himself. Had he killed them before he knew what she really was? Had Ossian kept that from him? And shit, he was entering the Mind. Ossian had said he wouldn’t be there. Fuck . Would he be aware when she pushed him out?
Lucas’s mind lapped over hers, calm but then disoriented. Her skin and the gear she’d created surged over and around him, working beyond her control, ripping him from the virtual world with a violence that ran fire through her veins. Vyn fought to find control, but whatever they’d created in her was closing against him. He was a threat to security. She couldn’t stop it. Her pulse raced. What was she doing? His scream rioted through her…and he was gone.
Vyn opened her eyes and drew in a calming breath. Her hand reached out to steady herself, feeling the smooth cool fabric of the walls under her fingers and palm. The air smelled fresh, the hint of plants and lemon polish sliding over her senses in the soft light. She needed a second, a moment to let her thoughts settle, to will her heart to slow. Ossian was playing yet more games. The CEO’s pain had felt all too real and sharp. Too sharp.
“Vyn?”
Paul . Her heart turned over and she lifted her head, surprised to find her gaze level with his. She darted a glance at her hand and found the strong, supple fingers of Lucas March-Goodman in its place. The Mind still recognised him as the CEO, until there was a replacement. “He’s gone.” No, she still couldn’t get used to her words coming out in a man’s smooth, deep voice.
“You’re sure?”
There was a hint of uncertainty in his tone, reflecting in the tension around his eyes. He wasn’t handling her transformation to a man any better than she was.
She wished the thought could make her smile, but her belly was sour. “He’s gone, Paul.”
“Son-of-a-bitch.” His curse was soft, bitter. He pressed his lips together and straightened his shoulders. “We have a meeting to get you to, sir.” He fixed the knot on his tie and tugged down his jacket. He stepped from her path. “After you.”
Vyn pushed her fingers through her hair. She hadn’t walked as Goodman before and the way his hips moved, the length of his legs, his upper body strength, and most of all the disconcerting weight of his cock filled her thoughts. Damn thing kept…moving. “I have a dick.”
“I was trying very hard not to think about that.” Paul winced. “Sir.”
She had to keep her mouth shut. She was certain Lucas March-Goodman didn’t randomly announce such things. “Sorry.”
“No need to apologise, sir.”
Vyn focused on her stride, ignoring the odd weight in her trousers. She could feel her way to the conference room, though she’d never experienced the locked-off areas of the Mind. The technology cut into her skin guided her. What the Goodmans had created in her was almost magical. She could feel it now that she was in the Mind proper with the perfection of the simulacrum wrapped around her. Something of her flesh—something they’d grown from her own body—permeated the virtual world, moving, resonating within her.
She provided the security for every square centimetre on a quantum level. Distance away from the servers generating the Mind had never been a problem. A threat forced her, and the false her, to react as one, creating the simulacrum to protect the system from danger. Ouroboros. A dragon wrapped around itself. An endless, impenetrable loop. She might have admired the genius of the Goodmans, if they hadn’t destroyed her life.
She stopped at a pair of large wooden doors. Her head bowed and the solid thud of a stranger’s heart beat in her chest. Her nerves strained, her grip on the image of Lucas strong. The Goodmans had made her. She wore them well. Still, panic ate at her.
The corridor was shielded from the room beyond, so she risked questions. She had no love for any of the Goodmans, but Ossian had forced her to kill one of them. “Why is he doing this? All this show?
Lucas’s mind lapped over hers, calm but then disoriented. Her skin and the gear she’d created surged over and around him, working beyond her control, ripping him from the virtual world with a violence that ran fire through her veins. Vyn fought to find control, but whatever they’d created in her was closing against him. He was a threat to security. She couldn’t stop it. Her pulse raced. What was she doing? His scream rioted through her…and he was gone.
Vyn opened her eyes and drew in a calming breath. Her hand reached out to steady herself, feeling the smooth cool fabric of the walls under her fingers and palm. The air smelled fresh, the hint of plants and lemon polish sliding over her senses in the soft light. She needed a second, a moment to let her thoughts settle, to will her heart to slow. Ossian was playing yet more games. The CEO’s pain had felt all too real and sharp. Too sharp.
“Vyn?”
Paul . Her heart turned over and she lifted her head, surprised to find her gaze level with his. She darted a glance at her hand and found the strong, supple fingers of Lucas March-Goodman in its place. The Mind still recognised him as the CEO, until there was a replacement. “He’s gone.” No, she still couldn’t get used to her words coming out in a man’s smooth, deep voice.
“You’re sure?”
There was a hint of uncertainty in his tone, reflecting in the tension around his eyes. He wasn’t handling her transformation to a man any better than she was.
She wished the thought could make her smile, but her belly was sour. “He’s gone, Paul.”
“Son-of-a-bitch.” His curse was soft, bitter. He pressed his lips together and straightened his shoulders. “We have a meeting to get you to, sir.” He fixed the knot on his tie and tugged down his jacket. He stepped from her path. “After you.”
Vyn pushed her fingers through her hair. She hadn’t walked as Goodman before and the way his hips moved, the length of his legs, his upper body strength, and most of all the disconcerting weight of his cock filled her thoughts. Damn thing kept…moving. “I have a dick.”
“I was trying very hard not to think about that.” Paul winced. “Sir.”
She had to keep her mouth shut. She was certain Lucas March-Goodman didn’t randomly announce such things. “Sorry.”
“No need to apologise, sir.”
Vyn focused on her stride, ignoring the odd weight in her trousers. She could feel her way to the conference room, though she’d never experienced the locked-off areas of the Mind. The technology cut into her skin guided her. What the Goodmans had created in her was almost magical. She could feel it now that she was in the Mind proper with the perfection of the simulacrum wrapped around her. Something of her flesh—something they’d grown from her own body—permeated the virtual world, moving, resonating within her.
She provided the security for every square centimetre on a quantum level. Distance away from the servers generating the Mind had never been a problem. A threat forced her, and the false her, to react as one, creating the simulacrum to protect the system from danger. Ouroboros. A dragon wrapped around itself. An endless, impenetrable loop. She might have admired the genius of the Goodmans, if they hadn’t destroyed her life.
She stopped at a pair of large wooden doors. Her head bowed and the solid thud of a stranger’s heart beat in her chest. Her nerves strained, her grip on the image of Lucas strong. The Goodmans had made her. She wore them well. Still, panic ate at her.
The corridor was shielded from the room beyond, so she risked questions. She had no love for any of the Goodmans, but Ossian had forced her to kill one of them. “Why is he doing this? All this show?
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