Cybernetic Love

Chapter 3: Axion

The music in The Dungeon thudded heavily, vibrating through the room and rattling the glasses lined up behind the bar. I leaned back in my seat, the smooth surface of the stool pressing against my bare, metal-plated spine. My skin was cooling for once, freed from the suffocating confines of my suit. Just jeans tonight-no shirt, no tie. The low light glinted off the sleek alloy covering my left arm and part of my chest, but here, no one stared. The Dungeon was full of all types, and tonight I could just... exist.

I took a long sip of my drink, a double whiskey with a bitter bite. Not that it would do much. Cyborgs like me had metabolic systems too advanced to be swayed by human indulgences. Alcohol had to be consumed in obscene quantities to even get a buzz. Still, the ritual of drinking offered a familiar comfort.

From my spot at the bar, I scanned the room. It was the same as always-a cacophony of bodies, leather, chains, and sharp laughter. The usual haze of smoke and sex lingered in the air, mixing with the rhythmic bass of the music. My eyes caught a group of women stumbling in from the entrance, giggling and swaying in their heels.

I recognized most of them immediately. The usual crowd from the office: Mia and her gang. They were regulars at clubs like this, often regaling the break room with exaggerated tales of their wild nights. I snorted and turned back to my drink. I'd seen them here before. Nothing new.

Then, I noticed someone else. Someone... different. A newcomer stood among them, and for a moment, I was intrigued. She didn't move with the same loose, carefree abandon as the others. While they laughed and tripped over their heels, she was still, her body stiff and her eyes darting nervously. She was beautiful in a way that didn't belong here-soft blonde waves framing her face, her blue eyes wide and hesitant. She radiated unease, a lamb among wolves.

Who was this girl? She didn't belong. Not in that dress-a black latex number that clung to every curve, shining in the low light like liquid darkness. Not here, with her shy demeanor and awkward posture. I sipped my drink, narrowing my eyes as I studied her. She followed the group at first, but then peeled off, finding the darkest, deepest corner of the club to hide in.

I frowned. It was strange, but not strange enough to hold my attention. I turned back to the bartender and gestured for another drink.

It wasn't until I heard the name that I froze.

"Sabrina!" Mia's voice cut through the crowd, loud and slurred with drunken confidence. "Get your ass out here with us!"

The name hit me like a punch to the chest. My grip tightened around my glass, and I felt my head whip back toward the corner before I could stop myself. My eyes darted to the woman who'd just retreated into the shadows, my brain working overtime to process what I was seeing.

No. It couldn't be. Not little Sabrina from the office.

But it was. I knew her face, even without her usual glasses. The oversized gray sweaters and loose pants she always wore were gone, replaced by that dress. That dress. The latex hugged her body like a second skin, highlighting every curve I hadn't known existed. Her blonde hair was loose, cascading down her back, and her lips were painted a soft pink that seemed out of place in the dark, sultry atmosphere of the club.

I sat back, stunned. What the hell was she doing here? Sabrina wasn't like the other women in the office. She was quiet, reserved, the kind of employee who stayed late to perfect her work and avoided unnecessary socializing. She'd always kept her head down, and I'd come to rely on her steady competence. I even had a file on her-a file on all my employees, of course, but hers was thin. No scandals, no chaos. She was as reliable as they came.

And yet, here she was, transformed into someone I barely recognized. Every instinct in me screamed that this wasn't her, that this wasn't the Sabrina I knew. She didn't belong in a place like this. What had driven her to come here?

My eyes narrowed as I saw movement near her corner. A man was approaching her, his movements slow and deliberate. My jaw tightened. I knew the type-a club dealer, smooth and predatory. He leaned in close, speaking to her, his expression one of practiced charm. I couldn't hear what he said, but I saw the way she hesitated, glancing nervously at the crowd before finally accepting whatever he offered.

Shit. My drink suddenly tasted bitter as I watched her pop the pill into her mouth, her throat bobbing as she swallowed it dry. What the fuck are you doing, Sabrina?

The drug hit her fast. I could see it in the way she swayed slightly, her eyes widening and then half-lidding as her body reacted. The glow of the club lights caught the latex dress as she shifted, her skin shimmering with a faint sheen of sweat. She reached out to steady herself against the wall, her movements sluggish.

And the dealer? He didn't waste any time. He stepped closer, his hand brushing her arm, then sliding down to her waist. I felt a surge of heat burn through me, my temperature spiking as rage bubbled in my veins. No one fucking touched her like that. No one.

She leaned back, clearly trying to escape his reach, but her legs faltered, and he used the opportunity to pull her closer. His hands roamed boldly now, one sliding along the curve of her hip, the other pressing against the small of her back.

I clenched my fist, my metal fingers tightening into a cold, unyielding ball. She was trying to resist-I could see it in the way her body shifted, her head shaking faintly-but she was too far gone. The drug had hit her harder than she'd expected, and the bastard knew it.

I burned with possessiveness and something else I didn't want to name. Sabrina wasn't just another employee. I'd known that for a while now. Her quiet competence, her soft voice, the way she bit her lip when she was focused-she'd gotten under my skin. And now, seeing her like this, vulnerable and exposed, with him touching her like she was his to take...

I slammed my glass down on the bar, the sound sharp and jarring. My metal knuckles left a faint dent in the wood. The bartender glanced at me warily, but I ignored him. My eyes were locked on Sabrina, her figure slumped slightly against the dealer as he whispered something in her ear.

My body was already moving before I could think. The rage in my chest was molten, and my legs carried me toward the corner like I was on autopilot.

No one touched Sabrina like that. Not here. Not anywhere.