The console showed our path clearly, a glowing representation of the tunnel rendered in lines of blue light. Every curve, every variation in the walls, every meter of distance was laid out before us. Iris wasn’t navigating blind. The Raycer’s systems were showing her exactly where to go, even in the total darkness. They were possibly even helping to steer us.
I relaxed slightly. Just slightly.
The tunnel seemed to go on forever, though it was probably only a few minutes. When we finally emerged on the other side, the sudden brightness hit me like a physical blow.
I hissed, throwing up a hand to shield my eyes. The morning sun was higher now. The landscape beyond the mountain was open and exposed. Light reflected off every surface, amplified by morning dew on the new green growth that was reclaiming the storm-scarred terrain.
Iris turned her head. I couldn’t see her eyes behind those wraparound sunglasses, but I caught the hint of a smirk at the corner of her mouth. She reached up, pulled off the glasses, and held them back toward me.
“The light doesn’t bother me as much,” she said.
I stared at her for a moment, recognizing my own words from the day before. When I’d given her my coat. When I’d offered warmth and she’d accepted it with that same quiet, pragmatic acceptance.
“Thank you,” I said, and took the glasses.
They fit well enough, though they were designed for a smaller face. The world dimmed to something manageable, the harsh brightness fading to bearable levels. I could see now. The rocky terrain ahead of us, dotted with obstacles. The distant ridge where that metallic gleam had caught Iris’s attention. The vast, open landscape that stretched in every direction.
The Raycer shot forward again, and my stomach lurched.
Iris guided us around rocks and over rough ground with an ease that should have been reassuring. The rollerballs adapted to every surface, the energy shield kept us stable, and her hands on the controls were steady and sure. My body wasn’t convinced. Every sudden turn, every burst of acceleration sent my insides spinning.
I closed my eyes and breathed. Her hair was right there, that unique scent of ozone and flowers filling my nose. I focused on it instead of the motion, let it anchor me as the world rushed past in a blur of speed and sound.
Spending time with Iris, I decided, was like an adventure that felt like an arena battle. Every interaction was a challenge, every moment a test of reflexes and instincts. She gave nothing away, revealed nothing she didn’t choose to reveal, and kept me constantly off balance.
And I wasn’t sure, if it came down to it, that I would emerge the victor. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to.
CHAPTER 5
IRIS
Ieased off the accelerator as we approached the ridge, letting the Raycer slow to a more manageable speed. The rollerballs beneath us adjusted automatically, their hum dropping from urgent to gentle as we navigated the final stretch of terrain.
Behind me, Baleck was a wall of warmth.
His thighs pressed against the outside of mine, solid and steady despite the tension I could feel in his muscles. The heat of his body radiated through the thin barrier of my pack, through the material of my bodysuit, settling against my back like something alive. I was acutely aware of every point of contact between us. The way his knees shifted when I turned. The slight pressure of his chest when we decelerated. The rhythm of his breathing, close enough to feel on my neck.
During the tunnel, that breathing had been rapid. Shallow. I’d heard it clearly in the darkness, felt the tension through his body as we plunged into absolute blackness. He’d been afraid. Part of me had wanted to say something. To reassure him that the Raycer’s systems were more than capable of navigating without light, that I had made this kind of run dozens of times in worse conditions, that he was safe.
I hadn’t.
He had fought in the Brakken war. I’d read the briefings, knew that the Destrans had endured horrors that made my own experiences look tame. He had been young, yes, but he was a warrior. Warriors could handle fear. Warriors could process new experiences without needing someone to hold their hand through it. What I admired, though, was that he hadn’t tried to hide his fear.
He could have. Could have forced his breathing steady, clenched his muscles tighter, pretended that the speed and the darkness and the unfamiliarity weren’t affecting him at all. Most people I’d worked with would have done exactly that. Fuck—I would have done it.
Baleck had simply let himself be afraid. Let himself experience the newness of it without shame or pretense. There was something refreshing about that. Something brave in its own way. No ego. No pride. It was not often that I was surprised by the males I encountered.
I guided the Raycer to a stop on a relatively flat stretch of ground and engaged the upright lock. It stabilized. Its rollerballs locked into position to keep it balanced, even without a rider.
Baleck climbed off first. His movements were slightly unsteady. I followed, swinging my leg over the seat and stepping onto solid ground with a relief I didn’t show. Riding was easy. Riding with someone else’s body wrapped around mine, distractingly warm and distractingly present, was not.
“So,” I said, turning to face him. “What did you think of the ride?”
He pulled off my sunglasses and blinked against the brightness, his eyes adjusting. His skin was cycling through colors I was beginning to relate to emotions. Blues and greens that suggested he was calming down, with occasional flickers of something warmer around the edges.
“Exhilarating,” he said, and there was a wry twist to his mouth. “I have a new appreciation for walking. Very glad I didn’t eat a big breakfast.”
I allowed a small smile. “You handled it well. Most people would panic in the tunnel.”
