“Research,” she said, her voice flat. “I was talking about research. About bringing people here to study this. About—” She pressed her hands against her face. “God, I’m such an idiot.”
“Alina—”
“I got so excited about the discovery that I forgot what it would mean. What it would cost.” She lowered her hands, and her eyes were bright with unshed tears. “If anyone finds out about this place, they won’t just study the plants. They’ll find you. They’ll want to know how you survived and how you’re connected to all of this. And then?—”
“Then they will take me.” He finished the thought she couldn’t bring herself to complete. “Examine me. Perhaps destroy me.”
“I won’t let that happen.”
The fierce protectiveness in her voice made his heart swell. She was so small, his Alina. So fragile and soft and utterly, adorably determined to protect someone who had been designed to be a protector. It was absurd. It was wonderful.
It made him love her all the more.
Love.The word settled into his consciousness with a click of recognition. Yes. That was what this feeling was. This desperate need to be near her, to keep her safe and spend the rest of his existence making her smile.Love.Such a simple word for such an overwhelming sensation.
“You cannot stop them,” he said gently. “If they come, if they search?—”
“Then we won’t be here.” She straightened, her expression hardening with resolve. “We’ll leave before they arrive. We’ll go somewhere else, somewhere safe. There has to be other places like this, other refuges your people built. We can find one, hide there until?—”
“Alina.”
Something in his voice made her stop. She looked at him, and he saw the exact moment she realized what he was about to say.
“You know how to leave,” she said. Not a question.
He nodded slowly. “I can feel the path. The tunnels, the passages—they are part of my connection to this place.” He paused, choosing his next words carefully. “I knew from the first day.”
Her face went through a complicated series of expressions—surprise, hurt, confusion, then finally a weary understanding. “You didn’t tell me.”
“You needed time. To rest. To heal. To…” He gestured vaguely at the space between them. “Think.”
“You let me believe we were trapped.”
“You were never trapped. You were…” He searched for the right word. “Cocooned. Safe. Protected from the storm and the outside and the choices that waited beyond.” He reached for her hand, and she let him take it, though her fingers were stiff and resistant. “I did not want to lose you. I thought that if we remained here, if you had no choice but to stay…”
“I would fall in love with you?”
The bluntness of the question startled him. He met her eyes, searching for anger or accusation, but found only a tired sort of acceptance.
“Did it work?” he asked.
She gave a watery sound. “You’re an ass.”
“I do not know what that means.”
“It means—” She shook her head, but she was smiling now, and some of the tension drained from her shoulders. “It means you’re infuriating and manipulative and I should probably be furious with you.”
“But?”
“But I’m not.” She squeezed his hand, and the tightness in his chest eased slightly. “I understand why you did it. I might have done the same thing, in your position.” Her smile faded. “The storm is dying down, isn’t it?”
He nodded. He’d been feeling it for hours—the gradual weakening of the pressure differentials and the settling of the dust that had turned the sky into an impenetrable wall of grit. By morning, the worst would be over. By midday, rescue parties would be able to venture out.
“We have to leave soon,” she said. “Before they come looking.”
“Yes.”
“But not tonight.”
