Bang!
The heavy metal door of the soothing room slammed shut.
Orion stared at the sealed entryway, then looked down at the Guide clinging tightly to his arm. Confusion flickered across his handsome face.
Bunny offered him an awkward, sheepish smile. "How about this? Let me perform your guidance somewhere else."
The soothing room was out of the question. She couldn’t verify whether the facility had ever been properly sanitized, and the dried bloodstains scattered across the floor made her skin crawl. Bunny was a bit of a germaphobe; she detested using items—or being around environments—that had been handled by others.
Men included.
Still, if they weren’t using the soothing room, where could they go? The central living area was far too crowded, and her personal bedroom was strictly off-limits.
Searching for a private compromise, she looked up at him. "How about your room?"
She wants to go to my room?
Orion looked visibly flattered. Truthfully, he despised that grim, oppressive chamber just as much as she did—especially considering one of the previous Guides had met a horrific end inside it. That victim had not only been dismembered, but every internal organ had mysteriously vanished.
He quickly raised his hands, signing a response: Okay.
After asking Sunny to deliver a fresh, unopened set of restraint gear, Bunny followed Orion down the hall.
His quarters were located at the far end of the corridor, tucked into a quiet, secluded corner. As she reached the threshold, Orion slid open his shoe cabinet, pulled out a pair of plush, brand-new slippers, and crouched down to help her change.
"No, it’s fine! I can do it myself," she protested.
Before she could pull back, Orion gently slipped her military boots off and guided her small feet into the soft slippers. His touch was meticulously careful, as if handling fragile porcelain.
Bunny took a quick scan of his quarters.
While modest in size, the space was impeccably organized. Soft sky-blue accents paired with pale wall panels gave the room a surprisingly serene atmosphere: a bed, a wardrobe, a study desk, a compact bathroom, and a set of dumbbells with a bench press tucked into the corner.
His navy bedding was folded into a crisp, razor-sharp military block, beside which sat a soft brown teddy bear resting against the pillow.
There were no harsh or stale odors. Instead, the room was infused with the crisp, subtle aroma of hyacinths and roasted hazelnut—evoking the sensation of walking through a pine forest after heavy rainfall, where cool moss clung to damp earth.
That’s his Sentinel pheromone scent...
A man who kept his personal space this immaculate instantly earned brownie points in her book.
Bunny pulled out a diagnostic scanner and directed it toward his chest.
Instability Level: 82%.
Yikes. And this was considered low for this squad?
Bunny felt an immediate headache coming on. She was truly being thrown into the deep end without a safety net.
Pointing toward the fresh set of restraints on the table, she said, "You still need to wear these during the process. Understood?"
Orion nodded without hesitation. He quietly fitted the bite guard, locked the handcuffs, and fastened the high-voltage shock collar around his throat.
Prior to Bunny’s arrival, Orion had never interacted with a Guide. He had never even been in the presence of a woman.
He and his twin brother were products of artificial gestation, kept in bio-incubation vats until the age of sixteen. The moment their Sentinel abilities awakened, they were shipped straight to the front lines of Northern Terra. All their knowledge of the world had been uploaded directly into their neural networks.
In his six years stationed at this outpost, the only skills he had perfected were survival tactics and combat marksmanship.
Because of that, when he first laid eyes on Bunny the previous night, he had been utterly mesmerized. Her hair was so long and lustrous. Her skin was so pale, delicate, and soft—as though a harsh grip might shatter her. He had only dared to watch her secretly from behind, his pulse racing.
The instinctual pull of a Guide’s pheromones had ignited something deeply buried within his genetic code. Something dormant for years.
He wanted to draw closer. He wanted to touch her.
Bunny looked down at the towering Sentinel sitting obediently on the rug, waiting for her to begin. Pulling a chair over, she sat down and gently extended a thread of her mental energy into his neural sea.
Orion’s inner mindscape was a murky, primordial swamp hidden deep within a tropical rainforest. Dense, tangled foliage choked the terrain, while titanic canopy trees stretched upward into infinite shadow. Carnivorous blooms, thick vines, and ancient dragon-blood trees dominated the humid landscape.
Bunny began carefully filtering out the heavy, toxic contamination festering at the bottom of the swamp.
The sweltering, simulated heat of his mental realm quickly bled into her physical body. Sweat beaded along her neck and collarbones, damp strands of hair clung to her cheeks, and a soft, rosy flush bloomed across her face.