Page 16 of Even Robots Die (Even Ever After #3)

Brice

M aybe I shouldn’t have said anything about the apple and the tree, but I knew it would infuriate her, so I didn’t stop myself.

But Florentine surprises me, and instead of biting back, she completely ignores me. Well, her actions and her words are ignoring me. Her face can’t contain her rage, though.

Such a lovely red. Crimson.

But she surprises me even more when she tells me why she wants more.

She wants money for her sisters.

I shouldn’t be surprised, though.

Because her father is well known in Paris for being a gambler, and from what I gathered, she has four sisters and no mother at home. If the man can’t keep his money, it stands to reason that she wants to provide for her sisters.

I don’t know how old they are, but she’s the only one of Stéphane’s daughters I’ve ever heard of.

I wouldn’t be surprised if she was his eldest child. Does she feel responsible for the rest of her siblings? Is that why she’s asking more?

Something stirs inside of me that I don’t recognize, and I shake my head.

I should stop antagonizing her.

I need her, after all.

At least if I want to be back to normal.

I feel hollow. When I woke up and my daughter Cassiopé was there, I recognized her. I knew I loved her, but I didn’t feel it.

And I want to be mad that I was robbed of all my feelings and sensations—because yes, I can be wounded, but nothing can hurt me, not physically, not emotionally—but I can’t even muster annoyance at the thought.

There is only one thing that triggers an answer from my mind and body. Elhyor.

At least I know it’s all wrong and that I shouldn’t want to hurt him. We’ve been friends for decades after all, but that doesn’t change my physiological answers. If I see or hear him, my mind fills with rage and all I want to do is kill.

It’s wrong.

There’s a second thing now, and I don’t think the birds have planned this one at all.

Enraging Florentine gives me satisfaction.

It’s more than I ever felt in a normal setting ever since I woke up.

“Is that all?” I ask Florentine as I bring my left hand to the other side of her throat.

I have the sudden urge to swipe my thumb over her lower lip to know if it’s as soft as it looks, but restrain myself while I wait for her answer.

“I need more material. Expensive material,” she tells me, like it would deter me if I have to spend money on anything to make that stupid machine work.

“Done.”

She looks at me like she’s trying to find something that would make me refuse.

“I’m not the one who opens you,” she adds, and I can feel her jaw contract after those words. It’s really something she’s against and as much as I’d like to toy some more with her, I can see that it’s not a subject I should make fun of.

“I already have a surgeon on call,” I tell her, and I feel all of her body relax in my hands at my words.

Warmth spread through my body.

What the hell?

What just happened?

I have no idea what that warmth means. All I know is that it’s not usual. It shouldn’t be happening in my state.

“I don’t want to work here,” she adds, and her words pull me out of my mind.

“Here, as in the castle?” I ask, and she looks annoyed again.

“No, you dumbass, I don’t want to work in the mad scientist lab,” she says and I feel her cross her arms at her middle more than I see it.

Wondering how I feel it?

Because it pushes her breast up and those generous cushions hit the underside of my forearms.

Shit.

Did I feel that?

I drop my arms at my side immediately.

This isn’t normal.

“Charles will arrange something,” I tell her before walking away.

I need to be outside of this room. I need to be out of her reach or more precisely, she needs to be out of my reach, because I don’t know what is happening.

I can’t recognize what my body or mind is going through.

Or, quite the opposite. I can recognize it too well and that shouldn’t be possible.

The birds made a machine out of me. A killing machine. One that isn’t supposed to feel pain or warmth. I even struggle to eat because nothing tastes the same anymore.

So why is my body suddenly waking up for the exact person I should stay away from?

She might be my prisoner here, but first and foremost she’s a human who builds weapons specifically made to kill my kind. She made a living out of guns and other gadgets that are made to destroy us.

Those bombs the birds used during the rebellion a few days ago, the ones that stunned everyone and made all the shifters with wings fall to the ground?

It’s not hers exactly, but I know it’s based on her work.

And all those serums the humans now have to prevent us from changing forms?

I’m pretty sure her super AI found the way to make those.

I could be wrong about that one for sure, but I know she’s covered in weapons. I didn’t need to put my hands on her body to see it. She’s an arsenal all by herself.

I should make sure she’s not wearing them anymore.

The only reason she still has all those weapons on her is the fact I have no idea if they’re part of her outfit or if they’re something she adds to it.

And I can’t force her to get rid of her clothes when I didn’t stock her closet with the right kind of clothes.

I only met her once, and as much as I remember the fire in her eyes, I didn’t remember much of her physique. I remembered she was curvy, but I must have miscalculated, because I know for sure she won’t fit what was in the closet, which is currently being updated.

Because, yes, I know I messed up, but I know how to recognize it—I can’t really feel anything like pride currently, so that might help—and above all, I know how to correct it.

I also know when I need to stay away from someone.

And there’s one thing I know for sure.

I need to stay away from Florentine Beaumont like my life depends on it.

Except, my life might also depend on being close to her.

I hate that mess.

Well, actually I only really just dislike it.