Date: 2170.11.10

Nova's Blue Sector AKA 'The Holies'

The Skin Canvas

Nate slammed the door behind him, too high-strung to care that he startled his waiting clients. One glance soured his mood further. More inkjobs needing encoded tatts. He dropped his tablet onto the counter and shrugged his jacket off, cursing the rain that had drenched him between taxi and front door.

"Whoops, bad morning?" The mischief curling Lissa's lips twitched Nate's.

Drawing in a deep breath, he allowed his foul mood to fizzle out. "Bad everything."

She wiped away the misery of the previous night just by being herself. He splayed his fingers on his chest, fighting the urge to hug her, but he held back, not willing to cross that boundary—one that blurred each day Kylie spiraled out of control.

"Well, you have two inkjobs then a long session—Mr. Dilbert's dragon." Lissa dipped her head to read off the console before looking at Nate. Sunlight kissed her brown curls and picked out bronze flecks.

His heart leaped, skittering excitement along his skin and brightening his day. He stared at her upturned face, admiring the splatter of freckles across her nose. Facing the reception, he searched for a distraction to ground him. Despite the hell Kylie was dragging him through, he loved her. A dalliance with Lissa would ruin his work life and their robust friendship, never mind his marriage when Kylie found out. He wasn't foolish enough to believe he could hide it from her.

He studied the inkjobs and smiled. None of them had dark clouds hovering around their heads. Their owners' emotions were borderline depressed, with thunderous puffs of emotions swirling and fading as normal. If he tattooed any of them, he'd slip a little chemical happiness into their ink—a sort of cheer-up gift. Yesterday's anomaly with Mrs. Olivia Collins had to be a fluke. He chalked it up to an overactive imagination rather than face the possibility of sentient AI Instead of sharing the incident with Kylie, he might discuss it with Lissa. She wouldn't blow it out of proportion or read implausible conspiracy theories behind the discovery. Regardless of who he told, he needed to share his possible descent into madness with somebody.

Grabbing his jacket and tablet, he disappeared into his backroom to start the day. Lissa ushered in his first inkjob along with the usual steaming cup of caffeinated sludge—her idea of coffee. The morning flew by with Max Dilbert's arrival the highlight. To thwart a midlife crisis, the man had decided on a tattoo of a coiled dragon curling around his shoulder. Nate hadn't complained—the chance to allow his creativity free rein was a godsend.

Max was a reclusive man, preferring the company of his thoughts to mindless chatter. The soft buzz of the tattoo gun kept Nate energized, but it didn't calm his mind, granting it the freedom to imagine scenarios where inkjobs rebelled, slaughtered humans, and forced them underground. He snorted, the sound deafening in the quiet parlor.

Only owners knew of the safe code, chosen by them as a last resort, with the knowledge that it would destroy the product, severing the connection between the inkjob's spine and brain. There was an additional kill code Renovare issued to synth units in law enforcement, empowering them to place human lives above synthetics in case the safe code failed.

After the four-hour session, Lissa skipped into the back room, carrying a toasted faux-cheese sandwich. She bounced on her toes, her fingers twitching.

"Out with it." He chuckled before he bit into the sandwich.

"The law's in a panic. They found a broken inkjob in Deadzone."

He scowled. There went his evening. This news would bolster Kylie's ranting. "So, why are you so fidgety?"

She sighed, her smile missing, but still, no cloud formed around her. "The latest ownership tatt was one you did."

He paused, halting the sandwich halfway to his mouth. "Frack." Though, why that might bring the law down upon him, he wasn't sure, but her tone implied she feared as much.

"Rick said they couldn't identify it at first."

Had it been the media, Nate might have dismissed it as rumor, but despite Rick being Lissa's ex-boyfriend, he was also a 'Cent'—which meant anyone working at Nova's Law Enforcement Center.

"Did he mention a possible visit from the law?" Not that Nate had anything to hide, but such visits were never pleasant. He shoved the last bite of the sandwich into his mouth and leaned back in his chair, wiped his fingers on his jeans, then tugged his tablet closer.

"Nope, but he was super excited. The vandalism was the worst they'd seen. The captain put an experienced detective on the case. I can't shake the feeling they're treating it like a homicide." She stretched over his shoulder, her lavender scent tantalizing as she swiped his sketch to the right, loading another.

She paused on an elaborate design he was toying with—entwining flowers, blossoms overexaggerated with fluttering tiny fairies, their adorable faces in exquisite detail. He imagined it wrapping around a woman's torso, from hip to underarm, curling petals under a breast and along a shoulder blade.

He shifted in his chair, the heat of Lissa warming his back, her hair tickling his ear. It took all his focus to remain relaxed, to not drag her onto his lap for a kiss. He switched his attention to her soft, pale peach lips. What the frack is wrong with me? When he didn't think he could bear another excruciating minute, she traced a fingertip across a fairy's delicate wings.

"What do you think?" His voice came out hoarse, forcing him to clear his throat.

"It's stunning." She met his gaze, trapping him to the moment like a pinned butterfly. "Who's it for?"

This close, the burnt-gold flecks in her eyes glowed. He shook his head. "No one."

"Could you do me?"

He sucked in a sharp breath but didn't look away. Scanning her face, he searched for hidden meaning in her words. Her expression remained innocent, her request sincere.

"It's a six-hour session." He followed the gentle curve of her neck to the unblemished skin of her modest cleavage. Her rainbow-colored hippy dress hid her curves. He expelled a relieved sigh. Had she shown more of her figure, he might have succumbed. And doing so would cost him his marriage and his friendship with Lissa.

"When you have time?" She arched a brown eyebrow. Her chocolate eyes warmed as a sensual smile dawned across her face.

He nodded, desperate for space to breathe.

She squealed, danced around the room, and blessed him with sneak peeks of her dainty ankles as she swirled her skirts. He grinned, basking in her contagious youthful joy while shifting his tablet over his lap to hide the evidence of his misplaced interest.

"So why so angry? What did Kylie do?" Lissa flopped onto her chair, pinning him again with a look.

"She's struggling to finalize the mayor's vote. Between work and Rights-4-Synths meetings, yesterday was another frustrating day for her."

Despite her busy schedule, she made sure she was always home before him. He used to love that, knowing she waited for him. Now he dreaded seeing her and having to endure her mood swings.

Married for four years, he'd often boasted that their honeymoon period was eternal. But that had crashed down around him. She'd replaced her attentiveness and affection with screeching and the smashing of objects, preferably glass. He was at a loss on how to handle it. Sex was less frequent, and when she initiated it, the act had taken on a desperate, violent tone. That's why Lissa's softness appealed to him so much.

Grabbing the hand clasping the tablet to his groin, she squeezed. "Just give her time and space, she's fighting so hard for what she believes in."

Trapped heat, like a helium balloon, swelled inside his chest and exploded, spilling its fire into his belly and lower. Lissa's defense and admiration of Kylie broke through the shadows of insomnia and doubt that fogged his mind.

"Thank you. I needed to hear that." He grinned and gestured to her hip and waist. "It's going to hurt, the tatt."

"You'll be as gentle as you can be, and that's all I need to know." She flicked her hand in a dismissive gesture, but instead of leaving him, she hesitated. "Yesterday, with Mr. Collins, you had a strange look on your face."

Nate jerked back, spread his thighs to ease the throbbing, and placed his tablet on the table. He wanted to tell her why, but now, given the chance, his stomach churned as sandwich and bile coated his tongue. He grimaced.

Drawing in a deep breath, he met her curiosity with a slow smile. "I saw...something over her head."

"Something..." Lissa scrunched her nose and studied the ceiling, deep in thought. "Are you sure? I mean, wasn't Mr. Collins standing near her?" She giggled, but it was a nervous sound. "Inkjobs aren't real—everyone knows that."

Nate stayed silent. He agreed with her, having had no prior encounters with emotional synthetics. She swallowed her laughter and patted his hand again. He flipped his and caught hers, lacing their fingers before she could pull away. He cupped their clasped hands with his other and peered into her chocolate eyes.

"I double-checked, Liss. You believe me, right?" For an unknown reason, or one he didn't want to unravel, he needed her unwavering faith.

"If you saw it, Nate..." She shrugged, flashing him a shy smile. "Perhaps something went wrong with her programming. Have you seen other strange clouds?"

"No." He released her hand and leaned back, using the heel of his palms to rub his stinging eyes. "A glitch—that was all I saw."

He laughed, relief bolstering the silliness of his suspicions. Telling her straight after he saw the cloud might have prevented the tension stiffening his shoulders and the visions of an impending revolution from haunting him.

The doorbell chimed, and she darted into the reception area with her usual smile and exuberance. He released a long sigh, proud of himself for resisting the temptation. A deep voice reached his ears, and he rose to investigate. There weren't any more appointments for the afternoon, and he'd considered heading to a local bar instead of home.

Ricky Sanchez loomed over Lissa, his stance predatorial, his smile warm against the darker hue of his skin. Nate frowned, not liking the Cent's assumption that Lissa was his. If that was the case, they wouldn't be on-again and off-again. Despite Rick's crisp law enforcement uniform accentuating parts of his youthful body, Nate didn't feel threatened. He was as well-toned and handsomer with his sun-streaked hair brushing his shoulders and indigo eyes. Lissa should look no further than Nate.

He stilled. What the frack?

Smothering a groan, he ran a hand over his face and forced a smile. "Thinking of taking our Lissa to dinner?" He wasn't on the market, and she wasn't interested, regardless. "Close early, Liss. I'll head to The Broken Faucet for a beer."

She hesitated, her gaze switching between him and Rick's eager face.

Nate allowed her reluctance to soothe his ego, but if Kylie meant anything to him, he needed time away from Lissa's tempting brown eyes.

It took all his control to let her leave.Whatever he was going through, he couldn't drag her into it. Texting Kylie thathe was working late, he donned his jacket, grabbed his tablet, and headed forthe bar, craving something stronger than beer.

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