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Not enough. Not by a long shot.
I press a hand to the knot of anxiety clenching in my stomach. Despite my father kicking me off the AX project, despite what’s happened between us, AX2 is still my invention. My responsibility.
“Come on. To the kitchen.” I snap my fingers and turn on my heel—but not fast enough to miss his narrowed eyes.
“No.”
I blink, momentarily stunned that he dares defy me—and about something so ridiculous.
“I beg your pardon?” I swivel back around, eyebrows nearly at my hairline. “Am I really going to have to command you to eat, AX2?”
“You need to rest.” His expression is no longer impassive—his dark eyebrows bunch in a frown, soft lips flattening. “And I need to be by your side.”
I force a slow breath through my frozen chest. It’s the closest either of us have come to voice the new reality we share. It takes me too long to regain my composure enough to say, “What you need is toeat,soldier. And whatIneed is none of your concern. Now,follow me.This is a command.”
He growls in response. Actuallygrowls.It sends goosebumps up my spine and down my arms, and only my iron will keeps me from clamping my hand to the gauze on my neck as my entire body responds to my alpha’s displeasure.
I force down the instinctive urge to submit, ignore the way my core warms in preparation to surrender to his dominance, and glare at him. Without another word, I turn back around and head for the door.
I expect the seething sting of his resentment clawing at our bond as he silently follows me back down the stairs. At least it makes it easier to ignore the residual pain throbbing through my pelvis with every step, and the exhaustion in my muscles.
The kitchen smells faintlylike fresh bread. My mother’s a stress-baker.
I make AX2 sit on a stool at the kitchen island before I rummage through the cabinets to find a couple of long baguettes. They’re not the nutrient-dense shakes I’ve developed for the AX class, but they’ll have to do.
I pile on the mayo, sliced tomatoes, and cucumber, and place a bed of spinach at the bottom, then layer it with as many slices of deli meat as I can fit in between the pieces of bread and finish off with a couple pickles.
“Eat.” I place both sandwiches in front of AX2 and lean on the counter. I’m exhausted and I want to sit down, but doing so would mean admitting that he was right to defy me—that I need to rest.
His green eyes scan over the baguettes, then flick to me, and I see caution in his gaze. For a split-second I think he’s concerned I’m trying to poison him, but no. I feel it in that infuriating link that ties us together—my own pleasure at feeding my alpha echoes back to me, through his primitive awareness that his female is tending to him.
“You need sustenance to function optimally, and I don’t have access to your usual supplements. I’m not about to lose months of progress because no one seems to remember how many resources we’ve poured into you,” I snap, face heating because I know there’s little nutritional value in a pickle.
Thankfully he doesn’t respond, and his focus returns to the food without acknowledging my slip into primitive biology.Good.I don’t have the strength to pretend that everything is okay. That things will ever return to normal.
I stare at him as he bites into the first sandwich. His eyelids flutter, and a soft hum escapes him around his mouthful of food. I have no defense against the responding clenching in my chest.
He looks… entirely human as he eats—elbows on the counter, occasional sighs of pleasure resonating from his wide chest as he wolfs down the first baguette in five bites, then turn to the second. I did my very best to hide the inhuman parts of his anatomy when I made him, but in the confines of my lab, his stiffly formal demeanor never let me get fooled by my own creation. He was simply a machine.
He still is.I clench my fist against the countertop and force my awareness away from the stubble on his chin and the way he sits far too casually in his seat. The human parts of him are just that—parts. And the link to his consciousness burrowed deep between my ribs is simply… biology. My AX soldiers are built on the blueprint of alphas for their strength and ferociousness. With that blueprint comes all the other aspects of alpha nature—such as the ability to form a mate bond.
It’s biology. Nothing more.
I’m not aware I’m rubbing at my chest before I catch AX2 frowning at the movement.
“Are you done?” I bite, forcing my hand from my ribs to indicate his now empty plate.
“I am sated,” he says, gaze still resting on my chest. “Thank you.”
He’s never thanked me before—not for nourishment, not for anything. Not that I expected him to; outside of basic military etiquette, I haven’t trained my AX soldiers with manners in mind.
“Great. Let’s go.” I spin away from the kitchen island, keen to get out of this room with its soft smell of baked bread and memories of my father’s hums of pleasure when eating my mother’s cooking. Only before I manage to stalk out of the kitchen, something sharp twangs behind my ribs, my knees wobble, and I lose my footing.
“Shit!” My squeak ends on a huff as AX2 materializes behind me and yanks me back upright before I can faceplant on the tiles.
“I told you you needed to rest,” he growls, his tone as insolent as if he’d not spent three years learning to obey.
But I’m too distracted to punish him. That sharp stabbing behind my ribs jabs at me again, making me gasp and reach for my chest.Oh God, not this. Not this.
