Page 37 of Even Robots Die
What is wrong with me?
Be good,I tell myself.
I don’t let her talk first, though.
So much for being good.
“If you’re going to stay awake all night, you might need that,” I tell her curtly.
I thrust the tray into her hands and turn my back to her before leaving.
I barely hear her whisper-yell “Asshat” before I’m back in my room.
I click the door closed and drop my forehead to the door. The wood is cold to the touch, but I blessedly welcome it.
I have no idea what is wrong with me.
I thought I was all broken. Unfeeling. And now I get these urges that are hitting me without any warning.
This is fucked up.
I thought the only way to get my feelings back was to go through the electric torture, but I’m not so sure anymore.
First, there was the appreciation of making her mad. Second the tingles in my hand, and now that?
I don’t even know what to call it.
Nothing has made me hard since I woke up. I didn’t even think about getting hard at all until just a minute ago.
Why would I think about how good she would look with my cock buried inside of her if my body refuses to let me even get hard, anyway?
Am I doing it again?
Fuck. I’m doomed, it seems.
Because those tingles I felt in my hand earlier? I think something similar is happening in my pants right now.
And I’m scared to hope.
Because it’s small—the tingles not anything else—but I can’t mistake it anymore.
What if Florentine could wake my brain up?
It wouldn’t solve my problem with Elhyor, though.
That problem still needs to be solved through electrical shocks.
Which means I can’t entertain the idea of getting closer to Florentine.
I can’t mess things up.
This situation, me and the people who were tortured with me in this exact castle, is supposed to be temporary. We can’t stay here indefinitely. There is a war coming—one my daughter might have kick-started—and I can’t be stuck here while Elhyor and the rest of his men go into battle with the humans, and without me.
It would definitely look bad if I killed the one person other shifters look up to in this war against the bird shifters.
Maybe I need a cold shower.
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