Viral Desire (Rogue Android Romances #1)

Chapter 1

The strobing lights in the club flashed in time with the driving music and burned spots into Ophelia’s vision.

She rapped her fingertips anxiously against the glowing bar top. Someone shoved in to shout an order at the bartender, rocking her to the side. Her shoulders rounded, and she ducked her head, willing herself to become small enough that no one else would inadvertently touch her.

It was a hopeless endeavor.

“Effie!”

She lifted her head, plastering on a suitably enthused smile.

Laura bounded up to her, shoving in next to her with a poisonous glare at the complaining man she was displacing—the same one who had pushed into her a few moments ago. Well, that had a kind of beautiful symmetry.

The grin on her face turned genuine as she turned her attention to her friend.

Perhaps it was a stretch to claim Laura was her friend.

Like all of Ophelia’s ‘friends,’ they had met through her fiancé, Logan.

Laura was a ball of sunshine, a creature of seemingly boundless energy.

Ophelia could never tell if it was her real disposition or if, like herself, she was putting on an act for the sake of likability.

Either way, Laura had demonstrated nothing but genuine kindness over the two years they’d known each other.

Laura’s red hair was pinned up like mouse ears on either side of her head, with a few tendrils curling loose against her neck, now dampened with sweat.

She wore that UV-reactive makeup that was all the rage, elaborate lines of neon blue liner crawling over her eyes and cheeks.

Her mouth glowed vibrant red, her teeth blinding as she flashed a smile.

“What’s taking so long?” she called over the noise, resting a hand on Ophelia’s arm.

Don’t pull away.

She stuffed down her uneasiness, trying not to spiral into thoughts of contamination. “Sorry! I guess someone called out tonight. The bartender is slammed.”

As she finished her sentence, the harried bartender returned.

The lenses of his augmented eyes flashed with light, and her phone pinged in her pocket in response.

Having received her payment, he shoved a metal tray full of sparkling, glowing drinks at her so roughly that some of the contents sloshed over the rim.

He was gone before she could even open her mouth to thank him.

Laura scrunched up her nose, glaring at the man as she slid the tray off the counter. “Considering how much they charge for this crap, I’m tempted to lick the spillage off the tray!”

Ophelia laughed politely despite the way the mere thought made her skin crawl.

She wouldn’t be surprised if Laura really did it by the time the night was out.

Laura didn’t seem to be plagued by the same worries that consumed Ophelia.

How did it feel to take risks with the faith that things would turn out okay?

Trailing behind the taller woman as they made their way back to their booth, she lamented—not for the first time—that she didn’t have the same commanding presence that made others edge out of her path with a single glance.

Smells overwhelmed her as they pressed their way through the writhing bodies: sweat, overpowering cologne, and spilled liquor all featured prominently.

She held her breath and cringed away as someone blew a raspberry-flavored cloud of vapor in her face, grinning as they watched her with glowing green eyes.

He licked his lip pointedly, flashing a three-pronged tongue that made her shudder.

These places Logan liked to frequent were thick with cyberpunks—though mostly the show-off-y, pale imitation sort.

They looked like the gangsters and hackers she gave a wide berth on the subway, but in actuality, they were office professionals who worked for one of the many local tech companies.

All sense of professionalism had long since been thrown to the wind; augments were cool, and that meant that borged-out employees were free advertisements to the tech corps they worked for.

Her heart sank when her phone buzzed a second later. Maybe she’d written the guy off too quickly. Hackers abounded, and she could sometimes be lax with her OS updates.

When she looked, it was just a missed call from her mother.

Ophelia sighed, stowing it away again. Another buzz followed in short order, as per usual. She didn’t bother checking what she knew would be an urgent demand for her attention.

Laura bounced up to their booth, scooting in next to Brandon.

“There you are, baby!” Logan stepped down from the platform that housed their booth to sling an arm around her neck, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

She let out a sigh of relief, turning into him and breathing deep of his familiar scent.

Male sweat, leather, and the cologne he favored with its strong, fruity notes.

He was a lifebuoy in an ocean of overstimulation.

All these strange people may press in on her, but as long as she had her person, she could ignore them.

He drew back enough to meet her gaze. Those warm, hazel eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled down at her, and she pushed a lock of dark hair behind his ear, admiring his familiar beauty.

“Dude, she hates it here.” Brandon laughed, plucking a swirling silver martini off the tray as Laura set it down on the circular table. “Why do you keep dragging her out? She’s miserable.”

Ophelia’s shoulders stiffened.

She’s miserable. How many times had someone spat those words at her as she struggled in a crowded room?

Still clinging to Logan, she forced herself to smile brightly. “I’m fine! Just tired. It was a long day at work.”

Tiffany, another of Logan’s coworkers, frowned at her. “What do you do again?” She brushed a long strand of platinum and hot pink hair over her shoulder, leaning across the table.

“Oh, I work for an agricultural bioengineering company,” Ophelia said.

Tiffany’s eyes glazed over with boredom as she nodded, gaze drifting back to Logan.

“She makes flowers glow,” he shouted, leaning over her shoulder.

Everyone at the table tittered with laughter at that. She bit her bottom lip until she tasted iron.

Keep smiling.

“Come on, baby, sit down,” Logan said, guiding her into the round booth. “I know your feet must hurt from standing all day.”

She blew out a sigh as the attention shifted away from her, and she obediently slid into the booth, relieved that she was going to be pressed between Laura and Logan and not one of the others.

If she could have faded to complete invisibility, she would have done it in a heartbeat.

She didn’t thrive under attention; it all felt like scrutiny to her, no matter how innocently it started.

Laura gave her an encouraging smile and slid a bubbling pink drink to her, winking knowingly. “For courage.”

Laura was the only one who seemed to pick up on her discomfort in a courteous way, the only one who didn’t appear inconvenienced by it. The others, when they remembered she was there at all, were annoyed by her attempts to fit in. She fingered the stem of the glass and glanced around the table.

These were all Logan’s friends, mostly coworkers he’d met at Automata Industries. They were high-powered career professionals, climbing their way through the ranks of one of the most successful, exclusive, and cut-throat companies on the eastern seaboard.

Automata was the progenitor of all android technology.

If it wasn’t Automata, it was a pale imitation.

They’d brought the first domestic bots to market decades ago, followed by combat units—super soldiers—and eventually spawned an entire market of niche, purpose-built androids that were nearly indistinguishable from humans.

Nearly. They were all too beautiful by a mile, too perfect even in their imperfections, and of course, they were required by law to wear the starched, white uniform that denoted their identity code whenever they were in public spaces.

One of them was dancing on a pole nearby, wearing nothing but neon paint over her nipples and groin.

Her thighs parted as she dipped in a squat, revealing her hairless mons.

Someone had smeared glitter over her in a suggestive trail down to the shadow between her labia.

Her designation glowed blue on her chest, though Ophelia couldn’t read it at this distance.

The bot’s neon green eyes met hers from beneath glitter-coated lashes.

She sucked her teeth and beckoned to Ophelia.

“You into that?” Logan purred in her ear, following her gaze.

She blushed, quickly looking away. “O-of course not.”

Brandon slung an arm over the back of the seat, eying her knowingly. “You know we were part of the work on that one,” he said, gesturing toward the dancing android. “The coding team. She’s very… responsive.”

His eyes flicked over her in a strange way that made her want to pinch the neck of her blouse shut.

She wasn’t used to heated gazes like that; nothing about her demeanor or her attire invited flirtation.

Sure, she got cat-called by the weirdos on the street like everyone else, but mostly Logan’s friends treated her like she had the sex appeal of a standing lamp and they couldn’t quite understand why someone like Logan—handsome, extroverted, and successful—would want her.

Not that I know, either.

“That’s nice,” she said tightly, pressing closer to Logan.

“No, it is not,” Laura shot back. “It is gross.”

Ophelia couldn’t help the grin that stole over her.

“Oh, don’t listen to Laura,” Logan said, his breath fanning over the curve of her ear. “She’s a pruuuude.”

“Fucking right.” Laura lifted her glass in a toast to the accusation. She downed her drink and then shuddered. “God, that’s way too sweet. Do they even put liquor in this crap?”