Page 35 of Trove’s Purpose

And like a fool, he was now stroking her face with his other hand. Turning slightly so she wasn’t pressed against his side but properly held against him. He caressed her cheek. Distantly, far too distantly, some part of him begged her to pull back. To get away from him. But he could barely hear that voice, and he didn't actually want her gone.

He liked her warmth. He liked her softness. He liked how much it hurt to have her gaze on him. Because it did hurt. He hated and loved holding her. It reached the deepest part of his soul, tried to wake parts of him he thought long dead, and the pain of that was like picking at a wound.

But it was a pain that he couldn’t help but crave. He needed to pick at that wound. It was a compulsion that was eating at him. A delightful addiction. A painful pleasure.

“Trove…” She breathed, so many questions and implications woven through her tone. But all he could hear was the way she called his name. And all the ways she could say it that would be even better, even sweeter, to his ears.

“Sweet Chee,” he whispered, leaning in closer. Needing more of her.

And she must have needed more of him because she was coming up on her toes. Reaching for him as well.

It was a mistake to hold her. It was a mistake to caress her. It was a big mistake to kiss her.

But Trove was a damned fool, because he let his lips brush against hers. A gentle pressure. A hint of desire. A burning ache that raced through his body. White hot agony, ripping through him so painfully that he wanted to scream.

But he didn't scream. He kissed her again. The second time with just a bit more pressure than the first. It lingered only a little bit longer. So sweet and light, practically chaste.

And it hurt. It hurt so badly. He wanted to throw her away from him. He wanted to rip away his own skin, scratch at it until it was shredded away. His gut was sinking, falling into a pit of icy coldness and haunting fear.

He hated this.

He wanted more.

He needed to get away.

He had to hold her close.

The riot of emotions were going to destroy him. They were going to shred his heart into pieces, rip his soul into shreds. He wasn’t going to survive this.

They pulled away from each other at the same time. And though he was sure he was bleeding, dying, because surely that pain could only be a knife in his guts, she was giving him a soft, tender smile. Looking at him so sweetly. So lovingly.

“We should, er… It’s late,” he said, his voice rough. “We should get back to the ship.”

“Yeah…” She breathed.

Still, neither one of them moved for a long moment. He had to force himself to let her go. And that didn't feel any better than holding her. It hurt just as badly.

Chee took his hand. Shyly. Nervously. She held it with her eyes averted. And though it was like a brand against his palm, he held her back.

Stepping away from the wall, they moved back into the flow of people. Trove couldn’t bring himself to look at her. But he couldn’t bring himself to let go either.

Something was wrong with him. Something was broken inside. And the shards of it were shredding him into pieces so painfully he was sure he was dying.

This was exactly why he couldn’t have a mate. This was why he couldn’t be someone’s mate. What cruelty from the universe for Chee that she was stuck with him. What crime she committed to deserve this he couldn’t imagine.

The path back to the Vainglory wasn’t the same as the one they took here. It was like they had gone in a big circle, walking through the various stopping points on their route. He’d been to this station before though, and he actually recognized this path. The docks should be just down that street and then take a turn around-

“Hey, it’s Trove!”

The delighted, high-pitched call made him stop and turn.

At the same time he heard multiple other voices-

“Trove?”

“Did she say Trove?”

“Trove’s back!”