Riley winks. “If you’re creative with itemization.”
I grin into my beer. “You are the worst influence I’ve ever had.”
For a few blessed seconds, I just let the noise of the bar wash over me—the hum of the air filters, the clink of glasses, the thrum of bass leaking from the speakers overhead. Outside, M’mir’s twin moons paint everything in a faint green-blue glow. It’s easier to breathe out here than in the lab, where every surface gleams and every idea belongs to someone else.
“I know I sound dramatic,” I admit after a moment, tracing circles in the condensation ring on the table. “But when he talks to me, I start to think maybe I really don’t belong there. Like the whole time I’ve been tricking everyone into thinking I’m good enough to be in the same room as him.”
Riley’s teasing drops away. “You belong there, Lyn. Don’t let a man who probably can’t even spell empathy make you think otherwise.”
Thalara nods. “You remind him that brilliance doesn’t always wear a lab coat.”
Orin tips his glass toward me. “And if that doesn’t work, I’ll bite him.”
I bark out a laugh. “Thanks, guys. But…honestly Orin, I think turning him Lycan would just make him worse. Rhyss is bad enough as it is—I don't need him feral every full moon on top of that.”
Riley nearly spits his drink. “Can you imagine? He’d probably file a report about his own transformation.”
“‘Subject exhibits increased aggression and improved sense of smell,’” Orin says in a stiff imitation of Kaelion’s voice. “‘Will revisit findings after the next lunar cycle.’”
Thalara hides her smile behind her glass. “And he’d still make you rewrite your code.”
“Exactly!” I point at her. “He’d turn into a literal monster and still find a way to tell me my syntax is inelegant.”
Riley grins. “You think he dreams in equations?”
“He dreams in superiority complexes,” I mutter, then sigh. “And unfortunately, I have to see him first thing tomorrow.”
Riley groans in sympathy. “Morning meeting?”
“Worse,” I say. “Lab evaluation. He’s reviewing my pain-translation patch with the full committee to get approved for live trials. And I swear if he calls it ‘ambitious’ in that tone again?—”
Orin raises a brow. “The tone that means ‘this’ll be fun to watch crash and burn’?”
“That’s the one.” I drain the last of my beer. “I’ve got about eight hours to figure out how to impress a man who thinks humility is a scientific principle.”
Riley knocks his glass against mine. “Sleep. Then show him what a girl from Oklahoma can do.”
“Right,” I say. “Sleep. Definitely sleep.”
I stand, gathering my things, but the truth is I can already feel my mind spinning—rewriting equations, retracing logic trees, wondering where he’ll find the next flaw. The bastard’s in my head even off the clock.
Thalara squeezes my arm as I pass. “Don’t forget to eat something before you go back in.”
“I’ll grab a bite,” I promise.
Orin smirks. “That an invitation?”
I roll my eyes. “In your dreams.”
He grins wider. “You’d be surprised what shows up in there.”
Riley groans. “Enough. Everyone go home before this group gets even more incestuous.”
I laugh, pushing away from the table. “Night, you degenerates.”
The air outside is cooler, tinged with the scent of petrichor from a recent storm. The streets glow with light from M’mir Village, and for a moment I just stand there, breathing it in—this world, this chance, this stupid, impossible project.
I'm going to figure this out. Ihave to.For all the people who need it…who I know would absolutely benefit.
