Page 33 of Dose

“On the record,” he says.

Then he kisses me.

Hard. For one blank second, I don’t know what to do. I have literature but no laboratory experience. His hand comes up to my jaw, thumb pressing at the corner of my mouth, and I open to him.

He takes control of the angle, slowing just enough for me to follow before the kiss deepens. I am clumsy and starving. When I make that sound again, he groans as if it is exactly what he wanted. I clutch his shirt and kiss him back harder.

Heat gathers low in my body, an ache I have no procedure for. I press closer, searching for the friction from before. His hips roll into mine in answer, and Theon shudders.

Then he pulls his mouth away.

He stays close, forehead against mine, his hand still cradling my jaw. His heart beats hard beneath my fists.

“Stop?” I manage.

“Pause.” His laugh is unsteady. “If I don’t, I’m going to take you against this wall forty feet from my entire family, and I want more time than this corridor gives me.”

“That may be the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“The bar was underground.”

“And you cleared it.” I am laughing now, still trembling. “For your notes: pausing is acceptable. Stopping is not.”

His thumb passes once over my lower lip.

“It continues,” he says. “Somewhere with a door.”

“Good.”

He steps back and offers me his hand. I take it, and we walk toward the light and noise of the common room.

The museum has a new acquisition. Not Theon—not yet. The choice itself.

I wanted him. I said so. The world did not end.

For once, I do not need to name what comes next.

14

THEON

The alert arrives at oh five twelve. I know it is bad before I read it because Marcus does not use the priority channel for anything that can wait until coffee.

I am at the bench, three hours into a stabilizer run, when my terminal flashes red. Isla is asleep four meters away behind the glass partition, curled on the cot with one hand open near her face. I read the intelligence brief twice while the fume hood breathes and my blood goes cold.

Ashford breach attributed to escaped Architect assets. Program-wide alert issued for Architect activity.

Retrieval bounty posted for missing specialist I. Summer. Status unknown; presumed captured or deceased. Confirmation of death acceptable. Recovery preferred.

Korte has signed the requisitions personally.

Marcus’s final line reads: Full operational council. Now.

Confirmation of death acceptable.

I stand very still and let the sentence settle. Somewhere in a facility I have not burned yet, someone drafted that phrase, reviewed it, approved it, and attached a budget. Isla Summer, reduced to two acceptable outcomes and a line item.

I look at her through the glass. She sleeps in four-count breaths, regulating them even now as if losing the rhythm might cost her.