Maybe there simply was nothing sensible in his head in that moment, nothing to stop him. He reached over and drew her into his arms, feeling her fragile shoulders tense against his palms, then he dipped his head to hers and claimed her lips in his own.

The last time they had kissed, Tom had been in VR; he hadn’t felt a thing. His mind had buzzed with the realization he was kissing her, and maybe that’s why some part of him hadn’t been fully present.

Not this time.

Her body softened against his, and to the tips of his toes Tom experienced this liquid elation, this utter rightness like he’d never felt before. His palm stroked up her back, cupped the hot skin of her neck, fingers twining into her silken black hair. The world seemed to go still and there was nothing under the crisp, starry sky of Siberia but Medusa, the feel of her, the taste of her, and need roared up within him as he tightened his grip and deepened the kiss.

Trainee voices rang through the air. “It looks like the fire’s coming from over there!”

Tom’s eyes snapped open.

For a moment, he gazed right into her black eyes, inches from his, and he felt the moment he lost her, when every muscle in her body tensed and drew rigid. Then she planted her palms against his chest and shoved him back. He didn’t move as she bounded to her feet.

Tom still couldn’t move, couldn’t budge, perched there by the fire like someone had paralyzed him. He felt like someone had sliced down his torso and exposed his guts to the air, his skeleton. Medusa stared at him like she couldn’t wrap her head around what he’d done, then she waved her hand and vanished from his sight.

The Russians swarmed over the ridge and the arrows began thunking into the ground around Tom, but he still sat there, a great hollow in his chest.

THE DAY CAME when Tom grew certain he could distinguish between the very basic sensory perceptions of his new fingers. Because his brain could associate different types of prickling with softness, sharpness, and that sort of thing, he was now ready for a program to fool his brain into perceiving at least an approximation of the old sensations.

Unfortunately, this involved going to Blackburn.

Tom knocked on his door one evening and stepped into his quarters on the officers’ floor with trepidation. It wasn’t that he felt hostile or distrustful toward Blackburn right now. That would’ve been okay. Easy. The problem was, he knew Blackburn had saved his life, and he remembered Blackburn getting him warm and . . . well, making him feel safe. Less afraid.