knifed: a lighthearted utensil Romance

Chapter Three

Ray

Papers fly in all directions as I spread out across a shiny white surface. It’s cold and hard against my forehead. I push myself off it with enough force that I land on my feet a yard from what I realize is a desk.

Where the hell am I?

A quick glance down confirms I’m in my dress uniform but my chest is covered with medals I don’t remember receiving. My head is pounding, my muscles are spasming, and the room blurs out of focus. I stumble backward into a bookcase and catch myself before I hit the floor.

Why am I weak?

What’s wrong with my legs?

A wave of nausea washes over me and I close my eyes briefly, determined to not throw up all over myself before I at least know where I am. Wherever I am, escape may require blending in, and that will be difficult if I soil the front of my jacket.

Feeling slightly steadier on my feet, I straighten and look around. I’m in what appears to be a feminine office. The decor is sage green and white. There’s a tan couch with a white plush throw across it. The shiny surface I flung myself from is the top of a futuristic-looking desk. All around my feet sketches of odd-looking toys are scattered. Machines in clothing? I can’t tell and honestly, I don’t care enough to put much thought into them.

I have no idea where I am or how I got here. As soon as I’m free of this place, I’ll find my unit and figure out what happened to me. I head toward the open door of the office but freeze when I hear a voice.

“Jack, this is the only way.”

Recognizing that voice brings a sense of relief. Hugh’s not my favorite person, but I might hug him anyway. If I live long enough to. The persistent pain in my head is confusing. I heal so fast now that I haven’t experienced discomfort at this level for a long time.

When I first joined Inkwell the injections we received killed many men. If you lived, you gained enhanced physical abilities and were able to regenerate body parts. However, there was no predicting or stopping the death of someone once they began to reject the treatments. It was something we knew could happen at any time. It’s been years since we’ve lost a man that way and even longer since any of us have received a dose.

Our handlers at Inkwell expected our transformation to cease when the injections did, but the speed at which we heal is still increasing. Broken bones now mend in moments rather than months.

Whatever is wrong with me should be fleeting, but the pain is getting worse rather than lessening. This is not how I’d hoped to die. After everything we’ve done, it feels anticlimactic and disappointing.

Do I want Hugh to see me this way? I begin walking toward the door. If there is any part of my death that can help him or the others, he needs to know what’s happening to me. I hear Hugh say, “Ray’s too dangerous. He can’t come back now.”

Can’t come back? From where? I shudder as my memory produces a painfully vivid image of the place I just escaped.

“He’s already awakening,” Jack says.

Jack.

Of all the men in my unit, Jack’s the one I’d say I trust the most, but something in his tone has me tensing. Why don’t they want me awake?

Did they drug me? I strain to remember anything before landing on the desk a few minutes ago. There was the weird dream about a woman and before that . . . before that . . .

Memories flood in of men being taken in the middle of the night by armed guards from Project Inkwell. The honor of working for Inkwell came at a steep price. Second chances weren’t given. If a man stepped out of line, he was removed and dealt with. No warning. No reason given.

We haven’t lost a man since we swore to stand together, even against our government. There wasn’t a change in policy, but I figured we’d become strong enough that attempting to take one of us would have proven difficult, if it were even still possible.

How had Inkwell convinced Jack and Hugh to turn on me?

What did I do? There’s a dark shadow looming in my memories, blocking me from remembering, but whispering this is my fault.

What’s my fault?

What can’t I remember?

“Where’s the knife, Ashley?” Hugh demands. “Let’s do this quickly and get it over with.”

Fuck, Hugh is planning to slice me to pieces. It’s the most sensible method. A bullet is rarely instantly deadly. I could regenerate as fast as he could shoot. But if he severs my head? Dead is dead and dead can’t heal.

He must think I’m unconscious and vulnerable. The searing pain in my head nearly has me in that condition. What the hell did they drug me with? Why can’t my body fight it?

“In my office on the desk,” a female voice says softly. I recognize the voice and it calls to me, but my adrenaline is pumping, and I need to stay focused. I’ve survived worse. I’ll survive this.

I move to one side to listen better without being seen. A quick glance at the desk puts me slightly more at ease when there’s no knife on it. I may be unarmed, but I have the element of surprise and I intend to use it.

“I can’t do this to Ray,” Jack says in a tone that doesn’t convince me he’ll do much to protect me. “We’re brothers first. We stand and fight as one or fall and die together. Remember?” My stomach churns. A part of me always knew Jack was all talk. The most dangerous enemies a person can have are the ones who pretend to be friends. Hugh never liked me, so learning he’s not loyal to me isn’t a surprise, but Jack’s betrayal guts me.

“Don’t brothers first me. You also have doubts about him. We need to act now before it’s too late.”

“It’s already too late.”

“Stand down, Jack.” The voices grow louder as they approach.

Jack snaps, “You stand down. You’re not in charge anymore, Hugh.”

I grimace. Jack almost sounds like he has a spine.

Hugh says, “You think I want to do this? We don’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice.”

The discord evident in their chatter is a good sign. If they’re at odds with each other, they’ll be easier to beat. Hugh and Jack, when they work in unison, are a force none of us have won against. But one at a time? I could take them out.

I’ve done it before.

I’ll do it this time.

Jack’s back fills the doorway. “There’s a lot we don’t understand about our situation, but Ray saved my ass more than once. I won’t do this.”

I take a deep breath. Okay, so maybe Jack is on my side. Maybe this fight will be us against Hugh.

Hugh’s tone is as dry and pompous as always. “Your ass wouldn’t have needed saving if he could stick to a plan.”

When Jack doesn’t immediately answer, I tense. Yes, some of my ideas have nearly gotten Jack and me killed but that’s only because I don’t play it safe like Hugh does. The parameters of our missions have never been as clear-cut to me as they are to him.

We’re tasked with saving the world, but are we supposed to stand back and ignore atrocities simply because they have nothing to do with our orders? Why have superhuman strength if not to use it to protect those who cannot protect themselves?

Hugh and his fucking ego. He likes to take credit for our wins, but I’m the one who goes in first, takes the hits, and gets results. So, yeah, sometimes that means Jack needs to carry my battered body out, but I’m the reason we never retreat—never fail. It’s my courage that’s the torch the men follow through the darkness. Without me, we would have never discovered how near death we could be and still heal.

I stand motionless and silent. It’s not pain or my mortality that I fear, but I’ll be damned if Hugh is what ends me. If Director Falcon has decided to remove me, he’ll need to come kill me himself.

“Ray will—” Jack begins, but Hugh cuts him off.

“Endanger all of us? He’s impulsive and reckless. You know he’ll expose us. Are you willing to risk the lives of everyone else for him? Risk everything you have here—even Cheryl?”

Cheryl? Who the fuck is she?

“I hate that you might be right.” And just like that, Jack’s loyalty dissolves like sand beneath an ocean wave.

Fuck him.

Fuck both of them.

This is not when and where I’ll die.

I can’t say the same for them.

In a move I’ve honed to perfection, I rush up behind Jack, take his head between my hands, and give it a neck-breaking twist. Unprepared, he doesn’t have the time to tense and drops to the floor. Maybe dead. Maybe not. I’ll know in a few minutes because we heal fast.

I step on Jack’s back, reach forward, and haul Hugh over him. The room spins, but I fight to stay focused. I have the element of surprise and I don’t waste it. Hugh will aim for my arms and legs first. That’s his go-to strategy. So, as I lift him, I crush both of his upper arms in my hands then swing him upward with such force that I hear the bones in his legs crack.

All the sparring we’ve done in preparation of fighting others has revealed an unfortunate weakness in all of us . . . although we are stronger and faster, we are just as breakable.

I have the upper hand, and I’m taking full advantage of it. There’s screaming—from more than one woman. I don’t stop. I can’t show mercy. Given the chance, Hugh will kill me.

Not today, my friend, not today.

I swing Hugh back and forth against the doorframe, until his skull cracks and he’s limp in my arms. In a sparring match, this is where I would stop. Nothing I’ve done to him won’t heal if there’s even a fraction of life left in him.

The mountain beneath me shifts. I stumble and drop Hugh’s now motionless body. “That’s enough, Ray,” Jack growls.

Two enormous arms encircle me from behind and lift me off my feet. Three women surround Hugh. One is crying. A second is frantically reassuring the first that he’ll heal. A third woman moves to stand in front of Hugh and meets my gaze.

Time stills, and for just a second, it feels as if she and I have stepped outside of that brutal scene. There’s fear in her eyes, but also compassion. I’ve never seen her before, but I recognize her as the woman in my dream. I open my mouth to ask her who she is, but Jack steps back from Hugh and turns away from her carrying me with him.

My hands close around his forearms. He tosses me forward before I can do any damage. I hit the wall head-first and slide down. As soon as my feet touch the floor, I spin.

Jack is there, standing with his feet apart, like a human shield protecting Hugh. “Calm down, Ray.”

“And make killing me easy? No thanks.” I lean forward and quickly assess my options for attack. He matches my stance.

“No one wants to kill you. We’re here to help you.”

I circle slowly to the left then to the right. Jack is fast on his feet, but I’m faster. All I need is an opening. “Unfortunately for you, I’m not deaf. You had me fooled for a while there, Jack. All that talk of watching out for each other. I never really believed it, though. I knew this day would come.”

“You’re confused, Ray. I was too. This whole situation is fucked up.”

“No, what’s fucked up is you staying to fight me instead of running while you can. I’ve always liked you, Jack. Leave now and you’ll be dead to me, but still alive enough to have to live with yourself and the knowledge that you’re a piece of shit.”

Jack raises both hands in a request for a truce. “I’m not going anywhere because I’m on your side, Ray. Always have been.”

“Then I’m sorry this is the way you’ll die.” I reach beside me, grab a lamp, snap the top off, and throw it like a dagger at him. He moves to the side and it pierces the wall. When he glances back at it, I lunge.

Jack is taller than I am and built like a rhino, but I have a skill he’s never mastered—the art of zero hesitation. I sweep his legs out from beneath him and as he goes down, I hammer my hand into his face with a series of powerful punches.

He rolls away, shaking his head, blood pouring from his nose and lip. “Calm the fuck down, Ray. You have no idea where you are or what’s going on. Stop and listen before I’m forced to hurt you.”

“Before you hurt me?” My vision blurs again and my thoughts jumble. He’s not Jack anymore, he’s my father, yelling that everything he did to me was my fault. I let out a primal snarl and grab Jack off the floor by his neck and hold him above me. His hands grip my fingers to pry them off, but my rage amplifies my strength to beyond even his.

His eyes bulge, and his confidence wavers as the realization kicks in that I’m not letting go, and he won’t survive this. I could end him quickly, but I need to know why. Why me? Why now?

He’s struggling to breathe and my hold on him lessens slightly as another wave of pain rocks through me. I stumble backward, still holding him above me.

“Stop,” a woman says urgently before she sprays a white substance all over my face. I wipe it out of my eyes with my free hand. Some of it gets into my mouth. Is that sweet cream? In a tone a mother might use with a wayward child, she says, “You’re getting blood all over my rug and my landlord is a real dick about not refunding security deposits.”

Jack lands a rib-shattering punch to my chest. I drop him and double over. He sends me face down to the floor with a hit to the back of my neck. I groan and roll over just in time for the kick that sends me flying across the room and over the desk. The wall crumbles beneath the impact and I bounce with momentum to the floor.

After a breath, I roll and lift the desk over my head with the intention of throwing it at Jack, when a liquid splashes me in the face, temporarily blinding me. I shake the water off and look down. Right in front of me, a woman who’s at least a foot and a half shorter than I am is waving an empty glass at me. Her skirt is short, her blouse tight and open enough to reveal a distracting amount of rounded breast. I can’t look away. She’s a little bit warrior and a whole lot of siren. Fearlessly, she commands, “Put that desk down right now. I saved up for a year to buy that.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

Her chin rises and she holds my gaze boldly. “I’m the woman who rents this apartment. And it was not easy to get a place in this neighborhood. I sat on a waiting list for months. So, unless you and your friends want to move this super-soldier pissing contest outside, you need to stop.”

I let out a half-laugh half-cough. “Sorry, just fighting for my life over here.”

Jack’s quick approach steals my attention from her. I lower the desk to the floor. He’s now too close for it to be worth the toss. I motion for him to bring his best.

Without looking away from me, Jack says, “It’s not safe in here, Ashley. Take Cheryl and Mercedes outside.” He grabs a floor lamp and smashes the end of it until the base breaks off, then holds it in front of him like it’s some fucking weapon.

“That’s my other favorite lamp,” she mutters, then says, “Mercedes, do something.”

“I wish I could.” The woman on her knees beside Hugh answers in a thick voice. “Hugh is healing, but he’s still unconscious.”

“Cheryl?” Ashley asks.

“I don’t know what you think I can do.” The third woman passes her question along, “Jack?”

Jack flexes his hands on the pole he’s holding. “Ray, all I want to do is talk to you. If you give me a chance to explain what’s going on, no one gets hurt.”

Pain cuts through my skull again. I bend over and gasp for air. “What did you do to me?” I snarl. “Did you poison me or something?”

“We didn’t do anything to you. Ray, we’re all in the same boat. Something happened to us at the award dinner. It’s how we all ended up here—”

“I don’t remember the award dinner.”

Jack and I begin to circle each other. “What do you remember?” he asks.

“Director Falcon wanted to see me. We had a drink—” Something smashes into the back of my head and I drop to my knees.

Hugh is up and back in the mix. Weaker than before because he’s still healing and that’s a mistake. At full strength, with the support of Jack, he could have beaten me. But the knee he brings to my chin barely snaps my head back.

All talking ends.

I pummel Hugh. Jack comes in from the side and attempts to remove me. When that fails, he starts trying to take me down. He has a punch that can easily send a man into next week, but I’ve learned to move fast enough to lessen the power of them.

Snap. Crackle. Pop. The three of us are on the ground, tearing each other apart, breaking whatever we can reach. It’s a fucking bloody mess, but I’m holding my own.

“Ray!” the woman named Ashley calls out my name.

I look up and freeze when she whips open her shirt, revealing gorgeous tits with only the nipples covered with circles of white lace. I could bury my face in her cleavage, but her breasts are also perky enough for me to understand why they don’t submit to the indignity of confinement.

She stands there, hands on hips, breasts bouncing like some female goddess and I don’t know what to do with how possessive I feel toward a woman I don’t know.

Jack stills and looks up at Ashley as well. The reason for wanting him dead a moment ago is replaced by a fresh desire to punch him in the face for not averting his eyes.

That’s my woman.

Mine.

Wait? What?

“Whoever just got a boner needs to get the hell off my leg,” Hugh growls as he disengages his limbs from mine.

“That wasn’t me,” Jack announces and jumps to his feet looking across the room toward one of the women. “Because I didn’t even look at her.”

The woman responds, “Ashley, put your damn shirt back on before I send Jack back to Mercedes and trade him out for a spoon who doesn’t ogle my friends.”

“Cheryl, I couldn’t not look,” Jack asserts. “I’ve only ever seen one woman.”

Like a skit in a comedy, Jack and Cheryl step away to talk about something that is apparently more important than killing me. I scan the room for Hugh, who is talking softly to the woman I believe is named Mercedes. What the hell is going on here?

I slowly rise to my feet and meet Ashley’s gaze. The embarrassment I expected to see in her eyes isn’t there. She closes her shirt and slowly rebuttons it. I’m mesmerized, and with my cock bulging in my pants, I can’t deny that she has a potent effect on me.

Her hands settle back on her hips. “Do I have your attention now?”

“You do.” I swallow hard and gulp a breath. She’s beautiful. Spirited. Brave.

But there’s another layer to this—I feel connected to her.

Shaking my head, I try to dislodge the distraction of my attraction to her. Women are off-limits to everyone in my unit and have been for years. How does this one know Jack and Hugh? And why is everyone dressed so oddly?

Pain. Fuck. And not from the broken skin and bones that are healing. I double over again, gripping my hands on my knees, and inhale slowly several times.

“Are you okay?” Ashley asks as she steps closer. Her hand goes to my forehead. “You’re burning up.” To the others, she says, “He has a fever. I thought you guys couldn’t get sick.”

In an instant, both Hugh and Jack are at my side. A hand that was only a moment ago doing its best to break me, now rests on my forehead briefly. “She’s right,” Jack announces. “What are you on, Ray? We agreed not to take those drugs anymore.”

I shake my head and my vision blurs. “I didn’t take anything.”

The woman beside Jack says, “He said he had a drink with Director Falcon. Someone might have put something in it.”

Hugh nods. “That’s possible.” He turns to Ashley. “Was he like this when you . . . you know . . . brought him back?”

Ashley shakes her head. “I didn’t bring him back.”

Mercedes touches her arm. “Don’t be embarrassed, we’ve all done it . . . even if it is just eating from him.”

“I didn’t eat with the knife and I certainly didn’t fuck it. So, I don’t know how this happened, but it wasn’t me.” Ashley waves her hands in my direction.

“Could there have been another woman here?” Mercedes asks.

Ashley looks around at the bloodied and tattered room and shrugs. “I don’t see how there could have been, but if there was, she’s welcome to him.”

Jack uses the back of his hand to wipe blood from his cheek. “Was there someone with you when you came back, Ray? If so, we need to find her. You’ll need her if you accidentally go back.”

“Go back where? What are you talking about?” None of this makes any sense.

Jack sighs. “I don’t know how much to tell you before we find her. I struggled with the truth when I first heard it.”

“I did as well,” Hugh says quietly.

“Will someone, anyone, fucking explain what’s going on?” I growl.

Ashley folds her arms beneath those gorgeous but now sadly covered breasts of hers. “Something happened to your unit at the award dinner. You’ve been locked inside a knife for eighty years. And before you ask: Yes, we won the war. No, you didn’t actually save anyone. And, yes, we won by creating the very weapon your mission was to save the world from. Also, apparently, I chose the only piece of silverware that doesn’t require sex to transform back. So, even in the world of cutlery, I’m unlucky in love.”

“Is any of this really happening?” I double over again and this time sink to my knees. A wave of nausea washes over me, but I don’t let it win.

“We should get him to a bed,” Jack says.

Ashley wedges herself beneath one of my arms as if she’ll be able to carry my weight. I straighten but allow myself the pleasure of keeping her tucked to my side. “By all means, let’s slide that bloody body of his beneath my pure white duvet because my dream bedroom might as well match my dream office.”

Mercedes takes my other arm. “We’ll clean it up. All of us. We’re in this together. Right, Hugh?”

I glance back at Hugh. He’s watching me closely, his expression difficult to decipher. “Is this hell?” I ask.

“No,” he says quietly. “It’s somewhere much better and much worse.”

Too exhausted to try to make sense of that, I allow Ashley and Mercedes to lead me down a hallway to her bedroom. I’m sore from my injuries in a way I’m not used to. One of my fingers is still broken. Is it possible that I’m losing my ability to heal?

Ashley moves to stand in front of me and, without asking permission, begins to undo my tie. “Let’s get him out of these clothes and wash off the blood before we put him in my bed. Mercedes, are you okay with this or do you want me to ask Cheryl to help me?”

After a pause, Mercedes says, “If Hugh can see you half-naked, I suppose I’m allowed to help undress his friend.”

“I heard that,” Hugh says from the door.

“I meant for you to,” Mercedes tosses back. They exchange a smile that confuses me.

“I can handle this on my own,” Ashley says with a chuckle before meeting my gaze. Her expression softens. “I know you’re not happy, but please don’t try to kill me. All I’m going to do is clean you up a little.”

I wince. “You’re safe.” The idea of her washing me down has my blood pumping, but sadly that only makes the pain in my head more excruciating.

“All set, Mercedes,” Ashley says.

“You’re sure?” Mercedes asks.

“She’s sure,” Hugh answers in a playful tone.

Ashley removes my shoes, slacks, jacket, and shirt, leaving me standing in my skivvies. She walks away and returns quickly with a cool, wet cloth that she runs over my face, neck, and hands. I stand and let her. Why?

Maybe because I’m struggling to believe this is happening.

Or maybe because her touch is as addictive as the sight of her.

I don’t complain as she helps me onto her bed and covers me with a white cloud of softness. “Hey,” I croak.

“Yes?” She hovers by the side of the bed.

I feel heavy. So heavy. I struggle to keep my eyes open as I murmur, “Don’t let them kill me in my sleep.”

Her small hand closes around mine. “Rest and heal. You’re safe. I promise.”

I give into the pull of unconsciousness while clinging to the words I’ve waited my whole life to hear.