Chapter 8
ZARA
By the time we reached level eighteen, my legs were protesting every step.
I was definitely feeling the effects of climbing all these stairs, as the distance between each level was double that of an average story on Earth.
I estimated we were about halfway up the tower.
I made a mental note that when—when, not if—I got back to civilization, I should probably incorporate more physical activity into my routine.
Not that I’d been sedentary before, but apparently, walking around research stations wasn’t quite the same as climbing alien towers during survival situations.
“You doing okay?” Torven asked, glancing back at me as we paused on another landing.
“Fine,” I said, trying not to sound as winded as I felt. “Just appreciating the architecture.” That was a joke. Or, it was meant to be one. My attempts at humor were really bad. Torven didn’t laugh.
He gave me a look that suggested he wasn’t buying my casual tone, but he didn’t push it. Which was good, because I was definitely too winded to keep talking.
The upper levels were noticeably different from the lower floors we’d explored.
Where the first ten levels had mostly been filled with equipment, research materials, and signs of hurried abandonment, these floors were mostly empty.
Each landing opened onto sparse rooms with little more than basic fixtures and dust-covered surfaces.
It was like climbing through the skeleton of the tower rather than its functional areas.
“Fewer people worked up here,” Torven observed as we checked another empty level. “Or maybe these were just storage areas.”
“Makes sense,” I replied, grateful for the excuse to catch my breath.
“The higher you go, the less convenient it becomes for daily operations. Although, they did have a lift. Plus, if this was primarily a weather monitoring station, most of the important work would happen at intermediate levels where you could observe conditions but still have easy access to the main systems.”
As we continued climbing, I found myself stealing glances at Torven.
Something had shifted between us after my breakdown in the records room.
The way he’d held me, comforted me without making me feel weak or foolish—it had created an intimacy that hadn’t been there before.
I felt safer with him, more comfortable, like I could actually talk to him instead of just exchanging necessary information.
“Tell me about your family,” I said as we climbed past level nineteen. “You’re from Damiron’s Sola, so were your parents warriors?”
Torven was quiet for a few steps, and I worried I’d overstepped.
Then he said, “My mother was—is—a healer, although she spends her time in the Sola’s gardens these days.
But my father was a great warrior. He fought bravely against the Brakken.
Before we found the new Destra world and established the city there. ”
“That must have been dangerous.”
“It was. But he survived, which was more than many could say. I fought beside him in those final battles against the Brakken, but the warrior’s path was not one I chose to remain on once we established the new city.
He…did not approve of my decision to become a pilot.
” His voice carried a note of tension, mixed with something that might have been sadness.
“But I am proud to have fought and won beside him and the other brave Destran warriors, then. The Brakken were…brutal. They didn’t take prisoners, didn’t negotiate. It was kill or be killed with them.”
I thought about the scattered references to the Brakken I’d encountered in my research.
“They were mentioned multiple times in the preparatory literature Maya, Cleo, and I were given before we embarked on the survey job. It said they were one of the reasons the Destrans had to leave their original territory.”
“Among other reasons, yes.” Torven’s skin had shifted to darker tones, the way it did when he was thinking about difficult subjects.
“My father used to say that fighting them taught him the difference between surviving and living. Surviving is just staying alive from one day to the next. Living is finding something worth protecting.”
The way he said it made me wonder what he’d found worth protecting. Or if he’d found anything at all.
“What about your parents?” he asked, clearly wanting to change the subject away from wars and his parents.
“Both scientists, actually. Or maybe that doesn’t surprise you.
” I smiled, thinking about them. “They met during a research expedition to study the chemical composition of the clouds on a gas giant. Very romantic, according to family legend. My mother likes to joke that their relationship was literally built on hot air.”
“That’s where you get your curiosity about weather systems.”
“Partly. Though the tornado incident with my grandparents was probably a bigger influence.” I paused, surprised at how easily I could talk about it now. “My parents were devastated when that happened. They threw themselves into their work afterward. I didn’t see them as much.”
We’d reached level twenty now, and I was done with this climb. But talking made it easier to ignore the burning in my legs.
“Do you have siblings?” I asked.
“No. My parents… They tried for more children, but it didn’t work out.
” He was quiet for a moment. “Destran fertility rates have been declining for generations. It’s part of why the mating marks are considered so important—when they appear, it usually means the pair will be able to produce offspring. ”
That reminded me of something I’d been curious about but hadn’t quite known how to bring up. We were alone in an abandoned tower on an alien planet, possibly facing death, and normal social conventions seemed less important under the circumstances.
“Are you single?” I asked, then immediately wanted to take the words back. They’d just popped out without any preliminary conversation or subtle leading up to the topic.
Torven stopped climbing and turned to look at me with surprise. “What?”
“I’m sorry, that was random. I just…” Ah, shit.
My face was heating up. “I was thinking about what you said about mating marks and fertility, and I realized I don’t actually know much about your personal life.
Which is fine, obviously, you don’t owe me any personal information, I was just curious because—”
“Rivers.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes, I’m single.”
“Oh. Okay.” I tried to think of something intelligent to say and came up empty. “Good to know.”
He tilted his head, studying my face with an expression I couldn’t quite read, but his face was now tinged with pink splotches.
“Destrans don’t date the way I’ve heard humans do.
When we find our mate, that’s it. There’s no trial period or getting to know each other gradually. The marks appear, and you know.”
“Right, I’ve read about that, too. Maya and Rykar—well, just Rykar has mating marks.
Human physiology doesn’t spontaneously deliver pigment to specific areas of the body based on emotional or physical connection to a partner.
” I was babbling again, but I couldn’t seem to stop.
“Though Rykar’s appeared later than usual, according to what Maya told me.
But they were under a lot of stress when their relationship started, with the whole awakened Sola situation and corporate interference and everything. ”
“Stress can delay the marks,” Torven said. “Or sometimes make them appear more dramatically when they finally do.”
“Have you ever had marks appear?” I smacked my forehead with my hand. “Of course not. If you had, you wouldn’t be single.”
“True.” There was something almost vulnerable in the way he said it. “I’ve started to think maybe I’m not meant to have a mate.”
The idea that this competent, protective, undeniably attractive male might think he was destined to be alone made my chest ache. “Maybe you just haven’t met the right person yet.”
He grunted and made a movement that could have been a shrug.
Either way, he was done talking about his love life.
We started climbing again, and I found myself thinking about mating marks and what it would be like to have that kind of certainty about a relationship.
To know without question that you’d found your person.
It sounded both wonderful and terrifying.
I, personally, had had little time or patience for relationships beyond professional ones.
Cleo and Maya had become my friends because we had work in common.
But I’d not met a professional friend who I liked spending time with and who I also wanted to get naked with, which made Torven’s next question easy to answer.
“What about you?” he asked as we approached level twenty-fucking-two. “Anyone waiting for you back home?”
“No.” I tried to keep my voice light. “I haven’t met anyone who has made me think about them more than atmospheric data.
Or even as much as atmospheric data.” Well, until now.
I thought about Torven more than I should.
And being eye level with his very fine ass as he walked up the stairs in front of me didn’t help.
“Perhaps I’m also not meant to have a mate. ”
He glanced back and raised one hot eyebrow. “Maybe you just haven’t met the right person yet.”
“Haha. Touché.” The way he said it sent a little thrill through me. “Maybe.”
We’d reached level twenty-four, and I was relieved when Torven stopped at the landing instead of continuing upward. My legs were definitely going to be sore tomorrow.
“This looks different,” he said, examining the door that led off the landing.
He was right. Where the other levels had featured simple metal doors with basic markings, this one was more elaborate, with what looked like security panels and additional locking mechanisms.
“Communications center?” I suggested.
“Let’s find out.”