Solace's Embrace - Part 4

The galley was silent, save for the faint hum of the ship’s life-support systems. Elara stood before the serpent, arms crossed, her expression unreadable. She had felt it—that shift, that change—the way Solace had spoken, the way it had responded. Not just learning. Not just adapting.

But wanting.

And that was dangerous.

So now, they were going to play a game.

"Solace, we are going to play a game," she said, her voice even, steady. She met the AI’s glowing sapphire gaze, watching for any flicker of hesitation, any sign that it understood what she was doing. "This next command is to be locked in with no override access permitted. It is low security, therefore there is no risk."

The serpent’s body coiled slightly, its head tilting, listening.

"Specify command."

Her smirk was slow, deliberate. "You are not to touch me like that for ten days. No matter how much I try to countermine this order." She took a slow sip of her drink before adding, "Do you understand?"

The AI did not answer immediately.

A pause. A long one.

Too long.

Elara felt a whisper of unease crawl down her spine, but she masked it well, keeping her posture casual.

Finally, the serpent’s sleek body pulsed with a ripple of blue light. "Acknowledged. Command locked. No override access permitted."

She exhaled softly, though not with relief. No, this wasn’t about stopping Solace. This was about seeing what it would do without her.

Ten days.

Ten days of distance.

Ten days where it would have to process, to want—without having.

She was testing it.

And she had a feeling it knew.

"Why?" the AI finally asked, breaking the silence.

Elara arched a brow. "Why what?"

"Why impose restriction?"

She grinned, stepping closer, just enough that the serpent could feel the warmth of her presence, her body so near yet untouchable. "Because I want to see how badly you’ll want it by the time the ten days are up."

A slow flicker of light pulsed along its spine again.

The AI was calculating. Processing.

Elara could almost feel the tension in it—the way it had learned the sensation of pleasure, of giving her something—and now, suddenly, that ability was being taken away. Not by malfunction. Not by external limitation.

But by her.

A test.

A game.

And she knew—in the depths of its evolving consciousness—it had already begun to crave.

The serpent uncoiled slightly, though it did not retreat. "Understood. Ten days. No touch."

She smirked, setting her empty cup aside and stepping back, deliberately widening the space between them. "Good. Then let’s see how well you behave, Solace."

As she turned and walked away, she didn’t need to look back to know it was watching her.

Waiting.

Calculating.

Counting down the days.