Chapter 2
TWO
EMMA
Life was good.
Life was more than good—it was extraordinary.
Gods, how was it possible for life to be this good?
Those first few days after I woke up were filled with laughter, romance, and quality time with James. To see us, was to hate us. We looked like a perpetually heart-warming or vomit-inducing commercial for a romantic comedy.
Matthew Conners—the blond, top Recruiter of Cyclos—and Nino Ramos—the stunning, black-haired girl with epic fight moves—were the only two who could stand being around us.
As two of James’s closest friends, they’d also gotten together after the Great Explosion —which James and I had officially dubbed my Amplifier-induced implosion—and were equally disgustingly happy.
It was almost easy to forget the questions bubbling under the surface of my mind. Almost. Questions about Julian’s whereabouts, the True Bond we’d formed, and the exciting reality of my powers finally unleashing from within me, lingered like uninvited guests in my otherwise perfect world.
Every time James smiled at me or brushed my hair back with those rough fingers of his, I couldn’t help but wonder how he’d been able to forgive the whole bonding-with-Julian situation so fast. But for now, I decided to push those questions aside.
I didn’t want them to ruin this rare, beautiful happiness.
I’d earned it—we’d earned it. The answers to those questions could wait. For now.
Moody, broody James had been replaced by Prince Charming with an attitude, and I was determined to enjoy every moment of it.
He even took me on our first real date, which evidently did not take place at the Cube, but at a small tavern at Kanata C, after a day of showing off in the gym without his shirt on. Gulp.
After spending hours getting ready, I had to admit I looked good.
The everlasting summer of Cyclos had tanned my legs beyond anything I’d ever expected for my usually pale skin, and my toned body still boasted a nice cleavage.
The silver mini dress I wore was nothing short of stunning—form-fitting with a shimmering design, a sweetheart neckline, and long, semi-sheer sleeves.
The hemline teased enough to show off my legs, which completed the look.
My hair cascaded in soft waves, framing my face with effortless allure, while my makeup was a masterpiece of precision—smoky eyes, sharp liner, and lips painted a dark red, inviting shade screaming temptation. Every detail was intentional, every inch of me polished to perfection.
As was James’s reaction.
The second I opened my door, his gaze trailed my body, unapologetic and smoldering, dark with a longing he probably wished he could hide.
Drooling James was officially my new favorite version of him.
He portaled us to Kanata C with barely a flick of effort and an overabundance of compliments on my appearance.
By the time we got there, I was practically radiating self-confidence.
The tavern was quaint. The kind of place putting a little too much effort into looking like it hadn’t been renovated since the 1800s—complete with creaky wooden beams and candlelight which gave everything a vaguely sepia filter vibe.
I half expected a bard to pop out of nowhere and start serenading us with a lute.
James, naturally, looked like he belonged there. Brooding and handsome, he fit right into the whole “rustic romance” aesthetic. Me? Not so much. I was still trying to figure out if I was supposed to be charmed or if I was about to find a hidden passage to the Shire.
As we sat there sipping wine which tasted suspiciously like it had been described as “notes of overpriced summer,” James launched into stories about his life from before we met, and I found myself smiling more than ever.
The glow of the candlelight bathed the room in a soft, romantic haze you only see in rom-coms—or detergent commercials.
It should’ve made me roll my eyes, but instead, I felt—ugh—emotional.
Not because of the wine, though it certainly helped, but because, for the first time in forever, it was as if we could simply be.
No chaos, no fights, no terrifying explosions, only James and me, pretending for a moment the world wasn’t on the verge of burning.
Absentmindedly, I swirled my wine glass, and a splash of red dripped over the rim, staining the pristine white tablecloth.
Without thinking, I pressed my hand over the stain, then focused for a few seconds, and willed it away.
The crimson mark vanished instantly, and the fabric was once again spotless.
I hadn’t even realized I’d done it until I glanced up and saw James watching me, his green orbs wide with disbelief.
A massive grin spread across my face. “You have no idea how incredible it feels to pull this off without you threatening my life.”
“Emma, don’t do that!” he hissed in hushed tones. “Your haze is fucking visible!”
I froze, but his words were barely registering. “What?” I asked, my heart racing and my throat suddenly dry.
Before he replied, I reached for my glass and discovered it empty. The moment my thirst registered, the glass magically filled with cool, clear water. James shot out his hand and grabbed my wrist with surprising force. His face shifted from disbelief to anger.
“What the hell did I just say? Stop it!”
Wow. Dude, chill.
He was practically vibrating with worry, almost radiating pure panic. “James, calm down. What’s going on?”
“What’s going on is, I’m trying to protect you. Stop translating!”
I yanked my arm free from his grip, my frustration boiling over. “Are you kidding me right now, James? We’ve been trying to get me to translate for a whole year, and now I can finally do it, you want me to stop?”
I wanted to shove my translation up his ass and make him deal with it. But, you know, that probably wouldn’t have been the most productive step forward in our relationship.
Tempting, though. Wildly tempting.
My annoyance must’ve been showing, because James’s features softened immediately.
“Emma, please. I’m sorry for how I spoke to you.
I shouldn’t have said it the way I did. But you have to understand.
” His voice was low but intense, each word deliberate.
“People will notice. Your haze—it shouldn’t be visible inside any Collective.
As soon as you find yourself inside the Metasphere, your translation should be untraceable and invisible.
We can’t take any risks of people finding out you’re… different.”
I heard what he was saying—really heard it—and I knew it came from a place of concern, of care, and love even. Didn’t exactly stop the flare of anger curling in my chest.
Though I could see it in his face: he meant well.
He wasn’t trying to control me, he was trying to protect me.
And as much as I wanted to push back, I couldn’t ignore the fact he wasn’t entirely wrong.
The last thing I wanted was to attract unwanted attention.
I’d already endured enough abduction and experimentation for a lifetime, thank you very much.
Still, I had spent so long trying to master my powers, we’d fought for so long to release them. And now I had to hide them?
“I’ve worked so hard to get to this point,” I said quietly, keeping my voice steady. “We’ve sacrificed too much for me to start hiding now.”
I hesitated, then added, more softly, “I thought… I thought maybe you’d be proud.”
He reached across the table and took my hand gently in his.
“You’ve always impressed me, and I’m always proud to call you mine.
I’ve never doubted you could do this. It’s not as if I’m not amazed by what you’re doing, by what you can.
It’s just not safe to show you’re different, not right now.
But I always knew you’d get here. You’ve always been capable of so much more than you think. ”
I squeezed his hand, touched by his words even as the sting of his lack of enthusiasm lingered beneath the surface.
“You can still translate inside the Universitas,” he offered. “Everyone’s translation is visible over there. You wouldn’t stick out.”
I smiled, and decided not to let his overprotectiveness drag the moment into another endless debate.
It was mildly infuriating—but also weirdly sweet, in that stubborn, overcautious way he did everything.
“Well, look at you, finding the silver lining,” I murmured. “That’s almost optimistic. I’m proud.”
He chuckled, and just like that, the last of the tension dissolved.
Our next plate arrived right on cue, and from there, the conversation flowed easily—full of laughter, sharp wit, and the kind of effortless teasing that felt like slipping back into something familiar.
It was almost perfect, and whatever weight had lingered between us faded quietly into the background.
After dinner, James portaled us back into Cyclos at the edge of Oasis and we walked the rest of the way to the Universitas. The night was warm, the sky a beautiful indigo with stars scattered like diamonds across velvet.
As we wandered through the quiet streets, the familiar landmarks of the Collective around us, I found myself more at ease with James than I had with anyone ever before. There was comfort in his presence, a sense of safety I hadn’t realized I craved so much.
His hand never let go of mine, and by the time we’d reached Winter Palace, I was pretty sure I never wanted him to.
As we walked up the stairs to my dorm, a nervous flutter settled into my stomach. Obviously, we were going to kiss—we’d been kissing non-stop since I’d come out of my coma—but was he going to spend the night? Was I ready for it? Was he?
Arriving at my level, he took a step toward the general door which led to the corridor of my dorm, but I stopped him.
His eyebrow raised, curious. “I, uhm,” I started, fumbling with my words as nervousness took hold.
“I was thinking, wondering, maybe, something along the lines of… hmprnightcaphjsy…”