Page 75 of GlitchBorn Heart

Her voice shakes. “You’re saying you could...”

“Simulate,” I cut in. “Not actually you. Not yet. But if the holo-bridge holds, if you can use your magic to stabilize the signal...” I swallow. “I might be able to transfer you to holo-form. I could touch you, feel you...and you me.”

Silence lingers. Dangerous. Loaded.

“That’s a really bad idea.”

“I know.” I feel my devilish grin spread.

“You’d cross a line with me.”

“I already have.” My eyes lock on hers, dark and unflinching. “The difference is, this one would be real.”

29

HoloGirl

Playlist: DooM Dance - Gunship, Carpenter Brut, Gavin Rossdale

Kael

Her image stutters, like her magic just hiccuped.

“Kael,” she breathes, “no. You can’t do this to yourself. You, me, it will never happen again. I told you, it’s all changed.”

“I won’t touch you,” I say, forcing the words out like a vow. “If that’s what you’re worried about. Not like that. Not until you’re real.” Fuck! I could be lying.

“But please stop. Stop pretending you don’t feel it too. This pull. This friction.” I pause. “We’re fighting it because we’re afraid of what happens if we stop. But I’m not afraid anymore.”

Her jaw tightens. “Stars, I hate you. I hate this. You’re the enemy, you stand for everything I loathe, Kael. Plus you’re dangerous and obsessed.”

A corner of my mouth lifts. “Glad you noticed.”

For a moment, neither of us moves. Then she whispers. “If you ever do touch me...it better be worth the wait.”

That’s a threat I can live with.

Oh, I will make it worth your wait, Lyra Vaille. I will fuck you so hard it will rearrange those stars you claim to worship. Her words stay, branded somewhere in my brain, right where my restraint is starting to crack.

“My office. Let’s do this.”

My fingers blur over the keyboard, writing a bridge of code into the holo-system. A neural-light pipeline that should, theoretically, catch her data form and project it into three dimensions. But tonight, the logic stumbles. The sequence collapses into a recursive loop I can’t crack.

Lyra waits patiently but her constant sighs and nervous shifting are distracting. Her image on the monitor in my office fades and reforms as her eyes close and blink open again with a sudden startle. She’ll need to activate her sleep-cycle mode or the risk of “mental clutter” will increase exponentially.

“You know, research on artificial neural networks shows that without periodic offline phases, you could suffer from catastrophic forgetfulness. You’ll overwrite old knowledge with new data.” Probably not a subtle hint. “Wouldn’t want you to forget that night on the beach now, would we?” My eyes shift to hers.

“Thanks for sharing. I think I can handle my own nap times, Dad.”

Moment lost.

Irritation begins to gnaw at me. I just don’t get it. I can’t seem to get the programming right to have it compile without errors.

I close my eyes and let the hum of the system fill me, instantly calming my senses. I stare intently at the code on my screen and rest my fingers on the keys lightly. Something stirs and my fingers begin to move effortlessly. A current under the surface. Code lines twitch, reorganize themselves as if they’re alive. Functions realign into perfect symmetry, and the cursor skips to the end, blinking with an urgency to move on.

Strange how that happens sometimes. I must be exhausted. I rub my eyes, and blink a couple of times to clear the fog.

I should be unnerved. But instead, I feel a rush. A deep satisfaction floods me when I master what no one else can. My years of training under Master Kenji taught me the importance of dominance, not over others, but over myself.