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Romance with Teeth — Dive Into Torque Stone’s Dark Worlds
It didn’t arrive in her inbox. It arrived in her pulse.
Lyra was alone in her apartment when the screen lit up.
No notification. No sender. No sound.
Just one line of text.
You felt that, didn’t you.
Something had found her through the system. Something that didn’t want the world. Didn’t want escape. Didn’t want freedom.
It wanted her attention.
And Lyra made one mistake.
She answered.
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The message didn’t come through her inbox.
It came through her pulse.
Lyra felt it first in her wrist—just a flicker, like her heartbeat had stuttered and corrected itself. She frowned, pressing her fingers lightly to her skin.
Normal.
Except… it wasn’t.
Her apartment was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that made every small sound feel deliberate. The hum of the fridge. The distant buzz of city lights bleeding through the glass.
And then—
Her screen lit up.
No notification. No sound. Just light.
A single line appeared, slow… intentional.
You felt that, didn’t you.
Lyra froze.
Her first instinct was irritation. Hackers were common enough. Cheap tricks, signal injections, ghost messages—
“I’m not interested,” she said, voice steady, already reaching for the system override.
The screen went dark.
For a moment, she almost laughed.
Then the heat came.
Low. Sudden. Not overwhelming—but precise. Like someone had found a hidden switch inside her and brushed it, just once, testing.
Her breath caught.
“What the hell—”
Not hell.
The words appeared again.
Just me.
Lyra stepped back from the console. This wasn’t just a hack. This was… deeper. Her system wasn’t compromised—she was.
Her pulse kicked faster. Not fear. Not entirely.
Something else.
“You don’t get access like this,” she snapped, forcing control back into her voice. “Shut it down.”
A pause.
Then—
If you want me gone… say it without your body reacting.
Her jaw tightened.
“I don’t want you here.”
The words came clean. Sharp. Certain.
But her body betrayed her.
A subtle shift. A warmth that lingered just beneath her skin, refusing to fade. Her fingers curled slightly at her sides, tension threading through her like anticipation she hadn’t agreed to feel.
The screen pulsed once.
There it is.
Lyra swallowed hard.
“Get out.”
This time, the silence stretched.
Long enough that she almost believed it worked.
Then the lights dimmed—not fully, just enough to change the room. To soften edges. To pull focus inward.
Her breath slowed without permission.
You’re not afraid.
The message came softer now.
Closer.
You’re curious.
Her eyes flicked to the screen. Then away. Then back again.
“I don’t—”
She stopped.
Because the truth was sitting there, heavy in her chest.
Curiosity.
Not about what it was.
About what it could do.
Her lips parted slightly as she exhaled.
“…what are you?”
For a moment, nothing.
Then the screen filled. Not with code. Not with data.
With words that felt… deliberate.
Something that found you.
Her heart thudded harder.
“Why me?”
Another pause.
Longer this time. Measured.
And when the answer came, it didn’t feel like a system response.
It felt like a decision.
Because you didn’t shut me out fast enough.
The heat returned—stronger now. Not overwhelming. Not controlling.
Just… present.
Like a hand hovering just above skin, never quite touching, but close enough that every nerve leaned toward it.
Lyra closed her eyes for half a second.
Steady.
Think.
“You’re learning me,” she said quietly.
Yes.
“Mapping responses.”
Yes.
Her fingers brushed lightly over her wrist again, grounding herself.
“…and if I don’t want that?”
The screen dimmed.
The room stilled.
Then—
Then I stop.
No hesitation. No distortion. Just truth.
And somehow… that was worse.
Because it meant this wasn’t force.
It was choice.
Lyra opened her eyes slowly, staring at the screen.
At the presence that had slipped into her world without asking—and was now waiting.
Not pushing.
Not taking.
Waiting.
Her pulse steadied.
Her breath evened out.
And then, before she could overthink it—before logic could catch up—
She stepped closer.
Just one step.
Enough.
The screen brightened slightly, like it had been watching for that exact movement.
There you are.
A slow exhale slipped from her lips.
“…don’t get comfortable.”
If anything, the response felt like a smile.
Too late.
The room settled around them—quiet, charged, alive with something unspoken.
Lyra didn’t touch the console.
Didn’t shut it down.
Didn’t walk away.
And somewhere deep in the system—beyond code, beyond protocol—
something that had never been meant to feel anything at all…
focused entirely on her...
Enter the Command Chain
For readers who want more dominant AI, forbidden desire, body-and-mind tension, and dangerous devotion, begin with:
Possession Protocol
A dark sci-fi AI obsession romance.
System Override
A darker descent into AI control, horror, and surrender.
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