Page 31 of Border Control

Her tiny pale fingers wrap around my wrists as much as she can. A gentle tug. “This way.”

Slowly, I get to my feet. She tips her head back to track me, unafraid. Good, because she has nothing to fear from me.

She asks, “Do you have any injuries? Anything I should know about?”

“My nanites heal everything, but…” I tap the side of my head. Underneath my scales and skin rings a dull hollow chime. “I have a metal head plate.”

Her eyes flick up to note its placement. “What’s that from?”

“I took a blow meant for my Apex. It was… bad enough I was nearly disposed of, but that’s when a Gerverstock requested I was spared. It’s how I met Ilia. Gara was the one who installed the plate.”

“We really do come from different worlds,” she murmurs. She glances up at the steel beam bisecting the shed. “Jump up there and hold on, like you did last night.”

It’s an easy action to leap and clutch onto the cold metal, but it sends a pulse of electric excitement into my chest knowing she's watching.

Her face is level with my hips, her rich blue eyes dark in the shadows as her gaze roves over me. “How long can you hold yourself up there?” she asks.

“Many human hours,” I assure her. My arms stretch and bunch as I flex, partly to keep me in place, partly to show well for her, and I resolve to hang here until she tells me otherwise.

Her warm hand touches my unprotected stomach, and again I groan.

“So sensitive,” she murmurs.

“Yes.” My scales lie so primed for every small touch, even the brush of her breath over the interlocking edges of my armor sends sparks shooting across my nerves.

“Your skin is so cool.” Her voice is hushed, breathless, as her fingertips dance over my stomach.

“I’m cold? I'll warm up.”

“Oh, no, that's a human expression of appreciation. Your temperature is fine.” Her light fingers turn more firm as she presses. There’s nothing of the electricity of pain, no sharp shock as I expected; but just like the track of the veralash, every nerve fires in response.

It’s sudden. Different. Something I don’t know what to call, something I’ve never felt before.

My scales harden in reaction.

“Is that okay?” she asks, breathless.

I soften my scales with an effort. I want to feel every second of her touch, dive deep into it, suck it up greedily. It’s entirely different to pain; and entirely welcome. “It's perfect,” I admit, breath tight.

“I can tell you like it. Do you want more?”

“Yes.” The honesty between us lights me up almost as much as her touch.

“Close your eyes,” she says, and I slide into darkness, all my senses focused on where she might be, where her caress will come from next.

My scales harden automatically but I relax them, letting go as I hand myself to her, her breathing becoming more ragged as thisplaybegins to affect her, too.

“Responsive,” she murmurs. She's right, I'm primed and for once completely in my body, not clamping down my emotions in my head and living halfway in Nevare's.

‘Dom?’Nevare sends.

Drok na,I'm broadcasting everything!‘Busy,’ I reply quickly.

His interest only grows.‘New feelings. Taste different. What are they all?’

‘I don't know, we can look at them later.’

‘So many. What's causing it?’