Tempting, though. Wildly tempting.
My annoyance must’ve been showing, because James’s features softened immediately. “Emma, please. I’m sorry for how I spoke to you. I shouldn’t have said it the way I did. But you have to understand.” His voice was low but intense, eachword deliberate. “People will notice. Your haze—it shouldn’t be visible inside any Collective. As soon as you find yourself inside the Metasphere, your translation should be untraceable and invisible. We can’t take any risks of people finding out you’re…different.”
I heard what he was saying—really heard it—and I knew it came from a place of concern, of care, and love even. Didn’t exactly stop the flare of anger curling in my chest.
Though I could see it in his face: he meant well. He wasn’t trying to control me, he was trying to protect me. And as much as I wanted to push back, I couldn’t ignore the fact he wasn’t entirely wrong. The last thing I wanted was to attract unwanted attention. I’d already endured enough abduction and experimentation for a lifetime, thank you very much.
Still, I had spent so long trying to master my powers, we’d fought for so long to release them. And now I had to hide them?
“I’ve worked so hard to get to this point,” I said quietly, keeping my voice steady. “We’ve sacrificed too much for me to start hiding now.”
I hesitated, then added, more softly, “I thought… I thought maybe you’d be proud.”
He reached across the table and took my hand gently in his. “You’ve always impressed me, and I’m always proud to call you mine. I’ve never doubted you could do this. It’s not as if I’m not amazed by what you’re doing, by what you can. It’s just not safe to show you’re different, not right now. But I always knew you’d get here. You’ve always been capable of so much more than you think.”
I squeezed his hand, touched by his words even as the sting of his lack of enthusiasm lingered beneath the surface.
“You can still translate inside the Universitas,” he offered. “Everyone’s translation is visible over there. You wouldn’t stick out.”
I smiled, and decided not to let his overprotectiveness drag the moment into another endless debate. It was mildly infuriating—but also weirdly sweet, in that stubborn, overcautious way he did everything. “Well, look at you, finding the silver lining,” I murmured. “That’s almost optimistic. I’m proud.”
He chuckled, and just like that, the last of the tension dissolved. Our next plate arrived right on cue, and from there, the conversation flowed easily—full of laughter, sharp wit, and the kind of effortless teasing that felt like slipping back into something familiar. It was almost perfect, and whatever weight had lingered between us faded quietly into the background.
After dinner, James portaled us back into Cyclos at the edge of Oasis and we walked the rest of the way to the Universitas. The night was warm, the sky a beautiful indigo with stars scattered like diamonds across velvet.
As we wandered through the quiet streets, the familiar landmarks of the Collective around us, I found myself more at ease with James than I had with anyone ever before. There was comfort in his presence, a sense of safety I hadn’t realized I craved so much.
His hand never let go of mine, and by the time we’d reached Winter Palace, I was pretty sure I never wanted him to.
As we walked up the stairs to my dorm, a nervous flutter settled into my stomach. Obviously, we were going to kiss—we’d been kissing non-stop since I’d come out of my coma—but was he going to spend the night? Was I ready for it? Was he?
Arriving at my level, he took a step toward the general door which led to the corridor of my dorm, but I stopped him. His eyebrow raised, curious. “I, uhm,” I started, fumbling with my words as nervousness took hold. “I was thinking, wondering, maybe, something along the lines of…hmprnightcaphjsy…”
James blinked, clearly confused. “I’m sorry, what?”
I mentally cursed myself. Why was I so nervous? It wasn’t like I was a virgin, so why was I acting like one?
“I was wondering,” I began again, trying to regain some composure, “maybe if you want, I could come up to your place and we could have a nightcap or something?” The words came out in a rush, and I was immediately mortified by how awkward my self-invitation sounded.
James, ever calm and collected, lifted my chin gently, making me meet his stare. “Why are you rambling like a nervous wreck? You don’t do that.”
I swatted his hand away, more annoyed at myself than him, but his lack of immediate understanding didn’t help. “Never mind,” I snapped, then turned to leave, embarrassed by the whole situation.
Before I could take a step, James grabbed my arm and spun me back toward him. He pushed me against the door, pinning my hands above my head with such a sudden intensity, it sent a shiver down my spine.
“Emma,” he murmured, his voice a low, seductive whisper, inches from my ear, “would you like to come up for a drink?” His breath danced across the shell of my ear, which made me nearly moan with anticipation.
I nodded, closing my lids as his lips trailed from my ear down to my neck, inducing a rush of heat through my body.
“Is that a yes?” he whispered.
“Yes!” I replied too loudly. My patience was wearing thin, and I was too eager to take this upstairs.
He grinned with a wicked glint in his eyes, releasing one of my hands but keeping the other firmly in his grasp. With a confident stride, he led me to the highest level of the Palace.
Excitement and nervousness blended together, and both made my heart race as he opened the door to his loft.
He led me through the familiar space, our footsteps echoing on the hardwood floor. We’d spent time here before but tonight seemed different—charged with an anticipation which made the atmosphere become thicker, more intense.
