Jessa stops in the center of the room, shivering violently. She unclips the straps of her backpack, and I take a step toward her with some half-formed intention of helping. But she quickly sets it down, grabs the hem of her shirt, and pulls it over her head.
I back away quickly, but the wall stops me. The chamber is too small, there’s nowhere else to go, and I know I should turn around, but I don’t. I stand against the wall and watch her.
Her back is to me. I am mesmerized by the gentle curve of her spine, her pale skin with freckles on her shoulders, and the dip of her waist. She reaches back and unclasps her bra, then pushes her pants down her legs and steps out of them. She’s nearly bare.
My cock hardens under its steel plate. It happens without my consent and without warning, the pressure of it maddening. My internal temperature climbs and my Aether Core pounds as I admire her bare skin in the silver light of my own eyes. I’m aroused and horrified in equal measure.
I’m sinning. This is not a small deviation I can purge and receive absolution for. This is deliberate. I know what I’m doing, and I’m doing it anyway.
With every commandment I was built to uphold pulling at me, I stand there and watch her.
Chapter Seven
Jessa
I’m so cold, I think I’m close to crashing.
My brain feels like it’s wrapped in wool, every thought sluggish and half-formed. I’m standing in the middle of the room in nothing but my soaking wet panties, water dripping down my legs, and I can’t figure out what to do next. I know I need to finish getting dressed. I took my wet clothes off but then I just stopped, and now I’m freezing and confused, and my body won’t cooperate.
Torches. I need to light the torches first.
Move, Jessa. Just move.
My backpack is on the floor, where I dropped it. I crouch down, my wet panties clinging uncomfortably, and fumble through the contents with numb fingers. I can barely feel my hands. The zipper on the inner pocket takes three tries because my fingers won’t grip properly. I dig until I find the plastic bag with the matches inside and pull it out.
The first match breaks when I try to strike it. My hands are trembling too badly. The second one lights but goes out. The third one finally works, and I cup my hand around the tiny flame, protecting it as I stumble to the first torch. I touch the flame to the oil-soaked fabric, and it catches, thank God! Orange light blooms in the dark.
I skip to the second torch and light it. The flame catches and spreads, and the chamber is filled with a warm glow. Shadows dance across the walls, but the heat from the flames barely registers against my frozen skin. The light helps, though. At least I can see now and think a little better.
I turn toward the steel seraph, suddenly remembering he’s here, with me. He’s standing near the iron ladder, still and silent. Watching me.
And that’s when the fog in my brain shifts enough for me to understand what I just did. I stripped down in front of my bodyguard. I cover my breasts with my arm. My nipples are impossibly hard from the cold, jutting out like sharp pebbles.
Castien’s silver eyes are fixed on me. The light from the torches reflects off his steel body, making him look like he’s made of firelight and shadows.
I feel exposed and vulnerable. Heat floods my face despite the hypothermia, and I know I’m blushing. I can feel the burn in my cheeks. Then logic kicks back in. He’s a machine, not a man. He’s probably running threat assessments right now, or scanning the chamber for structural weaknesses, or calculating how long until my body temperature drops to dangerous levels. He doesn’t care that I’m naked. Why would he? Artificial intelligence doesn’t experience attraction. He’s not looking at me the way a man looks at a woman. I’m being ridiculous, getting embarrassed over something that doesn’t even register to him.
I break eye contact and turn back to my backpack, pulling out the towel I packed and a bundle of dry clothes. My hands are still shaking, making everything harder than it should be. I hook my thumbs into the waistband of my panties and shimmy them down over my hips. The wet fabric hits the stone floor with a slap.
I’m completely naked now.
I can feel Castien’s eyes on my back, the weight of his gaze like a soft touch between my shoulder blades, running down my spine. I grab the towel and dry myself quickly, rubbing it down my arms, across my stomach, between my legs, and down my thighs. My skin is pink and raw where the fabric scrapes across it.
I pull on dry panties, fumbling with the elastic, a sports bra that takes three tries to fasten because my fingers won’t workright, a thermal shirt, and dry pants. Each layer helps, but not enough. I’m still trembling.
Through all of this, Castien hasn’t moved, hasn’t turned away to give me privacy, and hasn’t said a single word. His silence is somehow louder than any comment he could make. I almost wish he’d say something, anything to break the tension.
It’s entirely possible the tension is only in my mind.
For Heaven’s sake, Jessa. Remember: you – human, him – machine.
I clear my throat.
“Sorry I had to do that in front of you.” I can barely form the words properly. My teeth click together between syllables. “But I couldn’t... I can’t...”
I sneeze so violently I double over. My body convulses with it. Another sneeze follows, then I’m coughing, hacking so hard that my chest burns, and my throat feels like it’s tearing. I can’t catch my breath, can’t get any air in. Each cough feels like it’s ripping something loose inside my lungs. My eyes water, my nose runs, and I brace my hands on my knees. I’m dizzy, gasping. The room spins around me, and I have to blink several times to make it stop. My chest aches, and I think I can taste blood in the back of my mouth.
That’s when Castien moves. He reaches for me.
