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“Was there much around this place before? From this map, it seems like it was rather hidden in the more wooded areas, right?”

“Yes. It would have taken quite a while to get to unless they had some sort of airplane runway or a helipad somewhere to move people in and out.”

“I’m not sure how this area fared in the war,” he murmured, his voice thoughtful.

“I didn’t come across many current records of it in my search,” I responded.

“Pacifica might have a few resources at their disposal that we can make use of.”

I tempered my excitement at having access to something like that. I wondered what he could mean. Were there more records I could comb through? More evidence of ancient bridal artifacts? My heart pounded excitedly in my chest and I tried to temper the smile that threatened to light up my face.

“That would be great,” I said.

He popped a big green olive into his mouth. I didn’t realize I was staring at his lips until he started to smirk.

“Enough about work, though. We can come up with a plan together tomorrow morning at your office. I want to know more about you, Naomi,” he coaxed.

I blushed unwittingly. There it was again, the quiet purr of my name on his tongue.

“What about me?”

I couldn’t even imagine what a man like him would want to know about a woman like me.

“What do you like to do in your off time? On the weekends?”

I cleared my throat again. There wasn’t much to know about me other than work.

I got up in the morning, brewed a pot of coffee, and went to the office.

I ate the nutritionally sound meals prepared in the cafeteria at lunch, took a second meal to my office for dinner, and worked all day until it was time to go home and go to bed.

I usually spent the weekends tending to household chores, reading whatever I could find, and resting in preparation for the week to come.

There wasn’t much time for anything else, nor were there many recreational opportunities available in New Englandia, but there was one thing I could think of.

“Sometimes, on the weekends when the museum is closed, I like to volunteer at the animal extinction prevention facility.”

“Do you have a favorite animal?” he asked, tilting his head with interest.

“Definitely the wolves. Once mostly wild creatures, they’re more domesticated, or I should say, have more potential to be domesticated now than people realize. Once, I was invited to be a handler for one of the females in the pack.”

“Did she have a name?” he asked the simple question with an obvious desire to know, with a light in his eyes that drew me into the discussion.

“Mishka,” I grinned.

“You should introduce me to her one day. I’d love to meet her,” he replied. There was a surprising warmth in his voice that seemed to connect instantly and directly to a place in my chest. Some deep, subconscious place in me reported quietly to my conscious mind how odd and new the sensation was.

“Really? Most people think it’s a lost cause, but the center is simply trying to sustain a variety of animal life for as long as possible until they can repopulate the rest of the planet.”

“I don’t think it’s a lost cause; animal life is important.”

“What’s it like? Outside the border, I mean?” I asked, feeling myself falling into the ease of conversation with this interesting and curious man, letting my nervousness drift away as we warmed to our topics.

“Have you never seen any of it?” He seemed genuinely surprised by my question.

“No. Outside travel isn’t really allowed.” I shook my head and met his eyes.

“I forget how different your city state is from mine,” he mused.

He looked at the flowers on top of the island, his expression soft and nostalgic.

“Some areas are just as you would imagine it would be, devoid of all life, nothing but a dust bowl of radiation and dirt and the odd artifact of previous human occupation. Some areas are slow to recover, but the signs are there. Fresh shoots of grass breaking through the earth, a colorful weed here and there, the first hints at tree life growing once more. Other places have thoroughly rebounded, lush and fertile from ash and fire, untouched by humans for hundreds of years. Pure wild nature,” his descriptions filled in my mental illustrations with greater detail than I’d been able to imagine.

I swallowed a mouthful of wine, enjoying the way the honeyed cheese brought out the blackberry undertones of the red wine and, for some reason, it made me feel brave.

“You mentioned how very different your home is than mine. Is it as old-world as they say it is?” I pressed.

“Old-world?” he echoed. He lifted a brow, studying me for some hint as to my meaning. I turned my gaze down, picking at the food that lay before me. I settled on a dried date, dipping it in a little bit of jam before I popped it into my mouth.

“Yes, you know, marriage and families and pregnancies outside of labs.” I flushed.

“I see. You’re curious about all of that, aren’t you?” he asked.

For some reason, the way he said it felt like I was asking for something I shouldn’t.

“I am,” I admitted. I kept my eyes downcast, choosing instead to swirl the wine around in my glass. It was a full-bodied red wine and the liquid dripped down the sides slowly, indicative of a higher alcohol content.

I probably should have looked at the bottle before deciding on this one. I hoped it wasn’t going to my head already.

“Unlike New Englandia, that prides itself on their educated, efficient populace, on work productivity and strictly maintained physical health, Pacifica places a much higher value on the more unrestrained, authentic human experience and that includes interpersonal relationships like family,” he explained.

I took another sip of wine before placing it down on the table. I bit the inside of my cheek as I pushed the glass away slightly, choosing to eat a little bit more instead, aware of a slight swirling in my head.

Family.

It was a fascinating, but wholly forbidden subject in New Englandia.

I had never been able to fully study it, as that topic was strongly discouraged by those in positions of power in higher education.

What I had been able to glean was utterly unrelatable to me.

Books and pictures only scratched the surface of it, but this man had experienced it firsthand.

I was completely entranced by the lure of such new, illuminating insights.

“Do you remember your mother and father?” I asked.

I didn’t have either. I’d been created in an artificial womb and brought up by the state in their specialized institutions for the rearing of children. I’d been given the best teachers, the best medical care, and everything I could have ever needed as a child.

Except for a family.

My teachers were the only people that could come close to such a thing, but I got the feeling it wasn’t at all the same.

“I do. They are still alive back home today. My mother is probably chasing my father around the house with her mile-long to-do list as we speak,” he grinned, and his affection for them was apparent on his face.

“Were they… married?” I asked, lowering my voice on the last word in case anyone who might be passing by could hear me.

“Yes. They are most certainly married. I’ve heard the story of their whirlwind romance so many times that I could probably recite it in my sleep,” he laughed, deeply amused.

There was so much joy written all over his features when he talked about his parents.

It felt almost contagious in a way, but it was more a weird longing on my part to be able to feel what he was feeling.

I never would, of course, and that engendered a sadness in me for something I’d never had and never thought to miss before.

“Can I tell you a secret?” I asked, blushing. As soon as I said the words, I wanted to take them back, but it was already too late.

“Of course,” he answered while raising a single eyebrow in curiosity. It made my stomach pitch.

“The idea of being a bride has always fascinated me. It’s a forbidden concept here, but it excites me to think about tying myself to a man that way, about what love might mean between a man and a woman,” I confessed.

He took a long draw from his glass before placing it down on the table. His eyes narrowed, the blue of his gaze swirling with surging storm clouds. His aura instantly changed from a gentleman to something that felt far more dangerous.

“I’d like to ask you something, Naomi, and I want you to be honest with me,” he began. His expression was very serious, and I worried that I might have crossed some line that I didn’t even know existed.

“Okay.” I sat back warily, fidgeting with my fingers on the table before pressing them into my lap.

“Have you ever been kissed?”

My mouth went dry and my face burned scarlet. Unable to speak, I shook my head and stared down at my hands, hoping that would be enough for him.

He stood up from his chair and took a single step towards me.

“Come here, Naomi. Take my hand,” he coaxed.

I jerked my head up, startled at his request. His sultry gaze captured mine and before I knew what I was doing, I stood up and walked toward him.

I watched my feet move, feeling as though I was looking at a stranger’s feet until I eventually realized they belonged to me.

I gasped anxiously when his fingers boldly wound around mine, pulling my body close against him.

My breasts pressed against the hard lines of his chest.

“Ryker, what are you doing?” I breathed, terribly unsure of what was happening.

What I hoped might be happening…

“Your innocence is so very tempting,” he murmured.

I opened and closed my mouth, completely at a loss for words. In a fraction of a heartbeat, his face was descending toward mine. I would have pulled away, but he had an arm wound firmly around my waist, his palm splayed wide across my lower back.

“I think I’m going to have to taste it.”