She spun around, relief flooding her eyes when she saw him. “I wasn’t doing anything!” Her words were heated, but her tone quiet.
“I know,izar.” He slid his hand to the small of her back, coaxing her from the hazard. “Come.”
Ignoring those who sent stares their way, he wove her through the crowd to a narrow gap in a bulkhead, on the other side of the atrium. The dark corridor snaked a twist and turn, then opened into a vast space, the air thick with moisture and the scent of earth.
Nia’s gasp of wonder made him look around the arboretum with new eyes.
Trees towered, reaching toward the special lights crisscrossing the overhead five levels above. Evergreens, redwoods, birch, palms, ferns, and flowering bushes grew close together. Pathways and landscaped sections separated them in intervals. A green flavor filled his nostrils. Air, pumped in through the ventilation system, rustled leaves. Water gurgled from farther along.
Beneath his hand, tension leaked from her body in a whoosh of breath. “It’s beautiful.”
She stepped away from him, and his hand dropped to his side. Tilting her head, she walked along the winding composite path to the bright red bridge ahead.
“A stream.” She stopped halfway across and stared at the flowing water.
“It’s a self-contained ecosystem,” he offered.
She startled like she hadn’t remembered he was there, then straightened. His chest panged when the joy on her face melted away.
“It even has fish in it,” he said, hoping to bring back that look of delight.
Her expression softened. “I’ve never seen anything like this except in the Lunar colonies and Mars.” She shook her head. “Is this why I hear water running in some of the main corridors?”
He nodded, stepping closer. “It’s all connected.”
Her eyes followed the line of the closest conifer as it reached to the overhead. “How are the trees so big? Genetic manipulation?”
“They’re just old.”
She glanced at him then away, questions swirling in her eyes. No doubt wondering how longOrionhad been here. But he couldn’t get more into the history of the station than what she would have been able to read through his terminal.
The grounds beyond the path swelled and dipped in man-made slopes. At the top of one, a young couple sat side by side with their heads bent together, whispering. Others walked along the path, some leisurely, some taking short cuts to other parts of the station. From somewhere farther along, a child squealed in delight.
Turning on her heel, Nia continued along the path. Mace followed at a distance. When the trail crested a hill, she stepped off and strode up the grassy incline, pausing where aspens circled a clearing. She spun around, arms spread wide, face upturned toward the lights, before dropping to lay spread-eagled on the grass.
His chest panged at the sight of her enjoyment. He turned slightly, intent on giving her privacy, when her sultry voice rang across the space between them.
“Why did you become a warrior?”
A couple passed him on the path. He gave them a nod, then headed up the incline toward Nia.
Her eyes were closed, the rise and fall of her chest even. He could be doing a hundred other things right now, but none seemed important at the moment. He’d stayed away from her this past week as much as he could, but right now, none of his reason why seemed to matter.
When he didn’t answer, she tipped her chin and opened one eye to capture his gaze.
Exhaling, he broke eye contact, and strolled to the closest tree. When he turned around, she still stared at him with that one, russet eye.
He leaned against the trunk. “I always knew I was going to be one,” he said loud enough for his voice to carry. “From the time I could walk, I’d always wanted to be like my parents.”
Both eyes widening, she sat up. “They’re warriors?”
“Were.” An ache throbbed in his chest like it always did when he thought of them. “Both died in battle.”
His father and mother had given each other strength. But Mace also knew their emotional attachment had killed them. During their last mission, his father wouldn’t leave his mother behind to save himself. After all the lectures he’d gotten from his father about never being weak, never showing vulnerability, it was his own that had killed him.
Mace couldn’t find any shame in the way they’d died.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
