Hadrian's Rage by Patricia-Marie Budd Read Free Book Online

Cantara has left the room, Dean begins musing out loud. “Humanity’s sun—humanity’s sun—rays shooting forth—” Blinking, Dean opens a new design doc. He begins with a circle to represent the sun. Using the eyedropper, he colors in the circle with a creamy yellow. Picking up the holographic pencil tool, he begins drawing thick rays shooting forth from the sun. He paints each sunray a color of the rainbow. Above the image, he types the title “Humanity’s Sun,” and beneath it, he types in thehaiku. “It’s not great,” he mutters, “but it’ll do.” He prints a copy of the design and then goes through the arduous process of deleting, retrieving, and destroying the image. He will share this image with the group next time they meet, and if it meets with everyone’s approval, he will create a new one and spread it over the wall screens at the uni using an ad virus. Dean smiles; he hasn’t shared all of Mike Fulton’s secrets with these kids. Assuming Mike is right, Dean should be able to encrypt his poster design with enough security that it will take even the best of Hadrian’s hackers to decode it prior to the 4 a.m. deadline. All he has to do is make sure to trash the viral doc every day at the same time and then reload it with Fulton’s modulating security program. The plan is simple: create, blast, trash, erase—recreate, blast, trash, erase for as long as he can get away with it.
    Finally, Dean opens his anatomy files and begins to study. He is having trouble focusing, though. The stress of exams, running low on credits, and having to hide everything they do as a GSA is starting to wear on Dean. With pain shooting up the sides of his neck and down the front of his collarbone, he stops studying to attempt self-massage. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to struggle to reach his back shoulder muscles because Cantara enters the room and takes over for him. “Here,” she says soothingly. “Let me do that for you.”
    â€œI thought you’d left.” After a few moments of her hands rubbing into his neck muscles, he smiles. “I’m glad you didn’t.”
    Cantara gently chides, “Hadrian’s Lover, Dean, your neck and shoulder muscles are tight. It’s like trying to soften rocks.” Then worried, she adds, “I’m not the cause of that, am I?”
    â€œNo.” Dean does not want her to stop. Her hands may not be as strong as Geoffrey’s, but the digging into his muscles is exactly what he needs right now. “No, I’m fine. I’m just stressed about getting our logo done. I want to flood the campus screens with our image to start spreading awareness.”
    â€œYes, but you can’t do everything. And, you have midterms coming up. You don’t want to fail your anatomy class, do you?”
    â€œNo, you’re right.” Dean moans. “By all that’s gay and glorious, that feels good.” But not good enough, Dean winces as he realizes the hands he really wants massaging his neck are Geoffrey’s. “Could you press a little harder?”
    â€œI’ll try, but I don’t want to hurt you.”
    â€œTrust me; you’re not hurting me at all.”
    Cantara smiles. “Does it feel good?”
    â€œYes, thank you.”
    Suddenly, Cantara is in front of him, settling down on his lap. “Dean,” she whispers.
    The room starts to feel close. Dean’s throat tightens. Cantara smells good. Her breathing enhances her breasts. She leans in for a kiss. Dean’s lips reach for her mouth as his heart pounds against his chest. Try as he might, his body begins to rebel and he pushes her away. “I can’t; no, Cantara.” He gets up from his chair and begins pacing the room, trying all the while to control his breathing and hold back the ensuing nausea. “Mind over matter. Mind over matter,” he whispers over and