Page 25 of The Sovereign, Part One (The Sovereign Saga #1)

“You meant climb the building? I was picturing something far more dramatic: driving the transport through the lobby, then you heroically carrying me up all fifty flights of stairs.”

“I’m not sure which we’d be arrested for first,” he said, studying the Stratus building, his expression contemplative, as if calculating the feasibility of our impending heist.

I could only hold a straight face for a few moments.

I laughed, and Maxim’s deep chuckle followed, smooth and warm.

The night had already surpassed every expectation, and across from me sat the most captivating man I’d ever laid eyes on.

Yet, it was the way he looked at me like I was something rare, something worth marveling at, that left me breathless.

“You know so much about the architecture. I didn’t expect that. Is Hyperion Proper’s design of particular interest to you?” I asked.

He shrugged, his expression thoughtful. “I had time to explore its history while I waited in The Crèche. There’s a certain poetry in how the city evolved.”

We lingered in the conversation, drifting from structural design to personal anecdotes, until my meal arrived.

I hesitated, glancing around. Most of the other tables—each occupied by couples—had only one plate of food.

I had never thought much about it before, but now, staring at my plate, it felt… strange.

Maxim lifted a brow. “What is it? Should I wave down Anandria?”

I gestured subtly. “It’s just… I’m the only one eating. I mean, I knew… that you don’t…” I stumbled over my words, desperate not to sound absurd.

His smirk was immediate, teasing. “You should’ve picked a Supplicant designed to enjoy dinner.”

I laughed, rolling my eyes. “If that existed, you’d be experiencing the halyx with me right now.”

He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering. “You eat, I’ll talk. That way, you won’t feel so self-conscious.”

I narrowed my eyes playfully. “And what will you talk about?”

He flashed a grin. “The old world. Stories from before Hyperion.”

My eyes must have given me away, shimmering with delight. The triumphant curve of Maxim’s lips told me he’d noticed.

“Please do,” I said, taking the first bite, anticipation bubbling inside me like a child gathered around a campfire.

And so he did. As I ate, Maxim wove tales of what once was, of traditions and customs lost to time, of civilizations that thrived long before ours.

His voice was confident, smooth, with a cadence that could make even history sound intoxicating.

I watched him, captivated, realizing how he seemed to occupy the spaces between words, turning silence into something electric, something that pulsed with an energy all its own.

When my plate was cleared and our leirs emptied, Maxim hesitated, his fingers tapping against the table.

I paused from refreshing my gloss. “Is everything all right?”

“I have to admit… I’m not ready to take you home, for this night to be over.”

I blinked, surprised by his candor. “You’re not?”

His lips pressed together before twisting into something almost sheepish. “No. Would you like to take a walk with me? At the park, perhaps?”

I didn’t have to think. “Yes,” I said, nodding.

The park was quiet, the pathways lit by softly illuminated bioluminescent panels, casting a rhythmic glow with each step, adapting seamlessly to our forward movement.

The air had cooled, and without a word, Maxim slipped off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders.

I crossed my arms and pulled it close, the fabric still holding the warmth of him.

As we ventured off the path, however, my heels proved impractical. The grass made walking difficult, and I wobbled more than once before Maxim sighed, shaking his head with amusement. He swept me into his arms without warning, and as if I weighed nothing, carried me toward the swings.

“You could have just let me struggle,” I teased.

He seemed to consider that. “I could have, but that’s assuming I wouldn’t rather have you in my arms.”

He set me down gently, and we both eased into a slow sway, the near-silent glide of the lev-suspended swings adjusted to our weight, creating a smooth, fluid movement that matched the cadence of our laughter.

Conversation wove between us, unhurried, as I shared fragments of childhood memories, stories of friendships, and the aspirations I had never voiced aloud.

Maxim listened intently, his questions thoughtful, his insights perceptive.

He traced connections between my experiences and the knowledge embedded within him, offering reflections that felt far more human than programmed.

His curiosity was boundless, and more than once, I found myself pausing, startled by how naturally he fit into my world, as if he had always been part of these conversations, these moments.

Maxim surprised me more than once with his earnest observations, his wit, his understanding of things that felt more Sovereign than Supplicant.

The night stretched on, and finally, reluctantly, he exhaled. “It’s getting late.”

His disappointment echoed my own, an ache neither of us wanted to name. “A two-hour dinner, three hours giggling at the park, and you’re ready to call it a night already?” I teased. My smile slowly faded as I noticed the discomfort in his expression. “What is it?”

“It’s difficult to explain.”

“I’m sure I can keep up,” I said.

He offered a small smile. “It’s the code system.” He sighed. “I have this… strong desire to stay here with you. But I’ve been fighting something in my internal systems since dinner.”

“Your safety parameters?” I asked.

“I think so. It seems there’s a recommended time limit for unstructured interaction.

It began as a mosquito in my ear just after we left Astris.

Now I’m feeling you could be in danger, which I know is absurd.

But it’s becoming impossible to ignore. It’s begun to trigger my instincts to protect you.

I’m also detecting an anomaly, a subtle fail-safe trying to nudge me back in line, so to speak, before a threshold of deviation is reached. ”

“Why didn’t you say something? We could’ve gone back sooner.”

His mouth turned up into a half-smile. “Up until now, I’ve been able to ignore it.”

I stood, holding my hand out to him. “Well, the protocol doesn’t dictate pace. So… would you like to join me for breakfast?

His response was immediate. “Absolutely.”

“Eight-thirty?”

He tried to stifle a smile. “I’ll try not to be early.”

He carried me the full walk back to the transport. The drive home was quiet but comfortable, a silence that spoke more than words. When we arrived, Maxim walked me to the stairs, and I turned to face him.

“Thank you,” I said, feeling breathless. “Tonight was so… It was wonderful. Everything I’d hoped it would be.”

“I can’t wait to see you tomorrow,” he said, tenderness in his voice. “Tonight was more than just a first date, it was a glimpse of what’s to come, and I find myself struggling to be patient.”

I smiled, slipping off his jacket and handing it back. “Me, too.” It fell woefully short of what I felt, but the understanding in his gaze told me I didn’t need to say more.

His eyes pleaded for silent permission and then, slowly, he leaned in, brushing his mouth against my lips—soft, exploratory at first, but the moment his arms wrapped around me and his tongue searched for mine, something in me responded without hesitation.

My hands gripped his shirt, pulling him closer until I could feel the warmth of him radiating through the fabric.

The kiss deepened, a slow-burning intensity unfurling between us.

And then, just as suddenly, Maxim pulled away, his breath uneven.

I kept my eyes closed for a beat longer, then opened them to find him staring down at me, just as shaken and breathless.

He took a step back, slipping his hands into his pockets, smiling at me in a way that felt like a secret.

“What?” I asked, a dubious grin forming.

“You,” he said unapologetically, shrugging one shoulder.

He turned for the transport but paused just long enough to make me wonder if something in him had momentarily miscalibrated. Then, he faced me again. “I… I didn’t expect to feel this way.”

“I know,” I said, feeling my cheeks burn.

“No, I mean… yes, but… It’s my directive to leave, and yet… everything in me says no. It feels wrong to leave you here alone, unprotected.”

I tilted my head, unable to stop the smile tugging at my lips. “You don’t have to worry about me, but I like that you do.”

“I know that’s the logical answer, but…” he shook his head, seeming confused. “It’s a feeling, a conflict within me. I can’t explain it.”

My brows pulled together. In all my years at Hyperion, my direct experience while advocating for Supplicants, observing Lev’s genius in engineering and innovation, and growing up with a Supplicant mina, I had never witnessed hesitation, let alone conflict in a Supplicant.

I exhaled slowly, letting my expression ease. “Well… the emotions of something like today are complex, even for me. It’s natural to not want the night to end, to feel something lingering after something meaningful. That doesn’t mean anything is wrong. Maybe that’s where your confusion lies?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. He met my gaze, his smile laced with something both certain and sincere. “I just don’t want to spend a moment without you. Good night, Isara. See you in nine and a half hours.”

“Yes, you will,” I said, stepping back as the panel slid shut between us, the muted hiss of its seal the only force that could have severed our lingering gaze.