That was not his problem to solve. He had been brought to this place to pleasure her sexually. Her needs outside of that fellbeyond the parameters under which he was meant to operate. She was not his primary user. He turned to leave her, but she cringed again, rolling to tuck herself against the cushions as though they might preserve her body heat. Hesitation locked up his joints.
If she remained cold for a sustained period of time, her immune system could become compromised. Should that happen, she would become prone to illness. If she were ill, his programming would not permit him to have sex with her until she was well. Clearly, such an incident would waylay his creator’s plans to watch him pleasure her.
Satisfied that caring for her needs now fell within his scope of operation, he left to search the apartment. There was a closet in the hall that contained several blankets and sheets. He pulled down the thickest comforter within and quietly closed the door before returning to her. Careful not to rouse her, he draped the heavy blanket over her, folding it in half so it would not drag on the floor. She sighed, one hand grabbing at the edge of the comforter and tucking it up under her chin.
He knew she would be comfortable, no longer in danger of contracting illness from her lowered body temperature. He did not know why he then lingered.
His fingers trailed over her temple, luxuriating in the sensation of the soft, baby-fine hairs that grew there. She turned her face toward him. The deep wrinkle between her brows softened as he cupped her cheek, and she pressed it harder against his palm. One of her delicate hands wormed free of the blanket to grasp at his wrist. She held him close in a surprisingly firm grip, trapping his hand between her face and the pillow as she rolled toward him completely. Another sigh escaped her, so big that her whole body heaved with it.
Her lashes fluttered open, and her unfocused gaze fell on him. That tender look seemed to hook around something in hischest. He felt a tug as though some invisible cord had pulled tight between them.
“Don’t go,” she mumbled, nuzzling him. “I love you.”
Her eyes fell shut again.
It had not been for him. It could not have been. What knowledge he had in his system about human love suggested it was too complex to form in such an instant. He knew she must have meant her words for Logan. And yet. And yet.
He stayed frozen like that, cradling the soft warmth of her cheek, even hours after her hand went slack and released him.
CHAPTER 5
You’re not even trying,Logan’s voice kept ringing in Ophelia’s head.I need to think.
He was going to break up with her. She knew it.
‘I need to think’ felt like it was spelled ‘it’s over.’
Ophelia left early Saturday morning, busying herself with a trip to the farmer’s market, where everything looked as appetizing as ashes. She bought nothing but a plain croissant that she ate in a perfunctory manner.
Socks. She needed socks, which led to her spending an hour in the store picking up packages and putting them back before not buying any at all. Surely, she could make the mismatched pairs she had left stretch a little longer. Finally, she stopped at the local coffee shop to order a latte, which went cold as she sat staring blankly at it for another hour before throwing it away.
When there was nothing more she could make busy with, she reluctantly made her way home. She was nearly to her block when she veered off to the left, repulsed as though she and Logan were the same poles of two magnets.
God, she didn’t want to break up with him.
This was a mess—a horrible, heartbreaking mess—but she still loved him. She’d never been in love before him. She couldn’t imagine finding anyone after.
Someone whistled at her, and she was distracted enough that she turned to look instead of ignoring it as she usually would. A gaggle of borged-out teenagers lingered on the street corner she was approaching.
Her blood chilled.
There was only one way kids their age could find the money and the shady doctors to get that kitted out with implants. She dropped her eyes to the pavement and walked faster.
“Hey, lady!” One of them called after her. “Nice panties!”
She grimaced, wishing a thousand deaths on whichever bastard had allowed x-ray vision to be distributed on the streets.
“Wait up,” another called, hustling after her. “We just wanna talk.”
Her heart thumped in her ears. Someone grabbed her hand, yanking at her shoulder as she was suddenly drawn up short. She turned wide-eyed, pulling desperately at his biting grip. The metal joints of his fingers pinched at her bare skin.
“Get off me!” she cried.
“Calm down, damn,” the boy said, grinning down at her. “We just wanna know if you want to have a little fun. You seem tense.”
A second teen came up behind her, boxing her in. People streamed by on the sidewalk as though they were invisible. They might as well have been. Only Cy-Tac officers would jump in on a cyborg incident, and they knew it. No one else would last five minutes if it came to blows.
“Let me go,” she whispered. “Please.”
