A Different Model (I Android Book One) Read online

  I, Android series, book one: A Different Model

  by H.K.Walden

  Copyright 2019 H.K.Walden

  Smashwords Edition

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  Cover art by Neytirix.deviantart.com

  I, Android series

  by H.K.Walden

  Book One: “A Different Model”

  Prologue

  The school hall was dark, quiet, air-conditioned and hollow in sound when Cole claimed my lips with his own. It was the perfect kiss, just hard enough, almost rough but not quite painful, demanding but giving. Yet, even as I sank into the kiss, surrendering beneath Cole’s all-too-expert ministrations and finally allowing him to breach the defenses of my lips, I had a nagging feeling that I wasn’t supposed to be there. It was all wrong.

  We were allowed to be there. We weren’t breaking any rules, so that wasn’t the issue. The school had granted my friends and I twenty-four-seven access to its classrooms, halls and labs long ago. We had the codes for all the locks. Not that we couldn’t have figured them out ourselves. And maybe that was one of the reasons they’d just decided to give them to us.

  Plus, tonight was the night of the Victory Dance bonfire, so there were tons of people outside around the fire drinking. The legal drinking age may have been lowered significantly with the onset of the electric highways, but that didn’t alter the natural age of maturity any. There was lots going on out there to keep chaperones and cops busy.

  And it definitely wasn’t that Cole didn’t feel amazing pressed against me, tall and hard-angled, built from years of scrapping with bullies, and a great deal of good genetics. It wasn’t that I didn’t like his hands curled firmly around my wrists, keeping me pinned to the wall so my surrender would be that much easier for me to finally give him. And it certainly wasn’t that his kiss didn’t sear through me like fire, unfurling fingers of heat deep in the pit of me so that a moan rose up through my throat and waited there.

  It was that Cole… wasn’t the one I wanted to be doing this with. Not really. At the mere age of sixteen, Cole Byron was dangerously hot. He was tall, trim, always dressed in leather, and possessed a natural swagger that invited both trouble and fun. He was fast and strong, he was smart as a whip, and everyone and their robot dog knew he was experienced enough to satisfy any girl. But as crass as it sounded, Cole was frankly my second choice. There was no other way to say it.

  It was his brother Nicholas that I had always fantasized about. Not that I would admit it to anyone – ever. I barely admitted it to myself. Nick was, to me… out of my league. He was as fiercely beautiful as Cole, but that beauty somehow seemed… colder. His blue eyes were intensely light like ice, always keenly clear, always reading and deciphering and cataloguing. His gaze was acutely sharp edged, to the point of discomfort. His height and build were similar to Cole’s due to martial arts training – which I admired. But where Cole’s movements owned everything around him, Nick’s were measured, graceful. Careful.

  Cole always had a tan; he enjoyed the outdoors. In contrast, Nicholas was fair, almost eerily pale, due to the fact that he was always indoors working on something in one of the labs. His raven hair was a shade darker than Cole’s pitch-black, making it seem more stark against that complexion, especially when it set off the blue of his eyes with its blue-black highlights.

  To me, Nicholas Byron was ephemeral. Like some kind of dark, fallen angel in his teen years. Nicholas was a bonafide genius and never suffered fools; it wasn’t in his nature. This made him stand-offish to some extent, despite his inherent beauty. His aloof stature in turn broke countless girls’ hearts. But Cole Byron was always more than happy to pick those hearts back up off the floor and glue them back together with his own brand of genius.

  And that was what gave me pause as Cole broke past my common sense barricades at last, held me fast against the wall, and took full advantage of the wine coolers in my system. I knew, even as I couldn’t help but kiss him back, that I was doing this because of Nick. Because I was positive I couldn’t have him.

  Not that I’d ever tried to have him, in all fairness. Nick and Cole had been by my side since I was ten. We’d met at an astronomy camp and become fast friends. Nick was the older of the brothers by a year, but Cole always managed to let his own intelligence show just enough to get what he wanted from the system, which in this case was access to a camp for kids older than he was.

  From that point on, the Byron brothers had been my constant companions, my guardians, my defense against bullies, and my shoulders to cry on. When it came to Nick, I was too terrified to ruin the friendship we had to even try to go down any other kind of road. I kept my distance in that respect and left the juicy thoughts of him to my dreams. Such glorious dreams they were, too.

  Dreams where Nick was doing to me what his brother was doing right now.

  No, no, no, no…. This isn’t right!

  I pulled at my arms, trying to break Cole’s grip on my wrists. He let me go; this wasn’t non-consensual, after all. So I braced my hands against his strong chest, fully intending to push him away, but Cole chose that moment to deepen his kiss. His skilled hands, now free, gripped my waist possessively as his knee nudged for a brace against the wall – between my legs.

  The sensation of his advance was bewildering to me. I had never been kissed before. Not once. My body simply didn’t know how to react to the flood of chemicals white-washing my ability to think. I faltered, and a sliver of that waiting moan slipped out of my throat and past my lips.

  He smiled against me as he swallowed the sound and his grip on my waist tightened.

  Oh God, I thought. He feels good. This kiss felt so good.… But distantly, I experienced an entirely different thought. This is wrong! It will ruin everything! A voice was screaming at me from far away, somewhere down that long road of logic and good judgment in my mind. That voice of reason knew that making any romantic moves with Cole would not only jeopardize his friendship, but perhaps Nick’s as well. That tended to happen when a friend became something more.

  Worst of all, it would give Nicholas the entirely wrong impression. It wasn’t Cole I wanted to kiss! It was Nick! What would he think of me if I started getting it on with his brother? Would he believe I had romantic feelings for Cole instead?

  Would he even care?

  I startled inside at the sudden wash of fear I experienced with that thought.

  The fierce hope I had that Nicholas would care – because he had feelings for me as well, despite his cold nature – was one of the things that kept me going day in and day out. If there was even the remotest chance that he did, then this right here could be the Enola Gay bomber that destroyed everything.

  The voice down that road was closer now. It had gained ground, and was speaking clearly directly into my ear: I need to stop. Now.

  I had already unsuccessfully tried to nudge Cole away and end the kiss with a gentle push at his broad chest, so now I opened my eyes, intent on trying harder. But what I saw when I opened them spiked my adrenaline to the core, making me dizzy.

  Now I gave a desperately hard shove, and at last Cole broke his kiss and straightened, pulling away just enough to look down at me questioningly.

  His dark blue eyes were shining, heavy-lidded with nothing short of the lust Cole was infamous for. But when he saw my wide-eyed expression of horrified surprise and my nod to what was waiting over his shoulder, Cole raised a brow and let go of my waist. He took a step back and slowly turned around. The move was so casual, so unconcerned, I wondered if he’d already known what he would find wait
ing there in the school hall.

  “By all means, don’t stop on my account,” said Nicholas Byron. My best friend. My other best friend. And the boy I’d crushed on for the last seven years.

  “Nick…” I said breathlessly. Then I cursed myself for being so breathless.

  The hoarseness of my voice didn’t seem to bother Cole at all though. In fact, his easy smile broadened, and he lifted his chin in a kind of defiance. He said nothing to his brother. I supposed there wasn’t really anything to say.

  Even so, an attempt at apology came rushing to my tongue like verbal diarrhea. “Nick, I- I’m… I didn’t mean –”

  But he cut me off with his ice blue eyes and his cool tone. “There’s no need for explanation, Samantha. This is the first time you’ve consumed alcohol.”

  I blinked. How had he known that?

  He turned to his brother, whose smile was turning as cold as Nick’s eyes, and whose gaze was hardening. Nicholas said, “I’m sure my brother was well aware of the effect it would have on your small physique.” Then he tilted his head slightly to the side, and I could have sworn I heard the crackling of rime forming over the surfaces all around us. “Yet interestingly enough, the Cole Byron known for, among other things, his ability to drink anyone under the table chose this night of all nights not to consume a single drop.”

  The meaning of that was starkly clear. And now I knew why I hadn’t tasted anything but cinnamon on Cole’s tongue. He’d let me do all the drinking.

  Whether he’d managed it to fruition or not, he’d done so for one reason only.

  “What can I say? Beer is more to my tastes.”

  And that wasn’t it.

  Cole Byron had fully planned on taken advantage of me.

  Any and all desire I’d been experiencing moments before instantly faded, leaving me as cold as the air between the three of us. I shakily adjusted my clothing and scooted away from Cole along the wall, putting distance between us. His attention snapped back to me, and I looked up to find his smile was also gone, and now something new radiated from him.

  I experienced a brief moment of unsettled surprise at the almost dangerous look in his eyes. But Nick’s voice cut through the hall again, in effect saving me from my sudden doubt.

  “You can’t win a game you don’t cheat at, can you Cole?”

  Cole’s head whipped back around – and I chose that moment to act. “I’m going home,” I told them both without looking at either. I turned on my heel and began walking away. “I’ll get a ride from Mrs. Garcia or I’ll call an ECab, and I’ll see you both Monday.”

  It was quiet behind me when I strode down the hall. The only sound filling the space was the clicking of my shoes on the polished floor.

  I spent the next two days being slightly ill first due to the alcohol, then refusing to cry due to the dilemma, and finally sleeping – due to exhaustion. Early Monday morning, I took a forty-five minute shower to wash away the weekend’s melancholy, then spent an extra long time wrestling with my crazy hair to force it into submission. I finally prevailed, sort of, and headed to school with seconds to spare.

  My first class was a philosophy elective… with Nicholas. My stomach was in knots as I entered the classroom moments before the first period bell rang. I was of course the last to enter, and everyone looked up at me. Everyone except Nick.

  The only seat available was the one beside him – which he’d crossed his long legs over, I assumed to keep people from sitting there. No one was going to argue with Nicholas Byron, either. The one thing he did do upon my entering was slowly unfold his legs, freeing up the seat.

  He wanted me to sit beside him. In fact, by the way everyone nervously, almost sympathetically, looked at me and then him, I gathered that he’d made that fact patently clear to several of them.

  Oh crap… I thought frantically, biting my lip. What did that mean?

  But when the teacher gave me a slightly impatient smile and stood from behind his desk as a signal that he was about to begin the lecture, I took a deep breath, summoned up my courage, and crossed the room to sit down.

  Nick didn’t waste time. His eyes immediately shot to mine, arresting and fierce. I was at once pinned beneath his vivid blue and painfully keen gaze. He studied me a long, silent time as the teacher began to pull things up from the lecture comp to toss them strategically onto the classroom screen. I could only see the display from the corner of my vision; the vast majority of my attention was held firmly by Nicholas.

  But he must have seen something, noticed something in his analysis, that altered his plans – whatever those had been – because just when I thought I might crack and ask him what the hell his problem was, he straightened, leaned forward, and narrowed his gaze. Very softly he asked, “Did he hurt you, Sam?”

  I blinked in surprise, my brow furrowing. Was he talking about Cole?

  Dumb question. Of course he was talking about Cole. But that was absurd.

  “No,” I said firmly, but just as softly. “Definitely not.” Then I leaned in, and because he did not lean back to allow me the space, we came very close to one another. I kept my gaze trained in his. Not that I had any choice. “How could you even think that?” I whisper-hissed. Cole was his brother, for crying out loud, and one of my best friends. He had been for seven years!

  Nick seemed unfazed by my outburst, as if he’d expected it. He probably had. His expression remained unchanged when he said, “I know my brother.”

  I was starting to get angry. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “What it means is that you need to be careful. Cole isn’t….” But he trailed off suddenly, and just like that he was looking away. He watched the teacher place the day’s discussion topics and images on the viewscreen. “He isn’t what he seems to be.”

  The teacher’s name was Morrison, no “Mister,” or any other prefix allowed. He was a professor on loan from the university, so Nick and I had jumped at the opportunity to take a class from him. Morrison was a fairly handsome man in what I surmised were his late thirties to early forties, with slightly too-long shoulder-length brown hair and a short beard. Or maybe it was a long five o’ clock shadow. Either one.

  Neither detracted from his intensely intelligent green-eyed gaze nor his dynamic personality. This was actually my favorite class. And I was the highest scoring student in it.

  Until today, probably. When I would most likely blow it by exploding at my tall, gorgeous, far too bossy, seriously up tight, condescending prick of a best friend that I just wanted to make out with like mad. But I was heated up now, and this argument had been a long time coming. Seven years in the making. There was no stopping me.

  “Why are you bad-mouthing your brother, Nick? What is this really about?” I demanded. I decided to go for it. In for a penny, in for a soul. “Are you jealous, by any chance?” I asked point-blank. Only after I’d asked the question did I realize I was no longer whispering. But the blood was now pulsing through my ears and I wasn’t sure I cared any longer.

  Nicholas straightened slowly in his seat, and his head just as slowly turned back to me, his glacial gaze locking onto mine again like a homing device. Waves of something volatile were coming off him when I added, “It takes two to tango, Nick. In case you hadn’t noticed when you so rudely interrupted us, I kissed him right back.”

  “Yes,” he said softly. Very softly. “I noticed.”

  Those dangerous waves were so thick around him now, I could barely breathe. But since when had stifling fear ever stopped me from foolishly confronting danger?

  “I guess you’d have had to,” I went on brutally. “How long were you standing there watching us, anyway? Did you come looking for us just for the peep show?”

  Had I possessed an inkling of self control at that point, I’d have quieted enough to notice that the entire room had grown silent. All eyes were on me and Nicholas.

  But I was seeing red. All I could think about was the fact that for seven damn years, Nick had failed to c
atch on to the fact that I liked him. Then when I finally went for it with his brother instead, he chose to warn me away like some petulant child.

  My fury might not have made a lot of logical sense, in all fairness. But it was fueled enough to burn bright then and there.

  Nicholas leaned further forward, his eyes narrowing to ice-blue slits that felt like they’d been sharpened by the gods for the sole purpose of slicing through my courage. I faltered just a little – enough to tear my own gaze away and look at the viewscreen. There were images of Yin and Yang, diagrams of coins with light and dark on respective sides, and I caught a few headlines: “The Duality of the Id,” and “The Two Wolves.”

  Right away, I knew what this class’s subject was. Morrison was going to introduce us to the theory of every individual’s dual personalities – the right and wrong in all of us. The premise was that no being existed on Earth that wasn’t both good and evil. I happened to personally know that Yin and Yang had nothing to do with that theory; Yin and Yang were more akin to male and female, opposite attributes not necessarily good or bad, just different. But perhaps Morrison was planning on illuminating that fact for everyone too.

  Not that I cared. Not just then.

  “You look like shit, so I know you had a hard weekend,” Nick coldly told me, drawing my irate attention back to him. But his expression was even angrier. His eyes were flashing with barely kept rage, and his perfect white teeth were bared. Like the wolf’s. “I’m guessing you didn’t sleep all that well,” he said, cocking his head to one side. “Am I getting warm, Sunshine? I would wager you are afraid you’ve damaged your friendships, but more importantly, I think you know deep down that Cole isn’t right for you. And I think you also realize why.”

  His words speared through me, especially when he called me “Sunshine.” I normally loved it when he called me that. But it really bothered me when he said it in anger. It was like “princess,” capable of such flattering praise when spoken with love, and yet sounding so acerbically mocking when used with resentment.