Chapter 9
TORVEN
Ilay on my back on the hard floor of the control room, staring up at the darkened ceiling and listening to Zara breathe beside me.
The synthetic blankets we’d salvaged from the residential quarters weren’t much, but they were better than nothing.
Most of the bedding had disintegrated the moment we tried to move it, decades of neglect having reduced it to dust and fragments.
Only a few items made from synthetic materials had survived.
Zara’s breathing was too controlled, too measured. She wasn’t asleep. She was lying there pretending to sleep, just like I was pretending to sleep, both of us well aware of the other’s presence in the darkness.
The kiss from earlier replayed in my mind for the hundredth time.
The soft warmth of her lips, the way she’d wound her arms around my neck, the little sound she made when I pulled her closer.
My body responded to the memory with predictable results, and I shifted uncomfortably, trying to will away the persistent hardness between my legs.
This was torture. Pure, exquisite torture.
I wanted to reach for her. I wanted to pull her against me and kiss her until she made those sounds again. I wanted to run my hands through her hair and discover if her skin was as soft everywhere as it was on her face. I wanted to find out what she looked like when she came apart in my arms.
Stop, I commanded myself. This is exactly the kind of thinking that’s going to get you both in trouble.
But my treacherous mind wouldn’t cooperate. Every small movement she made, every shift of the blanket, every quiet sigh sent fresh waves of awareness through me. The scent of her hair, the warmth radiating from her body just arm’s length away—it was driving me to distraction.
I absently scratched at my neck, where an irritating itch had been bothering me for the past few hours. Probably a reaction to one of those strange luminescent plants we’d encountered near the water tanks. My skin had always been sensitive to certain alien vegetation.
“Torven?” Zara’s voice cut through the darkness, soft but alert.
My entire body went rigid. “Yes?”
I heard the rustle of fabric as she rolled to face me, and then I turned my head to look at her. She peered at me with the same look she gave to a challenging piece of equipment.
“What do you feel for me?” Her voice was direct and clear. “If anything.”
There would be no avoiding this question when she asked it like this. Leave it to Zara to cut straight to the heart of the matter with no preamble, no subtle leading up to the topic. Just her typical scientific approach: identify the problem and examine it head-on.
I rolled to my side and propped my head on my hand. Even in the control room’s low, auxiliary light, I could see the serious expression on her face. She was studying me like I was one of her atmospheric readings, waiting for data.
“I…” I started, then stopped. What could I tell her? The truth? That she’d gotten under my skin in a way that terrified me? That I thought about her constantly, that the idea of losing her made my chest feel tight with panic?
That would be a mistake. Getting attached to people I was responsible for protecting had nearly destroyed me before. I couldn’t go down that path again.
“I find you attractive,” I said finally, choosing my words carefully. “But that’s nothing to worry about. Our circumstances are difficult, so it’s natural to seek comfort in another person.”
“That’s logical,” she said, her voice giving nothing away.
I nodded, trying to keep my voice light. Trying to sound reasonable. “Exactly. It’s a normal response to stress and isolation.”
“So when you kissed me earlier, that was just you seeking comfort and connection? Nothing more?”
“Correct.” Ah, what a fucking lie, to use the human expletive. I was a no-good tranker for saying this, when the truth was the absolute opposite.
“And I don’t mean anything to you beyond friendship and professional cooperation?”
Why was she pushing this? “That’s right.”
She was quiet for a long moment, and I held my breath, waiting for her response.
“Okay,” she said finally, and I heard her turn away from me. “Thanks for being honest.”
I wanted to kick myself. She’d given me an opening to tell her the truth, and instead I took the coward’s way out.
But it was better this way, I told myself.
Safer for both of us. Within minutes, her breathing had settled into the genuine rhythm of sleep, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the bitter taste of lies in my mouth.
The itch on my neck was getting worse, spreading down toward my collarbone. I scratched at it absently, trying to focus on something other than the warmth of Zara’s body just beyond my reach.
Eventually, exhaustion won out over my churning thoughts, and I fell into a fitful, restless sleep.
I woke to silence.
The quality of light filtering through the window told me it was early morning, probably just after dawn. But something was wrong. The space beside me was empty, the blanket thrown back and abandoned.
“Rivers?” I called softly, sitting up and looking around the control room.
No answer.
I got to my feet, my heart starting to race. “Rivers!” I called louder, moving toward the stairwell. “Where are you?”
Still nothing.
Panic clawed at my chest as I searched the room more thoroughly. Her pack was still here, her scientific equipment undisturbed. But she was nowhere to be found.
Maybe she’d gone upstairs to use the facilities, or to check on the water collection system. But some instinct was screaming at me that something was wrong.
I made my way to the outer hatch and opened it, stepping outside into the pre-dawn gloom. The air felt different today—thicker, but less oppressive. A light drizzle was falling, and the moment the moisture touched my skin, I felt a sharp, burning sensation.
“Zara!” I shouted, ignoring the pain as the rain began to eat at my exposed skin. I strode farther out. My gaze swept the landscape, searching for movement. For her wild blond hair. For any sign of her. “Where are you?”
The smell hit me then—acrid and chemical, like something industrial and toxic. This wasn’t ordinary precipitation. This was acid rain, probably a result of whatever atmospheric processes were still active from the weather control system.
“Torven!” I heard my name being called, but the voice was coming from behind me, not ahead.
I spun around to see Zara standing in the doorway of the tower, her hands planted firmly on her hips and her expression thunderous.
Relief flooded through me so intensely that my knees almost buckled. She was safe. She was alive. She was also clearly furious with me.
I rushed back toward the tower, the acid rain burning tracks down my arms and face. The moment I was through the hatch, Zara slammed it shut behind me.
“What the fuck were you doing out there?” she demanded. Her brown eyes blazed with anger and something that looked like fear.
I wiped at my stinging skin, trying to clear away the acidic moisture. “I thought you’d run off.”
“Run off?” She stared at me like I’d grown a second head. “Why would I run off?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because of our conversation last night.”
She was already moving, grabbing her water container and pouring some onto a piece of cloth. “Hold still,” she commanded, reaching up to clean the acid residue from my face with gentle, efficient strokes.
“You disappeared,” I said, trying to justify my panic. “I woke up and you were gone.”
“I went up to the water level,” she said, her voice tight with controlled emotion. “I woke up early and wanted to do some readings on the flora growths up there. Did you really think I would just run off into a toxic alien wasteland because you told me you weren’t interested in me romantically?”
When she put it like that, it sounded absurd. But the fear that had gripped me when I’d found her gone had been very real, very primal.
“I thought…” I started, then stopped. How could I explain that the idea of her leaving had sent me into a panic that bypassed all rational thought?
“You thought what?” she pressed, moving to clean the acid burns on my arms. “That I was so devastated by your rejection, I decided to throw myself to the mercies of alien weather?”
“No,” I said, then reconsidered. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
She paused in her cleaning, looking up at me with an expression I couldn’t read. “Torven, I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a fool. You’re not the first male who found me too…much to be with, and you won’t be the last. I’m not offended.”
“I…” The words stuck in my throat. “I lied to you last night.”
Her hands stilled. “About what?”
“About what I feel for you.” I forced myself to meet her eyes. “It’s not just attraction. It’s not just seeking comfort. I think about you constantly. When I woke up and found you gone, I felt like someone had ripped my heart out of my chest.”
She stared at me for a long moment, her face unreadable. Then, quietly, she said, “Why didn’t you just say that?”
Why didn’t I? I couldn’t remember the reasons, now, but I had them. All of them boiled down to: “Fear, I suppose.”
“Fear that I wouldn’t feel the same?” she asked.
I took the wet cloth from her and pressed it to my neck.
The itchy spot was burning now. Some rain must have gotten on it.
“Maybe. Probably.” I shook my head, knowing I wasn’t being as clear as she would like, but not knowing how to make my jumbled thoughts coherent.
“The feelings I have are big and terrifying, and I don’t know what to do with them.
If I kept them to myself, neither of us would have to deal with them.
That seemed simpler, given the circumstances. ”
“Hmm.” She nodded. “The circumstances are not ideal.”
“No. They’re not.” I ran my free hand through my hair. “But don’t worry about this. We’ll figure it out.”
Her lips twitched. “You said that line again.”