Turncoat by Megan Derr (the false prince series txt) 📕

near toppled over it. He grabbed hold of Greg, trying to steady both of them, but all it got him was a chest pummeling.

He was damned lucky Greg didn't have claws.

Letting go of Greg's arms, he cupped his head and bent to kiss him hard. He got bitten for his troubles, but the hitting stopped.

Greg was crying harder when Dixie drew back. "How could you not say something? How could you let me do all this? I thought you were going to break into a stupid database or something and steal some information."

"Mason System is a bit more than a 'database', honey, and I ain't necessarily going to die. Just probably."

"You're a fucking asshole," Greg replied, drawing back and returning to his bed, pulling on a zip-up hoodie. He rifled through his bag and pulled out a small pack of tissues. "Why is this going to kill you?" he asked eventually.

"Because I got away from them once and there's no way they're going to let that happen a second. Not only did I fuck the place up on my way out, I'm the only one with the master keys and I took one of their best weapons with me. Me and the G.O.D. been waiting a long time for this reckoning. We always knew I'd crawl back into the system eventually—it's only been a matter of when. That day has finally come, and they'll do their damnedest to make certain I never leave it again. So my chances aren't good, but don't think I'm not gonna fight like hell to keep kicking."

Greg sniffled. "We shouldn't be doing this at all. Suicide missions are stupid."

Dixie sighed softly, pushed away from the railing to draw close to Greg again, snagging his wrist and dragging him in when Greg tried to dodge away. "We're going up against the most powerful organization in the world because somebody's got to do something before it's too fucking late for all of us. This sort of fight always has, and always will, incur tragedy. But I'm going down fighting, darling. I was so busy avoiding attachments that might get left behind…" He touched Greg's cheek, traced that fine cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. "I forget they give you damned good reason to come back."

"You'd damn well better, so I can kick your ass for real, you stupid, stubborn spaghetti western." He jerked Dixie down and kissed him hard, nails biting into Dixie's scalp through his short-cropped hair. Dixie wanted to throw him down on the bed and fuck him till neither of them could move.

But there was work to be done, and he didn't much care for an audience. He drew back slowly, enjoying that sweet, eager mouth for as long as possible. Rubbed his thumb over Greg's wet, kiss-swollen lips before finally withdrawing. "Come on, pussycat. Work before play."

"Don't get dead," Greg snapped and gave him a shove before fleeing the loft.

Dixie swallowed and went to his bed to retrieve the Mason Chip. He slid down the ladder and walked over to the work station, letting out a deep breath as he handed the chip, still in its case, over to Byron. "Let's get this party started, shall we?"

"Dixie…" Byron reached out to lightly grasp his arm, then said something Dixie didn't understand and rushed in close to hug him tightly. "Don't be stupider than absolutely necessary." He stepped back, clutching the chip close. "I've done a couple of things that should hopefully help. We'll be here the whole time."

"Never doubted it," Dixie said. He looked around, but wasn't really surprised that Greg wasn't around. "Where did pintsize go?"

Byron's smile was sad and fleeting. "To be sad and pissed off on the back porch. Sit down. Let's get this over with so you can get to work on your apology."

Dixie settled down in the long, leather seat that was even nicer than the one in Byron's apartment. All the nervousness and fear he'd been pushing away since the moment they'd realized they had a chance at a Mason Chip finally broke free and flooded through him. He tried to ignore it, focused on his breathing as Byron and Leland strapped him down, hooked up all the medical equipment, and went through a final run of tests.

Leland frowned as he looked over Dixie and the setup. "This is a VR sort of thing, isn't it? Don't you need a mask or something?"

"Nope," Dixie said. "All my hardware is internal. Same with anyone given a Mason Chip. So long as I have equipment to maintain my body, I could stay here damn near indefinitely. When I left, they was just beginning to mutter about making it so people could live in the Mason System, their brains stored there, essentially, until it could all be downloaded to a new body."

"That sounds terrifying," Leland said. "The G.O.D. has done some horrifying, heartbreaking things, but that scares me more than all of them combined."

Dixie nodded in agreement. "S'why I decided it was high time to risk everything and get the hell out of there."

"We are ready steady," Byron said, drawing up to Dixie's side. "Any last smartass comments, digital cowboy? Let me guess: all their base are going to belong to you."

"Shut the hell up," Dixie said with a grin. "I wouldn't mind a kiss for luck, but not from your ugly ass."

Byron grinned back. "Yeah, you apparently prefer your boy toys to have claws and look vaguely jailbaity."

"I don't look like jailbait!" Greg said and gave Byron a shove as he joined them. He looked Dixie over, scowl fading into a long frown. "I'm fucking serious about not dying, asshole."

Dixie jerked his chin to urge him close, unable to move himself because of all the buckles and straps. Greg's mouth was warm and soft, and by far the best memory he could have taken with him. "Don't get beat up while I'm gone, pintsize. And don't burn the place down while I'm gone, neither."

Greg lightly thumped his chest.