Lifel1k3 (Lifelike #1)(68)

Ezekiel winced as she pushed the needles into his skin, jacking the prosthetic into his spine. He didn’t bleed much; the wounds regenerated almost as fast as she made them. She saw the muscle tensing beneath his skin, veins taut along the line of his jaw. Connecting the power supply, she waited for the old prosthetic to boot up, establish its connection. Finally, she was rewarded with tiny green lights on its dusty LED screen.

“Okay.” Eve dusted her hands, backed away. “Try that.”

Ezekiel frowned, looking down at the arm. The corroded fingers slowly cinched closed, formed a bulky fist. He flexed his bicep, and with a hiss of hydraulics, the arm bent at the elbow. Twisted at the wrist. He smiled crooked, dimple creasing his cheek.

“Not bad for your first time.”

“It’s an old industrial model,” Eve said. “It can push a lot of psi. Try to break something.”

Ezekiel hopped off the bench, picked up a steel bracket from the pile of scrap parts. With a whine of servos and pistons, he crushed the metal in his fist.

“Very fancy,” he nodded.

“Okay, fine-motor test next. Try to do something gently.”

“… Like what?”

“I don’t know.” Eve glanced around the workshop. “Use your imagination.”

Ezekiel stepped up to Eve. Close enough that she could smell fresh sweat. Steel. Grease. And reaching down with deliberate slowness, he took her hand in his new one. Ran the thumb across her knuckles.

“How’s that?” he asked.

She looked up into his eyes. Pulse running quicker. Mouth suddenly dry. And sorting through the storm in her head, the feelings his touch flooded her with, she realized that, unlike last night, she didn’t want to fall into his arms and forget herself.

She wanted to fall into his arms and remember.

Was this the Ana in her talking? Or the Eve?

They’re the exact same person, she realized.

They’re you.

“I think you need more practice,” she heard herself say.

She held her breath as he lifted his real hand, touched her face. Running his fingertips ever so gently down her cheek. Her eyelashes were fluttering, her every nerve on fire.

“That’s cheating,” she whispered.

“Maybe I should quit while I’m behind?”

“No,” she breathed, lips just inches from his. “Don’t stop.”

“… Are you sure?”

She slipped her arm around his neck, dragging his mouth to hers. Kissing him long and slow and soft. Her eyes closed, she sighed, hands moving as if they didn’t belong to her. Roaming the smooth troughs and valleys of his shoulders and chest, feeling that old, familiar wanting, the needing, the breathlessness and weightlessness of it all. Flame building inside her, fingers clawing his skin as he lifted her up onto the bench. She held tight, wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. He was all she knew in that moment. Just the warmth of him. The taste of him. The feel of him beneath her hands. So real. So perfectly, wonderfully real.

His lips left a burning trail along her cheek, down her throat as she struggled to breathe. She dragged her tank top off over her head, crushed herself against him. With a sweep of his new arm, he cleared the workbench, her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him down. She felt like she was on fire, and she knew only one way to put it out. Drowning in those pools of old-sky blue.

Lemon had been right. It was time to stop letting the past define her. Time to accept the person she’d been and decide who she’d become.

“Eve,” he murmured, breath hot against her skin. “Eve.”

“No,” she breathed.

Her breath in his lungs. Hands and bodies entwined as she closed her eyes and finally, finally let go. Acknowledging who she’d been yesterday, and deciding who she wanted to be tomorrow.

“Call me Ana… .”



Afterward, they lay on the floor, staring at the flickering tungsten globe above. His arm around her shoulder and her head resting on his bare chest. And though he wasn’t a real boy, she could still feel his heart beating. Taste his sweat. Every part of him was real, and every part of him was hers.

“I missed you, Ana,” he said.

“I think I missed you, too.” She frowned, shaking her head. “I think part of me always felt like something was missing. Even when I didn’t remember you.”

“But you remember now?”

“It still gets fuzzy on that last day. Those final hours.” She rubbed her eye and sighed. “Part of me wishes I could remember. The rest of me never wants to.”

“Do you remember when I came to you in your room? Our night together?”

“I remember.” She smiled.

“You’re different now.”

Ana raised her head, a suspicious frown on her brow.

Polluted.

Deviate.

Abnorm.

“Different how?”

“You bite more.” He grinned. “And you’re far prettier.”

She scoffed and gave him a playful slap. “My beautiful liar.”

Ezekiel pushed her off his chest and rolled her onto her back, staring down at her.

“I mean it,” he said. “The years might have changed you, but only for the better.”

She looked at her empty hand. Curling her fingers slowly closed.