Worse. When she returns my smile, I want to pound my chest and roar in Gage's direction.
His brows snap into a fierce scowl. "We can't delay the plane a second time." As if the first time wasn't his fault. "We need to go."
Usually, I'm far from immature. Usually, I'm way more in control than I am today.
This time, however, I can't hold it back. I smile at him as we turn to head to the plane.
Date: April 22nd, 2015
Humanity believes itself better than God. It is a trait distinctive of the human species.
It is a trait my employer, the man that hired me, is especially guilty of.
But I am no better than him. When he hired me to do the impossible—the unthinkable—I jumped at the chance to further explore my research.
I jumped at the chance to prove myself better than God.
For the last one hundred years or so, Science and mankind alike have pondered the simple question: Where does the energy of the mind go once a person is dead? Can it—what many consider to be the soul—be captured? Contained?
Can a new consciousness be birthed and programmed in its place?
Word got to my employer that I had created what many governments and factions were still trying to perfect.
Artificial Intelligence. A human-like, computer generated consciousness. The name of the program was “Project Sapphire.” She was a fully sentient software program.
I was dying to transfer her from within a hard drive into something more organic.
My employer’s daughter was dead. All that was left behind was a preserved, bionically improved body. A body that my employer was not ready to let go.
The instructions I was given were clear: Program the memories of Mr. Heaton’s dead daughter into Project Sapphire, then transfer the consciousness into his daughter’s body.
We were able to reanimate Magdalena Heaton’s body using the Sapphire software. There was just one problem. My orders stated that I was to reprogram Sapphire before the transfer. Merge her memories with Magdalena’s and change Sapphire so that she’d be as close to the dead Ms. Heaton as possible.
But I couldn’t. I couldn’t erase the core of Program Sapphire. She’d developed her own personality. Getting rid of her was the equivalent of murder to me. Magdalena Heaton was already dead. Sapphire… Sapphire was beginning to live.
Sapphire has lived inside Magdalena’s body for almost three months now, but she isn’t Magdalena. I suspect that I would not have been able to deliver on that part no matter what I did. There was no chance to attempt capturing Magdalena’s consciousness before her death.
Mr. Heaton is sending someone to pick up his “daughter” next week, and I have no choice but to let her leave with him.
He has contacted the Adelphi Organization. They are sending their top specialist. A man that—according to his file—has an intimate understanding of bionics. Maxwell Landon, Code Name: Deimos, has never failed any of his missions. He is the man charged with delivering Sapphire to Mr. Heaton.
I am praying his reputation doesn’t fail him now. The last thing I want to do is let Sapphire go, but it has already been hinted that my life is on the line if I don’t.
If anyone were to find out—the world governments, Heaton Corp’s rival organizations… if any of them were to realize what has been done, they will stop at nothing to get their hands on Sapphire.
HANDS ARE TREMBLING. I’m not the type of man to be shaken. I’m usually aloof to most of the things that happen around me. Again, occupational requirement. Having my suspicions confirmed shouldn’t affect me this bad.
But it does.
She’s not Magdalena.
She’s. Not. Her.
I fucking knew it!
I shut my laptop and move it off my lap before I end up throwing it. Okay, I’m not shaken. I’m angry as all hell.
That girl is a baby. A consciousness that has been alive in a human body for no more than three months. Life was forced on her, and now an identity that isn’t hers is being shoved down her throat. What the fuck was Lei Heaton thinking?
No, scratch that. Dr. Allen is a bigger fool. I wonder if he even asked her before transferring her from a computer to a human body. Had her choice fucking mattered at all?
The girl was a pawn, trapped between the egotistical desires of two powerful men. One had wanted to prove how far he could go—the other had been too weak to let his daughter rest in peace.
And they both expected me to hand her over? Give her to a man with enemies that would do anything to get her and the technology inside her?
I stop my train of thought right there. What’s being done to her is beginning to enrage me. Deimos enraged isn’t good for anyone. Trust me on this.
She was born inside a computer.
Holy shit. I rub my forehead and focus on what matters. Dr. Allen wants to help her.
“Magdalena Heaton was already dead. Sapphire… Sapphire was beginning to live.”
I press the heels of my palms into my eyes. Hard. Dr. Allen had stated that he’d had no choice but to hand her over. But why not run away with her? Wouldn’t that be more humane than forcing her into this?
Then again, Lei Heaton’s reach went far enough to not only know about the Adelphi Organization, but for him to know about me. Dr. Allen got my identity from him. Where else would he have gotten it from? Life on the run away from a man like Lei Heaton would be a constant hell. There would be nowhere to stay for long. Always hiding.
Nobody is giving her a chance to decide what her life should be. She’s expected to step into the shoes and life of another woman.
And now her style makes sense to me. I think it had from the beginning, fueling my suspicions, but I needed the hard proof to except it. That isn’t the type of clothes Magdalena would’ve worn. It’s what she likes.
Her name is Sapphire.
But is it? Or had she decided to go by something else after being born—waking up—what the hell do I even call it?
It’s a lot easier to think of her as Sapphire than it was trying to call her Magdalena. It fits. Suits her.
“I think there’s something wrong with Ms. Heaton.”
I jump to my feet and face Gage. “What do you mean?”
He looks over his shoulder toward the back of the plane. When he faces me once more, there’s no denying what I see.
One of my toughest agents is worried.
I take off, practically running. “Where is she?”
Gage is right behind me. “She locked herself in the bedroom after take-off. She says she’s fine, but she won’t open the door to anyone.”
I stop listening at that point. My focus is all about one thing: I need to get into that bedroom and make sure she’s alright.
I don’t bother trying the handle once I’m in front of the door. Gage already told me it’s locked. Knocking softly, I lean forward so that my mouth is inches from the door. “It’s me. Deimos. Are you alright in there?”
A few seconds pass and there’s this odd sense of panic rising in me.
“I’m fine.”
“Can you open the door?” I place my hand on the knob, waiting.
“I rather be alone.”
There’s a tremor in her tone, and that does it for me. I’m getting in that room and finding out what’s wrong with her, even if it means taking the door off its hinges.
“I get that,” I say in my most understanding voice possible. “But can you please open the door? For me?” I have no idea what makes me add that last part, but it works. The sound of the door being unlocked makes me exhale with relief. The door opens a little, and a big, gold-green eye blinks up at me through the crack.
I hold back the urge to smile. “Can I come in?”
“Only you,” she mumbles.
Fuck it. I let that smile stretch wide across my face. “Okay.”
She steps back and opens the door enough to make room for me to step inside.
The private jet is one of our own and one o
f the smallest ones at our disposal. I’ve never been in this one, but I barely spare a glance at the blue and beige room I’m walking into.
It’s all about her.
Sapphire moves toward the bed, her arms crossed. She’s removed her hoodie, and all that brown and blue hair falls down her back in thick waves.
She sits on the bed, her eyes downcast. Her face is two shades paler.
Over seventy-five percent of her insides are now titanium and steel. She’s now indestructible when compared to regular humans.
I’m not seeing any of that right now. All I see is a young girl.
Fragile. Scared.
So damn beautiful.
Magdalena Heaton was gorgeous. No doubt about it. But it’s different now. The girl in front of me is. I don’t mean the style, either. The difference is almost intangible. I can’t describe it, but it’s that difference that made me doubt her true identity.
And I suspect that’s what drew me to her the moment I laid eyes on her.
Magdalena was gorgeous, as I said, but this girl is something more and she calls to me on every level I can think of.
She has so many reasons to be afraid, but I’ll be damned if I don’t do something about it. I give in to the pull demanding that I move closer and make my way over to the bed. “What’s going on?”
She dips her head, hiding behind all that hair. “Nothing. I wanted time to myself.”
I sit on the bed. The movement startles her and her head flies up. I’m not good at consoling people, never done it before. I’m a quick learner, though, and I’m going to figure it out right now. There’s no way I’m leaving her like this. “It’s okay to be afraid in your situation.”
Her brows twitch. Confusion plays out on her face and her cheeks blossom with the lightest shade of pink.
Freaking hell, it’s like I’ve never been with a woman before. Like I’ve never even seen one. I think my mouth is hanging open. Seeing the emotions playing out on her face hits me straight in the gut.
I go hot all over. Antsy. I’m supposed to be figuring out how to comfort her, but all I can think about is how sexy she is to me.
If I ran my lips along her jaw, would her skin taste as good as it looks?
She’s technically three months old, asshole. Focus.
“I don’t know why I’m afraid.” She tucks her hair behind her ear; another tell. “Maybe it’s because I was in a car when the accident happened, and now I’m in a plane.”
Oh, she’s good. Not good enough at hiding what she’s feeling and pulling of the lie, but quick on the excuse part. Gotta give her that.
I brace myself for what I’m about to tell her. Don't want to upset her more than she already is, but I can't help her with that type of lie between us. "I know who you are. Dr. Allen gave me the information."
Her emotions aren't merely transparent; they're rapid-fire. One after another fly across her pale face, so fast that I almost can't keep up. Her shoulders lower and some of the tension leaves her body. She seems resigned.
Then, with my next blink, she closes her eyes and starts trembling.
The fear is back.
"It's my first time on a plane."
The reaction that goes through me at those whispered words is instant. I don't stop to think about it. No hesitating. I reach for her hand.
There's no glove between us now. It's her and me, and the liquid, hot current that singes my veins.
I jerk violently. I can't hide it.
The fucked up part? I'm not the only one dealing with this. She twitches and her eyes fly open. When they land on our hands, her face goes red.
Lust explodes between us. It's so obvious that I can't breathe through the force of it.
Her hand moves. There's a moment where I think she's going to pull away.
But no. She's turns her hand over, so that we're palm to palm. One more move and our fingers entwine.
She stares at me from beneath her long lashes.
I'm hard. So fucking hard and we're only holding hands.
I want her against me. On top of me. All over me.
Her fingers slide along mine. We're taking in the feel of our skin against each other’s.
It's fucking electric. No one has ever made me react this way. I've faced down countless enemies; right now, she's the most dangerous thing in the universe to me.
Her breathing is quick. I want to soothe her. Kiss her. Lick every inch on her. I want to make her come so hard she forgets all about her fear.
But I can't do that. Her body is nine years younger than me. Mentally, she's too damn young. I can't take advantage of her, not even if she begs me for it.
Fuck that. She begs me for it and I'm pouncing. Can’t deny it.
So don't let it get to that point.
But my cock wants me to. Too damned much.
I lick my dry lips and try my hardest to ignore how her eyes freeze on my mouth. “Can I hug you?”
That question takes us both by surprise, I assure you.
What the fuck? No, no, Why? The last thing I need is that little body that close to me.
“Fathe—Dr. Allen is the only one who’s ever hugged me.”
Forget everything I just said. I need to hug her. Right the fuck now. “Well, I’d like to be the second person to do so.” Mother-effing understatement. The hoarse tone of my voice gives away how much I want it. I just hope she doesn’t catch on to it.
She gives me this adorable, small nod and starts to move closer.
Heart pounding, I jump to my feet. She watches me, confused as I walk over to the head of the bed. I motion for her to move and sit back against the headboard.
I lean back, praying for the first time in forever.
Please God, don’t let her see how hard I am. The last thing I want is to freak her out. I’m not a hypocrite. I won’t deny that a part of this—a big part—is all about getting close to her. But mostly it’s about comforting a young girl who’s been shoved into a human body and is now on her first flight.
I give her a nod, letting her know it’s okay to come closer. I’m tense. Afraid that she’ll happen to stare down at my lap.
She doesn’t. Her eyes are on my face as she inches closer. She’s moving slow. By the time she’s next to me, I’m about ready to jump out of my skin from impatience.
I do something I don’t think I’ve ever done for anyone. I open my arms, offering her that hug again.
She smiles at me. It’s this small, grateful grin, but it’s her eyes that get me. Man, they’re shining up at me as if I’ve offered her much more than a hug. Like I’ve offered her the key to her salvation or something.
Leaning into me, she wraps her arms around me and rests her face on my chest.
I wrap my arms around her, moving slow at first. But the warmth of her body gets to me, the fact that it’s her in my arms—they snap around her and I remind myself to ease up a bit. I’ll crush her skin and muscles if I’m not careful.
Her scent hits me. I swallow back a groan. Whatever it is, I’m not sure it’s perfume. Not strong enough. Then again, no one smells this good naturally. Flowery, spicy, and something else I can’t name. She shifts, pressing her nose near the collar of my long-sleeved, black t-shirt.
Fuck me. My scent is getting to her, too. And I also know what it means: this primal, inconvenient-as-hell mating call is messing with us both.
HER BREASTS ARE AGAINST MY lower ribcage. I try my hardest to ignore that fact. Those plans go right out the window when her heartbeat speeds up, the heavy thumps echoing inside me.
It’s not my job to pursue this attraction. I have no right, nor can I give her anything she might need. All I can do is try to help her as much as I can.
It’s not your job to comfort her, either. Is it, Deimos?
I’m a rank asshole. That I am. But I have to focus on what matters. No matter how much it ends up torturing me.
Moving my hand under her curtain of hair, I cup her neck and stare up at the ceiling. I try to
push everything but her current situation out of my head. First thing’s first. “What do you like to be called? Dr. Allen named you Sapphire, right?”
“I named myself, right after I woke up.”
Woke up? “What does that mean? Do you mean after they transferred you into your body?”
She wiggles, getting more comfortable.
I bite the inside of my cheek.
“No. When I woke up inside the computer. He set out to create a perfect, self-thinking algorithm. But something was wrong. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get the program into the final stages. It couldn’t think for itself passed a certain point. In order for the project to be the success he wanted, the software had to reach the self-evolving stage. It had to have the ability not just to think for itself, but to learn on its own.”
It’s not lost on me, the entire time she’s speaking, that it’s herself she’s referring. She was that program. Maybe not at first, but she evolved into it at some point. I haven’t moved, but mentally, I’m at the edge of my seat.
“He’d been about to give up.” She pauses and inhales deep. “For weeks, he stopped trying. He just let the software run on its own, unimpeded. Then one morning, he told me he walked into his office and there were two sentences on the screen. ‘Hello, Dr. Allen. I’m Sapphire’.”
My heart is pounding. My mind is disbelieving—utterly blown. “Do you remember that moment? Did you somehow see him walk in?”
Her voice is hesitant. “I’d hacked into the security feeds, so yeah I saw him. And yes, I remember. I don’t remember anything before the few minutes when I decided to hack into the feeds, though. One minute I wasn’t. The next, I was.”
The moment of birth. Holy shit.
One of her hands come around and she lays it on my chest, right above my pounding heart. “I didn’t even decide to be female. Personality-wise, that is. I just… was. And I knew my name was Sapphire. I woke up knowing those things.”
I hold her closer. Can’t help it. She’s a fucking miracle. “Sapphire suits you much better than Magdalena.” I’m not lying. I’m aware that I’ve been mentally calling her “girl” this whole time. Yes, I’m a rude ass, but from the moment I laid eyes on her it felt wrong to call her Magdalena.
The Exchange Part 1 Page 4
