I don’t let myself hope for more than that. Hope is dangerous when you’re a symbiote. Hope leads to disappointment, and disappointment leads to the kind of hurt I spent years learning to avoid.
But as I step into the elevator and the doors close, I can’t stop thinking about the way she looked at me with those sharp blue eyes, studying me like I was a puzzle she needed to solve. And I can’t stop wondering what it will feel like when we finally merge, and I have access to everything she’s been hiding behind that fierce, guarded exterior.
Chapter Four
Wren
I arrive at the training facility at twenty minutes to eight, hoping I’ll have time alone to gather my thoughts before the symbiote shows up. My stomach drops the second I push through the door and see him already waiting near the far wall, arms crossed, completely still. Like he’s been carved from stone.
I curse under my breath and force myself to keep walking forward instead of turning around and leaving, like every instinct is screaming at me to do. I can’t run. The mission depends on this, and the Kyzer family won’t wait around forever to find a new chemist. They’re already looking. I have to do this even if terror is crawling up my spine with every step I take toward him.
I straighten my shoulders and lift my chin, trying to project confidence I absolutely do not feel. The training room is sparse, just padded mats covering most of the floor, a few weight racks against one wall, and fluorescent lights overhead that make everything look too sharp. My footsteps are loud in the quiet space.
I stop a few feet away from him.
“Okay, let’s do this.”
Zeth studies me for a moment, those solid black eyes moving across my face like he’s trying to read me.
“If you’re ready... But we don’t have to do it today. We could use this session for hand-to-hand combat training instead. I could see what you know, how you move. We can learn about each other before merging. It might make the actual merge easier.”
Relief floods through me so fast it makes me lightheaded. I don’t have to merge with him tonight. I can put this off, givemyself more time to prepare, more time to build up the courage to let him inside my head.
Then I mentally slap myself because… what’s the point? Delaying the inevitable just gives me more time to panic, more time to imagine all the ways this could go wrong. Today is as good as any other day. Better to get it over with.
“We should merge now,” I say, keeping my voice firm and squeezing my hands into fists to stop them from shaking. “Do a test run. See how it feels.”
He watches me for another beat, and I wonder what he sees on my face despite my best efforts to keep my expression neutral.
“Okay,” he finally says.
He extends his hand toward me with his index finger pointed in my direction. It’s the same gesture from earlier in the conference room, and I freeze looking at his hand the exact same way I did then.
Guilt washes over me. I looked like a complete idiot earlier, when I refused to shake his hand, like he had some disease I might catch from touching him. I was too afraid to touch him, and now I’m so ashamed that I want the floor to open and swallow me.
Zeth senses my hesitation.
“Don’t worry. I won’t merge with you just because we touch. You can touch my hand, and unless you give consent, nothing will happen. I need your permission.”
“I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “About earlier. I don’t know what came over me. I hope you weren’t offended when I didn’t shake your hand. I’ve never met a symbiote before. I know about your species theoretically, but I have no real experience with people like you.”
“It’s okay,” he says. “I wasn’t offended. I understand your hesitation.” He pauses. “I will never do anything you don’t consent to first.”
I take a deep breath and straighten my spine, then extend my own hand toward his. My hand trembles slightly, but I don’t pull back. I watch my fingers move closer to his charcoal-gray skin, until our fingertips make contact.
His skin is warm and smooth against mine. Not cold or slimy like some irrational part of me feared. Just warm skin, human temperature, pressed against my fingertips. We look into each other’s eyes, and his black pupils are impossible to read.
“Will you allow me to enter you?” he asks.
Heat floods my face immediately, spreading from my cheeks down my neck. My pulse jumps in my throat. I realize he has no idea how that sounded. His expression is completely innocent and professional, so I swallow hard and force myself to answer.
“Yes.”
His hand starts to change against mine. It feels like his skin is melting into mine, but not in a wet sort of way, more like two liquids blending together at a molecular level. My eyes widen as I watch my own arm turn black, his charcoal-gray color spreading up from our joined hands and creeping up my wrist and forearm like ink spreading through water. Then the black fades and my skin returns to its normal color, but I can feel him inside now.
His essence is right under my skin. I can feel him in my muscles, wrapped around my bones like a second skeleton, spread through the meat of my arm. It’s not painful. It actually feels good in a strange way, like my arm is stronger and more alive, and more present than it’s ever been.
The sensation is intoxicating, like being truly entered. Not sexual, but somehow more than sexual, more intimate than sex has ever been with anyone. He’s inside my body, part of my physical self, and the boundary between us is dissolving.
