Chapter Seven – Jessa
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 work right, 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.
“I can help.”
His eyes brighten, the silver glow intensifying until it becomes white. The air around him seems to shimmer like heat rising from pavement in summer, like he’s generating his own atmosphere.
His hands close around my upper arms. They’re enormous. At first, the steel is cool through my sleeves, then warmth seeps through the fabric. It’s not gentle or gradual, it’s a wave of heat that crashes into my system.
I shudder. The contrast between freezing and sudden warmth is painful and shocking, but in the best way possible.
Like stepping into a hot bath when you’re frozen through, or pressing your hands against a radiator after coming in from a blizzard.
Heat sinks into my muscles and spreads through my bones, radiating from where his hands grip my arms, spreading outward in ripples I can feel moving through my body.
A moan escapes my lips before I can stop it. The sound is embarrassing, but I can’t help it.
“Thank you. That’s... That feels amazing...”
My voice breaks on the last word, and my knees buckle. The strength just goes out of my legs, like someone cut the strings holding me up.
Castien catches me before I hit the ground. One arm slides around my waist, and the other supports my back. He lowers himself to sit on the floor and pulls me with him. I don’t resist. I can’t. I have nothing left.
He sits with his back against the wall and positions me between his thighs, pulling me back against him.
My back presses against his chest, and I realize once again just how much larger he is than me, how much space he takes up.
I’m completely engulfed by him. Surrounded.
His arms wrap around me, crossing over my stomach, his hands resting against my ribs.
His chest is solid – a wall of warm steel.
His thighs bracket mine on either side, and he brings his wings forward, caging us both in.
It’s like sitting inside a furnace. Heat radiates from every single point of contact. Castien’s warmth is everywhere, inescapable and perfect. It seeps through my clothes and into my skin, sinking deep into my core, where the cold has settled like ice.
My shivering subsides. The violent tremors that have been wracking my body ease into smaller shakes, then fade.
My muscles unknot one by one, my shoulders drop, and my jaw unclenches.
The relief is so intense it’s almost overwhelming.
My eyes sting with tears that don’t fall.
I feel like I might cry from the sheer relief of not being cold anymore.
I rest my head back against his chest. It feels too heavy to hold up anymore.
“I didn’t know you could do this.” My voice comes out drowsy. “Heat yourself up, I mean.”
Castien squeezes me just a little tighter.
“I can explain how it works,” he says.
“Mhm… I’m curious.”
“I was created in 1502 by Leonardo da Vinci,” he begins. “He didn’t just build a machine. He used forbidden alchemy stolen from the Vatican archives and trapped a spark of life inside a shell of metal. I’m not a robot exactly, I’m an artificial soul housed in steel.”
I blink slowly, trying to process that. What does it mean that he’s not a robot? And how is an artificial soul… a soul at all?
“I have an Aether Core,” Castien continues. “It’s located here.”
One of his hands shifts and presses against his chest behind me. Now I realize the warmth is concentrated in that spot.
“It’s the source of everything. It’s my consciousness and my light. It generates endless energy and perpetual motion. This was da Vinci’s greatest achievement. Creating eternal life without God’s permission.”
“Heresy,” I murmur.
“Yes. The energy manifests as light, and it can be converted to heat. I don’t need warmth for myself. My systems function at any temperature. Neither cold nor heat affects me. But I can produce it if I choose to. I can control my internal temperature and make my body warm from the inside out.”
I’m dozing off. I can’t fight it anymore, can’t keep my eyes open. The warmth, the safety, and the utter exhaustion are pulling me under like a riptide.
“So, you don’t usually warm up like this,” I say.
“No.”
“But you’re doing it now.”
“Yes.”
“For me.”
He doesn’t answer that. The silence stretches out, but it’s not uncomfortable. Maybe he doesn’t need to answer. Maybe the answer is obvious in how he’s holding me, in the heat radiating from every part of him, and the care he’s taking to keep me warm and safe.
My eyelids drift shut. I tell myself I’ll rest for just a minute. One minute, then we’ll keep moving.
“You’re extraordinary,” I whisper.
“That’s not true. There are eleven more like me. I’m not special.”
I force my eyes open one more time.
“You’re incredible. Very special, indeed.” I pause, trying to gather my thoughts through the fog that’s filling my head. “You should take the compliment.”
Silence. Then, so quietly I almost don’t hear it, his voice barely above a whisper:
“Thank you.”
I close my eyes.
His chest rises and falls behind me in a rhythm that isn’t breathing but feels like it. I wonder if he’s doing it on purpose, for my benefit. Why would he, though? Why would he twist himself into something he’s not… for me?
Silly thoughts. Silly, silly thoughts and silly Jessa, attributing intention and emotions to a machine.