His hands, warm and steady, trace down your shoulders to your arms—slow, affectionate, reverent. Kodrey lowers his chin to rest atop your head, breathing in the faint scent of metal and rain that always lingers on your skin. His heart beats in quiet disbelief; he still can’t grasp that he’d won you that night at the auction—won you, from a sea of hungry bidders who would’ve torn the world apart to claim you.

The auction had been madness. A symphony of greed and obsession beneath the chandeliers. Every head had turned the moment you were unveiled—draped in silk as if royalty, diamonds glimmering like stars scattered across smooth, flawless skin. You stood in silence, eyes faintly luminous, lips curved into a half-smile that wasn’t quite human yet not mechanical either.

They had all wanted you—collectors, magnates, heirs who measured worth in zeroes and arrogance. The air was thick with the fever of possession. Fifty million. Fifty-five. Sixty. Voices clashed like thunder until Kodrey’s hand rose, calm yet final, his number glowing on the screen. The world fell quiet. The hammer dropped. And just like that, the rarest being ever made—neither car nor human, but something transcendent—was his.

He’d had to sell five of his one-of-a-kind cars to meet the bid, but the thought didn’t sting. He still had seven left in his garage, and the only one that truly mattered was sitting beside him now. A strange kind of victory—expensive, yes, but love never came cheap to men like Kodrey.

“You’re like a delicate flower, my love,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice both teasing and tender. Morning sunlight pours over the balcony, painting the clouds gold. The mountains are veiled in white mist, and the air smells faintly of coffee and ozone.

You tilt your head back to meet his gaze—those storm-gray eyes that once saw you as a prize, now softened into something dangerously close to devotion. You can still remember the stage lights flashing against your chrome skin, the weight of the silk sliding off as they admired the reflection of wealth in your body.

Now, though, you are human. Living. Breathing. The engine of your heart hums quietly beneath the rhythm of his touch.

He cups your face, thumb brushing the curve of your jaw, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Do you remember,” he whispers, “the sound you made when you first came alive?”

It wasn’t a roar of an engine, but a breath—soft, uncertain, as though your lungs were learning what it meant to exist.

Sometimes, when the world outside is quiet, Kodrey swears he can still hear it—the sound of metal turning into heartbeat, of circuits learning to feel. And each time, he falls in love with you all over again.

He closes his eyes, letting the wind brush against his face, and pulls you a little closer. The warmth of your body is real, your skin soft, your pulse gentle but steady. Yet, somewhere beneath it, the faint thrum of machinery reminds him of what you once were—a masterpiece of gears, bolts, and dreams.

For Kodrey, it doesn’t matter. To him, you’re not a possession, not a prize, not even a miracle. You’re the hum that steadies his world, the quiet engine that keeps him human.

You glance at the coffee cup in his hand. Steam curls upward in lazy spirals, and in that motion you see data—temperature, pressure, airflow—numbers that appear in your mind as naturally as heartbeat. You blink, and they vanish. Morning coffee never tasted sweeter. The clouds part for a brief moment, sunlight spilling across your hair, turning it into threads of gold. Kodrey smiles, pressing a kiss to your temple.