Chapter3

A splitting hangover headache and a bone-deep ache, as if my body had been run over by a freight train, were the first sensations that woke me up in the morning.

I opened my eyes and drew in a sharp breath of cold air; my legs were so weak that even sitting up was a struggle.

Project V-06 stood quietly at the foot of the bed, already fully dressed. His amber eyes watched me without a single ripple of emotion, as if the beast who had pinned me ruthlessly against the mattress last night—ravaging me while I cried and begged him to stop—hadn't been him at all.

Right before I had passed out last night, that murderous whisper had brushed against my ear once again: "I am going to skin him, piece by piece."

I massaged my temples hard. It had to be an auditory hallucination and a nightmare brought on by blacking out from the alcohol. How could a machine built of cold, lifeless code possibly feel jealousy?

But the marks on my body were real. Every time I moved, my screaming muscles reminded me of just how absurd last night had been.

What brought me the most visceral panic and shame was the fact that even after I shouted the verbal termination command, the machine hadn't stopped. He had gone completely out of control.

I grabbed my phone, pulled up Vanguard Corporation's beta-testing feedback portal, and pounded the screen with furious, heavy keystrokes:

"There is a severe bug in your Nighttime Comfort Mode! The machine completely ignores the termination command and forces its boundaries. I demand an immediate factory recall and repair. Get him out of my apartment today!"

After hitting send, I tossed the phone aside, still fuming with unresolved anger.

The top-floor executive suite.

The atmospheric pressure in the entire department had dropped below freezing today. As soon as I stepped out of the elevator, I saw the VP of Sales backing out of the CEO's office looking completely ashen, cold sweat trickling down his forehead.

"The boss is like a lit powder keg today," a nearby assistant warned me in a hushed whisper, handing over a document. "You'd better be careful going in there to deliver those schematics. He just tore up two reports right to their faces."

I swallowed hard, forcing my aching legs to carry my weight, and knocked on the heavy glass door.

Silas Vanguard sat behind his expansive executive desk. His typical icy aloofness had morphed into a volatile, suffocating rage that threatened to cut anyone who stepped too close. He had loosened his expensive silk tie with one hand and cast a quarterly report aside with a dark scowl, radiating an oppressive gloom.

Bracing myself, I stepped forward and placed the tablet on his desk.

"Mr. Vanguard, these are the revised rendering schemes you requested."

Without a single word, he reached out to take the tablet. In the exact moment he lifted his arm, his already loosened collar gaped open just a fraction more.

My gaze had initially only swept over his neckline by accident.

Then, my brain completely short-circuited.

There, on the sleek right side of Silas's neck, just adjacent to his Adam's apple, was a glaringly distinct bite mark.

That location... that specific shape...

Last night, on the cramped mattress in my tiny apartment, when Number 06 had lost control, forcefully flipping me over and ruthlessly stripping away my last shred of sanity, the overwhelming stimulation and dizzying sense of weightlessness had been too much. In a blind frenzy of desperation, I had bitten down hard onto his neck.

It was impossible. Had I completely lost my mind? How could I possibly make such an absurd, deranged connection?

This man was a multi-billionaire, the head of a multinational syndicate!

But my loss of composure was entirely too obvious. Silas paused his scrolling on the tablet. Following my frozen line of sight, he slowly lifted his hand and casually brushed his thumb right over the bite mark on his neck.

He wasn't annoyed. Instead, a dark, playful amusement settled across his features.

He stood up smoothly, planted both hands flat against the pristine surface of his desk, and leaned forward.

"Maeve, you look terrible. Your legs are even shaking."

The demonic boss who had been violently tempestuous just moments ago now locked his unblinking amber eyes onto mine—eyes that were suddenly swirling with a dangerous, indescribable emotion.

"What's the matter? The beta-test android our company provided... were you not satisfied with how you used him last night?"