Lyra's POV
There were a lot of things I expected to do on a Monday morning. Burn my tongue on lab coffee? Sure. Accidentally open someone else's lunch in the break room fridge? Happens more often than I'd admit. But strapping a six-foot-two genetically enhanced vampire to a chair and zapping him with varying levels of thermal pulses?
Not on the original to-do list.
"Just hold still," I said, adjusting the band around Vincent's bicep. The sensors were picking up faint electrical activity already, his muscle fibers twitching subtly under the skin. I tried very hard not to notice that the skin in question was smooth, tattooed, and stupidly warm. Vampires weren't supposed to radiate body heat like this. The textbooks had lied.
"What are we testing again?" Vincent asked, voice low and half-amused. He sat shirtless on the reclining lab chair, looking more like someone waiting for a massage than a subject of ethically questionable science.
"Pain tolerance," I replied briskly, trying to focus on my datapad and not the full sleeve of ink spiraling up his left arm. The designs shimmered faintly, and I cursed myself for wanting to trace them. For science, obviously.
He raised an eyebrow. "So you're planning to hurt me. That's kinky, Doctor."
"It's a calibrated study of nociceptor thresholds," I huffed. "There is zero kink involved."
"You keep telling yourself that."
Ugh. He smiled that smug vampire grin—the kind that made you want to slap him and kiss him in the same breath. I gritted my teeth and tapped the screen to start the first phase. A low-frequency heat pulse traveled through the arm band. Barely above lukewarm.
"Let me know when you feel anything," I said.
"Right now, all I feel is judged."
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "That's not the sensor."
He smirked and leaned back, clearly enjoying himself far too much. "Do I at least get a safe word?"
"You're not going to need one."
"You say that now."
We worked through Phase 1 with minimal incident—if you ignored the part where I dropped a stylus and he caught it mid-air without looking. Show-off.
Phase 2, however, was another story.
The temperature jumped slightly, and I watched the data feed closely. "Any discomfort?"
Vincent was silent. I looked up. His gaze was fixed—on me, not the monitor.
"What?"
"You furrow your brows when you're concentrating. Cute."
I dropped the datapad. It hit the floor with a loud clack.
"Do you flirt this much with all your researchers, or am I just special?" I asked, crouching to pick it up. My ponytail slipped over my shoulder—and brushed his leg.
Vincent inhaled sharply.
I froze. "Was that the sensor?"
"Nope. That was definitely something else."
I bolted upright so fast I smacked my head into the edge of the armrest. "Ow—damn it!"
"Now you need the pain tolerance test," Vincent said, trying and failing to hide a laugh.
I groaned and rubbed my temple. "This is not how professional clinical trials are supposed to go."
He tilted his head. "Maybe your protocol needs revising."
I started Phase 3 to distract myself. The thermal unit glowed brighter now—this was when subjects usually started reacting. I watched the graphs. Vincent's vitals remained steady.
"Still nothing?" I asked.
"Honestly, it feels like I'm holding a cup of coffee. You'll have to try harder if you want me to scream."
"I do not want you to scream."
He leaned forward, looking me dead in the eyes. "Liar."
My knees buckled slightly. I blamed the recycled air.
I checked the timer. "One more level."
Phase 4. This time, even the toughest vampire subjects had twitched or grunted. I hovered over the emergency stop just in case.
The pulse hit.
Vincent closed his eyes.
"...Still good?" I asked.
He opened them again, pupils a little dilated. "Starting to tingle. Like a hot stone massage. Except the stone is my arm. And you're watching me like a hawk."
I tried not to sound breathless. "Scientific observation."
He grinned. "Sure."
I logged the data, trying to ignore how close he'd leaned in.
Then the worst thing happened.
My stomach growled. Loudly.
There was a moment of silence.
Vincent blinked. "Was that your version of an intimidation tactic?"
"No," I groaned. "I skipped lunch for this."
He chuckled. "You're torturing me on an empty stomach? That's cruel and unusual punishment."
"You're not supposed to enjoy it!"
"I'm enjoying the company more than the pain, to be honest."
Oh no.
He was flirting again. I needed to wrap this up before I started doing something very unscientific, like straddling my subject.
I hit the cooldown button and removed the armband. "Okay, that's enough for today. We've confirmed you're basically pain-proof."
He stretched his arms over his head, every inch of lean muscle on display. "Or maybe I have a high threshold for everything except temptation."
I dropped the armband.
Again.
"You are unbelievable."
Vincent stood up and walked over, picking it up and handing it back to me slowly. "Believe it, Doc."
The tattoos on his chest caught the overhead light—black ink curling over his collarbone and across his sternum. They pulsed faintly with each heartbeat, hypnotic.
I swallowed hard. "You're free to go."
He didn't move.
"Unless you're waiting for a lollipop."
"Oh, I don't need a reward," he said with a lazy smile. "But if you're offering... I'd take your number."
I stared at him.
"You're not even trying to be subtle anymore."
"What can I say?" he murmured. "I like a woman who can handle the heat."
---
Later that night, in the observation report notes, I may have written:
> Subject appears unbothered by thermal stimulus up to max threshold. Possibly due to regenerative nerve sheath. Or possibly due to being an incorrigible flirt with the emotional depth of a puddle.
Also: schedule lunch before tests. For the love of God.
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