“What,” he says slowly, “was that?”
I press the backs of my hands over my eyes. “Don’t look at me.”
“Too late,” he snaps. “Isawthe whole thing, Lyn. In fact—Iheardit. Thank you for recording your findings?—”
I groan into my palms, half-convinced my shame is deep enough it’ll allow me to tunnel straight through the floor and out of this fucking dimension. Unfortunately, that doesn’t happen. I stay right here, on the floor, and Rhyss?—
His hand is still on my shoulder.
“Lyn, I need you to talk to me,” he says. “Just because the device has been removed doesn’t mean there won’t be residual effects. Are you experiencing any pain, nausea…?”
I peek through my fingers at him. “No.”
He exhales through his nose, clearly not buying that as a comprehensive answer. “Disorientation? Shortness of breath? Inability to control your motor functions?”
I wince. “Only my dignity.”
He stares at me.
“Rhyss,” I start, then pause—because I need the formality right now, so help me god. “Dr.Rhyss. I amfine. I didn’t give myself a seizure. It was just…an unfortunate signal loop with wildly inappropriate effects.”
“Unfortunate?” His eyes narrow. “Lyn, you wired an untested neurostim to your fucking temple, then violently came on the floor of my lab?—”
“I’m aware,” I interrupt, hiding my face again. “Oh god. You…I’m going to lose my funding, aren’t I?”
He doesn’t reply at first. Then…he still doesn’t.
I finally chance a look over at him.
“Of course not,” he says. “You successfully rewired a translator to interpret pain into pleasure, Walker. That’s not a perfect test…but it’s remarkable.”
My pussy throbs, and I tell myself it’s an aftereffect of the translator and not that he just complimented me.
“Are you serious?” I ask.
He scowls, brow furrowed. “When am I not serious?”
He looks from my face to his hand, still bracing my shoulder.
“Can you stand?” he asks.
“I’m fine,” I say. “I told you?—”
“I didn’t ask if you were fine,” he says. “You arenotfine. You just experienced an intense neurological event; you’ll need to go to medical.”
“Hell no,” I blurt out. “For what? Intense orgasm?”
His mouth flattens into a thin line. “There could be permanent trauma.”
“The only trauma I’m feeling right now is intense shame.”
His tendrils twitch.
“I just need to go home and get some sleep,” I add weakly.
“You think I’m going to trust you to go home and sleep when I instructed you to do just that and you disobeyed me?” His voice is cutting, cold. “You could have fried your nervous system…you could’ve died, Lyn.”
“And instead I just came really hard. Boo hoo.”
