by V. K. Ludwig
At the back of my mind, I braced myself for how she would pull away from me any moment now, once more reminded of how I was the invader. But her hand went from my cheek to the back of my head, pulling me even deeper into her kiss. My penis grew thick and engorged, straining against her hip.
I wanted to be inside her, and for once not for the purpose of leaving my child in her womb. I ached for the closeness, and that acceptance of hers I knew I shouldn’t have expected. Just like I’d never deserved her forgiveness for taking her planet, her father. Things that never much troubled my conscience, but now pierced it each time I thought of it.
Before she could pull me any closer onto her mouth, I let my lips retreat, pressing my forehead against hers with a shaky breath. “I’ll give you some space.”
But as I got ready to lift myself off the bed, her hand settled against mine. “I don’t want to be alone. Please stay.”
A moment. A beat.
I nodded and lay down next to her, my heart pumping hard as she nestled herself against me, head on my chest. My mate was most likely carrying my child. If she was aware or not, I didn’t know. But she said nothing, so I remained silent as well.
I wanted to stay. As a matter of fact, I didn’t want to leave.
Not now.
Not ever.
Chapter 17
Eden
“How are you feeling today?” Nifal asked, leaning on his cane next to the exowomb I worked on.
The midday sun bathed the entire Vault in a warm, orange shimmer, making the place appear a little less cold, a little less mechanic. At the center of the high-vaulted chamber, the onyx pillar stood veined in red, cleaning the blood of the unborn babies before filtering it back based on blood type.
“I’m not sure,” I said, knowing I was supposed to be full of paralyzing grief.
I blinked my eyes to spurt on those tears, but my vision remained sharp, my cheeks bare. Perhaps I had run dry during these last four days crying myself to sleep in Torin’s arms.
All I got was closure.
It wrapped around me like a blanket stuffed with comfort, the edges cross-stitched with solace, marking the end of my old life.
“I guess I’m making my peace with it,” I said. “It’s not like I was oblivious to the possibility all this time. Maybe I grieved so much during the first two weeks that I don’t have any left.”
“You could have taken a few days off.”
I tapped against the neuroplate of the fetus. Work had filled the missing places… and Torin. “One of his neural pathways misfired yesterday, which caused him pain.”
“Perhaps a surgeon should test his impulses.” He swiped through the hologram of the baby’s vitals, reading through information I could only partially decipher. “Let us hope we can keep him comfortable until harvest.”
I didn’t bite back that scoff of disgust. “You shouldn’t call it that.”
“It is easy to grow disenchanted with the formation of life when it is not hidden from view.”
I grabbed the sonic cleaner from the side of the wall, chills rattling up my spine. Even after weeks of working at the Vault, tending to the baby’s wounds never got any easier.
I clasped my fingers around the spindly arm of the fetus and held him still. The cleaner vibrated over his neuroplate, a piece of round metal that attached to his bone and connected his nerves all the way into his brain. The technology kept pathways alive and stimulated, improving his chances to accept a bionic limb at some point.
Sediment from the amniotic fluid settled onto the neuroplates over time and needed cleaning. That’s where I came in.
It wasn’t the fanciest job — but it was my job.
I stepped over to the next exowomb and worked my hands into the gloves. “This one’s got some tricks up his sleeve.”
I stroked the tip of my index finger over his palm. Skin pink, arm still covered in a downy carpet of lanugo, he let his tiny fingers wrap around mine in a tight grasp. Nails now reached the tips, appearing a bright red underneath. “I’d say we’ve got ourselves a warrior here. This boy has got a tough grip.”
“Coming from you, it must be true,” Nifal said, knowing full well how I loathed the idea of strati.
“I’d rather see him grow up in a family.”
“As would I.” He glanced over the many rows of exowombs, watching the other healers clean wounds, detangle umbilical cords, or rotate the fetuses into a different position. “Have you spoken with Torin about your idea to have them adopted into mixed families?”
I shook my head. “I wanted to bring it up that night, but then he gave me the report, and things just fell apart from there.”
“Bring it up now,” he said, jutting his chin toward the entrance where Torin stepped through the airlock. “The black box clasped in his hand tells me it is lunchtime.”
A frown framed Nifal’s leaving gaze as he walked away and turned into the next row.
Black boots stomped up beside me, Torin’s hands outstretched with something turning the air around us hearty, with traces of sour cream and fresh parsley. “It’s still warm.”
“Did anybody ever tell you how stubborn you are?” I asked, suppressing that grin shoving against the corners of my mouth. “I’m fine with just breakfast and dinner.”
“Law of —”
“Large numbers, yeah, I get it. But it’s also a huge waste of food.”
He shrugged. “It’s synthesized, we reuse the molecules later.”
“A waste of effort and time then.”
“I am never wasting my time if I get to spend it with you, even if it is to collect yet another rejection,” he said, making my knees go weaker than they should have. “How are you feeling today, anam ghail?”
I stared at the guy who called himself my mate, and how he seemed to stand up straighter as I did, his shoulders held a bit wider. As if this was an assessment, and he desperately wanted to pass.
No doubt Torin was a handsome man.
I liked him best after we mated, with his features peaceful, all stiffness gone, that air of formality he couldn’t always rid replaced by that cocky guy underneath.
“I’m okay. Happy to have a job that keeps me occupied and distracted.” I pulled my hands from the exowomb, and sanitized my hands on the hover cart beside me. “What does anam ghail mean? You keep saying it, but the words alone make no sense no matter which way I try to translate them.”
“An ancient expression. It means fated one.”
My gaze lost itself in the amniotic fluid before me, murkier with each day. “There was an injured warrior at the restaurant where I hid who called me that.” At Torin’s frown, I explained. “He died less than an hour later.”
“He might have been in shock,” he said, running his fingers over my head as if he wanted to relieve me of the painful memory. “Every single Vetusian who came to Earth did so to find his anam ghail. If he thought he had found his, then I’d say he died a satisfying death.”
As much as I had held on to my bullet that day, I regretted not giving the warrior that seventy cents courtesy. The more time I spent surrounded by Vetusians, the clearer it became that suffering was universal.
“Hey, listen, um…” I stroked a hand over my neck, trying to rub those nodules out of my muscles. “There’s something I wanted to ask you for a while now but with my dad and all… Anyway, I was wondering if it’s possible to find adoptive families for all the boys of this crop.”
“Adoption?” The Vault cooled the moment he rubbed his free palm over his chin. “Over sixty percent of them are severely compromised, Eden.”
Disappointment collapsed my shoulders. “You don’t like the idea then…”
“That is not what I said.” He tortured his upper lip, the green doubt coming from his squinted eyes sharp enough to cut. “There is more to this than finding families, which might already prove difficult. After the harvest, they will be the property of the Empire, and I will no longer have any say about them. Adoption will re
quire a vote, and the other Wardens have little interest in sensibilities. Funds need to be allocated and assigned. We would need to found a department. Find workers to perform a duty we have no experience with.”
“But I could help. I don’t have any experience with adoptions per se, but I talked to plenty of social workers at the hospital. Look for human professionals from that field.”
“None of that will be of any help if the other Wardens don’t agree. I am not all-powerful, Eden.”
The moment I lifted my foot to step away, he placed an arm around my middle and pulled me flush against him as if he wanted to brand his body into mine.
This time my eyes were the ones drifting up to his lips. The same ones I had kissed four days ago as if they contained the strength I needed to survive. I had felt safe in his arms.
My body heated at the memory.
All those matings with Torin had left a staggering need behind. Like a tower of building blocks. They swayed whenever he came close to me now. How much longer until they’d tumble?
He balanced the box of food on five fingertips. “Eat this, and I promise I will call a vote on it. I can’t guarantee anything beyond that.”
With each inch my hand closed in on the box, his lips curved higher into a smile until he had no choice but to open his mouth into a fat grin. It looked good on him.
Gosh, how much I missed smiling, laughing, and enjoying life. Did I still remember how to laugh, or had the muscles shriveled away during those months I’d forbade myself to use them?
Torin handed me the box. “I will see you at home after your shift, okay?”
At home.
How could two words wrap me in so much comfort?
He walked away with a skip in his step as if he had just won a battle of wills. All over a damn box of what smelled like Shepard’s Pie. I’d sure made a mess of this thing between us. Shit. I wasn’t even sure anymore if I wanted to send him away.
It wasn’t as though I loved him. I didn’t. But sticking together for the sake of a child? I mean, we got along and all. So why not? Wouldn’t be the first time that happened in the history of families.
“He loves you so very much.”
I snorted a desperate laugh as if I had something to hide. “Torin can’t love. He said so himself.” When my stomach contracted at my own words, I quickly added, “Not that it matters, because I could never love him.”
Nifal huffed into the chamber and glanced around, his cane tapping the floor in beat with each syllable that followed. “The. Lies. We. Tell. Those we convince ourselves of might very well be our worst enemy.”
“You sound like my dad,” I said, my chest rising at the memory of him. “I can hear him tapping the dining table, head shaking while he stares me down. There ain’t no enemy worse than yourself, babygirl.”
“Your father was a wise man.” He followed me to the next exowomb, his steps less animated with each day he aged. “There is no prison stronger than the one of your own mind. A Vetusian saying.”
I shoved my hands into the gloves of the next exowomb, checking the cropped arm for necrotic tissue. In less than a week, these babies would be ready for birth.
Nifal leaned over, waiting until his eyes caught with mine before he casually said, “When do you intend to tell Torin that you are with his child?”
I almost choked on my spit. My chest tightened, and I pulled my hands from the exowomb to give another of those annoying tugs on my neckline. Something I’d blamed on the fabric for two weeks. But now, with my period late for just as long, that explanation had run its course.
“Things were hectic,” I blurted. “How did you find out anyway?”
“Your breasts are causing you discomfort,” he said. “I might be old, but I lived during a time when we still had females. When are you going to tell him?”
“If he’d paid attention, he would have figured it out by now.”
“It would not surprise me if Torin ignores it,” he said. “But nothing of this answers my question. When will you tell him?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Soon.”
“Why not right away?”
“I don’t know. Because.”
Nifal’s next exhale whistled from his nostrils, his stare making me want to squat down and hug myself. Somehow, I had hoped to find guidance in his expression. Instead, I found questions.
And what happens once he knows, they asked. Are you going to send him away? Banish him from his child’s life?
Yeah, I got no idea, old man.
“Many a Vetusian believes fate is supposed to make things easy. Fate binds you to your mate not to spare you difficulties, but to give you a partner who will face hardship with you.” His gaze locked on the amniotic fluid in front of him. “Did I ever tell you of crop zero? The first batch of fertilized eggs we incubated to gestation?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Things were not always the way you see them here today.”
He gave a wide wave at the Vault, pain growing in his tone. Where Nifal had looked old a few seconds ago, he now appeared ancient, as if the memory of it sucked the life right out of him.
“Crop zero grew inside a temperature-controlled chamber much like this one,” he said. “We automated everything. We did not understand what we were doing. Did not understand what effects maturing in such a place would have on them.”
He dug a hand into his chest, making concern wash over me, which ticked into panic with each of his sways. “You okay? Want me to walk you over to the bench?”
“Thirty Earth months,” he wailed, placing his hand onto mine as he clenched his eyes shut. “That was how long the fetuses spent inside a black chamber, with not as much as a footstep reaching their ears. It was a silent place. A place of darkness.”
Darkness. The cruel agony of this place transferred onto me in the form of shivers, draining all heat from my skin, letting cold penetrate me to the mark of my bones.
Did all Vetusians born from exowombs sleep with their lights on?
Only two.
Nifal tapped my hand as if he encouraged me to connect the dots.
“Physically, they surpassed our expectations. But as they matured, it became clear that they were… different.” The moment his eyes opened they locked with mine, sending a stabbing pain into my sternum. “Some of them suffered from depression and committed suicide. Many were scared of the dark. They all were a danger to themselves. And those who lost control over that defect we created were a danger to others.”
Drained of all warmth, my arms wrapped around myself all on their own. Trembles ransacked my body to a point my mind turned dizzy.
I stared out the window where Torin disappeared inside his stargazer. And then I forced the question across the threshold of my frozen lips. “How many of them are still alive?”
“Only two.”
Chapter 18
Eden
“Torin!” My voice shattered against the emptiness of the hallway, and I dropped my coat on the ground before I stepped into his office.
He jumped up from his desk chair with such speed, the headrest crashed into the wall behind with a thump. “You’re home early. Did something happen?”
“Yes, something happened,” I said, voice steady. “You and I need to talk…”
Why my voice trailed off, I couldn’t say. What had started as a force of nature turned quiet, my voice stolen by the man standing in front of me.
Had I ever looked at him like this?
Truly tried to see what he was?
A warrior with scars.
A Vetusian with stigma.
A child scared of the dark?
Pity rushed through me with such force it almost hurt. What was I supposed to do with him? Or that affection slowly seeping into my core? That unforgivable urge to curl up against his chest and allow myself to be weak? Allow him to be scared?
When I took a deep breath, he held up his palm and walked around his desk, his eyes holding the sorrows of the wor
ld. “You know?”
“Yes, I know,” I said, heaviness dragging on my vocal cords. “Nifal told me.”
His hand lowered the moment his eyes closed, his lips pressed into a thin line for long seconds. “So he confirmed it already.”
“Yes. Wait, what?”
He grabbed me by my hips and picked me up, shoving my back against the wall. All strength drained from my muscles, turning my breath shallow. One hand gripped around my thigh. With the other, he clasped my chin, forcing me to meet his green, tortured eyes.
“I refuse to leave,” he growled, pressing his forehead against mine, his breath fast, labored. “Call me cruel and without honor, but I will watch you swell with our child. Will be there when you birth it. Want to see every drop of spilled milk running down your breasts.”
I felt every single one of his words on every inch of my skin, penetrating to my deepest layers, threatening to burn me up from the inside like a fever. He knew I was pregnant.
I trailed my thumb over his forehead, down his cheeks, and along his jaws, mapping every aspect of his features. Those lips which rarely ever smiled at first, but now had left the trace of a line above them. Those emerald eyes which once pinned me down, now caressing me with tenderness and unquestioned devotion.
“That wasn’t what I wanted to talk about.” A single kiss placed against his lips before I said, “Crop zero.”
That shame in his eyes again.
It darkened his irises, turning them so heavy he dropped his head until chin hit sternum. His fingers wandered to my cheek, cold tips against heated veins. “Are you scared of me now?”
“No.”
One quick move, and he fisted my hair. He yanked my head, exposing my neck, trailing his tongue over the side in delicious pain. “And now?”
The tremble of his hand soaked into my scalp, making each strand of hair tingle at the root. I sensed my mate restraining the predator within him, keeping him in chains no matter how brittle.
