Chapter 32 Sirena
Nex said that, then went immediately back to his tablet, swiping elegant fingers across its screen, communing with its data.
He seemed more in control of his new body—which was almost a bad thing—because he didn’t hold it the same way Marek had.
His shoulders were loose, and he didn’t squint when he was thinking.
“You’re going to need to do better when you pretend to be Marek away from me.”
“I will. Do not worry,” Nex said, without looking up. “I memorized all of his physical states. But . . . right now, while the cameras are looped, I am enjoying being me.”
His head swiveled to give me another one of the smiles that Marek would’ve never given. “I am getting used to this thing,” he said, running a hand across his chest again.
“No more fire?” I wondered.
“The closer to you, the more stable I become,” he said, then flashed me a second smile like a lightning bolt before returning to his screen.
I stood there and watched him work, knowing he was utterly in love with me—whatever it was that he’d calculated love to be—and that he’d risked his life to become someone else, someone mortal, so that we could interact.
“Why do you think I didn’t want you to turn this off, Nex?” I asked, pointing up at the metal thing Marek had fastened into my skull.
“Because everyone else’s mind aboard this ship is either absent entirely or is in some fashion disgusting?” he said, setting the tablet down and looking over. “I’ve often wondered what telepathy feels like on your end.”
“Mostly? Hard to explain,” I said, crossing my arms to give myself a hug.
“Muddy. A lot of everything all at once. I have to make sure I don’t fall into anyone else’s story or take any of their thoughts or attitudes with me on my day.
Mornings are the hardest—no one’s happy to be going into work, usually. ”
He nodded deeply. “Ahhh. Which explains why you are also usually upset until you get your vanilla latte.”
That he’d faithfully ordered every morning for me—for months.
And actually, now that I thought about it?
Maybe for years.
“I don’t think that’s the real reason I don’t want you to turn it off, Nex,” I said, shaking my head and slowly continuing.
“No?” he asked, tilting his head. “Then why?”
“I think . . . it’s because I only want to hear myself right now.”
He set the tablet face down and turned toward me fully.
“The way you’re looking at me, the pitch shift in your voice, and the temperature differential in your palms—all suggest a mean emotional affinity value of approximately 63.
7 percent. So whatever it is you are telling yourself currently—please, continue. ”
“You’re able to calculate how interested I am in you? Just like that?” I asked, snapping my fingers at the same time as I took a step closer.
My nearing presence affected him. He stood taller at once, and I watched him swallow as his gaze roved, like it didn’t know where to rest.
“Just like that,” he repeated, taking his own step to be nearer to me.
He smelled like Marek’s aftershave and deodorant, and he was close enough that I could feel his breath.
“But I would prefer,” he said, voice lower now, “to have my data independently verified. So tell me—what is your actual level of interest?”
I didn’t need to be a telepath to read the earnest hope radiating off of him. Despite where we were, and the situation we were in—his steady self-confidence and surety was intoxicating. Hypnotic, even.
And so was he.
Because a person could go their entire life without ever being wanted like he wanted me.
I knew because I’d gotten glimpses into the minds of thousands upon thousands of people who had.
I swallowed, then tentatively smiled up at him. “Maybe like seventy-five percent?” I guessed.
Just to be difficult.
Just because I could.
Because even if I teased, he’d still be there—waiting for me.
He nodded solemnly, once. “I find the current trajectory acceptable,” he said, with a smile of his own, then picked me up, making me squeal.
“What are you doing?” I batted my hands at his shoulders.
“Searching for an acceptable surface for intercourse.”
“Oh my God!” I laughed, and hid my face. “Nex, this is not how you romance a woman!”
“I disagree,” he said, spinning slowly as he surveyed the lab. “You are smiling. Your heart rate is elevated. You’re holding onto me instead of trying to escape.”
“You’re a menace!” I protested, even as my traitorous heart thrilled.
“I am very good at menacing,” he assured me, as he started carrying me in one direction. “But I am even better at this.”
“What?” I laughed again. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“Why? I am not afraid to tell you,” he said, putting me on a cushioned exam table. “It’s pattern recognition. I wish to learn your everything.”
I lifted onto my elbows as he moved himself to the bottom of the table. “My . . . everything?”
“Yes. I’ve already studied your exterior, of course.
Now I want to learn all the pieces of you inside,” he said—while industriously taking his pants back down.
“But it’s not just your body I want to learn.
It’s your thoughts. Your patterns. The way you look at a problem when no one else knows the answer.
The way you choose to fight even when you’re terrified.
The way you still make jokes even when your whole world is burning. ”
I’d stopped laughing when he’d started working on his zipper—and now I stopped breathing as he mounted the bottom of the table, his eyes fixed on mine.
“I want to memorize the cadence of your bravery,” he said. “I want to graph the slope of your defiance. I want to hold every version of you, Sirena—loud and soft, angry and kind—and run the numbers until I can predict your smile before you even know it’s coming. That is what I mean by everything.”
And after he said that, it took me a moment to remember how to breathe again, but once I did, I threw my arms out to him. “Nex? Come here.”