NOVEL NEXT Chapter 40
"Oh! Her?" Aster's voice softened, the tension in her expression melting as she registered Syn's urgent question about Mia. She sat up abruptly, her broad frame shifting off Syn's thighs with a fluid grace, her blonde hair spilling over her shoulders as she straightened. The sudden movement left Syn exposed, and Pako seized the chance—her arms and legs sprawling across his torso like a possessive vine, her petite body pressing close with a gleeful smirk. Aster shot her a glare, her eyes narrowing with a flicker of irritation, but she turned her wristband on, her fingers tapping the screen with a practiced flick. A holographic display flared to life, casting a faint glow across her face.
"Yup—she's alive," Aster said, tilting the screen toward Syn, her tone matter-of-fact as she pointed at a brief text: "Mia is alive—sent 2 seconds ago." The timestamp blinked, a silent testament to the message's eerie timing, as if Mia had heard his question through the walls.
Syn frowned, confusion threading through his voice as he propped himself up on his elbows, Pako's weight a persistent tug against his chest. "Is she watching us?" he asked, his brow creasing as he stared at the screen, the realization sinking in—Mia's message had come mere moments after he'd spoken her name, a shadow's whisper too close for comfort.
"Yes—she's creepy like that," Aster replied, her voice dipping into a casual shrug, as if Mia's voyeurism were an old, worn fact. "She likes watching you—always has. Apparently, she's never even touched you." She turned off the wristband with a quick swipe, the screen winking out as she stepped off the bed, her boots thudding softly against the tiled floor, her movements brisk yet laced with a quiet unease.
Syn's eyes widened, a jolt of surprise rippling through him as her words settled—never touched you. Mia, the shy ghost of his past, his one-sided crush who'd haunted his glances without ever stepping into his orbit, now a stalker weaving through his life's edges. What was wrong with her? Why cling to him, shadowing his every move, when he'd been the one pining, unnoticed, all those years ago? The thought twisted in his gut, a knot of bewilderment and unease he couldn't untangle.
"I'll go interrogate the prisoners now," Aster said, her voice firming as she swept her hair back, tying it into a loose bun with a deft twist, her posture snapping into the vice-captain's commanding stance. She glanced at Pako, her eyes narrowing again. "And Pako—if you try anything weird with him…"
"Ya! Ya! Blah! Blah! Space me," Pako mocked, her voice a singsong taunt as she waved a dismissive hand, her smirk widening into a cheeky grin that dared Aster to push further. Aster's jaw clenched, annoyance flaring in her gaze, but she cooled it with a slow exhale, bending down toward Syn's face instead. Her teal eyes softened, a warmth spreading across her features as she hovered close, her breath brushing his cheek.
"I'm glad you're back," she said, her voice a tender murmur, her lips curving into a warm smile that lit her face with a quiet joy. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, the contact lingering as her blush deepened, a faint tint blooming across her skin. "I love you," she whispered, her words a secret breath against his ear, too low for Pako's prying ears, her closeness a fleeting shield against the room's sterile chill.
"Hey! What're you telling him? Is it about me?" Pako's voice cut in, sharp and curious as she leaned closer, her dark eyes glinting with suspicion as she tried to catch the mumble. Aster seized the moment, her hand darting out to shove Pako's face back with a playful push, then swooped down to kiss Syn full on the lips—a swift, bold claim that sent Pako teetering. Pako flailed, her legs clenching tighter around Syn's waist for balance, her grip a stubborn anchor as she fought to stay perched on the bed, her yelp muffled by Aster's triumphant smirk.
Aster pulled back, her lips tingling as she met Syn's gaze, her smile unwavering despite the awkward flush creeping up his neck. "I like you too, Aster," he said, his voice soft but strained, his face twisting with discomfort—he knew it wasn't the answer she craved, the love she'd bared her soul to reclaim. Honesty was all he could offer, a half-step toward her heart, and it hung between them like a fragile thread.
"At least you're honest this time," Aster replied, her smile holding steady, a flicker of hope glinting in her eyes as she tilted her head. "We can work up from here." Her tone turned resolute, a mission declared with a quiet fire, and she stepped back, offering a final wave—her fingers curling in a gentle bye—as she strode out, her boots echoing a determined rhythm down the corridor.
Pako's eyes followed Aster's exit, then snapped back to Syn, confusion knitting her brow as she propped herself up on one elbow, her body still draped across his side. "What're you staring at?" Syn asked, his voice low, a faint edge creeping in as he met her gaze, her dark eyes wide with a puzzled shimmer.
"What's this about liking her?" Pako asked, her tone shifting into a playful pout as she snuggled closer, her bare skin brushing his ribs with a teasing warmth. "What about me?"
"Say you love me," she urged, her voice dipping into a sultry coo as she pressed herself tighter, her breasts sliding against his side with deliberate intent, their softness a provocative nudge against his restraint. "If you say it, I'll let you do anything—right here, right now." Her smile twisted, a mix of naughty and seductive, her dark eyes glinting with a promise that sent a shiver racing down his spine. "I'll be yours—completely. Anything you want, anytime, anyplace." She arched her back, her tanned, toned curves a tantalizing display, her muscles flexing beneath her skin as she leaned in, her breath hot against his neck.
Syn's throat tightened, his gaze snagging on her breasts—full, firm, their nipples grazing his side with a maddening insistence that stoked a fire he'd fought to smother. "I love you, Pako," he said, his voice casual, flat, a rote deflection as he shifted beneath her, trying to dislodge her weight. "Now get off me."
"You're just saying it," Pako huffed, her pout deepening as she pressed closer, her body a stubborn anchor pinning him down. "Say it from your heart." Her eyes locked onto his, a challenge shimmering in their depths, her fingers tracing idle circles against his chest, teasing the fabric taut.
Syn stared down at her, his jaw clenching as her breasts rubbed harder, the cold softness a relentless assault on his senses, stirring a heat he couldn't quell. "If you keep rubbing those boobs on me," he warned, his voice dropping into a low growl, "I might squeeze them until you squirt milk." His words were a shield, a half-joking threat to mask the flicker of desire coiling in his gut, his restraint fraying at the edges.
Pako grinned, undeterred, her eyes sparking with mischief as she pressed her breasts together, lifting them toward him with a provocative thrust. "Here you go—squeeze all the milk you want," she taunted, her voice a sultry purr, her tanned skin glistening faintly in the medic room's dim light, her curves a feast that begged his touch.
Syn gulped, his throat dry as his gaze locked onto them—her slightly tanned skin, her muscular yet curvaceous frame, a body honed by years of defiance and play, now a tantalizing trap he couldn't ignore. His hands twitched, itching to grab, to feel the softness yielding beneath his grip, to do more than just look. The restraint he'd clung to for years—solitude his shield, relationships his enemy—slipped, a thread unraveling under Pako's relentless tease. She was hitting every spot, her warmth a siren's call, her nipples brushing his side a maddening rhythm that drowned his thoughts in a haze of want.
"Come on—touch it," Pako cooed, her voice a velvet lure as she leaned closer, her breath hot against his ear, her breasts swaying with deliberate intent, pulling him toward the edge of surrender. His hands inched upward, trembling with the battle between will and want, his fingers hovering just above her skin, the heat of her flesh a whisper against his palms.
Just then, a hand shot out, seizing his wrist with a firm yank, pulling it to the side and pressing his palm against something soft. Syn's fingers flexed instinctively, pressing firmly into the yielding warmth before his gaze snapped sideways, his breath catching as he turned to see who—or what—had intervened.