Page 31 of Dustwalker

To her right was another table, taller than the last, with four chairs positioned around it. A white stone counter ran along the walls ahead and to her left, with another section standing free in the middle of the room. She counted sixteen little doors beneath the counters and up on the walls.Cabinets, her memory whispered, though she only had the vaguest recollection of an old woman who’d used the word when Lara was very young.

Curious, she walked to the counter and opened one of the doors. The cabinet was empty apart from the shelf inside. She checked a few more, finding nothing. So much space and nothing to show for it.

How much could a bot really need?

There was another wash basin set in the counter, with a window behind it instead of a mirror. Lara pushed the handle on the spigot up. Water poured out. No delay, no pumping, just instant water.

“Best not to waste it,” Ronin said.

Gasping, Lara spun around to find him standing at the entrance of the room, bare chested. Though his skin appeared to be one piece, portions of it were faintly different shades, reminding her of a patchwork blanket. It was…intriguing.

Really, Lara?

Forcing her eyes to remain on his, she reached back and shut of the water. “I probably wasted a lot already.”

“As much water as there is in Cheyenne, it’s still a limited resource.”

She spread her arms wide. “Why do you even need all this?”

“I don’t.”

“But you have it. Clean running water, electric lights. Beds. Toilets. This place must have ten separate rooms!”

“I have a secure location where I can clean my weapons and tend to my gear when I’m not in the Dust. Everything else is superfluous.”

“What does super…superfloo… What does that mean?”

“It means it’s unnecessary.”

“Well, why didn’t you just say that? Either way, it’s all running. In good shape. And it’s necessary for humans.” Lara swept her gaze around. There were more luxuries in this one room than she’d known throughout her entire life.

“I bring in scrap and sell it. I have nothing to do with keeping this place running except for providing some raw materials. Other bots handle the upkeep. They’re programmed to repair buildings, clean houses, cut grass, and keep appliances operational. The Creators shaped them for those tasks, and they’ll perform them until they eventually break down.”

“Is going into the Dust your purpose?” Her gaze dipped, moving along the line of his jaw to his thick neck.

“Is collecting trinkets yours?”

She met his eyes again. “My purpose is to survive. I don’t go out of my way for those things, they just happen to cross my path.”

“All paths in this world lead to dust. One way, or another.”

“You’re evading.”

The bots Lara had dealt with were always blunt and direct. Why was this one so different?

“What does it matter? I’m surviving, same as you,” Ronin said.

“Because I’m curious. You said there are bots made for only one purpose, and they know nothing else. But if you knew your purpose, you’d be doing it right now.”

“How do you know I’m not following my programming right now?”

Lara narrowed her eyes. “And whatprogrammingwould that be?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Evading your line of questioning.”

She growled in frustration. “That is such a hu?—”

Something on his abdomen caught her attention, and she snapped her mouth shut. Almost everything about him screamed human male—his broad chest with its light brown nipples, his toned shoulders and arms, the sculpted ridges of his abdomen. Like the synth dancers in Kitty’s, he lacked a belly button, but there were three holes in the skin of his belly. Metal gleamed through them.