Free Bone Rider by J. Fally

out, but it soon became clear nothing was going to happen until he did or said something to get the ball rolling. Well, if he was wrong, the worst thing that could happen was that he’d make a fool out of himself where nobody could see. Riley could deal with that, so he leaned forward a little and cleared his throat.
    “I know you’re there,” he said.
    No response.
    “I know you’re there,” Riley repeated. “I can feel you. Listen, I just want to talk to you. I won’t freak. I just wanna talk.”
    No response, but the watchfulness slowly shifted into a vague feeling of indecisiveness that was at once promising and disconcerting.
    “Come on,” Riley coaxed quietly, trying to project a non-judgmental attitude. “Show yourself.”
    He had sensed something in the back of his mind, at the edges of his consciousness, since he’d woken up face down on the road. He’d suspected something was going on with him that couldn’t be dismissed as another facet of his current Misha-induced paranoia. He’d been almost certain he hadn’t worked his body open himself, because that was something he didn’t do in his sleep, and the door had been locked, and he was almost positive he hadn’t been drugged so he’d let someone in and not remember. Yet when his eyes suddenly flashed silver, he still damn near pissed himself.
    “Holy fuck!”
    Riley staggered back reflexively. His foot slipped on a wet floor tile and it just about sent him crashing backward into the bathtub. He caught himself through a combination of excellent balance and common flailing, but the additional scare made him curse even louder.
    You promised you wouldn’t freak , an offended voice said in his ear.
    It made Riley jump again and whirl around even though he already knew nobody would be there. His heart was trying to climb up his throat, probably to escape sharing its living quarters with whatever had taken up residence in Riley’s body. It didn’t help that he recognized the voice: the last time he’d heard it, it had whispered husky praise against his neck as its owner fucked him stupid.
    “Holy fuck,” he repeated, not as loudly as the first time, but with as much feeling. “Fuck. Fuck! Who are you? What are you doing? Get the fuck out of my fucking head!”
    No , the voice said, immediately and without room for debate. No way. I can’t survive on my own. I need you. I’m not going anywhere.
    “Well, I don’t need you,” Riley snapped, looking back in the mirror for lack of an actual visible counterpart. “And I don’t want you in me. Get out!”
    Something shifted in him. It felt like tiny little hooks digging into his insides as his squatter clung to him with all its might. No , it snarled. You can’t make me!
    Riley groaned quietly. It didn’t hurt so much as it felt exceedingly uncomfortable, but the realization that the silver metal bastard was holding his body hostage made him almost as mad as it terrified him. “It’s my damn body, you fucking parasite ,” he growled.
    You can damn well share it for a bit , the squatter snapped back, not letting up. ’S not like I’m hurting you. I’m not a parasite; I’m a smart armor and weapons system. I’m useful .
    “You’re hurting me,” Riley gasped. The hooks felt like knives now, vicious and in so deep. He could feel himself shake with adrenaline and an increasing burning sensation under his skin. His fingers were clutching the edge of the sink so hard his knuckles turned white.
    Oh , the armor system muttered, sounding contrite. The burning lessened, then stopped. Sorry. I just…. Sorry .
    Riley sagged a little with relief. He took a deep breath, then another one. All right. He needed to calm down. This was going to escalate real quick if he kept yelling and the thing in him kept getting defensive. He was reasonably sure this wasn’t a nightmare of the scarily realistic kind, which meant there really was something in him. Something that could hurt him badly. Riley had no