Contact by Jessica Marting

Author:Jessica Marting [Marting, Jessica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Shadow Press

Chapter Eight

Rhys lay in bed, unable to sleep. His sensors told him that it was just past two in the morning and that all of his functions were optimal, which didn’t explain why he was lying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling.

He knew the reason, and it wasn’t because one of his components was offline. The woman slumbering across the landing, who had been unusually quiet since her visit to the cemetery, was entirely responsible for his sleeplessness.

The squeak of a door’s hinges opening had him sitting upright. Subtle creaks in the floorboards, then the stairs, brought an uncharacteristic smile to his face. Perhaps Hannah was as affected as he was.

He debated if he should get out of bed or not for a moment. They needed to talk, he decided, even though neither of them was very good at it. He waited until Hannah reached the first floor before he slipped out of bed and followed her.

Rhys found her in the kitchen, clad in a long sleeveless garment that only reached the tops of her thighs, her hair unbraided, a glass of water in her hand. She glowed in the illumination offered by the ceiling light above their heads. Any words he might have had to say disappeared as he took in the incredible sight. She didn’t speak either, instead staring at him.

“I was trying to be stealthy,” she finally said.

“My senses are finely honed.”

“Yeah, I’d be surprised if they weren’t.” She set her glass in the sink.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Neither could I,” she confessed. “I’ve been tossing and turning all night.”

“I couldn’t hear it.”

“It’s an expression,” she explained.

Rhys understood. He cleared his throat. “Do you wish to talk about it?”

She surprised him when she smiled. “I like how direct you are.”

“Being anything less wastes time.”

She leaned against the counter, crossing her arms under her breasts, which Rhys tried and failed not to notice. “You picked a hell of a time to start a conversation. This is the first time I’ve ever seen you without gloves, let alone most of your clothes. It’s distracting.”

“What’s special about my gloves?”

“It’s your hands I was curious about,” she explained. “Jasmine said that SP29 has ports in his.”

Was Hannah’s interest in him mere curiosity? Was he a novelty? The masculine pride he didn’t know he had until recently stung at that idea. “I see.”

She immediately picked up on his discomfort. “I don’t mean in a circus freak kind of way. You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to. I’ll just stay here and enjoy the rest of the view.”

He wore only a pair of loose drawstring trousers. In addition to the ports in his hands, he also had components embedded in his skin, in his chest and back, but he didn’t think that was what Hannah was admiring. An uncharacteristic surge of confidence swelled in him at her notice.

At least they were talking. “I’ll show you.”

She padded to where he stood, and he obediently held out his hands. The ports were small, barely raised ridges along his fingertips, with larger ones in his wrists.

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