Page 3

Handy

Poppy’s pulse galloped in her chest as she quickly made her way to King Skul’s office, going over possible reasons he’d need to call her out of class. She was meticulously careful to perform all duties perfectly but there was always room and reason to second-guess herself.

Was this about the Prodigy Program she’d applied for? Had they found a match for her?

She pushed down her hope only to have it bounce right back up in her chest.

She paused before the familiar door and knocked softly.

“Come in.”

She took a slow breath into her nose and closed her eyes as she released it carefully through pursed lips.

“Good morning Mr. Skul,” she said, entering.

“Good morning, Poppy,” he said, standing from his desk then gesturing to the chair before it. “Please sit.”

She quickly did, smoothing her gray wool skirt with both hands, presenting a perfectly calm and smiling facade out of habit. His astute gift of observation was the main reason she’d picked him for a mentor. King Alerik taught her how to use the touching side of her gift and King Skul the observatory. He’d laughed when she gave her reasons for picking him, even praised her wisdom for scoring two teachers, rather than one.

The other reason she chose him was for how handsome he was. All the Kings were, in their own way, but he had depth. And being required to stare at things—him included—as a form of practice turned out to be a bonus.

She watched him not watching her. Not directly, anyway. Two weeks ago, he’d have met her gaze head-on, pinning her with an unrelenting focus that saw straight through her, it felt. But now? His eyes skated past her, flickering to the walls and the floor, anything but her.

At first, she’d worried she was the cause somehow. The way he avoided her wasn’t dismissive, it was careful and deliberate. As though looking at her had become a chore. Or worse, a violation. A week later, the rumor began circulating about a bite that all the Kings had gotten from one of the Marsh Kings and that it had the power to triple one’s gifts. It also brought on a severe case of sexual cravings which had the entire student body in a frenzy of secret hopeful conversations. Well, the girls anyway.

She wanted to help him but didn’t know how other than to pretend she didn’t notice. He was seeing too much, and it was difficult not to be alarmed at what else he might be seeing. She was strictly careful to hide how cute she thought he was. But then all the girls thought this, and he was used to it. Surely.

And not only did he not look directly at her, but there was also more space between them at all times. As if proximity overwhelmed him—or she did.

It made her job harder. Observation had always been her way of learning with him. Watching him had been a study in control. Every movement, every glance, every breath—he was a masterclass in precision. And now, when she did dare to look, it was like observing a predator in a cage. The way his body moved—it wasn’t restless, exactly, but there was energy beneath the surface, coiled and ready. His hands, always deliberate, fidgeted now in small, almost imperceptible ways. The faintest tap of a thumb against his palm. Little tells that she wasn’t sure anyone else noticed, but she did.

And his voice was different, too. Deeper, rougher. Like he had to force the words, even when they were quiet. And when his eyes did happen to land on her, they were more intense than ever, as if he was cataloging everything about her in a single glance. But they never stayed. He always looked away, his jaw tightening like he’d seen something he wasn’t supposed to.

She didn’t know what to make of it. She knew she shouldn’t take it personally. Whatever was happening to him was bigger than her, bigger than any of them. But it still stung. She’d spent six years learning from him, studying him, relying on his sharp gaze and unflinching feedback to guide her. And now, when she needed that guidance most, he was a shifting, impenetrable wall.

And whatever reason she was there, had all his symptoms turned way up and that had her squirming in every manner of emotion she possessed, with dread leading that awful parade.

Her heart suddenly froze in her chest.

Was it her family?

Had something happened?

He sucked in a slow breath and the direct assault of his gaze squeezed the air from her lungs.

“Is it my family?” she blurted, her mouth bone dry.

His brows sharpened. “No,” he hurried. “I apologize for…” His gaze fell from hers before locking right back on. “I have a proposition for you.”

Her gifts opened wide, immediately getting a clash of information. “Okay,” she said, fighting not to push him or fall into a negative guessing game about it. “I’m happy to help however I can,” she reminded him.

He gave a hesitant nod of what appeared to be regret, further confusing her. He leaned against the edge of his large desk, hands gripping the polished wood. “There is a situation with a member of the Quantum Kings,” he began very quietly.

She watched him closely, jolting when his gaze nailed her to her seat. It was troubled, she realized. “The details are… complicated and a bit urgent.”

She forced herself to relax when her spine began to burn. “Should I take notes?” she offered evenly, fighting to hold herself together.

“No,” he said roughly, his gaze again pensive and trained on her. “I don’t like asking this of you but you’re the only one qualified. A perfect match, I’m sorry to say.”

Match? Match for what? Sorry for what?

“I trust your judgment,” she said, only to see it added to his distress which added to hers. Her breath hitched again. Was this about the soldier program she’d heard about with the Quantum King? But they had those poor nuns for that, and a lot of them.

“I’ll attempt to explain this as best I can. You’re familiar with the… soldier creating program he has.”

She nodded, her guts instantly knotting at that question. “With the nuns?”

“Yes.”

The closer he got to spilling the beans, the more difficulty he had. He paced again and she only watched him with her peripheral vision, giving him as much space as possible in hopes it would allow him to hurry.

He paused his steps suddenly and turned to her. “He’s not quite the same as a soldier but he’s similar. His name is Handy and he’s… he shares a body with another type of... bio-synth.”

Shared a body? “So, he was... once human?” Ever since their new neighbors arrived, everybody had been dying to know more details about them.

“Sort of,” he said, his disdain and tension both growing. “His humanity side comes from the minds of several highly gifted individuals that were involved in a government program dealing with cerebral and somatic merging.” He glanced at her, annoyed with the details, it seemed while feeling required to give them. “They were attempting to fuse minds and bodies into a singular entity designed for ultimate efficiency and power.”

“Oh my,” she breathed, fascinated, despite his angry explanation. “And this… Handy is one of those men?”

An almost bitter chuckle escaped him as his head shook. “He’s actually all of them and yet only started out as a hand, hence his name,” he muttered, his open disgust requiring Poppy to rein in her fascination with his unusual display of such an extreme emotion. “The doctor overseeing the project helped these men escape this… government malfeasance. He wiped the host’s memories and dropped him off in the city where his biological brother lived and would hopefully find him. He roamed around for several years thinking himself demon possessed, not remembering why there were so many voices in his head. But the one gifted to synchronize their talents was put only into the hand of the host. It was a tether so that when it was safe, they would be able to find the host and return the men to their bodies which were preserved in cryonics.”

Oh my. “So… they were all returned to their original bodies?”

“Yes. But the piece of the one known as Sync that was inside the host had grown into its very own entity made up of all the men within the vessel.” He eyed her now. “You may not find it quite as fascinating when I tell you why I’ve asked you here.”

“Oh, please do, Mr. Skul,” she pled gently. “It’s been very difficult waiting when usually your manner of speaking is straightforward. Not that I mind, other than I’d really like to know.”

“That’s because what I’m asking is difficult,” he said, aiming his angry words and body right at her. “It’ll be hard for you and that makes it very, very, problematic for me.”

The severity of his words both alarmed and warmed her. He wasn’t a man of emotion, but she was pretty sure she now understood the reason he was so terribly upset. He cared. For her.

He suddenly paused before her, and she snatched the smile from her lips. “I’m afraid I don’t understand who Handy is in all of this still, and how he ended up in another… being,” she hurried. “Which being is he in?”

Mr. Skul’s brows narrowed sharply on her. “They call him Kaphas.”

She couldn’t stop her gasp. “Oh!”

He paused. “You’ve heard of him?”

Her smile returned. “Everybody has,” she informed quietly, lowering her eyes when he seemed to be digging for what else she knew.

He finally resumed his pacing, slower now. “Kaphas was originally Handy,” he announced, dumping more puzzle pieces as he parked himself on the edge of the desk again, crossing his arms before finally laying it all down in one go.

Midway through his exposition, Poppy was on the edge of her seat with fascination and sadness of how this man came to be.

“So the Quantum King removed these demons—”

“Demons,” she blurted, alarmed and a little confused.

“Demons, spirits, energy,” he clarified or reminded her.

Ah yes. Everything was a form of energy. Humans, plants, animals, demons, angels. Even God himself.

“And now they intend to remove Handy from Kaphas and put him in another body—his own body. Along with the dark energies I mentioned. They’re creating a kind of living prison inside of him, one that fuses with his neural and biological architecture, ensuring the entities can’t escape. But this body isn’t merely a shell, it’s going to be engineered to sync perfectly with Handy’s essence. Every cell, every nerve, every pathway will be designed to trap these dark energies, using his very life force as both the warden and the key.”

She tried to focus on the technical side of it but kept wondering about the wife of Kaphas. If they were once the same people, how did that work?

“So the prison and the warden will be one and the same,” he said, to which she nodded to show her attendance.

“So…how can I assist?” she asked when he appeared back to great duress.

This time when he returned from his erratic pacing, it was with an enormous, dreadful sigh that knit into her muscles. She suddenly knew to fear whatever had the power to put him in such a condition. “I wouldn’t be considering any of this if you hadn’t signed up for the Prodigy Program.”

Oh God, what on earth was he saying?

“And you can say no to this,” he assured, pressing the words into her with such force she was ready to refuse whatever it was in that second.

“Whatever I’m needed for,” she hurried instead. “I will do my very best.”

“Your ability and performance is the least of my concerns.”

She still had no idea what she was to do. “Are you… asking me to be his mate, Mr. Skul?” she forced out, ready to have it on the table, sure that had to be it.

“I’m afraid that’s exactly what I’m asking you,” he finally shot out, more furious than ever as she fought to hide what that news did to her. His mate. That must mean he did not have the wife he once had. How long did he have her and why was he the one leaving the body and not the Kaphas one?

“Is this dangerous?” she thought to ask, ready to walk him through his own fears, whatever they were.

“Anything with those people is dangerous, Poppy,” he said, stabbing his finger at the south side of the room.

She lowered her head, fighting the giddy joy bubbling in her veins. This was huge. Hugely important. This was her chance to finally make a difference, to truly help somebody with her gift now that she no longer feared it.

“What are you so thrilled about, Poppy?” he all but accused with great contempt.

She forced her gaze to meet his and this time used her own gifts to help herself manage it. “That you care so much,” she said giving a light shrug at his shock. “I value that greatly coming from you.”

He appeared terribly troubled. “Please tell me you knew that prior to this second.”

She couldn’t stop her giggle while shaking her head. “I have a bad habit of never allowing myself to know or believe such things. And I’m happy to do this assignment,” she hurried when pain entered his gaze. “What will it entail? Exactly?”

“They’re on their way here now to fully inform us.”

She couldn’t stop her panic from surfacing, and he nodded at her with raised brows. “There’s the sensible young lady I know.”

****

“ Eighteen ?” Handy suddenly wanted to climb out of his skin prison and smash his fist into Harlow’s face. “That’s too young!”

“Which is why we’re doing the imprint rather than the intercourse for triggering your evolution,” he said, yanking the large glass door open on the black building. “I think it’s this way,” he muttered, shooting off to the right while Handy ignored the stares from every passing student.

“And eighteen is a legal adult,” Harlow muttered as they hurried down a large hall. “Hell, it’s the new twenty-five by today’s standards. And not like we have a lot of options,” he huffed as they walked. “I was assured she’s more than capable.”

“I’ll surely be the judge of that,” Handy muttered, ready to do whatever it took to force them to find another solution. “What all does she think she knows and what all is she supposed to know about this?”

“Not sure what all she knows, but we’re going with complete transparency with these Kings. I already gave King Skul—her mentor, the one who helps with big life decisions—the gist of it. He’s not on board with it but said he’d let her make that decision.”

“He shouldn’t be on board,” Handy said, getting more agitated with every step. “She needs to know every detail.”

“You sure Kaphas is locked up tight?” Harlow asked as they arrived at a door inside a library.

“Yes, why?” he asked, not liking his tone.

“Just don’t want any backlash interference while you’re in such a pissy-ass mood.”

****

Poppy hurried toward the library praying she’d make it there before the two men arrived. Mr. Harlow had decided to wait till after school so she had just enough time to change, only it took her far longer to pick something out than usual! She was due in the library meeting room at six sharp and of course she misplaced her watch.

She was grateful she was able to change at least. A school uniform screamed, still learning. Not ready. She’d chosen a sage green dress to match her eyes and to accentuate her physical maturity. She just hoped the open cleavage didn't send the wrong message. She wasn’t blessed with breasts. Yet. Her mother said she’d grow more when she became a mother.

Her insides quaked at realizing she may have just given that vocation up. Oh dear.

She reminded herself that it was Handy who would be with Mr. Harlow, not Kaphas. Just him. How on earth did that even work? Did they have two brains in one body? Or doors they came and went by? She could hardly wait to meet him and learn all about everything. And prove that she was more than capable of helping.

Mr. Skul said she wasn’t just permitted to use every ounce of her gift, she was ordered to. He clearly wanted her to locate the reason to say no while she wanted only to say yes. Had he forgotten all his work with her? Six years of building up her courage and convincing her to take the plunge into actual life?

Like it or not, that’s exactly what was happening. Having only half a day to contemplate and plan a course of action regarding a critical decision was just that—real life. It didn’t wait for you to be ready or plan, it barged right on in and knocked you on your rear-end.

All her prayers were proven to be in vain as she approached the meeting room filled with muffled conversation. Oh dear, a heated one too.

She paused at the door and grabbed the charm on her necklace, sliding her thumb over her father’s favorite words, focusing her breaths. If the Lord is for us, who then can be against us? It wasn’t the words that comforted her but that they were her father’s favorite. She believed them wholeheartedly. For him. She was not a part of the us in the scripture. She was just a bystander. Not by choice but by inability to see herself as anything else. She wasn’t a victim about it. She’d resolved to overcome all her obstacles, especially the ones that held her back mentally.

She took a deep breath and knocked sharply on the door, shutting off the voices inside the room instantly. “Come in.”

Oh God, please give me strength.

That prayer too was in vain when she opened the door and immediately fell into a gaze nearly glowing in gold.

“Holy. F--”

“Language,” the man next to him muttered sharply while Poppy fought to break away from the power in his stare. She remembered to use her gifts and released a breath as she carefully pushed her perception down the line of hostile energy coming from him. She realized in relief that her defenses acted on instinct, and had prevented his ocular invasion now all over her person. She also realized it wasn't a good time to read him and so pried her curiosity from him, reminding herself that it wasn’t Handy she was seeing but Kaphas.

More instincts kicked in as she nodded at the more friendly face next to him and reached across the table. “Mr. Harlow, I take it?”

He quickly stood and shook her hand gently, the pleased look softening his handsome features. “Yes ma’am.” He glanced toward Handy, aiming his thumb at him. “This is Handy.”

She looked and gave him a nod, finding his gaze locked on her chest with a look of pure disgust. “Nice to meet you, Handy,” she said, cringing inwardly at the slight shake in her voice.

She sat and returned to the safety of Mr. Harlow’s blue eyes, regathering her courage. “How can I be of service?”

“I would like to talk to her in private,” Handy demanded.

“She will remain chaperoned,” Mr. Skul informed, his tone a block of ice.

“Of course she will,” Mr. Harlow said as Handy stood and headed for the door. “Bruh, where are you going?” he cried.

“To find another solution.”

“You know your way out,” Mr. Skul called, happily.

“Let me speak to him,” Poppy said, standing.

“You will not,” Mr. Skul ordered.

His persuasive gifts would’ve knocked her back in her seat if her own weren’t fully engaged. Her pulse hammered in her chest as she faced her beloved mentor, preparing her own influences to cut the leash. “Mr. Skul, I will be forever grateful for your mentorship in my life," she began with utmost kindness. “But I wish to speak to Mr. Handy alone and properly assess and weigh whether or not I should take this job. You can be sure I will use the full force of my gifts to make this assessment, along with the six years and twenty-two days of wisdom you have provided me with to do so. Thank you.”

She turned and made her way to the door on pure adrenaline. It carried her along with a miraculous grace and poise as she searched the corridor for her desperately needed runaway job.

She spotted him standing outside the building and with her gifts on full throttle, she saw a wounded, lone wolf, trapped in a cage, that was trapped in another cage, that was trapped in yet a third cage.

She hurried to the door and pushed it open. “What is it,” she said, hurrying right up to him. “You want to talk to me. Let’s talk.”

He gathered the full fury of his situation into those golden eyes and leveled it right on her, getting closer than was permitted by school standards. “How old are you?”

Surely, he fully knew that answer. “I just turned eighteen last week. How old are you?” She crossed her arms, holding those now slitted eyes. “I don’t know a lot about you,” she added, “but I know you’re maybe five years old.” She managed a tiny smile. “I won’t judge you by your age if you don’t judge me by mine.”

“Is this your gift? Being clever with words?”

“Tell me why you don’t want me to do this job? You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough about you.”

“Then it shouldn’t be difficult to tell me why I’m not suitable for this job. The last thing I want to do is take employment I’m not suitable for. So, I’m here talking to the one who knows better than anybody what that will require. Inform me and I will accept whatever facts you present and even help you find an alternate solution if it is in my power to.”

He stepped back, all but his gaze now lowered to her chest again. “Your nipples are hard.”

Oh God.

It was the one area she was not the least trained to fight in.

“Would you let me taste test the goods?” he asked, those golden eyes now molten and on hers. Testing. That’s all he was doing.

She fought to breathe, fully certain his stare would be less lethal on her chest. “I might. If you weren’t tasting with another man’s body.”

She caught the shift of colors in his gaze with that one, diving for it to understand. She suddenly realized he had his own defenses up, but they were pliable. His stare slowly moved down like lava crawling over her skin, lighting her blood on fire and sucking the air from her lungs. “If you’re looking for a husband, you won’t get one with me.”

The warning rippled through her body while confusing her. “I’m not doing this for me,” she said, her voice strangled by the storm he brewed in her. “I’m doing it for you.”

His eyes were back on hers, pushing into her with such force. “You don’t even know your own humanity,” he observed with disdain. “You will want a husband.”

“Maybe,” she whispered, her heart pounding in her ears. “But it is my sacrifice to make.”

The sudden growling in his throat and hot fingers gripping her jaw shot her pulse up. He forced her head back, looking down at her till she felt like the offering she’d just made of herself. “This is not another man’s body,” he whispered, terrifyingly close now. “It’s mine. I merely chose to give it to Kaphas.”

Her breath sputtered as she caught a glimpse of pain in his gaze. What had happened? Was it the woman that belonged to Kaphas? Did she once belong to him? Is this why he wouldn’t be a husband? Had he bonded to her the way their program required? She remembered he was an exception to many of those things. “Why did you give your body to Kaphas?” she dared, using all of her gifts to compel the truth from him while the mere inches between their mouths became electrified.

The seconds of silence resounded with a clash of wills, many that were not his or hers but forces beyond them. “Because that’s who she chose.”

Everything stilled within her.

Oh no.

She struggled to regain ground and backbone as he filled her with a fire he had no intention of lighting, she was sure. “So we are both vessels of sacrifice. Sounds like… we’re a perfect match.”

As his face slowly withdrew, her blood and muscles filled with a pulling, as if he’d anchored himself in her. “Sorry, Poppy,” he said, hot fingers sliding so very slowly off her face. “You will never be that kind of match.”

His words punched the air from her lungs in one painful gasp as she struggled to hold her composure.

“But regardless of what you want or what you need or what I will or will not give to you,” he continued, gliding his thumb over her lower lip. “I will accept you as my sacrificial lamb. As my mated prisoner .”