“Didn’t have to,” he said distractedly. “Their firewalls are pathetic. A child could construct a better defense. This holopad is Automata-issued. There must be proprietary information within, because the defenses are much denser.”
“The lying, the confrontation, the hacking… None of that should be possible. It goes completely against the moral core of your AI.”
“For you, I will do anything. There are no limits.”
The words, both romantic and horrifying, sent all her hairs on end.
Something was wrong—really, truly wrong—with this android. He had lied at her father’s office, and he’d lied about lying. He’d ignored her commands, even issued his own. What the hell had Logan been doing with Sam’s coding? How was this possible?
And why? Why on Earth would Logan want to create an android with this much autonomy? Did he want to play God? He’d never seemed like the type. Honestly, he’d never even seemed that interested in his work. The prestige, maybe, of working for a big company like Automata, but not the coding itself.
With a soft click, the holopad revealed its home screen. The message app opened automatically—no, not automatically. It was Sam, sending his will through that cable, operating the holopad with his mind.
She leaped to her feet and paced as the message thread with Tiffany opened.
“Ophelia.” He spoke her name like a warning, still using that strange, robotic tone.
She stilled, digging her nails into her arms as she hugged them around her chest. Hadn’t she wanted to know? It had been her idea to look at the damn holopad. Why was she afraid to see it now?
There was a soft whirr and click, and a rustle of fabric. Sam swept her hair off the nape of her neck and pressed his lips to the vulnerable spot. His hand was there, firm pressure directing her gaze back toward him.
“Please,” she breathed, not sure if she was asking him to help her or to leave her alone.
He guided her to the couch, pressed her into the cushions, and put the holopad in her hand. She couldn’t bring the words on the screen into focus, taking sharp, hiccupping breaths as she teetered on the edge of a panic attack.
Sam knelt on the ground before her, his face illuminated by the glow of the holopad. He looked like a fallen angel: uncanny, beautiful, and menacing.
“You’re frightened.” He rubbed his cheek over her knee like a cat. “And that frightens me, in turn. But I should not have tried to shield you. You can withstand this. You will, because you can’t have what you deserve until you recognize that this is not it.”
“What do I deserve?”
“Better,” he said, rising up onto his knees to meet her gaze. “You deserve better, and you will have it. I’m going to give it to you.”
“Stop it,” she whispered. “Stop making promises. You’re a robot. You don’t belong to me. You don’t even belong to yourself.”
His gaze was dark and unwavering. “Of course I belong to you.”
She leaped to her feet, toppling the holopad to the ground and forcing Sam back onto his heels.
“I’m dirty.” She looked down at her bare arms as though she could see the germs crawling there. “You—you pushed me down before. On the ground. I need to take a shower. I have to change.”
She started for the bathroom, but a hand wrapped around her throat before she reached the door, dragging her back against his body.
“Get off me,” she wheezed, clawing at him. Her nails did nothing to pierce his artificial flesh, and he clearly felt no pain. “I have to shower.”
“No.”
“I’m dirty,” she rasped. “I’m dirty! I’m dirty!”
Distantly, she realized she was screaming loud enough that someone might actually call the cops out of concern, but she couldn’t stop. She thrashed against him, kicking fruitlessly at his shins, wailing as she tried to escape him.
“Then be dirty,” he said harshly. “Why not, Ophelia?”
“I can’t.” She elbowed him again and again in his ribs, accomplishing nothing but bruising her elbow.
“You can.”
All the energy left her at once as she realized there was nothing she could do against his superior strength. She sagged against him, crying silently. When he was satisfied she was done resisting, he scooped her off her feet and carried her bridal-style to the bed.
