“I believe in transparency.” He smiles again. “And I believe the truth should come out. Whatever it is.”
I smile back, already internally deciding to dismiss him. If he thinks their parents died in the cargo accident, which is the fake story given to cover up what actually happened, then he is part of the problem, not part of the solution.
“Ines.” Texon’s voice cuts through the cafeteria noise. He’s back, standing right behind me, and his expression has shifted from to something colder. Harder.
“Trunk.” Kryzon’s smile doesn’t waver. “Good to see you.”
Texon says nothing. Just stares.
The silence stretches. Awkward.
“Well.” Kryzon takes a smooth step back. “I won’t keep you from your meal. Ines, it was a pleasure meeting you. If you need those records, you know where to find me.”
He walks away, disappearing into the crowd of miners.
I turn to Texon. “He seemed nice.”
His jaw tightens. “He’s not.”
I wait for more, but nothing comes. Of course. Getting information out of this male is like mining Illibrium with a spoon. “Do you want to tell me why you’re glaring at the spot where he was standing?”
“No.”
“Fantastic. This is a great working relationship we have. He offered to give me access to records about what happened to your parents.”
He grunts and steps forward as the line moves. “Do not fall into his trap. I will not be taking you anywhere near that Xylan while you are on Timbur.”
“But…”
He looks down at me with harsh features. “You will do as I order. Kryzon is off-limits. Am I clear?”
“Yes,sir.”
He grunts and moves forward in line. I follow and start ordering my food.
After lunchwe leave for my interview with Naomi and Leah. The walk from the mine to employee housing takes us through a winding path bordered by dense jungle. The air is warm and humid, thick with unfamiliar scents. Massive purple leaves brush against my shoulders as we pass. Somewhere overhead, something calls out in a trilling song I don’t recognize.
I’m aware of Texon beside me with every step.
I steal a glance at his profile. The strong jaw and those fascinating ridges on his forehead. His dark braids that fall over his shoulders and down his back.
I look away before he catches me staring.
I wouldn’t mind going on an actual date with this male.
The thought arrives uninvited and I almost stumble on a paver. Where did that come from? I’m here to investigate a cold case. I’m here to write two articles that will hopefully take my career to the next level. I am not here to develop feelings for a seven-foot-tall alien miner who has made it abundantly clear he doesn’t trust me.
And yet.
I really enjoyed his company again today. I feel like I really know him now that I’ve seen where he works, and his relationship with the Illibrium and his own personal crystal.
I’m in awe of this male.
The problem is that Xylan don’t date. I know this from my research. It’s all or nothing with them. You’re either their mate for life, or you’re just friends. There’s no casual dinner, no getting-to-know-you drinks, no slow progression from interest to relationship. No “let’s see where this goes.”
If I wanted to know whether there was something between us, I’d have to participate in a formal hand-clasping ceremony. Bare skin to bare skin. And then either nothing would happen... or everything would. Forever.
I glance down at my green gloves. The thin fabric the technician handed me at intake.Wear these at all times when interacting with unmated Xylan males. Prevents complications.
