Page 78 of Cruel Master
Quinn’s eyes grow round. “Ooooh, what about some veins of ore in the wall that glow a bit? So we’d have enough light to see without a torch.” She breaks off, brows creasing. “Not that it would be a problem for you, I guess. You can see in the dark here, right?”
"I could." Candice covers her eyes with her hands. "I could even see now, if I wanted to, but I don't. I want to feel as human as I can in here."
“What if—”
I say, “Pause it.”
I turn to face Juliet as I issue the instruction. She clutches the back of one of the chairs, eyes locked on Candice, who has just pulled her hands away from her face. The face that’s an exact copy of Juliet’s.
Except Juliet’s face is white, and she looks like she’s about to throw up. I drag a chair around, and she collapses into it, eyes never leaving the screen.
“What is this?” Juliet’s voice is a whisper as she gestures at the screen, and I struggle to decide which part of her question to address first.
“That’s Candice. She’s the world’s first truly sentient CI.”
I know I’m not addressing the root of her concern, but blood rushes in my ears, and my hands are starting to sweat. It’s too soon for this. Everything is happening too fast. All the work I’ve done over the past weeks is going to be destroyed in this one moment. I should—
You should pull yourself the fuck together. You are Juliet’s master. Act like it.
Juliet’s voice grows stronger, rising to a higher pitch that sounds like panic. “And just why the hell does Candice have my face? My voice? Is she your…” Juliet swallows, and the direction of her thoughts hits me like a lightning bolt. “What is she? A virtual sex toy? Practice for when you took me back. Did you make her—”
“No! Jesus Christ.”
“Really.” Her voice is so flat she might as well have saidbullshit. “Why does she look like me, Hadrian? Why?”
She used my name, and despite the situation, I can’t let it slide. I need to regain control fast if I don’t want to lose it forever. I crouch beside her chair and wrap her hair around my fist, yanking her head so she’s facing me.
She cries out, her eyes wide, shock painted onto her features. She’d forgotten her place. Forgotten we aren’t just Hadrian and Juliet anymore. It's my fault, and I need to fix it.
“Is that how you address me, doll?”
She squirms in my grip and slaps at my arms, and I thank the hours I spent in the gym for the complete lack of good it does her. I can hold her prisoner with one hand. A rush of power follows the realization. I tighten my hand to the point her scalp must be screaming, and land a hard slap on her inner thigh with my free hand.
“I asked you a question.”
“No! Sorry! Master. I should call you Master.”
I loosen my grip just slightly but still hold her immobile. Tears stand out in her eyes, though my Juliet can take more pain than this without blinking. I think it’s reality hitting her again. Kendrick explained the path to acceptance for Wards is never linear. It’s a series of small actions every day that bring them to make peace with their situation.
“Yes, you should. Forget again, and you’ll kneel on rice for an hour.”
Juliet whimpers as I release her hair. She rubs her sore head as I turn back to the screen.
“But to answer your question, doll, I made her look like you because…”
I pause, right on the edge of trotting out the lie I had ready for this situation. The lie I told myself for years. That I created Candice in Juliet’s image as a virtual “fuck you” after she cost me everything. But even though that might have been my intention at the start, it’s a long way from the truth.
It fits the narrative I wanted to sell Juliet. Revenge, power, control. But instead, I find myself telling the truth.
“Because I had to spend longer looking at Candice than I did any living thing on this planet. I had to get every aspect of her face just right. And the only face I’ve ever wanted to look at for that long is yours.”
The plain, obsessive, kind of pathetic truth.
Juliet gapes at me, and I’d give anything to be able to see inside her head, to understand exactly what she’s thinking. In a quiet voice, she says, “But you hated me. You cut me off. You said you never wanted to see me again.”
There’s pain in her words, and my long-nurtured anger flickers a little at the words.
What the hell does she have to be sad about? She’s the one who betrayed me.
