Page 25 of Bred

Except he can be deactivated by Talon, who thinks of him like a tool.

“You do exist,” I say. “I don’t want to see you deactivated again.”

“Then I suppose you should behave yourself,” he smirks with that sexy grin. “I have no sense of time when I’m deactivated. For me, it is as if I close my eyes for a moment, and there you are again. There’s no pain in it for me.”

“So you can’t miss me?”

“I could if I was active and separated from you.”

I suppose it’s like being asleep for him. He doesn’t seem bothered by it, but I am immensely bothered. To me, he is human, even if he isn’t. The fact that he was made to control me by distraction irks me. Now, if I give into the pleasure he gives me, I’m playing into Talon’s plans, and I’m forgetting my mission: to get back to Earth.

“You’re quiet.”

“Yeah.”

I can’t talk to him anymore. He’s been programmed by the enemy. They can see and hear everything he does. He reaches for me. I pull away. Suddenly, I don’t want him touching me right now.

“What’s wrong?” He frowns, and he’s still so beautiful.

“Everything. I’m captive on this ship and the one person I thought was a friend isn’t a friend at all.”

“I’m your friend.”

“You only know what that is because it’s in your database.”

“So? That’s the same reason you know the world, it’s just you had to learn all your terms and words slowly over a period of juvenile dependence, whereas I had them installed on creation.”

I narrow my eyes. When he says it like that, there’s no difference, but I know there is a difference. There has to be.

“I might be a cyborg, a machine, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have my own desires.”

“You want what you’re programmed to want.”

“So do you. You’re a human. You want food that tastes good. What tastes good depends on what your genetic profile is. All humans tend to like fat, sugar, and salt. Preferably together, if possible. You want sex, because you have a sex... what?”

“Sex drive,” I say, filling in the blank.

“Exactly. A sex drive. Your desire is literally a program your meat is running. That doesn’t make it any less real, or any less enjoyable. I am the same.”

I can’t accept that as the truth, even though I can’t logically argue any of it. He’s a machine. I’m not a machine. “No, you’re not. You’re just saying I’m a machine because you’re a machine. You can’t fathom all the more-ness that being human entails. All the little experiences, feelings, thoughts, needs that I have. You don’t have those.”

He cocks his head at me, not insulted at all, even though he probably should be. “You sure about that?”

I’m not sure. I wish I was more sure. I wasn’t expecting to come face to face with the limits of being able to understand my own humanity, but here I am, aching between the thighs, avoiding a cyborg’s hug, and arguing that I’m not a machine made of meat.

“I don’t know,” I whine, sliding down under the covers. It has been a very long day. I am exhausted from everything that has happened to me.

Luca’s arms wrap around me. He pulls me against his body and holds me tenderly, allowing me to curl up and cuddle with him even if he isn’t really a man.

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