An Alien for Her Heart (A New Home #2)

2. Varek

2

VAREK

I don’t sleep. For the entire dark cycle, I remain awake, tossing and turning in my bunk. Now as dawn rises, the star’s rays seem to light up the fact the room is painfully quiet, just the rustling of sleep coverings breaking the silence as I move. Every little sound is like a loud noise that threatens to shatter the stillness.

My gaze shifts to my comm where it’s resting nearby. The screen is dead. No notifications. No messages. No pings. No one to speak to. My brother’s absence is a tangible thing, a hollow space that seems to swallow up all the air and light.

Some of his belongings are still here. I can just make them out among the shadows settled in the room. A pair of trouse. Boots. Little things he left after moving away to his new home .

Because Zynar has a mate. The thought sends a pang of something sharp and bittersweet lancing through my chest. After so many cycles spent resigned to a fate of solitude, my brother’s core-rhythm sang for a female neither of us had expected to find. The fates brought her to him.

A displaced Kari has found a mate. Zynar has found a home . And I…

I am alone.

I’ve seen the way Zynar looks at his mate, the way his entire being seems to light up in her presence. It’s both beautiful and painful to witness. I try to picture it, try to imagine what it must feel like to be so certain of one’s place in the universe, to know beyond any doubt that you belong to someone and they to you. But the image slips away, as elusive as the shadows that haunt me now.

I’ve never been lonely before; not quite like this. Not with this aching, yawning emptiness that seems to carve out my insides and leave me raw and exposed. I’m a warrior, battle-scarred and hardened. I have long ago made peace with the idea that solitude will be my only companion.

But now, in the wake of Zynar’s happiness, that hard-won acceptance is crumbling, leaving behind a yearning so fierce it steals away my breath. And this yearning is like a virus. I’ve heard the whispers, reports of other displaced Kari becoming reckless and approaching unmated females with a boldness born of desperation.

A bitter smile twists my lips at the irony of it all. My siblingkin’s mating has unleashed a flood of repressed hope among our people. A wild, reckless want for connection that borders on madness.

But who am I to judge? That madness I scoff at is the same madness writhing within me now. The same hope. The fact there might be a chance. I try to push it away, but the thought lingers still. It lingers…and I think of her. The other female who has arrived on the plains. Human, like Zynar’s mate. Her name is Catherine…and she is enchanting.

Gaze shifting to the dawn sky outside, I swallow hard, forcing myself to think of something else. I only met the human once. Briefly, right after Zynar was mated. She’s a stranger, a newcomer to this world who deserves the chance to find her own way without the burden of any Kari’s foolish hopes and dreams. She has come here seeking peace and a fresh start, not the attention of a broken male hoping to find the one who will soothe his soul.

If she was my mate …

I stop the thought right there. It’s a dangerous one. One that could all too easily consume me if I let it take root. I cannot be like the others who must have lost their minds, approaching females on the off chance that my rhythm will sing.

Shaking my head, as if I can physically dislodge the notion from my mind, I rise. I have to focus. There are jobs to do. Tasks to complete. Life goes on even if my siblingkin no longer walks by my side. Work is all I can do. Anything else is a distraction I cannot afford.

Reaching for my boots and tools, my movements are brisk and purposeful as I head into the town. There are many task requests on my list. The sooner I get started, the better.

The work is quick. Focusing on nothing else, I complete the jobs with a sort of robotic efficiency. Each time my comm pings and I accept another task, it helps push another hor behind me. At one moment of calm, I settle in my truck, claws grasping the yoke tight. The lull makes my mind wander. Makes me remember the fact that when I return to my lodge this dark cycle, it will be me and my thoughts again. That this madness rising inside of me is a form of insanity I must push back against.

I’m successful. My thoughts shift away from self-pity and self-loathing to something else. Her. My thoughts shift to the human instead.

When my comm pings, I retrieve it from my pocket with almost too much anticipation. Another job to keep me focused is exactly what I need. Except, it’s not another job. It’s my kahlesta ; my siblingkin Zynar’s mate.

“Good dawn, kahlesta.” The comm lights up and her face fills the screen.

“Varek! So happy I reached you—”

I’m like stone as she explains that she needs my help. That it’s urgent. A life-or-death situation. But what has me not even breathing is the fact it’s not really her that needs the help, but someone else.

With a throat that’s suddenly tight, I tell her I’ll handle it. I can’t say no, even though my core-beat fills with dread tangled up with more anticipation. Engaging the hover truck, I’m shooting across the plains a second later, my entire being thrumming with hope despite efforts to calm myself.

This has nothing to do with fate. This is simply a favor. But as the hover truck comes to a sweet stop, idling as I hop out, my core-beat stutters and beats just a bit harder. There’s a soft wind in the air, carrying with it the distant sounds of baying and stomping. My ears twitch at the commotion as I turn my gaze to the homestead.

So…this is where the other human lives. Catherine.

It’s a homestead much like the one my siblingkin lives in with his mate. A field. Outbuildings. And a main lodge his mate calls a ko’tehj.

There’s a Raki on the roof of this one and as I shut the door of the truck, my gaze slides to him. For an unknown reason, a bristle goes through my scales at seeing him there. And, as if he can sense my focus, he turns, gaze finding me over his shoulder. I dip my head in greeting, even though his presence makes me want to snarl—again, for some unknown reason. I have no problem with the Raki. I see them all the time in the town. They do the same jobs as me and my siblingkin, except they cater to prey species like themselves. And…like the female who owns this farm.

That only reminds me that I shouldn’t be here. Males like me don’t usually get called to help on these plains. That anticipation that swelled in me for the entire journey becomes riddled with uncertainty. Does the human even know I was called? The last thing I want to do is scare her.

As I approach, the Raki’s eyes heighten on me, and even though he dips his head and returns to his work, I can tell he’s still aware of my every move. We Kari are no savages, but his caution is ingrained—and rightly so.

The unnatural behavior of those far-too-hopeful Kari must have spread farther than I thought.

Stepping into the yard, I push the Raki from my mind as my focus shifts. He isn’t the reason I’m here. The human is. Catherine. Except, as I near her lodge, concern tingles along my spine. The door is thrown open wide, a soft breeze blowing the linen she’s hung by the windows. Apart from that, there is no movement within.

She must be hiding, scared out of her wits. I’m about to enter her lodge, find her, and tell her I’ll get her animals settled without trouble when my ears twitch. A sound reaches me through the long grass-feed. Under the commotion from the animals, there’s a soft grunt, an even softer feminine voice muttering words I cannot parse, and then an exasperated huff. I stiffen. The female. She isn’t hiding. She’s in the field, even though she shouldn’t be there. Not when the oogas are scared and mindless. They are big, powerful animals and the human is a small thing compared.

I’m moving without another thought, cutting through the grass-feed in the direction of those soft grunts. The blades are so tall I don’t see her at first. But I can hear her. Hear her grunting and struggling with something, all underneath the cries of a distressed ooga. When I reach the perimeter of her land, I see her.

The human called Catherine. And she’s…she truly is captivating.

She’s sweating and her tunic is ripped. Her black and silver mane is pulled back away from her face. A face that’s currently scrunched in equal frustration and effort combined. For a moment, I can only stare at her. For a moment, I forget my reason for coming out here.

She’s trying to free an ooga trapped in the fence, her hands straining against the massive creature’s weight. The ooga is panicked, its powerful legs kicking up dirt and grass-feed as it struggles, causing itself to bleed against the wires. The human is dangerously close to those thrashing hooves, her brows furrowed, her blunt teeth bared and clenched.

“Hold still, you big lump!” Her voice makes my ears twitch, perking in interest toward her. But her shout doesn’t help her cause. The ooga doubles its efforts to free itself, but it only gets more stuck instead. The wires are now digging into its skin so much that the thing is slowly cutting off its air supply.

I move forward, reaching the human just as the ooga gives another violent kick. She stumbles back, losing her grip, and a flash of fear crosses her face as she realizes she’s falling. Her arms instinctively spread, reaching out to stop her fall or, perhaps, to brace for the impact.

She gasps, her eyes widening the moment it’s not the ground that meets her but the hard ropes of my arms. I expect to simply brace her up, but my breath stills at the moment of contact. The sensation of another being pressed against me completely derails my thoughts. I don’t move. Can’t . I can feel the human’s core-beat racing, pounding like a drum against my chest. Time seems to still as brilliant green eyes find mine, wide and filled with surprise.

“Oh!” She’s startled, and the word is almost like a squeak that passes her lips. She’s so delicate, I can feel every breath she’s taking. “You’re…Varek.”

I dip my chin slightly in affirmation.

She struggles to right herself as I set her on her feet. “I didn’t expect you to arrive so soon.”

Her voice… It’s like a song. If I wasn’t still reeling from the impact of her body against mine, I might be more focused on listening to her speak.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” I say. It comes out all wrong. Gruff and unfriendly, though that’s far from what I intend.

“Oh, I—” The human takes a shaky breath, trying to compose herself, but I can still sense the tension in her frame, the way her muscles remain coiled and ready to spring. Inwardly, I groan at my horrifying social skills.

“I’m Catherine.” She stretches an arm toward me and I look down at it. My siblingkin didn’t tell me much about human customs. I have no clue what she wants me to do. Something of meaning, no doubt, because her arm hangs still outstretched between us.

I do the only thing I can think of. I lean down and press my nose against her skin, inhaling deeply as I take her scent in. A low rumble of appreciation hums in my throat. One that sends a spark through all the thoughts I’ve been having of her. I never imagined what she might smell like, but even if I had, I couldn’t have ever imagined this. Her scent is subtle. A blend of earth and something distinctly her own. Something warm and comforting. It stirs memories of long, lazy afternoons on Karicek, lying in the grass with my siblingkin and watching the sky. When I stand straight again, her eyes are wide pools.

“Thanks for coming.” She blinks away the surprised look and meets my gaze in earnest. “I should have probably stayed in the house until you arrived, but I couldn’t just leave them.” Her voice is a mixture of relief and defiance. “They’re my responsibility.”

I admire her spirit. That frown on her brow doesn’t ease, however, even as she adjusts the tunic on her frame. The trapped animal behind her takes that moment to kick out again and the human jerks to the side, a flash of distress showing in her gaze. I would have missed it, because it disappears just a click later.

My eyes narrow slightly. She is just as I remember her. An enthralling otherworldly beauty despite the anxieties of moving to this planet on her own. Dark and silvery mane with those startling green eyes. A lithe frame, her limbs thin and long as if she’s meant to sway or dance in the wind. With the chaos around us, I hope I’m not obvious in the fact I can’t pull my gaze from her now.

“Your strength and effort are noted, human.” Gruff again. Frakk me. I give her a nod as I turn to the trapped ooga, using it as a distraction. I wouldn’t be surprised if the human runs away and hides from me now. Dodging another kick from the animal, I stretch an arm toward it. My grip is firm but gentle, and the creature calms down enough for me to begin guiding it from the fence. All the while, I’m aware of the human’s presence. Catherine . She’s still not hiding. She’s gripping the neck of her tunic with one fist while the other arm is wrapped tight around herself.

Her throat moves as she swallows hard. Anxiety and fear waft off her in waves. And yet, outwardly, there’s no trembling. None of the waters I’ve learned flow from human eyes when they are distressed. Her gaze shifts from my gentle coaxing of the animal to the other oogas that are still running around the field, some colliding with the fence and sending vibrations through it that work against me.

It’s an effort to keep the animal calm as I work its neck from within the trapped wires. An effort to focus on the task and not on the female behind me. Every single ooga in the field is running around in confusion, and beneath all that, spots of black fur appear and then disappear in the grass at various intervals.

I manage to guide the animal out of the fence and it dashes off to join the chaos of the herd. Catherine watches, her gaze shifting across the field and I wonder what she’s thinking.

“How…how did you do that?” she whispers. “How did you get it to calm down so easily?”

“Luck,” I reply. I don’t tell her it’s simply experience. Somehow, I feel that will make things worse. Experience is not something she will have. Not yet. She’s only just arrived on this world while I have lived on it for a very long time. “Now, let me deal with those umus.”

I don’t expect her to follow me, but she does. She has all the right to. This is her farm. Her livelihood. She has every right to be out here protecting her animals. But she is small and the oogas are panicked. Safety would be to head back to the lodge, away from this chaos. My shoulders are tight as I listen to the soft crunching of her boots. But I can’t turn her away, so I let her come, slowing my pace and parting the tall grass as we move together through the field, me in front and Catherine only a stride behind. In front of us, small furry creatures scatter through the grass at our approach. The umus. They’re quick and elusive, darting around in a blur of motion. I crouch down, waiting for the right moment before I catch one. Catherine’s inhale is sharp at my back.

“Careful,” she whispers. “It might bite.”

I almost smile at her concern over my safety. When I bring the little creature closer to my face, I can tell she stops breathing.

“They don’t bite.” I try to reassure her though I’m not sure I do a good job. My voice is still far too gruff to soothe any female and attempting to change it is only making it worse. “They’re harmless. Just playful.”

Her lack of faith in my words is evident. It’s so distinct, it’s the only truly unmistakable emotion I’ve seen in her eyes thus far.

“Playful?” She echoes, her voice lilting. “They’re little demons!”

This time, slight humor tugs at the corners of my lips. “They’re prone to mischief.” I pause, allowing my gaze to venture to hers. “Would you like to hold it?”

She blinks at me, lids fluttering over the vivid green of those eyes. She shakes her head, hands tightening where she’s still gripping the tunic by her throat and I wonder why she’s holding it so tightly. To prevent the tunic from exposing her skin? Another dangerous thought as my gaze slides down her frame. She’s probably pale all over. No scales.

“I don’t think holding that thing is wise.” She shakes her head, eyes still on the umu in my grasp, and I’m reminded of what I’m doing here. It’s enough to make me swallow to wet my suddenly dry throat. It’s been a long time since I’ve stared at any female long enough to wonder what she looks like bare. I swallow again, claws retracted as I stroke the umu’s furred head, aware of every single breath the female takes behind me. Rising, I lift the umu just to show her how docile the little things are.

“Wild umus stay away from other beings. These ones are friendly. Chances are, they belonged to this very farm a long time ago.” Cradling the thing to my chest, I turn to face the human. Her eyes are even larger pools in her head as she stares at me.

“Wh—” She makes a sound in her throat. As if something’s stuck and she’s clearing it away. “Do you think so?”

I would give her the Kari salute for assurance, but my arms are full. “I’m positive they’re yours. They are little terrors when upset but they’re mostly very playful. Their coats can be spun into soft threads.”

That seems to have caught her attention. Her digits loosen their grip on the fabric at her neck just slightly. “Like wool?”

I don’t know what or who this ‘wool’ is, but I’m silenced as she takes a step forward. “Now that you say that, their fur is a lot like wool.” As she peers closer, she releases the neck of her tunic, revealing her throat and the upper part of her chest. My focus locks onto her bare skin as she continues speaking. “This is the closest I’ve gotten to one since this all began.”

Despite the chaos still occurring in the field around us, time stills again as Catherine steps even closer. It seems she’s forgotten the chaos. It seems she’s forgotten me , and it’s glorious because she stands close to me, peering at the umu in my arms.

I can’t look away. Her skin is a tapestry of stories I can’t begin to understand. There are tiny dots of dark pigment scattered across her chest and neck, almost like the dapples of starlight through forest leaves. Camouflage? I don’t know what they are, but they captivate me enough that my digits twitch. If I was not holding the umu, I might have been tempted to reach out and touch them.

Her scent reaches me next and I find myself leaning in for a second sampling. Mm. Her scent reminds me of peace. Before the war. Before everything changed.

It’s her voice that pulls me back to the present. Not the baying oogas. Not the rush of umus chasing each other in the tall grass-feed.

“You don’t know wool, do you?” she asks. Her tone is different, as if curiosity has softened her earlier wariness of me.

I tilt my head slightly, still cradling the umu who has settled down in my grasp and trying not to reveal that I’ve been staring. “Who is he?”

She chuckles, the sound so unexpected it makes my ears flatten and I go still again. “It’s not a person. It’s from sheep,” she explains. “Animals back on Earth, where I…where I come from.” Her humor disappears like a Zilox when the sky weeps. Her expression shutters and she grasps the neck of her tunic again before taking a step backward. Curses. “They kind of look like these umus. Just much larger and not so round. We use their wool to make clothes, blankets, things like that.” She gestures to the umu. And then, as if speaking to herself, she murmurs, “Almost makes me want to knit again.”

I nod, trying to focus on her words rather than the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathes. “Knitting. A fine…task.”

My tone must reveal I have no idea what she’s talking about, because a small smile tugs at her lips. A brief flash of warmth brightens her eyes. But just as soon as it appears, she freezes. Her body. Her smile. Everything. She blinks and the smile is gone. Just as her humor had disappeared before, it does so again as she steps away from me.

I have offended her. I race through the interaction, repeating it in my head, but I’m lost as she wraps her arm around herself once more and doesn’t meet my gaze.

“I’ll…lead them to your outbuilding,” I say, trying to fill the sudden silence between us that, with the chaos of our surroundings, feels as oppressive as the quietness that stifles me each dark cycle.

“Yes—that sounds…good.” She doesn’t sound sure about it, but I don’t expect her to. The umus might remind her of animals from her home world, but they’re not the same thing. She must be worried they will cause more trouble.

Dipping a claw into my pocket, I take out the sweet cubes I brought just for this. The umu sniffs and I lower my claw and allow the fluffy creature to take a lick of the treat resting in my palm. It does so hesitantly, but the moment its tongue swipes across the cube, its entire body vibrates with glee. I set it down with a bit of the cube in its mouth and watch as it races off, disappearing into the tall grass-feed.

Catherine blinks, her gaze shooting to me. The oogas are still running in circles and trampling the ground and I don’t miss the moment she takes a step closer to me now that she’s focusing on the chaos again. Just that slight thing and I almost puff out my chest like a fool.

“What now?” she whispers, eyes wide again, and I wish I could assure her it will all be fine. That her field will remain intact…though, now that I’m in it, I realize the Raki has done nothing to clear away the grass feed in preparation for crops. If it isn’t done soon, Catherine will miss the season for sowing.

“We wait,” I say, a furrow on my brow as my gaze shifts to the Raki on the roof. Crouching once more, my brows dive lower and lower as the clicks pass by.

“No crops?” I finally ask. Again, it comes out too gruff. Perhaps it’s not my yearning after all but the presence of that Raki that’s making me act out of sorts. The reason for which, I am not sure.

Catherine shifts, the slight movement like a trigger on my senses even with the chaos around us.

“Yes. Eventually. I just have to clear this field and then I’ll be sowing some of the seeds New Horizons left me.” She pauses. “That’s the company that…the one Eleanor and I signed up with. I guess you know all about that since she’s your…”

“My kahlesta,” I murmur. If she thinks I care that New Horizons works with females who have been through trauma, I don’t. I will not judge her past. It’s not even on my mind as I stare at the ground at our feet.

“Right. I guess that’s how you say ‘sister-in-law’? Anyway, once I clear this field, I’ll try my hand at the crops.”

I don’t tell her what I think. What I know . That if her field isn’t cleared in the next three sols, maximum four, she’ll be too late for a successful harvest this orbit. Pulling up some of the grass-feed, I look at their roots. My brow dives deeper. I stick a digit into the ground and take up a bit of the soil, turning it over, my eyes narrowing before I pull out a few more roots and bring them up to eye level.

The roots are dying. There are pests in the soil. If Catherine plants anything, her crops won’t grow to harvest.

Her almost inaudible gasp is what draws my attention back as a black blur shoots through the grass-feed directly toward us. Three umus appear, all racing toward my outstretched claw. I give them each a sweet cube before standing. More appear by the time I’m on my feet once more.

“Alright, you little troublemakers. Let’s go.” I turn, gaze finding the wide-eyed human before I force myself to look away. My brow is still furrowed and I don’t want her to think she’s the reason for my rising annoyance. Instead, I shoot my glare at the Raki on the roof and direct my scorn at him instead. Dropping sweet cubes on the ground as I go, Catherine keeps my pace, gaze darting back at the line of umus trailing us from the field. Her cheeks are a strange rosy color now that wasn’t there before. I’ve only seen such a thing happen to my kahlesta whenever my siblingkin does something to please her.

I almost stumble.

Am I… pleasing this female? The thought is absurd and yet I can’t help but keep my eyes on her as we walk from the field. The furrow on my brow is erased with this new puzzle. Thank the gods she’s so much shorter than I, she can’t tell I’m watching her intently unless she chooses to look up at this very moment. She doesn’t. Her focus is on the umus, brows still furrowed and that suspicious look in her eyes as she watches them follow us.

I could laugh. She doesn’t trust the little things, though they really are harmless. But then I remember that my siblinkin’s mate doesn’t like them either. She’s terrified of them after one caused her to fall and hit her head. She almost died and that only reminds me of how delicate these females are. That kills the humor that was rising within me immediately and I look now at the female beside me with concern.

“They will not harm you.” Still gruff. I should just keep my mouth shut. And yet there’s the undeniable urge to say something more. The urge to speak is unusual for me, unsettling even. I’m not accustomed to wanting to comfort anyone, let alone a strange human female. “If they tried to harm you, I would not allow it.”

She looks up at me then, green gaze framed by delicate dark lashes. “I believe you.” There’s a smile that follows her words but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Not like before. Not like when it came naturally as if she’d forgotten who I was.

We’re at the gate that leads into the main yard and I let her walk in first. Looking behind us, the line of umus bopping happily along and eating sweet cubes stretches to disappear into the grass-feed. But farther off, in the actual field, the oogas are already calming down.

I can sense Catherine’s relief when she looks back and notices the same.

I nod to her before jerking my chin in the direction of the outbuilding. “I’ll lead them in.”

Her eyes are still slightly wide, and she’s still gripping that neck portion of her tunic, but she nods in affirmation.

My eyes narrow slightly, my gaze shifting up to the Raki on the roof as I close the yard gate. He’s looking down at us from where he works ever so slowly. For some reason, that annoys me, too.

“No sweet cubes, Raki?” I can’t help but ask.

“None at the moment. Greetings,” he replies.

Useless frakker.

He could have at least told her what to do. No doubt she has sweet cubes in her supplies. Instead, he let her risk harm by trying to solve a problem she’d have no idea how to solve on her own.

Maybe I’m snarling. Maybe I’m doing it out loud, because the moment I feel a soft touch on my arm, I snap back again like a tether pulled taut. A ripple goes through my scales and I realize Catherine touched me. She snatches her hand back immediately, almost as if she’d just been burned, and her gaze shifts away from me.

“I really do appreciate your help.” She presses a smile on her face.

I force myself to turn away from the Raki. I’m meant to calm the human and fix her problem. Not scare her to death.

“It’s the least anyone could do,” I growl those words for the Raki as I lead the little creatures toward the outbuilding.

The fact his presence is adding to my irritation makes little sense. The last thing that made me emotional to the point I lost control happened eons ago. A day I never want to relive again, but one that haunts my every waking moment.

More discontent rises the moment I head around the lodge on the way to the outbuilding. The roof is only halfway done, even though I know for a fact that Catherine arrived here more than a moon phase ago. Is the Raki making her sleep in a lodge with a roof that’s only half-complete? Not only that, but the high grasses choking the walkways have not been trimmed. I can see where she’s been working to clear them, just so she can have a path to walk. Then there is the heavy machinery that clutters the yard, most unusable now. The only thing that seems to be in working order is the shining, new water shaft that must have been recently installed.

By the time I get to the outbuilding, I’m seething. I tell myself it’s because I hate seeing subpar work and that it has nothing to do with the delicate female that owns this place. But when I pull open the outbuilding’s door and see the state of the roof and the animal enclosures, I stop short.

“Is everything alright, mister um, Mister Varek?”

I stiffen. I’ve been seething so much I didn’t realize she’d trailed behind me and the umus all the way to the outbuilding itself. I force myself to hide my fangs. To slide on the mask I usually wear. The one prey species prefer to see.

I turn, glancing over my shoulder at her.

“Everything is fine. Not to worry.”

She gives me a slight smile before nodding. Her focus moves to the umus as I lead them in and when the doors close behind them all, I know she followed us inside, too.

“I’ll put them here.” I gesture to an enclosure that needs the least work.

“Yes, sure. Anywhere you think is best.”

She’s putting her faith in me and that makes me want to do an even better job. Make this work for her even long after I’m gone.

I turn and survey the space. It’s functional, but far from ideal. I spot some discarded crates and decide those could be repurposed to reinforce the enclosure walls while keeping the creatures contained.

Lifting and maneuvering the crates into place is nothing. But they’re large heavy things and I sense Catherine watching, her eyes widening slightly at the casual display of strength. For a fleeting moment, I allow myself to feel a flicker of pride at impressing her before I push the thought aside.

With the makeshift barrier in place, I gently coax the umus into their new temporary home, dropping a few more sweet cubes to entice them. The little creatures hop and bounce into the pen, their fluffy bodies wiggling with happiness at having the sweet treats.

Turning back to Catherine, I notice her biting her lower lip, a small frown creasing her brow as she surveys the outbuilding’s dilapidated state. I fight the urge to reach out and smooth that worry from her face. Frakking Raki. He’s done nothing to help her out here and she’s not a fool. She knows this is no place to keep the animals. Not long-term. Not like this.

“I’ll get this fixed up properly for you,” I say before I even consider the gravity of my words. And frakk me with the gruffness in my tone. “The umus will be fine in there for now.”

Catherine’s green eyes meet mine, a tentative smile softening her features. “Thank you again, Varek.” She looks away, focusing on the animals moving in their new enclosure. “This was probably all a big waste of time for you. The solution was so…simple. I’ll know what to do next time.”

I want to open my mouth to correct her, to tell her this was no trouble, but the words are stuck in my throat. My fangs have lengthened behind my closed lips and if I speak now I will snarl. Something is making me more than irritated. I’m qeffing angry.

Turning away, I pretend I’m looking around the outbuilding’s interior and that I haven’t already spotted all the things that need fixing. “It was no trouble.”

Silence descends between us. It’s time for me to leave. There’s no reason to linger now. But there’s still that thing riding on my blood. That unsettled feeling. That rising anger.

Frakk it. I face her.

“I’ll be back on the new dawn with supplies and tools. We’ll get this outbuilding in proper shape.” I’m already mentally cataloging what I’ll need to bring from my own stores.

“Oh, you don’t have to—” She looks stunned, shaking her head as she speaks.

“I want to.” The words come out softer than I intended and it stops her in her tracks. It seems I’ve lost all control over the tone of my voice. For a long moment, we simply gaze at each other. Did I speak too softly? What am I doing anyway? I have jobs to do tomorrow. Paid tasks for clients that booked many sols before. I shake my head, breaking the spell. I should go.

“I’ll see you on the new dawn, Catherine.”

“Oh…” She seems stupefied.

Good. I don’t know what I’d do if she declined my help. So I give her a nod, chin to chest, before striding out of the building before she can come up with a very good reason to reject my offer. Like the fact the state of her farm is none of my business.

I don’t know why I’m doing this. It’s probably the start of that long-dreaded insanity that has haunted me for too many sols now.

But beneath the practicalities, a new feeling takes root—the warm glow of something precious and delicate, unfurling tentatively within my battle-scarred soul. I tell myself it’s just the pleasure gained from helping another being.

It isn’t.

I would be a fool to lie to myself so blatantly.

It’s hope. Even though I know only the naive cling to such things so dearly.