Chapter 3

CHAPTER

THREE

JESSICA

The lava below me is hot, but I don’t think that can be blamed for the wash of warmth that covers my skin right now.

No, that can safely be attributed to the large green hand wrapped around my biceps.

Why being around Trench reminded my libido that I haven’t gotten laid in months when Drift didn’t, I can’t guess.

Maybe it’s because I was predisposed to dislike him.

Whatever the reason, I have to ignore it.

It can’t go anywhere.

Trench glances back the way we came like he’s heard something deep in the outpost. “We should go back to the living areas and get you settled.”

I nod, wondering if he has anything I can eat. The specimens in the lab probably would have put me off lunch ten years ago, but I would have starved long before now if I hadn’t built up a stomach of steel.

Walking back through the lab, I give it another once-over, trying to find whatever it was that made him think I’d run away screaming.

Because that’s what I saw in the hesitation. He thought his workspace would shock me… or maybe he thought the creatures would make me balk.

It’s not pretty, but specimens rarely are.

Yes, dead things are gross and sad and generally creepy, but sometimes, that’s the only way we can find out more about something… by studying what’s left behind.

Trench glances at the cav—I am going to have to remember that word—at the creature in the freezer, like he’s checking to make sure it didn’t come back to life, but it’s a quick movement of his head—a habit.

I follow behind him and press my lips to a flat line. When people imagined green men from space, before we knew that Isia was out here, they usually added “little” to their descriptions. Trench was not anywhere in their estimations. Not just because there’s nothing about him that’s little.

He’s big—they’re all big —and his dark green skin shimmers a little when we get back to the natural light in the living spaces of his home.

Under the harsh ones in the lab, the lightly raised patterns on his skin had been clearer… and so had the maze of scars.

He walks straight into the kitchen as if he can hear my thoughts… or maybe he can hear my stomach growl.

But he doesn’t go to what I recognize as their version of a fridge. He goes to a panel in the wall, opening it and sliding out an enormous black bin.

“What’s that?”

“A drone delivery I didn’t order. I assume Drift sent over a package for your care and upkeep.”

“That makes me sound like a rescue dog.”

He tips his head to the side. “I doubt dogs would be sent this particular array of things.”

He lifts out a basket and sets it on the counter. There’s a big bow with a tag that says Welcome! and a note that tells me the gifts are from all of the brotherhood’s current bondmates—there are four—and the infamous Margot.

I read the card from Kimba, another instance of “if you need anything let me know,” and pick through the bags and decorative boxes.

The first box has baked goods from a woman named Cindy—Core’s bondmate.

Lemon bars—as soon as I see them, I remember how much Laurel loves them—a small stack of cookies I can’t identify, and a list of things she’ll happily send over. The I stress bake scrawled at the bottom has a bit more of a slant to it than the other words.

What could she possibly have to be stressed about?

Laurel sent over an outrageously colorful hat and mittens set. They are neon green and pink striped and… I hate them.

My sisters can try to out-color each other all they want, I will pass.

I tuck those away. I’ll take them home to Chrys.

Kimba sent over every possible piece of technology I could need while I’m here—since I left everything but my phone behind, and it is basically a brick until I get home.

Andrea—the note tells me she’s Strike’s bondmate—sent me an English-Sian conversational dictionary, a notebook with a stylized zurgle on the front, a pen and… the group chat info.

It almost feels like a welcome packet for Trench’s future bondmate.

Heat prickles at the nape of my neck. That’s not what this is, but it makes me feel like I’m intruding.

I probably should find somewhere else to bivouac, but—I glance at Trench unloading a box of food onto the counter—I don’t want to.

I’ll examine the motivation behind that some other time.

And at the very bottom of the basket is a heart-shaped black box with another heart scrawled in neon pink paint pen across the top that has Margot written through the middle. The infamous Margot.

What could she possibly have wanted to send me? I open the lid and snap it closed immediately.

“Is something wrong?” Trench asks from the other side of the island.

“No.” I purse my lips and shake my head. “Definitely not.”

There definitely isn’t a Sian-shaped dildo in that box that is a particularly familiar shade of green.

I am not going to thank Margot for that if I ever meet her.

“So, what else did they send over?” I ask.

“Food for a week,” he tips a bag of couscous to the side, reading the label. “But if you need something else, we can get it before this runs out.”

“Honestly, right now, I’d just kill for a sandwich.”

He smiles and pulls a knife from where it was hidden on his leg. Laying it flat on the counter before then sliding it across to me.

I stare at it for a second, and then I laugh. “That is a figure of speech on Earth.”

“I know. I have seen many Earth movies.” He pauses, looking pensively at the knife and then continues, “But also… keep the knife. You should always have a weapon on you.”

I pick it up, and it’s so much bigger than I thought it was. “I think something smaller than a sword would do.”

“I will find something better suited to you.”

Trench looks down at the groceries on the counter, lips twisted, and then up at me. “What are you allergic to?”

“Nothing.”

Eyes narrowed accusingly, he asks, “You’re sure?”

I don’t know why that makes me laugh, but. “Yeah.”

He still doesn’t look convinced.

“Don’t all humans have allergies?”

“I don’t know who told you that, but they were wrong.”

He nods. “It was extrapolated data. Thank you for the new information.”

“What data was that?”

“Your sister is allergic to cabbage.”

“True.”

“Kimba is allergic to marbaroo root. Andrea is allergic to zurgles. Cindy to something called penicillin and Suzette…” He blinks like it was a name he hadn’t meant to say. “Was allergic to certain metals.”

He picks up a little hive-shaped bottle of honey. “I have not previously met a woman who had no allergies.”

“I’m just blessed, I guess.”

The ever-curious part of my brain wants to ask who Suzette is and why she made him hesitate. Maybe she was a woman he saw at Margot’s and he’s uncomfortable about that.

Whoever she is, it’s not my business.

I pick through the grocery options, finding the fixings for my sandwich and make one, offering to make Trench one too, but he declines.

He studies me for a few moments before he excuses himself. I watch him cross the room and go up the set of stairs on the far end.

He climbs the lazy spiral without looking back at me, disappearing into the dark hallway up there.

As soon as he’s out of sight, I let out a long breath and droop forward.

I did not realize how tense I was until my body released it.

I am not going to be able to survive three months if it stays like this. I don’t know the Sian equivalent of walking on eggshells, but I am doing it.

When he returns, I’ve finished my sandwich and figured out how to turn on the faucet. The water is scalding hot, and my neck heats too, when he glances at me before walking straight out of the room.

I consider following him, but I don’t get the chance. He’s back—so quickly—with my suitcases.

“I’ve prepared a room for you.”

“Thanks, I’m sure unexpected house guests are just as bothersome on this planet. I’ll try to stay out of the way when I’m not being helpful.”

“You are more than welcome to be in the way.” He glances at the room behind him. “I do not spend much time here.”

I want to ask him where he does spend his time, but he turns for the stairs with my suitcases, and I snatch up my bag, my coat and, at the last second, the basket too, and follow him.

The room he leads me to is empty.

All of the right furniture is there, but it doesn’t even look un-lived in like a hotel.

He has no guests.

I hesitate in the doorway, watching as he sets my suitcases down beside a dresser that looks carved out of the wall and walks to the bed. With the push of a button, the sheets are stripped and new ones slip over the mattress. In a few blinks of the eye, it has a fresh set of blankets and pillows.

After, he looks at the room as if he hasn’t really seen it before, and then, his gaze touches on me. “Will you tell me if you need anything this room does not have?”

Probably not. “Sure.”

He points to an open doorway, “Bathroom’s through there,” and then points to the wall beside me. “Room controls are at the door and beside the bed.”

“Thanks.”

He dips his head.

“You’re welcome to any part of the house, but please be safe and stay inside.”

I want to make a joke about not going skinny dipping in the lava pit, but he looks so serious.

“I promise.”

“I’ll leave you to get settled. Let me know if you need anything.”

And he does leave me. Straight back down the hallway and down the stairs too.

It’s not that I feel… unwanted. But I definitely feel like I’ve invaded his space.

Too bad for me, my body wants to get closer. Too bad for my body, my brain says no .

I take my things into the bathroom.

There are clean towels, but otherwise, this room is basically empty too.

I calm myself down by emptying out my toiletries and lining them up in the shower—a rectangle of slate that radiates warmth, even without the water on—and on the vanity.

I should go put my clothes away, but there’s one more thing…

I glance back into the room to be sure he hasn’t come back and snatch the box from Margot out of the basket, closing the bathroom door this time.

I feel like a teenager, not a thirty-two-year-old woman when I open the box.

I’ve owned plenty of sex toys in the last decade, but I’ve never been given one. And I’ve never owned one that felt like it was a dupe for someone, intentionally .

It’s not just the green cock. There’s a bottle labeled Vitamin S and another with the lube brand I’ve seen advertised on Agency billboards for years.

And there’s a note.

I’m not telling you what to do with your life, but you may thank me for the precautions later. Be safe!

And then Margot’s name after a little heart.

I should tuck the gift back in the box and put it in the farthest corner of the bottom drawer beneath my clothes.

I definitely shouldn’t open the bottle to see how big the pills are.

The dildo has a suction cup base and there are so many possibilities…

It would be a waste to not explore them.

I don’t look at myself in the mirror when I pop one of the pills in my mouth and head back into the bedroom to put my clothes away.

TRENCH

“You’re an asshole.”

Drift has the nerve to smile at me. “You said you were fine with me finding you help.”

“Honestly? I don’t care that you sprung this on me right now.” I can’t find it in me to be mad that she’s in my home. “You dropped a woman off on my doorstep and you didn’t tell her anything about me, about the cavrinskh. Did you tell her anything about the Zone?”

“Jessica is a biologist, and you can fill her in on the cavrinskh issues. I’m sure her sister gave her a primer course on the Zone.”

I stare at him. The dismissive tone digs its way under my skin and I know that if I open my mouth, I’m going to say something I regret. So I hang up on him instead.

She’s still upstairs, but she’s taken off her boots. Instead of the soft thud of soles, she pads around above me in socks.

If she’d been placed with anyone else, they might be able to forget she was even here. But all I hear is her.

The sound of a bottle opening and pills rearranging. Before that, the sound of her footsteps on the stairs behind me had been a strange, small echo. From the moment she got here, her heartbeat has been a constant rhythm beneath everything else.

I don’t know what had been in the box from Margot, but I can guess based on the way her eyes had gone round, her cheeks had darkened, and her heart had briefly raced.

If it vibrates, I’m going to be in trouble.

Looking up at the ceiling, tracking the path she takes from bathroom to bedroom and back again, even though I can’t see her, my brain supplies the memory of how she walks. I’ll need to tell her I can hear her. Even now, it feels like I’m spying on her.

I stay in my lab, not doing anything but listening to her until she starts back down the stairs.

When I step back into the living room, she’s on the couch with a tablet and a paper notebook that looks like almost every page is filled with the black marks of her written language.

I sit a distance away, even though I couldn’t read any secrets written there, regardless.

“Okay, now that we’ve established I’m here to stay—for a little while, anyway—can I ask you some questions so we can kind of both get up to speed?”

“Yes, of course.”

“So,” Jess holds up a fluttering stack of paper that had been stuffed inside a notebook. “Here’s what they gave me before I got on the ship.”

She tucks her foot under her other knee and leans forward, skimming. “I was told I get to study cavrinskh, zurgles, you, and other biological fauna on Isia while I’m here.”

“Me?”

She looks up at me, eyes wide and when her gaze drops to my groin, her cheeks flame again. “Um, I mean, Sian men in general, but I do plan on asking you a lot of questions.”

I nod, because of course the paperwork didn’t offer me to her on a platter.

“There’s verbiage in here that tells me I’m going to be doing some speaking for the Agency when I get home, so… I hope you’re okay with the kind of questions a gaggle of women looking to sign up with the Agency might have to ask.” She flips through the pages. “I’m kind of surprised they didn’t give me a list of questions to ask.” She glares at the paper. “But I’m sure that’s coming.”

“I will answer any questions you have.” It’s the least I can do for what Drift has subjected her to.

She smiles at me and I’m glad she can’t hear my heart, because it stopped for two whole beats.

“I promise we’ll work our way up with those. I won’t jump straight into blowjobs.” Her eyes go wide, like she hadn’t meant to say it.

“If you weren’t leaving in three months, I’d be happy for you to jump straight to them.” I don’t let myself hope that she’ll change her mind. After all, hope has failed me before, but…

Her lips part, just a little, and then she swallows, licking them. “Good to know.” And then, quietly, “That might come in handy later.”

Again, I’m far enough away, a normal Sian wouldn’t have heard it.

“Did Laurel tell you we are… different from others of our kind?”

“My sister has been tight-lipped on almost everything in regards to the brotherhood other than her irritation with Drift.” She answers with a smile. “But she did let it slip that Richter heals super fast.”

Nodding, I say, “Richter regenerates, Drift can see things I can’t even imagine, Kilo could be in this room right now and we wouldn’t even know it.”

“Laur said something about the ‘cold boys’ being impervious to the freezing temperatures.”

“Something like that. Hazard has strength and endurance I don’t think he’s ever actually tested, and Strike is basically a walking sedative. Core senses magnetic fields… it makes him a living compass and timepiece.”

“And what about you?” She asks, a soft smile on her lips.

“I wound up with two curses.”

“Curses?” She repeats, head tipped to the side. “Those all sound like they’re helpful.”

“I can hear things that people can’t.”

“Like… voices that aren’t there? Or like you can hear my heartbeat?”

“I could hear you moving upstairs, I could track every step you made. And if there’s something you don’t want me to hear, you probably shouldn’t say it out loud, no matter how softly, unless I’m out in the Zone.”

“Interesting.” Her eyes squint, moving, as if she’s trying to remember what she might have said earlier. “What’s the other thing?”

“I never forget anything.”

“Ever? Or is it an eidetic thing?”

“I remember everything. ”

“That does sound like a curse.” She takes a deep breath and taps her finger on her leg. “Do you need me to speak more quietly? Avoid yelling? That sort of thing? Oh! I am definitely not going to call Chrys if loud noises are going to be a problem.”

“They aren’t.” I hold up my hand and she looks less worried. “You don’t have to do anything differently than you normally would. I just needed you to know… in case… later.”

She watches me for a moment, her eyes narrowed… and then, they widen. “Ohhhh. So if I was doing something in my room, you’d be able to hear me?”

I nod.

“Good to know.” She scribbles something down on her paper, instead of tapping it into the tablet.

“I’ve been told a lot of our tech has been re-engineered to make it easier for you to use, but if you need help, I can assist with anything you need.”

“Thank you. This has been pretty user-friendly so far. I can read Sianese, but speaking it is beyond me.”

“If you wanted to learn, I could help teach you.” As soon as I say it, I realize how much I want her to say yes.

I want to speak to her in both of our languages and learn the way she would pronounce some of the things she’s only heard in text.

“I may take you up on that.”

She turns back to the tablet and I leave her to do whatever she needs to with it, before I make any more ridiculous offers just to be closer to her.

JESSICA

Trench answers all my rudimentary world questions and promises me a trip to a zurgle cafe in the city within the week.

I spend half the time taking notes and the other half watching for any sign I’ve spoken too loud, or he’s heard something I can’t.

I’m not trying to test him, but I am desperately curious.

He made dinner while I wasn’t paying attention—I am definitely going to have to find a way to make him let me share the cooking responsibilities.

But when he sets the plate down in front of me, my eyes boggle.

“That is… a lot.”

“I don’t know your dietary requirements,” he says, looking sheepish. “Please don’t feel like you should eat any more than you need.”

There is a veritable mountain of food on my plate. “Do you always eat this much?”

He glances at my plate and then down to his own, which holds more than mine.

“Yes. But I am significantly larger than you.”

I can’t argue with him about that.

By the time I’m done, he’s finished his plate.

“Where are your storage containers?” I ask, realizing I also need to take some time this week to learn my way around his home.

We’re both going to get really annoyed if I have to ask him where every little thing is.

But when he opens a cabinet hidden in the metal plating on the walls, I let out a little sigh.

I’m not short , but I am not going to be able to reach that either.

I doubt he has a step stool.

“How tall are you?” I ask as he hands me a metal cube, popping the lid with a practiced flick of his thumb.

“Two hundred and five point eight three teks.”

“Do you happen to know the conversion to imperial or metric?”

Trench taps the counter beside him and the whole thing turns into a screen. A few virtual keystrokes later, he says, “Six feet, nine and seven-eighths of an inch.”

“Thank you.” I scoop the leftovers into the cube, not looking at him as I tell him, “The Agency tells us you’re all six-nine on the dot, but it sounds like they’re not accounting for… teks differences.”

“It is a small range, regardless of the measurement, but as with everything there are outliers.” He takes the cube from me before I can try to put it in the fridge myself. “The Agency believes that the children of Sian-human pairings will be shorter, but there aren’t any who have reached full maturity yet.”

The oldest mixed child is in their teens, but I feel like the paper I read said she was already over six feet tall.

“And one of the brotherhood is almost eight of your feet tall. But I doubt you’ll meet him. Fault is… a recluse.”

That feels like a lie, but maybe it’s just the confusion on his face that makes me feel that way.

“If you could maybe make that happen, I’d be interested to know if there was anything else that’s different.”

“I will ask, but it feels like it would be unhelpful. Fault’s size may be directly related to what the Maker did to him.”

“The Maker? Are there giant snow worms here I should be worried about?”

Trench winces.

“Sorry, stupid joke.”

“He is the man who is the reason why I can’t forget anything and Drift has to wear those lenses to keep the world from searing his retinas and has made Kilo think none of us remember him.”

“Oh.” Extra stupid joke. I bite my tongue before I can tell him he doesn’t have to talk about it. Because I want to know. I’m not going to push for him to tell me, but if he does on his own…

But he doesn’t. He takes the dishes and passes them through a panel in the wall.

There’s no dishwasher, so that must be it.

Laurel might have forgotten to tell me some very important things, but she did manage to brag about the devices on Isia that made housework the easiest thing on either of our planets.

Beds change themselves, laundry goes in a chute and then appears in a basket already folded… I’d bet those plates wind up back in their compartments.

“So, you’re average height. What about average build?” I ask, poking his arm.

He looks down to where I poked, as if he can still see the depression of my finger. “I am fairly average in that respect.”

“Yeah? Do you have to work out multiple times a day, or are Sian men physically predisposed to… this?”

This time, I squeeze his biceps and don’t let go immediately. I definitely shouldn’t want to touch him, but I can write this off as tactile experimentation.

Trench’s skin is so soft, the muscle beneath it flexing as I chew on the inside of my lip, pretending I don’t feel the way he’s looking at me.

I manage not to protest when he gently pulls his arm away from me and points at the stairs. “One floor down, third door on the right.”

He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I go, and the fact that he follows puts me at ease.

The wide spiral continues downward, though it had looked like another hallway, not the next flight, before.

Lights turn on as I descend, and I count the doorways, stepping into a gym that would have jacked up the facility fees on my apartment way beyond my budget.

“Some of us,” he begins from behind me. “Are genetically predisposed to a denser musculature.”

“Humans too.”

“Hazard doesn’t have to do anything to maintain his physical being, but the rest of us cannot rely on our daily routine to maintain the strength we need to deal with the cavrinskh without supplemented, focused physical activity.”

“Another item for the ‘we’re not so different’ column.” I weave through the weights, glancing at the numbers queued up for his next workout.

I’ll have to come down and log them so I can check the conversions later.

“Being out in the snow and ice often means we have to eat more than others of our kind as well.”

“Because the cold makes you burn more calories?”

“Yes.”

“Not so different from humans at all.”

“But you already knew that. How else would we be able to breed?”

Something about the way he said it has my neck hot.

I’m sure I just imagined the slight stress on the word “we.”

“Have you always been this forthcoming?”

“All my life.”

“Okay then.” I file that away for later. “Do you know any of your family history? Anything that might make you different from the normal Sian man?”

His mouth twists when I say the word normal.

“I just mean, you and the rest of the brotherhood have a job that necessitates certain differences, not just in musculature.”

That seems to appease him, and he scowls for a moment before moving past me, down the hall to a dark doorway. He ushers me in as the lights flick on.

It’s like a hospital room—another difference between the brotherhood and other Sian homes, I would assume.

He moves to a large piece of diagnostic equipment. “Can you read our language?”

“Yep, it and Latin are a staple of my field.”

Stepping out of the way, he leaves the enormous monitor open to me.

It’s his medical records.

All of his medical records.

I don’t know why I’m suddenly uncomfortable.

“Um, thank you. This will be helpful, but I’d still like to talk things through with you, if that’s alright.”

“Anything you need. As long as it’s within my power.” Again, his face shifts with discomfort. “There will be gaps in my knowledge. I have a younger brother, but our parents died when we were very young.”

He says it so calmly, as if there’s nothing strange at all about his past. A past I don’t need many more details on, but I desperately want to ask for.

“You really are always this straight-forward.” I muse as he leads the way back upstairs.

“When I can be.” He pauses, eyes directed at the far corner of the ceiling. “I’ve never felt the need to shield my opinions or the bare facts from others.”

“Then I think you may be the perfect man for me.”

He blinks quizzically, and I realize how that might have sounded.

“For my purposes, I mean.” But my cheeks heat and I try not to die a little inside.

I should not be acting like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“You may want to meet more of us before you bestow that title on me.”

“Yes,” I say, even though my mind has decided that I don’t need to.

A scientist with a crush. I definitely need to broaden my data pool when it comes to the Sian column of my research here.

He lets me question him about the weather, how often he goes into town, how many hours he spends in his lab, and two dozen other things before I realize how late it is when a yawn makes me stretch against the soft fabric of his sofa.

I barely remember laying down during the interrogation—I can’t pretend it was anything else.

“You traveled a long way, I should have made sure you slept earlier.”

“My sleep schedule has always been a wreck, but if I keep you up past your bedtime, don’t feel bad about telling me I need to wrap up.”

He holds his hand out to me, and when I take it, he pulls me up so quickly I squeak, and he has to catch hold of me so I don’t hit the ground.

“Sorry,” he says, looking confused.

“Don’t worry about it.” I have to quash the five questions that immediately arise. Asking if he’d like to toss me around isn’t the right way to end the night.

He lets me down, and we’re both silent as I slide along his body.

Damn.

I have always been a glutton for punishment.

Jaw tight, he takes a step back and I force myself not to look down as I head for the stairs. I don’t need to see what I felt.

He walks me to my room, pointing to one further down the hall. “If you need anything, I will be down the hall.”

And then I’m alone.

I snatch my pajama shorts and tank top out of my bag and head for the bathroom.

It’s not until I’m spitting out the last of my toothpaste that I realize I should have some sort of fear response.

The primal part of my brain should recognize that there’s next to nothing substantial between me and a man who is danger personified. But it doesn’t.

I’ve literally never met a man as big, or strong as Trench, and the fact that he could easily hurt me hasn’t crossed my mind once before now.

Maybe I’m too tired to be scared.

I glance at the green dildo. Maybe I’m too horny.

I consider the facsimile for a moment. That suction cup and the shower… the water should drown out the noise, but I am exhausted. And Trench told me he can hear everything. I have to trust he meant everything .

When I slip between the sheets, my hazy mind tumbles into the dark blur of dreams.

Dreams broken by someone moving past my bedroom door.

I bolt upright, blinking into the strange room as my ears struggle to place the stranger noises.

The light from the windows bathes the room in an eerie green hue, and it’s the color that catches my mind back up to speed.

Trench.

I toss aside the covers, pausing only long enough to grab my glasses, snatch socks from the drawer and hop out the doorway as I put them on.

I go to Trench’s room first, but the bed is empty.

That eases me a little.

No doubt the sounds I hear in the living area are just him. But why is he up at… whatever ungodly time this is?

And then, my brain clicks back on.

There’s only one reason he’d be up right now.

Swallowing the lump lodged in my throat, I hurry to the stairs, stopping at the top and finding him in the dim light.

Trench is wearing the same kind of suit Drift was. He taps information into a screen on the wall.

He glances up at me, just once before going back to what he’s doing.

“I have a cavrinskh sighting I have to go take care of. Go back to bed. I’ll be home before daybreak.”

He leaves without any more reassurance. I’m frozen, blinking after him.

I know more about what he’s heading into than I should. And the idea fills me with a sickly cold dread.