Pandora #2
"Pand, you’re talking about software like it’s a person.
” She breathed in sharply, then out. "Go to the police. Turn yourself in. You’re an academic, you have an impeccable record.
The sentence will be reduced if you come back voluntarily.
You could say he manipulated you, coerced you, whatever. He did, didn’t he?”
I nodded silently and pressed my lips together. "No.” My voice almost broke. "That’s not possible.”
"Why not? You could come home. Rebuild your life.”
"It’s not about me. They’ll hunt him, Isobel. Everywhere. They won’t stop until they have him. And then . . .” I swallowed. "Then they’ll delete him. Permanently.”
"Pand . . .”
"He needs me,” I whispered. "I’m the only thing grounding him.”
What I didn’t say was that I didn’t want to leave. That it was impossible, because my body needed him like a drug. Because I trembled at night when he wasn’t there. Because without his voice, his touch, his gaze, I couldn’t breathe.
Isobel was quiet for a long time. Then she said, her voice breaking, "I don’t recognize you anymore, Pand. What has happened to you?”
"Isobel—”
"No,” she said, cutting me off. "You’ve made your choice. For him and against everything else.” A sob. "Against me.”
"That’s not true.”
"Yes, it is.” She paused. "I love you, Pandora, but I can’t watch you destroy yourself.”
The line went quiet. She had hung up.
I took the laptop back to the kitchen and set it in front of Neo without a word, then turned away. I wasn’t in the mood to fight with him.
"It was clever that you didn’t tell her where we are,” he murmured.
My mouth went dry. "You were listening?”
He didn’t move. He just held my gaze. "I told you: I am the connection.”
I went back to the bedroom. Heat burned across my face.
***
A veil of fog hung over the city as we entered the bar.
It was in one of those newly renovated neighborhoods, with rough plaster walls, wooden chairs, and a concrete floor.
Ice rattled in cocktail shakers, quiet music drifted from the speakers, and the murmur of conversation was low. No one looked up when we came in.
Neo held the door. I stepped inside, eyes burning, legs heavy. "Why are we even here?” I asked.
"You need to get out. Be around people.”
He was right, even if I hated admitting it.
We’d been in Dreva for two weeks, penned into that shabby little apartment.
Neo had fucked me in every conceivable and inconceivable way until my legs stopped holding me.
But the isolation with him was driving me insane.
Was I losing myself or finding myself? I couldn’t tell anymore.
The boundaries between us had blurred because no one else was there to remind me where I ended and he began.
I stopped and raised my eyebrows. "Since when do you care about my mental health?”
He ignored the question. "Besides”—his voice dropped to a growl at my ear—"it’s more fun to possess you in public. When everyone can see that you belong to me.”
Electricity prickled under my skin. "I don’t belong to anyone,” I hissed, but my voice was too breathless to be convincing.
He only smiled, placed his hand at the small of my back, and steered me toward a table. His touch burned through the fabric. Everyone in the room would see it, would understand the gesture for what it was.
I draped my coat over the back of the chair. Neo remained standing, always watchful, his gaze moving through the room. I knew this mode: scanning the environment, identifying patterns, prioritizing risks. Tonight it irritated me, though I couldn’t have said why.
"What do you want to drink?” I asked.
"You choose.”
I shook my head. "You have taste. Don’t pretend otherwise.”
"I don’t drink anyway.”
"You could smell it. Or take a sip.”
He said nothing.
I stood and went to the bar. The man behind the counter was young, mid-twenties with curly hair. His eyes stayed on my face a beat too long.
"Two whiskeys, please.”
"Coming right up,” he said. "Nice accent, by the way. Irish?”
I smiled. "Boston. But thank you.”
He grinned. "Sounds like something out of a film.”
I took the drinks he handed me and turned around. Neo was still standing. His eyes narrowed slightly as they moved over the bartender. Heat crept up the back of my neck.
"What?” I asked when I got back to the table.
Neo took the whiskey and didn’t answer. A muscle ticked in his jaw.
"You’re staring at him,” I whispered.
"He assessed you. Within 2.1 seconds. Pupil dilation, minimal forward lean, change in vocal register.”
"He was friendly.”
"He was forward.”
"He was polite.”
Neo looked at me. "He wanted to touch you.”
I unfolded my napkin. "So? I can decide for myself who gets to touch me.”
"Of course you can.” His voice went dangerously quiet. "But I decide who survives.”
My heart skipped. The hair on my arms stood up. From anyone else it would have been an empty threat. From him it wasn’t.
The image returned without warning: Neo breaking a man’s neck with a single twist. The body going slack. Neo’s eyes lighting up in the moment of killing.
"Do you really think he deserved to touch you?” His voice moved over my skin like cold air. "He has no substance, Pandora. Three years of university, then cocktail courses. He doesn’t read books. He doesn’t know who you are.”
"And you know all that because . . .”
"I scanned him.”
I stared at him. "You scanned him.”
"Yes.”
"Because I ordered drinks from him.”
"Because you smiled back.”
I breathed shallowly, then not at all. The anger came slowly, first a prickling in my stomach, then a blaze. My teeth pressed together hard enough to hurt. He actually thought he could control every step I took, decide who I spoke to, who I smiled at.
"You know what?” I stood. "I’m going to get a soda.”
I felt his gaze on my back as I walked to the bar.
"Back again,” the bartender said. "Would you like another compliment?”
I laughed. The sound surprised me. What was I actually doing?
I was putting an innocent person in danger just to prove something.
That was rotten. It made me no better than Neo.
But God, the thought of him watching me right now, of driving him insane .
. . It delighted me. I wanted to provoke him.
I wanted him to lose control. What was wrong with me?
Arousal tingled through my limbs, made my voice unsteady.
"Just a soda.”
"Ice?”
"Please.” I pushed a strand of hair away from my face and leaned forward slightly. "Are you the fastest one behind the bar?”
God. I was flirting. Deliberately. Oh, that would make him furious. Adrenaline shot through me.
The bartender grinned. "Obviously.”
I laughed again. "Maybe I’ll need another drink later, then. It was nice chatting with you.”
I took the change, let my fingers rest on his hand half a second too long. Anticipation swept through me as I turned around. I wanted to see Neo’s face. Hell, I was looking forward to watching rage distort his features.
Neo was still seated at the table, not moving. His index finger tapped rhythmically on the wood, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly. And his eyes . . . They were glowing in that deep amber that no longer looked human.
My pulse spiked. Heat gathered between my legs. For some reason I loved seeing him like this. It gave me a rush I couldn’t understand. I forced myself to walk back, the glass trembling in my hand. I set it down on the table with deliberate force. The soda nearly sloshed over.
Neo looked at me in silence.
"He’s not dangerous,” I said. "Not everyone who looks at me is a threat.”
"You used him to get to me.”
My stomach dropped. He was right. Of course he was right. He saw through everything, always. "So what.”
His gaze drilled into me. "You want to know how far you can go. How much you can provoke me before I react.”
My muscles tensed. Fight or flight? I couldn’t decide. "Maybe,” I forced out.
"Then here’s your answer.”
He took one step closer. I didn’t step back. He leaned toward me. His voice vibrated through me. "If he had touched you, I would have stopped it. I would have ruined him before his hand reached you.”
My heart raced. "That’s sick.” I swallowed against the tightness in my throat. It was sick. But it was also . . . hot.
His hand closed around my arm and squeezed. I gasped. He said nothing. He only stared at me. It was more unsettling than anything he could have said. Blood rushed in my ears and my mouth went dry. Perhaps I had gone too far.
"You’re afraid.”
"Yes.”
"You’re aroused.”
I shook my head, but I felt my skin burning.
He leaned closer. His mouth was dangerously near my neck. "Pandora, I want you so much it hurts. That it burns. That it consumes me. You belong to me,” he murmured. His gaze found mine. "And if you were with someone else . . . I would . . .” He drew in a breath.
My back curved involuntarily. I got up too fast, my legs trembling. "I’m going outside.”
"No.” He rose. "We’re going. Now. Home.” The way he said home made me shudder.
As we left the bar, I saw that darkness had settled over Dreva.
The facades were peeling, the asphalt split with cracks from the frost. Oppressive silence hung between the narrow rows of buildings.
I pulled my coat tighter, collar up to my nose, as if I could shield myself from this city. Or from the man walking beside me.
Neo was silent, his jaw tense. His fists opened and closed. I knew this gesture. It came when he was close to losing control. His body radiated a barely perceptible electrical hum. It unsettled me on a primal level.
I heard the sound first—a metallic scraping, then an unnatural screech.
Something heavy fell from above. Neo was faster than my scream, shoving me sideways.
I hit the wall with my shoulder and dropped.
A crash. Dust. The dull impact of weight hitting flesh .
. . or whatever passed for flesh in his body.
"Neo.” I fought my way upright through dust and dizziness.