Zeke Tristone pushed his glasses up his nose and muttered under his breath as he ran on his treadmill on the top floor of his condo. He hated that he wasn’t as strong as the security guard outside his office two floors down. He knew the looks, saw the stare aimed at him as if he were a lost puppy.
He ran harder, pushing his body as far as possible even though muscles never grew. No matter what Zeke ate, drank, or did to exercise, he stayed slim and pale. His mother told him it was hereditary.
His entire family was full of skinny people. He’d tried everything to gain weight and muscle. But after months and months, if he’d gained five pounds, it was a lot. So he’d settled for running. It kept him in shape, and he was able to keep his blood flowing after a full day in the lab.
Once he’d ru
