my guys. I’d lit a spark with Alec that I hadn’t allowed to ignite fully, but the music was pulsing and so was my desire. Someone was getting lucky tonight . . . maybe a few someones.
Three
I was trying to finish my cereal before Ethan got back from his run. He loved feeding me, and it was always waffles this and poached eggs that. I loved it most of the time, but it was next to impossible to match the enthusiasm he had from the second he woke up. I needed coffee before I could even speak coherently. Sometimes, I just wanted to sit at the bench, eat my Wheaties, and drink my delicious latte.
I’d put the TV on for background noise but soon remembered why we were all avoiding it—except for Tyler, of course. The four TVs in his office were always on, and he scrolled through news sites on his phone as much as he sent messages and emails. I wondered if it was this aspect of his nature—the desire for knowledge—that had determined his Variant ability or if it was his ability that made him crave knowledge more and more. It was a chicken-and-egg problem. According to evolutionary biology, eggs in general have been around for roughly 340 million years, whereas chickens evolved some fifty-eight thousand years ago. Science had solved that problem, but I didn’t know how to solve it in Tyler’s case.
The news for the past month had been all about the events at the lab in Thailand. They were getting some of it wrong and just plain making up the rest, but the Melior Group board had put a gag on any of their staff discussing the events, and they’d encouraged survivors and their families to stay quiet too. They wanted to avoid spreading panic about the kind of experiments that had happened down there, as well as prevent tensions between humans and Variants from escalating.
I shoved another spoonful of cereal into my mouth and frowned at the TV. I hadn’t registered the channel when I turned it on, but the remote was so far away, in the living room, I didn’t have the energy to get up and change it.
It was on a conservative human news network. They had a rotating stream of politicians and social commentators making wild assumptions and whipping up fear.
“. . . and why won’t the mighty Melior Group comment on what exactly they found?” demanded a heavily made-up middle-aged woman in a blue pantsuit. The rest of the panel nodded in agreement. “Surely they’ve finished their investigation by now, but they won’t even tell us that much. How can we be sure it wasn’t actually them running these experiments—trying to make themselves stronger or inventing new abilities. I mean, this could be a real threat to national security, Tom.” Her face was nearly purple as she finished her tirade.
“What a moron,” I mumbled into my cup, taking another sip of my latte.
“Who’s a moron?” Tyler came into the kitchen dressed in a white shirt with a tie, his hair the neatest I’d ever seen it.
I pointed at the TV with my spoon. “Some nutbag.”
He frowned, went over to the living area, and changed the channel to a breakfast show. “Don’t watch that crap, baby. We know the truth. That’s all that matters.”
I huffed but couldn’t help smiling. He’d called me “baby.” I’d been having regular sex with him for weeks now, but I still had a massive crush. Any time he flirted or used a pet name, I got butterflies in my stomach.
“Why are you all dressed up?” I asked.
He was standing at the fridge, eating strawberry yogurt from the tub. “I have a meeting.” He looked at his watch. “And I’ll be late if I don’t get going.”
He shoved three more giant spoonfuls into his mouth, gathered his messenger bag, kissed me on the lips (butterflies!), and ran off.
I’d just stood up to put my bowl in the dishwasher when Ethan and Josh came into the kitchen. They were both freshly showered after their workout, Ethan’s hair slightly damp but Josh’s perfectly styled and parted on the side.
“Hey, pumpkin tits!” Ethan grinned at me as Josh wrapped his arms around me from the back, nuzzling his nose into my hair. “Want some breakfast?”
I absentmindedly rested my hands over Josh’s. “No thanks. I ate.”
I didn’t throw a ridiculous nickname back at him—the TV had distracted me again. The cooking segment had given way to a news report. “Protests