Page 11

Chapter eleven

Site Survey

“W here do you want to go first?” he asked.

“The forest location,” she replied as she climbed onto the bike behind him. “We can swing by the cleared area and finish up next to the river.” She settled into the seat, locating the handgrips and trying not to think too much about the warmth of his back just inches away from her face. The way the heat of him radiated through the thin layers of fabric, grounding and steady.

“As the lady wills it,” he replied.

The hover bike's vibration thrummed through Rowen's bones as they crested another ridge, the colony's gleaming structures rapidly receding behind them.

“Bank left,” she called over the wind, gesturing toward a clearing where forest met plains. “Site one should be just ahead.”

The natural bowl of the landscape unfurled before them as they descended, surrounded by towering trees whose iridescent leaves shifted between deep purple and blue. Their branches swayed in intricate patterns that spoke to some deeper rhythm in the planet's magnetic field—a dance that mystified the colony's scientists.

As an engineer, the not-knowing should have frustrated her. Instead, she found it oddly comforting that the world still held secrets. Some things didn’t need to be explained to be beautiful.

“Good drainage,” she noted as they dismounted, her boots crunching satisfyingly on the leaf-strewn soil. “The forest will provide wind protection for the more delicate specimens.” She was already in full assessment mode, tablet out, taking readings. “The preliminary survey team noted a fair amount of local fauna,” she added, glancing up, and caught Petre watching her.

Not the site. Her.

He wasn’t even pretending to survey the area, his gaze steady.

She tucked a wayward curl behind her ear, self-conscious under that quiet intensity, and buried herself in her data.

“The mycorrhizal network in these trees is fascinating,” she said, filling the silence. “We might be able to tap into it”

“It’s a bit close to the forest,” Petre murmured. She glanced at him, but he was already scanning the tree line. “If the trees expand their root system…” he added, trailing off.

“Fair point,” she conceded. “Also, we'd have to clear a fair amount of the trees around the site for storage and access.” She looked wistfully at the towering canopy. “It would be a crime to destroy this, and we risk displacing local fauna and damaging the eco-system.” She frowned, mentally calculating just how much justification she'd need to include in her report to protect this piece of paradise.

Movement at the edge of her vision, and a group of beings emerged from between the iridescent trees. She'd seen recordings, of course, but nothing had prepared her for the reality of these incredible creatures. The colonists had named them nova moths, but they weren't really moths at all. Each one was roughly hand-sized, their translucent wings catching and refracting the dappled sunlight into tiny rainbows that painted the forest floor. Their bodies seemed to shift between solid and ethereal as they glided, trailing bioluminescent particles that faded slowly like dying stars that gave them their name.

“Don't move.” Her hand found Petre's arm without conscious thought. For once, he didn't pull away. The nova moths drifted closer, perhaps drawn by their body heat or the electromagnetic field from their equipment. One bold adventurer landed on Rowen's tablet, its wings rippling with changing patterns. Up close, Rowen could hear a faint harmonic humming, like distant whale song.

“The xenobiologists can't figure out if it's communication or navigation,” she whispered, eyes wide with wonder. “They seem to synchronize their frequencies when they gather in groups, but the patterns never repeat exactly.” She turned to share the moment with Petre and found him wide-eyed in childish delight.

“They’re like something from a tale, too perfect to be real,” she whispered, enchanted.

The nova moths lingered for another minute before scattering, leaving behind only fading trails of luminescence and the echo of their song.

Her hand was still on his arm. His skin was warm beneath her fingertips, even through the fabric of his sleeve. For a moment, neither of them moved.

His gaze flicked to hers. She should step back. She knew she should. It all felt fragile, like stepping away too quickly would break the magic.

“You’re right,” Petre murmured at last, his voice low, almost reverent, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the hush of the glade. “It would be a crime to ruin this place.” His gaze shifted back to the trees, the fading glow of the nova moths. “Beauty like this is rare. Precious. We must do everything we can to protect it.”

She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “Thank you, Petre.”

“On to site two?” she asked, keeping her voice light. Casual. Pretending like she wasn’t still feeling the warmth of his skin lingering on hers.

He rolled his shoulders slightly as if grounding himself. “Yes. Let’s move on.”

The second location was about as inspiring as a blank datapad—adjacent to the colony's planned expansion zone, already cleared and leveled by automated constructors. Her inner engineer appreciated the efficiency. Her soul rebelled.

“Boring,” she declared, planting her hands on her hips as she surveyed the flat expanse. “I mean, logistically sound, but boring. Gardens should invite exploration, don't you think? Create moments of discovery?” She frowned, examining the terrain with a critical eye. “We want this to be productive, but also somewhere the colonists can enjoy.”

“Is that a scientific assessment?” Petre asked.

She poked him in the ribs. “Absolutely. I'll cite studies on the psychological benefits of natural variation in landscape design.” She grinned. “Also, I refuse to spend the next few years staring at a perfectly flat garden.”

“We could landscape it into whatever we want. It's a blank canvas,” he countered, but she could see he wasn't entirely convinced himself.

“My soul would shrivel up and die.” She didn't bother hiding her horror at the thought.

“There is a more practical problem,” he added, “which is that it's earmarked for residential expansion. It would be a significant reshuffling of the expansion plans. I'm pretty sure Luken would kill me. Also, even if we freed up this site, it would be built in fairly quickly, and there would be no room for future expansion.”

She sniggered. “Your brother likes you. I'm sure he wouldn't kill you, just rough you up a little.”

“That's not very comforting,” he retorted.

“Fine, alright. I'll log site two as a high possibility.” She made the notation, already planning how to argue against it in her final report. After all, they had one more site to evaluate—and after the nova moths, the bar for “perfect location” had been set considerably higher.

The third site was spectacular. It was the furthest away from the colony, perched near the valley's edge where the river had carved deep channels below, but still close enough for easy transport and access.

She walked to the edge of the ridge, overlooking the river valley, and it stole her breath. “Oh!”

The location was everything she hadn't dared hope for; challenging to develop, yes, but the river's song provided a constant subtle music, and the elevation offered views that would connect The Garden to the colony while maintaining its own distinct character.

“It’s spectacular!” she breathed. “Can you imagine when its finished? It would be functional, provide the space and controlled environments we need, but it would be a destination for the community, a hub for our social life as well.”

He nodded and pointed out several features. “We could create a series of cascading levels, using the natural grade to…”

She was already outlining on her tablet, ideas flowing faster than she could capture them.

They worked together for nearly an hour, sketching out potential layouts, refining ideas, and falling into an easy rhythm. By the time the sun began its descent, Rowen set aside her tablet with a satisfied sigh. “I think this is it. The one.”

Petre leaned back, studying the rough schematic they’d built together. “The construction team will curse my name for months.”

“Worth it,” she said, standing and stretching, rolling her shoulders.

She wandered along the ridge line to the edge of the outcropping, letting the warm breeze lift her hair, smelling the rich, alien scents, the mineral tang of the river, the sweet-sharp notes of the native flora blooming in twilight.

“Come see this,” she murmured. She pointed toward the water where little fish leaped in shimmering arcs, catching the fading light. “See how it looks like a river of stars?”

“Beautiful,” he said.

She turned to respond and realized that he wasn’t looking at the river. The moment seemed to slow, and when his fingers brushed her jaw, so gentle it almost hurt, she couldn't help leaning into the touch. Her empathic senses sparked at the contact, catching fragments of what he was feeling, desire, fear, and longing. She should pull back. Should remember all the reasons this was complicated. All the times he’d given her emotional whiplash.

Instead, she held still as he leaned in, giving him time to change his mind, to remember all the reasons he kept himself apart.

He kissed her. It was achingly gentle, barely more than a whisper of contact, but it sent sparks of white-hot fire racing through her. His emotions washed over her—want and wonder and a bone-deep tenderness that made her whole body ache. She made a small sound, leaning into him, letting herself feel everything he usually kept contained. He deepened the kiss, pulling her to him, and the need in him took her breath away.

He jerked back, suddenly, throwing her off balance. “I'm sorry,” he said roughly. “That was inappropriate.”

Goddess wept, she was getting really tired of his noble suffering act. “You know, I’m beginning to take this personally.” She exhaled slowly, deliberately, gathering her fraying composure.

The evening air suddenly felt cool against her flushed skin as the space between them widened both physically and emotionally. His withdrawal was so predictable she could have scripted it word for word.

She lowered herself onto a smooth rock, patting the space beside her. “Was it inappropriate?” She kept her voice steady despite the lingering echo of his emotions humming through her. “Or are you just afraid?”

He flinched. After a long moment, he sighed and sat down beside her. “You work for me. It would be unprofessional—”

“Don't.” She cut him off, unable to keep the edge from her voice. She was done pretending she couldn't feel the weight of whatever he was carrying. “Don't hide behind excuses about professionalism. That's not what this is about, and we both know it.” She studied his face, catching the flicker of darkness in his expression. “This is about Bylelle, isn't it?”

“You don’t understand,” he said, his voice clipped.

She tilted her head, trying to understand what could make someone so strong feel so trapped. “So explain it to me. As a friend.”

His fingers curled briefly, as if he wanted to grip on something solid.

“Verit clan relationships are… complex.” His voice was even, methodical. “There are no simple interactions. Every one has meaning. Each exchange a dance of submission and dominance, of control and favors.”

“So she thinks you owe her something? Something she’s holding over you?”

Petre pressed his lips into a thin line. Not an answer, but not a denial either.

Rowen frowned, considering. “And you can’t just tell her to fuck off because…?”

A flicker of amusement crossed his face, there and gone. “I’m a Verit male, Rowen, and she is a Maman.” The simple, bald answer broke her heart. The depth of pain in it, the utter absolution of it. “Whatever she demands, if it is within my power, I must give it.”

Rowen pondered that. “So, what does she want from you?”

Petre’s blue eyes were sharp, and he gave a bitter laugh. “More than I want to give.”

Rowen held his gaze. “Then what are you going to do?”

He shook his head. “It’s not your concern,” he said evenly.

“I feel you made it mine when you kissed me. Talk to me, let me help you. Whatever this is, it’s clearly tearing you up inside. For the love of the Goddess, you got shot because of it!”

He didn’t respond, just sat there like a stone. She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. Typical.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. They lapsed into silence again, but this time it was thicker, more charged.

Rowen turned her attention back to the river, watching the last of the sunlight reflect off the moving water. They’d come to this point twice already, and she was getting pretty damned sick of it.

Petre stood abruptly. “We should head back before it gets dark.”

“Petre, wait—”

“Stop,” he said, his voice tight, clipped. “Just… stop. Please.”

She blinked, caught off guard by the fury barely held in check.

“I can’t do this, Rowen. I care for you. I’m sorry I kissed you, sorry I…” He shook his head. “I can’t do this. You’re always pushing, trying to get past every wall I put up,” he snapped, his voice low but fierce. “Has it occurred to you that you’re not entitled to everyone else’s emotions? Goddess damned Falosians, always poking and prodding.”

Rowen swallowed. “I just—”

“I don't need your help,” he cut in, voice sharper now. “I don’t need your concern, or your… your empathy .” He spat the word.

Rowen flinched. “That’s enough!” she hissed. “I’m not the one that’s pushing in!” Her voice was caustic. “ You came to me when you were injured. You’re the one that kissed me. You don’t get to be pissed when I show that I care about you! I’m a person with feelings, not a doll that you stuff in the cupboard, only brought out when it’s convenient for you!”

He blanched.

“What’s wrong with you, that you think you can just play with people like that!”

“What I need,” he snarled, “is for you to respect my boundaries and stop trying to insert yourself into a situation you don't understand.”

She blinked back tears and clenched her jaw shut. It would be easy to snap back. To throw his own stubbornness in his face. But…even now, she didn’t want to hurt him. Annoying, arrogant, confusing, complex male that he was, at some point over the past few weeks, she’d come to care for him too. Beneath this fury, he was wounded. She suspected that she was only just seeing how badly.

Instead, she simply said, “Alright.”

He blinked, surprised.

“If that’s what you want. I have no desire to chase a male that doesn’t value me.” She pinned him with her eyes. “But this, whatever this is, is a poison in you. You don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine. But you need help from someone. You aren’t thinking straight; you’re all over the place. Look at your own behavior over the past few weeks. Does it seem rational to you?”

For a moment, Petre just looked at her, as if he didn’t quite know what to do with compassion instead of a fight. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then thought better of it. Eventually, he tried again. “Let’s go.”

He strode toward the bike, leaving her standing there.

She gathered her equipment in silence and followed.

***

Rowen's quarters reflected her personality—organized chaos. Datapads and soil samples competed for space with half-finished cups of tea. She'd been working from home for two days, officially, to focus on the site survey report.

Unofficially…well, she wasn't exactly avoiding Petre. She just had absolutely no idea how to process where she’d left him.

When the doorbell rang, she checked her HUD and saw him standing outside. She considered pretending she wasn't in. But that would be cowardly, and whatever else she was, Rowen May wasn't a coward.

“Come in,” she called, not looking up from her work. The door whispered open, bringing with it a blast of early summer heat from outside. He cautiously entered and paused, looking around.

“I assume there's actually a desk under all of that?”

“Hey, I know exactly where everything is,” she protested, gesturing with the stylus she'd just spent ten minutes searching for. “It's a highly sophisticated system.”

“Ah, yes, the 'avalanche waiting to happen' filing method. Very sophisticated.” There was an awkward pause, and Rowen folded her arms. There was no way she was going to speak first. Eventually, he broke the silence. “The lab feels empty without you,” he said quietly.

He stood just inside the doorway, hands clasped behind his back tightly. He had dark circles under his eyes, and she realized he looked like shit.

“I've been busy,” she said, gesturing at the organized chaos around her. “The report won't write itself.”

“Rowen.”

She set aside her datapad with a sigh. “I don’t want to do this again.”

“I want to apologize. My reaction was… excessive.”

“Yes, it was. But I meant what I said. Whatever is going on with you, you need help. I’m not your therapist or camp counselor.” She met his gaze. “You’re spiraling, Petre. I know you think you’re holding your shit together, but you’re not.”

He kneeled down in front of her. “I meant what I said. I care for you. I never meant to hurt you. I just…cannot do this. It's too complicated to explain. I just need you to take me at my word.”

She couldn't help but smile slightly. “You’re such an idiot, Petre. I’ve never met someone who gets in the way of their own happiness so much.”

His expression sobered. “I'm not used to…” He gestured vaguely between them. “This. Whatever this is.” He cursed, frustrated. “I'm not good at this.”

“I've noticed.” She shrugged. “Look, I can't help feeling what I feel. I can’t help caring or wanting to help you. I'm an empath—it's literally how I'm wired. I can't change that any more than you can change your protective instincts.”

His eyes blazed. “What do you mean by that?”

She hesitated, trying to decide how much she should say. “I can sense your feelings, Petre. Even through whatever dampening technique you're using, I can feel—”

His reaction was explosive. One moment he was kneeling in front of her. The next, he was gripping her arms, hauling her up to stand in front of him, his eyes wide.

“Never say that,” he growled, his voice dropping to a register that made her shiver. “Rowen, it’s incredibly dangerous for you. You can never tell anyone you can sense anything from me. Do you understand?”

She should have been scared. He certainly was. Sharp jagged spikes of panic pierced his smokescreen. She should have pushed him away, but of all the things she felt with Petre, she had a bone-deep certainty that he would never harm her. “Tell me why! I’m an empath; I sense people all the time. Why is it a problem if I sense you?”

Sanity bled into his gaze, and she saw the moment he realized his hands were on her. He shook his head and retreated.

Fury ran hot in her blood. Oh, absolutely no fucking way. She followed him and pulled on his shoulder, trying to get him to look at her. “No. You don’t get to run away again. Tell me what’s going on. No more lies, no more pushing me away. Why is it so odd for an empath to sense you? Why would that be a problem?”

He grabbed her and pushed her up against the wall, pinning her. “You idiot!” he growled. “I’m trying to protect you!”

Her heart rate skyrocketed. It was his chest pressed against hers, the way his thigh had wedged between her legs when he'd moved her. It was utterly ridiculous in the middle of an argument, but she couldn’t help it. She saw when he caught her arousal, his pupils contracting, nostrils flaring. She stroked his face. “Let me in,” she whispered. “I can feel your anger, your pain. Let me help you.” One went to her throat, gently shackling her, the other to her waist.

His eyes were wild as he shook his head and whispered, “They’ll kill you.”

“Let me help you,” she said again.

He kissed her. Not the gentle exploration of their first kiss. This was desperate and all-consuming. His hand slid from her throat to tangle in her hair, the other gripping her hip with bruising intensity. She gasped into his mouth, and he took advantage, deepening the kiss until she was dizzy with it.

When he finally pulled back, they were both breathing hard. “We can't,” he started, but she could feel the tremor in his hands, see the desire in his eyes. No, not again. No more walls.

“We already are,” she whispered, and pulled him back into another burning kiss. She unzipped her shirt and shucked it off, placing his palms on her breasts. He kneaded them, tracing kisses down her neck and across to each peak as she moaned and dug her hands into his scalp to pull him into her. She reached down to slip her hands inside his waistband, and he grabbed her hands and shackled them above her with one hand, the other roaming possessively over her body, leaving trails of fire across her skin. When he pressed closer, pinning her more firmly against the wall, she wrapped a leg around his hip, desperate for more contact.

“Rowen,” he breathed against her neck, and she felt his restraint slipping further as sharp teeth grazed her pulse point, sending her heat skyrocketing. “My Rowen.” His hand slid between them, delving with wicked fingers, and she bit back a moan as he found exactly where she liked to be touched. “Let me… please. I need you. I’m burning up for you.”

She nodded, beyond words as he worked her higher. His other hand loosened on her wrists and kneaded her ass as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak. She crested with a low moan, and he dropped to his knees, pulling her pants down. “Petre?”

He looked up at her wickedly and leaned forward, pressing kisses to her navel as he dragged her underwear down her leg. He gripped her leg, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh, and put it over his shoulder, opening her for him. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered and leaned forward, taking a deep taste.

She cried out as he explored her with his tongue, teasing and filling her over and over again. “Petre, this, it isn’t fair…”

“Let me give you this. Please.” His expression was almost feral in its need, and she nodded.

He kissed his way back up her naked body, panting. He pushed his pants down and lifted her onto his hips. “Ready?”

She nodded and he sheathed himself in a single motion with a low moan. He kissed her again as he pounded into her, and she tasted herself on him.

“You are so beautiful.”

He pushed her higher and higher until she felt him shudder. He reached down between them and firmly pinched her clit. “Come with me. Now.”

The command was all it took, and they shuddered together, wrapped around each other. As they did, she felt his emotions clear. Whether it was their proximity, the physical contact, or the intensity of their connection, she didn’t know, but for a brief shining moment she saw his emotions with heartbreaking clarity. Saw his fury, fear, and longing. Oh, sweet Goddess, his longing for her. Her breath caught in her throat. How was he hiding it all? He was wrapped in layers and layers of emotional chains, so tight she wondered if he hadn’t permanently damaged himself keeping it all in. Then, just as quickly as it had cleared, the connection was gone, once more obscured by whatever was clouding it.

Neither of them moved after. She could feel his heart racing where they were pressed together. “That was incredible.”

She tried to drop her feet to the floor, and he gave her butt a warning squeeze. “Need to stay for a minute. It’ll hurt otherwise.”

She leaned back to give him a questioning look. “Our species' anatomy is…not entirely the same.”

She was instantly curious. “I’ll need to have a proper look next time.” She smiled impishly, and her heart sank at the sad look in his eyes. He froze, and she felt his muscles tense under her hands.

He let her put her feet down and slowly extracted himself. Losing contact felt like physical pain. She reached out, hauling him back into an embrace. “There can’t be another time, Rowen. I’m sorry.”

He held her so tight; she felt like he was trying to get inside her skin.

“No one can know about this,” he said finally, his voice rough. “No one, Rowen.”

“You mean Bylelle.” It wasn't really a question.

He met her eyes, and the raw honesty there made her breath catch. “Yes. She’s possessive. If she thinks I care for you, she’ll kill you. She’ll torture you for fun to get me to do what she wants.”

Her heart broke. “I don’t know if I can hide this, Petre.”

When she protested, he cut her off gently with another kiss. “I mean it. I can't… I can't be what you need. What you deserve.”

She bared her teeth at him. "I decide that, not you!" She kissed him back. "I'm tired of dancing around this. I know what you feel about me. I feel its intensity."

His hand cupped her cheek with heartbreaking tenderness. "I'm not free to be your mate, Rowen."

"Don't do this, Petre. Please." She let the tears fall. For herself, for him, for the whole situation. “Isn’t there someone you can report her to? Why can’t you go to Frei? Is your stupid fucking planet the only one in the universe without security patrols?”

He shook he head. “Maman are the law on Verit.”

She took a shuddering breath. "What are we supposed to do now?"

The question hung between them, unanswered. Something fractured inside her, the quiet finality of ice giving way beneath too much weight. She'd been here before with him, caught in this cycle of advance and retreat. She couldn’t keep doing this to herself.

She studied him, this beautiful, complicated male who could give himself to her physically but somehow couldn't trust her with the burdens he carried. The tenderness of moments ago still lingered in her body, but her heart was cooling rapidly, self-preservation finally winning over longing.

"I can't do this again," she said, her voice soft but steady. "This—whatever this is—where you let me close enough to feel everything you're capable of giving, then shut the door in my face."

"Rowen—"

She held up a hand, stopping him. "No. I understand there are things you can't tell me. Complications I don't fully comprehend." A sad smile touched her lips. "But what I do understand is that I deserve more than this. I won’t accept just fragments of you, stolen moments whenever its convenient for you." She squared her shoulders. "I'm done," she said, the words emerging with quiet finality.

There was a horrified silence. "What?"

She steeled herself, gathering dignity around her like armor. "Let's keep this simple. We have a project to complete. I'll do my work, you'll do yours, and we'll be colleagues.”

He opened his mouth and closed it a couple of times, trying to find the words, and she shook her head. “I’m giving you exactly what you want.”

It wasn't what she wanted—Goddess knew it wasn't—but she wouldn't keep carving pieces from her heart to feed a connection he was determined to starve. The pain of walking away now would be less than the slow erosion of giving everything to someone who couldn't, or wouldn't, give equally in return.