Page 27 of The Brotherhood

Sleep wouldn’t come.

The room was too quiet, the weight of what had happened pressing against his ribs like a vice. Every nerve in his body still hummed, every muscle wound too tight. His demons had accepted the bond, the imprint locking into his core, yet the man inside him was restless.

Slowly, Handy rose, glancing down at Poppy. She remained still, her breathing soft, her body relaxed despite the raw evidence of what he had done to her. His fingers twitched, the urge to touch her overwhelming, but he forced himself to step away.

The shower. He needed a shower.

His new body required self-assessment. He needed to feel it, understand it, something other than the violence it had been baptized in.

Crossing the small space, he entered the bathroom and activated the water. The shower was a sleek, modern unit, designed for efficiency, but right now, he cared little for its function. He stepped beneath the scalding stream, letting the heat pour over him, steam curling around his body.

And hefeltit. Inhisbody. Not borrowed. Not shared. His.

He ran his hands over the hard planes of his chest, feeling the strange but seamless blend of human and machine. His synthetic enhancements were integrated perfectly, the neuralmesh allowing sensation to flood through every inch of him. He could feel everything. The heat of the water. The pressure against his skin. The rhythmic thrum of his own heartbeat beneath his ribs.

He tilted his head back, eyes closing as the water streamed down his face. He grazed his fingers along his lips. He could still taste her there.

His chest rose and fell sharply, his mind replaying every second of her beneath him, around him. The way she had fit him. The way her body had taken him without hesitation, as though she had always been meant for him.

She was his punishing pleasure. His euphoric curse.

A muscle in his jaw ticked as he opened his eyes, staring at the condensation-covered glass. He lifted his left arm, watching as his mechanical fingers flexed beneath the stream, water beading along the dark alloy plating. The neural connection was flawless, his brain recognizing the limb as his own, not an extension or a tool, but a part of him.

He clenched his fist, testing the power, feeling the energy hum beneath the surface. He had destroyed a containment pod with that hand. He had touched her with them.

And she had welcomed it.

His gut twisted, his body reacting despite himself. Need stirred again, a hunger that wouldn’t be sated now that he knew what it felt like to have her. To lose himself inside her.

Would she wake up afraid of him? Would she recoil when she looked at him? He wasn’t sure which thought unsettled him more—the idea of her fearing him or the idea of her not fearing him at all.

CHAPTER 7

Becoming One

The first thing Poppy noticed was the warmth. Not heat, not discomfort, but an enveloping tenderness that wrapped around her like a cocoon. Heavy. Present. Familiar in a way she couldn’t understand.

Her mind drifted through the haze, sluggishly trying to stitch together memory and sensation. Something was… different. Her body ached—not in pain, but in an unfamiliar way. As though it had been claimed, reshaped, marked.

She inhaled, and the scent of him filled her lungs.

Her heart stuttered.

Handy.

Awareness sharpened like a blade, her pulse kicking up as she felt him. Not just beside her—but a part of her. As though something deeper than flesh connected them now. The imprint. The bond.

Her breathing hitched as she struggled to lift heavy eyelids. The air shifted beside her, a presence so intense, so completely focused on her, that her body reacted before her mind did.

She turned her head, finding those dark eyes with crimson flecks burning into her.

Handy sat at the edge of the bed, silent, unmoving, watching. Waiting.

Her stomach twisted as her gaze swept over him, drinking in his beauty. She had only seen glimpses before, in the pod andbriefly after. He was somehow different now. More awake. Alive. Fully real and aware that he was.

He was breathtaking.

Even in the dim light, his body looked sculpted, perfected. The contrast of human flesh against synthetic creation was…electrifying. Her gaze caught on his left arm, the sleek, black alloy reflecting the faintest slivers of light. The fingers twitched and a small thrill shot through her. Would he touch her with it? Would he let her touch him?

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