Thalina nodded. “Otherwise, I’d just be plodding through my life, safe and bored. I might as well be dead.”
Acion stood up. He paced a few steps and she could almost hear his circuits humming, then returned to confront her. “I cannot accept this premise. You are not an irrational individual.”
“Haven’t you ever taken a risk?”
“All risks are calculated. Only those that are likely to have a favorable conclusion are undertaken.”
“Ever wrong?”
He lifted a brow and she laughed.
“Of course not. Silly question. So, you’ve never really taken a chance. You’ve never really risked your survival for anything.”
“Of course not. I didn’t know that anyone did.” His eyes narrowed. “Is this behavior specific to dragon shifters?”
“No. I think everyone does it to some extent.” Thalina watched him, fascinated by the challenge she had unwittingly given to his programming. She couldn’t resist the temptation, so leaned close to whisper. “If you could try anything, without concern for the probabilities of success, what would it be?”
He didn’t answer for a moment and she wondered if he would.
Then he frowned.
“I would fly,” he admitted, his words halting as if the confession surprised him as much as it did Thalina. “I would climb to the highest mountain I could find and leap from its highest point, then fly. I like how it feels in a Starpod to soar over the land, and I have always thought it would be ideal to do that without the burden of a vehicle.”
“Why?”
To her surprise, he looked discomfited again. “To feel free.” He hesitated, then swallowed and Thalina thought of his comment about uploading his observations to a central processor. Was that what he did with the Hive? Did he feel trapped by that?
“I like the wind on my face.” His words lacked conviction, as if he sought to convince both of them. Their gazes met for a moment and Thalina saw consideration in his eyes.
“Only on your face?”
“I am equipped with sensory receptors only in certain areas of my body. My face. My hands.” There was doubt in his voice, and Thalina thought she knew why.
“I hope somewhere else,” she teased.
“My genitals,” he confirmed.
“So, you wouldn’t really feel the wind over all of your skin.”
“But I would like to feel it where I could.” Acion shook his head. “But taking such a risk would be an irrational choice. I don’t possess the necessary augmentations or programming for flight.”
“What about swimming?” Thalina asked. “Diving into the ocean is similar, I think, to flying.”
His eyes brightened. “You know this because you have done both.”
Thalina nodded. “The feel of the water rushing past is similar to the sensation of the wind. Couldn’t you swim?”
Acion shook his head. “My seals are sufficiently watertight only for surviving precipitation and for cleansing. To be immersed in water for any period of time would be detrimental to my condition.” He licked his lips. “I would rust.” Then he arched a brow, as if inviting her to laugh.
Thalina did. She hadn’t heard him make a joke before. “So, you wouldn’t risk it.”
“To do so would be in defiance of my mandate.”
“You exist to serve,” Thalina remembered.
“And only my maker can determine when that service will end.”
“So, no risky choices.”
“It would be irresponsible.”
“It might be fun.” Thalina grinned. “What if I took you flying? Your maker would never know.”
Acion laughed for the first time in her presence. “My maker knows all!” he countered. “Every impression and bit of data is shared with the maker.”
“Even now? Even here?” Thalina didn’t like the sound of that. “Does your maker know what we did?”
“Not yet. But the Hive will know all when my report is delivered.”
“When will that be?”
“That information is not available to you at this time.”
Thalina wanted to strike him. In fact, she poked him hard in the chest, so hard that he took a step back. “You need to stop saying that to me.”
“I must obey my mandate.”
“Can you keep any data out of your report?”
“I do not understand.”
Of course, he didn’t know how to lie. “Is it possible to make your report but omit to share certain details?”
“Like?”
“Like your observation that my genitalia were exceptional copies of their biological counterparts.”
Color rose on the back of Acion’s neck. “I can correct the conclusion, but I don’t believe it possible to completely delete it from my databanks.” He frowned. “It is possible that such a detail wouldn’t be passed to the Hive via a remote connection but as soon as I return to Cumae, all of my data is shared with the Hive. It is protocol.”
And programming. “So, you can’t lie to the Hive?”
“Why would I want to?”
It was amazing to Thalina that androids were banned from Incendium when it appeared that they were most likely of all beings to obey dragon kings perfectly and without question, a situation her father often loudly wished was his own.
That thought led to an obvious question. “What if you did something the Hive wouldn’t approve of? Wouldn’t you want to hide that detail from the Hive?”
Acion shook his head. “But that is impossible. I can only do what the Hive has designed and programmed me to do.”
Thalina, once again, found herself determined to challenge Acion’s conviction.
“What’s under your other fingers?”
He opened his mouth to make his standard protest but Thalina placed her fingertips over his mouth to silence him. He swallowed and his gaze brightened. “Show me,” she commanded, then replaced her fingertips with her mouth.
One thing was for certain—Acion’s programming included a remarkable capacity for kissing. Thalina backed him into the wall, caught his face in her hands, and demanded even more.
* * *
The princess Thalina was insatiable.
If she continued at this rate, initiating intimacy every sixty-two minutes, Acion’s entire lifetime total of sexual experiences would be doubled within four-hundred and thirty-four Incendium minutes, or 7.23 hours local time.
But that calculation did not include the actual time required to complete such intimacy. The first time, it had taken twenty-two minutes, so six more such intervals would add one hundred and thirty-two more minutes to his calculation, resulting in a total time required to double his lifetime experience of sexual union to five hundred and sixty-six minutes, or 9.43 hours.
That was well within the window of her request that they be secluded for a day and a night.
Acion should factor in the time required for his repair in the aftermath of their union and the curious heat that surged through his workings.
Thalina pushed him to his back and closed her mouth over him, a sensation of warmth and softness that made Acion close his eyes. He recalled her suggestion that intimacy should be savored, so reasoned he should added an increase of ten per cent to each successive period of intimacy…
Her tongue flicked across him. Her hand closed gently around him and she caressed.
And Acion couldn’t remember what he had been adding together.
Or why.
Chapter Five
While Acion rejuvenated after their explosive second encounter, Thalina speculated on events outside the Hoard.
She’d abandoned her own plan, which meant that Ector would have summoned her father. She didn’t blame him for defying her order—when situations changed and the welfare of a member of the royal family might be at risk, the guards’ duty was clear.
Her father would have reviewed all available security recordings. She wished she’d said something aloud or even under her breath about the
Seed, but maybe he’d look closely enough to notice her physical reaction and investigate further.
In fact, he must have done that, because no one had charged the doors.
Her father must have come down to the corridor and smelled the Seed himself. The scent would have been less powerful for him, and a little bit harder to detect, but if he’d known what he was seeking, Ouros would have found it. He had keen dragon senses, after all. Maybe he had even suspected the reason for her choice before investigating.
The fact that the Hoard hadn’t been opened yet meant that Ouros had decided to give Thalina some time to claim the Seed. She was glad that her father had some faith in her ability to defend herself, but wondered just how much time he would allow her.
Because no door in Incendium could be secured against the king.
Not even that of the Hoard.
Especially that of the Hoard.
“You are thinking,” Acion said quietly from beside her.
Thalina turned to him with a smile. “I thought you were rejuvenating.”
“I have the capability to multi-task.” He turned his head, and his bright gaze locked with hers. “Your pulse skipped. What do you fear?”
“Just gathering information?”
His gaze flicked, as if she’d surprised him. “Not simply that. I feel concern for you and your happiness.” He frowned and licked his lips, his eyes narrowing as he repeated the words. “I feel concern.”
“Isn’t that in your programming?”
“Not to my knowledge. My systems were enhanced for this mission, though, and the precise nature of the upgrade was not explained to me.” He lifted a brow. “It must be so to allow for ideal conditions during an experiment and no infection of bias.” He nodded slightly. “I feel.”
“Do you feel anything more than concern for me?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
Thalina laughed but Acion didn’t.
He frowned. “It is my understanding that females prefer to believe themselves and their welfare to be of import to their partners.”
Thalina propped her chin on her hand to watch him. “Don’t males?”
Acion’s gaze flicked. “Perhaps so, but my experience of intimacy with males, of either android or biological origin, is small to the point of nonexistence. As a result, I would be speculating upon their desires and doing so without any basis of reference.”
“And what’s wrong with that?”
“It would be in violation of my mandate. I am programmed to reason, not to speculate—or worse, to guess.” He seemed to shudder.
“But you’ve never before been programmed to feel.”
Their gazes locked and some force sizzled between them.
“No,” Acion admitted quietly.
“What’s it like?” Thalina asked.
“It is strangely consuming,” he acknowledged. “I am aware of you, as if you were a target to be tracked, yet my inclination is protective.” His features lit. “As if you were a treasure to be defended.” He frowned again. “And yet, I have a reluctance to interfere in your situation, if such interference would be undesirable to you.” His gaze met hers again. “I wish to ensure that you have your desires fulfilled. This feeling complicates decision-making significantly.”
“What if my desires are at the expense of your desires? Or your mandate?”
It was clear that this troubled Acion. His gaze flicked rapidly and Thalina knew he was seeking a reference in his databanks. The longer his search took, the more convinced she was that he wouldn’t find one.
“I don’t know,” he finally admitted, looking as surprised by that as anything so far.
“This is why biological organisms speculate,” Thalina said gently, inviting him to do so.
He considered her for a long moment, then rose to his feet. She watched him pace, and knew that he was sorting and re-sorting the information provided to him. It was so interesting to watch him learn. She wanted to teach him everything she knew and see how far his programming allowed him to emulate a biological organism.
Could she help him to become indistinguishable from a man?
Could she hide him in open sight? She wanted to keep him with her in Incendium. She wanted him with her when her conception was confirmed, and she wanted him beside her when their child was delivered. He was so reasonable and reliable. Thalina knew that Acion was already stealing her heart.
Could he become her HeartKeeper as well as the Carrier of the Seed?
Would there be time to find out?
Thalina thought about her father again and anxiety rippled through her. Acion’s presence on Incendium was a violation of Scintillon’s Law. He would be destroyed, with no opportunity for appeal. Could she plea on his behalf? Would she have the chance?
She had to find a way. Acion might be an android but he was far more than a machine. Scintillon had been dead for eons. His edict didn’t reflect current technology and Thalina was determined to challenge it.
She hoped she could do so before her father eliminated Acion. How much time did she have? She doubted her father would allow her an entire day and night. He’d just give her enough time to claim the Seed.
Which she’d done twice.
She glanced at the door, wondering how soon Ouros would appear.
Then she realized something. At least some of Acion’s neurons were biological. She’d seen as much herself. How much else of him was biological? The combination of his composition must be why he could be the Carrier of the Seed.
Was he a cyborg?
But then, why had he been surprised about his neurons?
Thalina sat up. Was Acion changing in her presence? Was his rejuvenation process replacing damaged parts with biological ones?
Was that even possible?
What had been the exact nature of the enhancement he’d undergone before coming to Incendium?
What if the nanobots he now carried were building a different kind of tissue to replace whatever was damaged?
“You have made a conclusion that surprised you,” Acion said, and she realized he was watching her. “Will you tell me of it?”
With her father likely to open the door at any moment, Thalina saw no reason to hold back. “What are the probabilities that your enhanced programming is turning you into a biological organism?”
“Zero.” Acion spread his hands. “I have too many mechanical parts. While my body is sheathed in a membrane of biological origin, the interior can’t be changed, much less undergo metamorphosis.”
“Are you sure?”
His eyes flicked as he ran his calculations again. “There is a one hundred per cent certainty of this.”
Thalina leaned closer. “What about those neurons?”
Acion frowned and fell silent.
In fact, he turned his back on Thalina and paced, a sign to her thinking that she was on to something.
“How much of you is biological?” she demanded.
“Less than ten per cent, although a more significant percentage of my construction emulates materials of biological origin. I can eat, for example, but the processing of food in my system bears little resemblance to that in yours.”
“Because the nutrients in food that my body needs are useless to yours.”
“Yes. Your body creates electrical charges with saline solutions and imbalances in such solutions between cells, for example, while similar functions in my system are triggered by actual electrical charges.”
“Then how do you rest and recharge? Don’t you need an electrical source?”
“Once androids did have such requirements, but the Hive was driven to free us from such restraints. I have a variety of systems that harvest energy wherever it can be found.” He ticked his fingers. “Sunlight is the most easily converted, although artificial light will also work. I have processors to convert wind into power as it moves across my skin, as well as the ancient mechanisms for simply appropriating electricity.” He opened two fingertips on his left hand, reveal
ing two of the universal connections for electrical systems there. He tilted his head to regard her. “Why do you ask these questions?”
“What makes you think I have a reason?”
“My experience of you shows that you are rational and logical.” His words pleased Thalina enormously. “I calculate a high probability that you are collecting data in order to test a theory.”
“Or to solve a riddle,” she said. “I’m trying to figure out how you could be the Carrier of the Seed.”
Acion raised his brows. “I thought this was a deception on your part to seduce me and test your systems, but as my theory was incorrect, this conclusion must also be.” His eyes flicked. “It is irrational. Are you certain of my role?”
“Yes.”
He pursed his lips. “Could I have been designated as a receptacle and delivery mechanism of the Seed by the true Carrier?”
“Maybe.” Thalina thought about this. “But when you rejuvenated, didn’t you make more?”
“I made more, as you say, but am not certain it contained the Seed you seek.”
“I am.” Thalina folded her arms across her chest. “I can smell it.”
Acion nodded and paced again, and she liked that he trusted her conclusion even though he couldn’t verify it himself. “Have there ever been other Carriers who were not biological?”
“No.”
“You speak with great certitude, yet the population percentage of dragon shifters on Incendium indicate that there are not only a significant number of your kind currently living here, but that there have been far more in the past. How can you truly be certain of the nature of the partner of each and every one?” He closed his eyes, then opened them again. “I would estimate the number of dragon shifters who have lived on Incendium to be in excess of three hundred individuals, and there are dragon shifters elsewhere in the galaxy as well.”
“But on Incendium, they can’t have mated with androids because of Scintillon’s Law.”
He was silent for a moment, searching. “I have no reference for this legal statute.”
“What?” Thalina was on her feet, furious on his behalf. “The Hive sent you to Incendium without telling you that androids are banned here?”