with the creation lab. I’ll be working directly with you throughout this whole process. This is a very informal setting.”

  She nodded once. “Please take me through what you are doing and what is expected of me.”

  “Of course. Sure, of course. Okay.” He smiled and lightly touched her shoulder, an action that had her clasping her hands in her lap tightly. She wasn’t a fan of physical touch, not having had much experience with it. “We have ascertained that you are ovulating, and your body has been prepared to receive fertilization. We’ve had a lot of experience with this, and the success rate is ninety percent. We are very hopeful the first time will take just fine.” His grin suggested a shared joke.

  She frowned and shook her head. She didn’t get it.

  “Right. Okay.” Mr. McAllister ran the pad of his finger across his forehead. He then wiped it on his pants. “So we will introduce the male fertilization in just a moment. Now, don’t worry. I know that you have always taken Clarity and aren’t familiar with coitus in any form. I assure you that this procedure is purely medicinal. We don’t shove a male in here like a livestock breeding farm.” He laughed and tapped her shoulder.

  She flinched away. “A what?”

  “Livestock was—never mind.” He shook his head and muttered something that sounded like, “I need to stop using those jokes.” His smile returned with increased wattage. “The only thing is . . . we’ve shown that the rate of success is higher if the female’s body is active during the insemination. This means that the muscles contract, carrying the . . . male fertilization up through the—let me just get a picture.” Mr. McAllister moved to the wall and brought up a picture of a female reproductive system.

  “I don’t need this level of detail,” she said.

  He paused with his finger pointing at a place she’d rather not get a lesson on. Another lesson, she should say. She’d had plenty leading up to puberty.

  “Yes, okay, sure.” Mr. McAllister’s face turned red. “At any rate, you’ll feel . . . sensations you may not have felt before. They are pleasant, and completely normal. I mean natural. I didn’t mean to imply—”

  “I’m familiar with what an orgasm is and how it helps the reproductive system. Please, Mr. McAllister, let’s get on with it.”

  Muttering to himself, Mr. McAllister moved to his station.

  She assumed the position all women her level knew. Health was important for someone of her status, and the conglomerate ensured that all personnel got yearly physicals.

  “Just go ahead and lie—oh. You’re . . . Great.” Mr. McAllister’s flush turned more furious. “Sorry. I’ve just never worked directly with someone of your caliber. You’re the first one to start ovulating.”

  She clasped her hands and stared at the ceiling, waiting for his role in this to be completed.

  “I will now inject . . . the fertilization. You’ll feel some pressure.”

  Pressure bordering on pain flared from deep within her body, a situation usual for these types of exams. She resisted the urge to squirm uncomfortably.

>   “Okay, all done.” Mr. McAllister moved away as the pressure released. “Now.” He handed her a pair of black briefs. “Just put those on, have a seat in the comfy chair over there, or lie down right where you are, and the computer will take care of the rest. Stay as long as you’d like.”

  “How long does this usually take?” She slid the briefs on under her blue sheet.

  “As long as you want, really. It’s up to you as long as you . . . you know.”

  “Have an orgasm?” She felt a small buzzing from the briefs.

  He cleared his throat and backed toward the door. “Yes. Excuse me.”

  Mr. McAllister seemed strangely awkward for a man in his position. None of this should be new to him. Although, he had said he was working with the lab, not for the—

  A moan escaped her lips before she’d even known it was coming. The vibration grew stronger and more intense, centering on the area just above her opening. It pulsed, prompting her hips to pulse with it. Fingers clutching the exam bench, eyes rolling to the back of her head, she soaked in the pleasure. Waves of bliss spread outward from her core. Heat seared through her middle, blistering hot, achingly sweet. Her teeth clenched as everything tightened, prompting another moan. Then another. She couldn’t seem to get enough air. Didn’t want to. All she wanted was to keep going. Get more of this feeling. Never stop this—

  “Oh Holy—!” she exalted as an explosion of sensation ripped through her body. Everything fractured, her body humming in delight. “Holy . . . shit.” Breathing heavily, she looked down between her legs at the little black briefs.

  Why weren’t these standard issue? They were sensational!

  She glanced at the numbers on the wall. She really should be getting back, but surely she had time for one more. It was helping the cause, after all . . .

  Chapter 5

  Millicent adjusted her jogging suit, trying to sit it around her growing belly so it wasn’t so tight. By pregnancy standards, she was twelve weeks in. By real-life standards, she’d only felt pregnant for about six weeks. It was when the waves of sickness hit, cycling through the day, that she realized changes were happening in her body. Most of those changes were not pleasant in the beginning, but Mr. McAllister had assured her that once the sickness went away, things would become more exciting.

  Granted, he was a man—and, come to find out, one who’d previously worked only with lab births. So he really had no idea.

  Still, she chose to believe him. What other option did she have?

  The guards filed around her as she left the changing pod and made her way to the exercise facility. Moving two floors down and toward the back, she tried to ignore the glances her way and the longing on many of the women’s faces. Once in the facility, standing on her running mat, she waited while the system synced with her implant. A moment later, the speed increased until she was walking, and then increased further until she was lightly jogging. There it stopped.

  Frowning, she thought, Faster.

  Her pace did not change.

  “This better not be like those heels,” she muttered, thinking the command again.

  The air shivered in front of her before those one-of-a-kind electric-blue eyes were staring at her. She was starting to hate that color.

  His mouth was turned up in a smug grin. “Ah-ah, sweetheart. You can’t overdo it.”

  “Don’t call me sweetheart, and I don’t plan to,” she said to the hologram. “I plan to do just enough. I’ve spoken with Mr. McAllister on several occasions at our many checkups. He assures me that running is permissible.”

  “Your welfare is in my hands.” He looked down in response to a muted feminine murmur. Behind him hung tubes and canisters of different colors and sizes, interrupted by the shapes of people moving around.

  “Where are you? Is that a bar?” she asked in bewilderment.

  His face came back up. Humor sparkled in his eyes. “Yes, it is. Care to join me?” The feminine voice sounded again. A flash of irritation crossed Mr. Gunner’s features, but he remained silent.

  “Not at all. Enjoy your time.”

  His brow furrowed. “That’s it? That’s your version of hard?”

  “Good evening, Mr. Gunner.” Stop transmission.

  The air cleared. Millicent stopped the running mat before walking to a wall console. It took her fifty-five seconds to weasel into her files, change a few settings, and then erase his security influence. Mr. Gunner really needed to enlist better help if he planned to assert his dominance over her. She had nearly hacked into the “secure,” higher-level system of Gregon Corp., coded by someone who would soon be regarded as the second best in the world. Mr. Gunner didn’t stand a chance.

  She stepped back onto her running mat before it started as planned. When it hit the previous threshold, it didn’t stop. Soon she was at her normal speed, warming up.

  The air shivered in front of her.

  Stop transmission.

  Her personal transmission pulsed heat on her wrist, asking permission to connect.

  Denied.

  She hated to ruin his night out but . . .

  Oh, who was she kidding. She could think of nothing better than dousing the flame of his infallible ego.

  Without warning, the whole floor went black. Emergency lights burst to life, their beams casting sharp shadows across the staggering and sweating staffers. Running mats slowed to a stop. People’s chests heaved as they checked their wrists. A couple people sought consoles. Millicent put her hands on her hips and allowed herself the tiniest smile when the air in front of her shimmered to life. He’d kept power to the transmissions to rub this in her face.

  It was so clever she couldn’t be properly annoyed.

  “I don’t like when my calls aren’t answered . . .” His deep voice beat against her. “Now be a good girl and go on home. I have a craft standing by.”

  “I didn’t realize Neanderthals could work a console. Color me impressed,” she said, walking away.

  “I can work more than a console . . .”

  “I’m really not interested in your ability to touch yourself, Mr. Gunner. Even the first humanoids had that one down.” She grabbed a towel off the rack and dabbed her face as she left the facility.

  Once she arrived home, she thought, Dinner, to get the food pouch heating and then palmed her console open. She had a state-of-the-art device, able to read her heat signature from across the room for broad-strokes commands. After choosing the option for her running mat, she waited while it slid out from the wall. Like in the facility, it activated on its own and quickly got up to speed, reading her implant. Warming up again was no fun, but under the circumstances, she’d deal with it. Mr. McAllister had said that a healthy body would recover more quickly, and considering the frightening changes already taking place in her body, the quicker the better.

  As before, the mat hit a certain threshold before stalling. “Oh, really? He’s going to try and dictate my home life, too?” She palmed the console and then swung her hand, moving it to the screen in front of her. From there, while running at the ridiculously slow speed, she worked into her system, traced the modifications to the source, and reset them. Then, in retaliation, she engineered a much tighter collection of controls and placed them around his apartment. Lukewarm cleansing spray, running mat too fast, weights calibrated with slightly more weight, wake-up screen just a bit too bright—nothing too extreme. Nothing that would immediately clue him in to her tampering. But all very irritating.

  That done, she pushed the console away and allowed the screen to display a dirt path through a lush green forest. Scent secretions flavored the air around her, matching her olfactory senses to her visual. As her body warmed, heat pulsed on her wrist.

  Frowning, she thought, Accept.

  “Now you are interrupting my night, and since you aren’t doing it naked, you need to fall in line.” He looked down for a second, his shoulders twitching. Working a console, she had no doubt.

  She swung hers in front of her
again, eating away some of his picture, slowed her mat speed so she could work, and chose another route in this battle. One with a more satisfying victory. As the power cut out from under her, she held up her wrist, showing him the purple square that glowed against her skin.

  “Stay to the speed I set you, or no mat . . . What are you doing?”

  Eyes connected with his, movements purposeful, she pushed the purple square. It could’ve easily been done from the console, but visuals were so much more effective.

  As predicted, he winced, and his ear curled toward his shoulder.

  She released the button. “Uh-oh, did no one tell you that implants could be used against you?” She paused, then said, “Butt out, or I’ll make that shock more intense next time.”

  He straightened up slowly, his eyes on fire, his face a blank mask. In the background, she heard a female voice say, “What is taking so long? I thought you only wanted me tonight?”

  “You should go. You’re being rude to your guest,” Millicent said lightly. She touched a button on her console and started to jog. “But don’t worry—I won’t go too fast.”

  He stared for a moment. His shoulders started tweaking again, though his eyes didn’t turn away. He was more apt on a console than she would’ve guessed.

  She worked her own console, smiling as she blocked his attempts to get through her newly created security measures. He redirected, trying to go through the conglomerate system instead of her private household loop. That was just as easy to block, of course.

  She rose her finger in the air . . .

  “Don’t you do it—”

  She let the finger fall. His left eye squinted, and his jaw clenched. A vein in his temple throbbed. Those were the only indications of the intense pain he was in.

  She released the finger. “How’d you like that? Hard enough for you? Or should I ram it in a little harder?” She grinned, then let the smile grow. “Beautiful smile—that’s what you like? Well, how do you like it now?”

  “You never asked my name,” he said slowly, his voice deeper than normal.