Page 107 of Riv's Sanctuary

Frowning, he willed his eyes away and headed to his hovercar. It was parked far away from the main lodge and far away from her.

Far, far away.

It needed tuning or something.

* * *

By the time evening came, nothing had changed.

Unwanted thoughts of his unwanted guest were still plaguing his mind and he forced himself to keep tuning the hover vehicle long into the dark-cycle.

When he finally slid from underneath the air-compression engine, his back ached from being in one position for so long.

Rubbing the tendons in his shoulders, he headed into the dwelling.

She should be asleep by now. That meant there would be no chitchatting. No big brown eyes. No urge to be amicable.

Sure enough, when he entered the main room, she was nowhere to be seen, but the smell of flowers filled the entire room as if she’d gone and writhed naked against every free surface.

Riv inhaled deeply.

He was about to walk past the table when he spotted it—a bowl of rai and braised meat.

He stopped breathing.

She'd cooked again, for him?

After working all day?

Something within him cracked.

He didn't know if he should sit and eat or walk away and leave it there. Surely the latter would push her further away. Taking any of her kindness was surely equivalent to encouraging bad behaviour.

It was like training an animal not to do a certain action but rewarding it when it did anyway.

Scratching the back of his neck, he glared at the meal.

Two home-cooked meals in such a short time. This didn’t feel like his house. It felt like he’d walked unwittingly into another dimension where his other self had things better.

"That's yours." The female appeared at the doorway to the corridor, her voice a bit raspy with sleep.

Riv swallowed hard.

"Tried to keep it warm but didn't want to keep using the stove. Don't know if it's gas you use or what. I didn’t want to waste it. Should be okay to eat but I can warm it for you, if you like."

She walked forward, wobbling a bit, obviously exhausted, and reached for the bowl.

As she did, her flowery scent attacked his nostrils with a new, strong wave.

For some reason, it pissed him off; it pissed him off well and truly, but not in the usual way.

He wasn't pissed at her. He was suddenly pissed at himself.

Grasping her arm, he stopped her from walking past him, and she stumbled against him instead, her chest pressing into his side.

That wasn’t the right move, for now he could feel every phekking contour of her figure. Her softness. Her curves. Her phekking teats.

"Why are you doing this?" he snarled, very aware that he sounded furious but the range of his vocal chords were not his concern.