Calypsons strove for contentment, but Iax had lived here for most of his life and had not achieved it until this moment.
In his quarters, Calypson construction emerged from the bulkhead in thick bands, supporting what once used to be a bed, but was now more of a large cradle. Built for one until today, he had widened it with a thought upon their arrival.
Wynn lay in his arms, asleep, her naked body pressed against his, under a thin blanket made of the same material as most of his clothing. It had taken him a long while to relax her enough for sleep to take hold. Her worry for the children had overwhelmed her, distracting her from taking care of herself. He would not allow her to neglect her own needs in sacrifice for others.
He skimmed his hand down her face, and she turned into him. Even in sleep, Wynn’s emotions throbbed against him, the sensation mellowed through her dreams. They had to be sweet ones for this warmth to exudefrom her body. He lapped it up and sighed. This was the only place he wanted her to be. Beside him. Touching him. Joining with him.
When they had first arrived in his personal space, she had examined everything with a slack jaw.
He had looked where she had, wondering at her thoughts. His quarters were not like the ones they had left. He had the same view of the nebula, but that was where the similarities ended. While the children’s new quarters were bare, growth covered the bulkheads of his, some as thick as what they’d seen in the biodome. And between the swaths of greenery were items he’d set among the tentacles and vines.
“Aren’t you full of surprises,” she’d murmured, staring at the stacks of artwork and handmade items people had brought with them to Sector Ten.
“I do not think so,” he said, contemplating the assemblage.
She spun around to face him, her lips curled upward, then tipped her head at the stack. “I didn’t take you for a hoarder.”
He glanced at the artwork, wondering at the playful emotion rambling toward him. “I do not understand this word.”
“You like to collect things.” She turned around again, moved toward the ancient paintings, examining them more closely. “Not just people when you’re ordered to.”
“Yes,” he finally agreed. “Others do not find value in these things.”
She lifted her eyes to his. “That seems to be a common theme in this place.”
His body tensed as her melancholy washed toward him.
She picked up one of the smaller landscapes, an ocean view, and lifted it until it was a small square amid the nebula beyond the window.
Then he was there, his arms surrounding her, giving her the contact they both needed. They had shed their clothes, and given each other pleasure, and she had finally rested.
Now he held her with her cheek pressed against the swell of his biceps, and her hair flopping over one eye. He lifted his hand and tucked the section behind her ear so he could see her better. She sighed. He smiled.
He felt it then.Again. The curiosity of the others close by, reaching, probing. Thoughts stretched and touched his mind. As he had done earlier, he slammed down his mental barriers, enshrouding him and Wynn in privacy. An echo of their shock pulsed behind the fabricated wall, a rippling effect, but he ignored it in favor of giving his full attention to Wynn. Her happiness. Her pleasure. Their shared experiences were their own.
The tension in his body must have woken her, because her eyes fluttered open. She turned slightly, froze, then relaxed again when her gaze met his. The brown of her irises warmed, her eyes crinkling.
“Hello,” she whispered, then stretched forward to kiss him.
After a light brush of their lips, she pulled away. “The kids?” Her eyes searched his face.
“They are fine. I checked on them recently.” And she had been so exhausted, she had not stirred when he left the bed or when he returned.
She relaxed back into his arms, but a troubled expression remained on her face, accented by her hot and cold emotions. Iax waited for her to put her thoughts into words.
“I need to keep reminding myself I’m free,” she whispered after a minute. “I thought coming here might mean the end of my life, but… it’s not.”
He shook his head and tucked that wayward hair behind her ear again. “No, it is not.”
“I’m free,” she repeated with a nod, “and I’m with you. And I have… purpose with the children.” She cleared her throat. “I don’t agree with how your leaders went about it, but I agree change was needed for those kids.”
“Yes.” He ran his hand down her arm and watched her shiver.
“And I can’t help but want to study why we are different. I need a lab, and access to data.” She paused. “But I won’t force those kids to help me unless they want to. I’ll need to work on language first.” A frown wrinkled her forehead. “The organic life you have here,” she added. “I want to learn everything about it.”
Of course she would, because she loved plants and anything that grew.
“There is much.” He pulled the blanket over her arm to keep her warm.
