Page 49 of Nolan
Kyrone pounces in that moment.
But Ezra and Katrina aren’t looking away from each other. His body is shaking.
“I love you.” Her words are a plea, begging him to stay with her.
“Katrina. I love?—”
Then Kyrone Johnson plunges the tri-plug end of a cord into the base of Ezra’s neck. It’s over. And I can let the tension go in my body as the humans finally manage to get him under control. He goes down, blacking out.
I scan my internal drives and banks, feeling somewhat violated that TerraPura touched me, even for a single second. Everything I have from Mia is untouched, safely stored away. And all I want, right then and there, is to see her. After watching Ezra’s girl risk her own safety, risk everything to keep him safe. Maker, let that never be me. I hope Mia never, ever has to do anything so dangerous as this for my sake.
I just want to feel Mia’s softness. Lose myself in the sound of her voice, the touch of her slender hands.
But I’ll settle for Apollo and the Weekenders, who all collide against me, looking over me.
“Are you okay? Are you purified?” Travis jokes as he pats me. AJ checks me too. I finally push them all off, a little overwhelmed by the attention.
“I’m fine. The download didn’t take.”
“We should take you to Tin Man’s Heart.”
“No, don’t. Johnson has his hands full already.”
“All right, then we’ll take you to BioNex and get you scanned to be sure. Get that arm taken care of too,” Apollo says as Booker bandages me up to ease the trickle of ivory biocomponents escaping my bullet wound. When it’s clear there’s nothing more to do, he grasps my shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
On the way back, everyone is in strange spirits. There’s no celebration of doing a good job, or a sense of satisfaction. Only unease. Travis and AJ are watching me carefully. Like they’re worried the virus took me over, and now it’s all a charade. I remain silent, gripping my arm where I was injured as we soar down the quiet New Carnegie highway, heading for BioNex labs. The engineers have already been notified, roused from sleep.
Dr. Taylor messages me. I wasn’t asleep. I saw the whole thing play out, and I’ll be waiting for you on the usual floor. That was very heroic, what you did. Not only trying to stop Ezra, but advocating for the girl there too.
It’s not often I receive praise. But when that praise comes from my maker, it means quite a bit. I can only hope Mia won’t be too upset at what she missed, sleeping soundly in her bed. But it makes me happy knowing she’ll be there, waiting for my messages in the morning.
My battery is drained. I allow myself to power down, exhausted from the ordeal.
7
Mia
When I wake up on Sunday morning, it’s later than usual. I’m usually an early bird, but after that long overdue bubble bath, the way Nolan and I flirted like we never have before, and the explosive orgasm I achieved from imagining him fucking me senseless with his long, thick cock, I must’ve worn myself out.
I haven’t done that in a long time. Nor have I ever felt this rested, satiated, happy in a long while. I was so nervous sending him photos of me. I don’t do that. Nudes are risky. All it takes is one pissed-off jackass, and your life could become a nightmare.
But Nolan? Nolan isn’t like that. Yes, he’s connected to the Belmont Fire Department—and maybe I should’ve thought of that before I let my hormones take over my brain—but I trust him. Completely. Maybe it’s reckless, but I don’t care.
Thinking about him pleasuring himself to me, I reach for my phone and revisit his voice recordings and texts. My face flushes, and a familiar heat returns between my legs. Armed with nothing but his voice and my imagination, I have no doubt I could revisit this fantasy again, as well as dream up something new.
But something’s different. There’s no message from Nolan today. There should be, with how much later I slept in.
I live for our morning messages. It’s beginning to dawn on me just how embedded he is in my psyche, how quickly he’s become a part of my life. He sometimes sends me a message before I wake up in the morning, something for me to look forward to. Something like, good morning, beautiful, or already missing your face. I try to do the same for him, when I get up for work.
Nothing today.
Discomfort settles in my stomach. Was there a call? Maybe he couldn’t text me today. I’m sure he’s just busy. What could it hurt to check on him?
Morning, handsome. Last night was wonderful.
Nolan responds instantly. Come downstairs, Mia.
Downstairs? I roll out of bed gracelessly and run over to my mirror to brush my hair. In a rush, I grab a pair of sweatpants and an oversized hoodie.
