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Sayer, the linguistics expert, nods when I pass him near the nutrition bay, but he doesn’t stop me. I say a quick prayer of thanks for his propensity to have his nose stuck in some book or another because he barely looks up as we cross paths. A sigh bursts from my lips and I press a hand to my churning stomach. Mouth bone dry, I gnaw at my lips and hope no one else is roaming the halls.

I’m not doing anything wrong. But it just feels wrong not to be completely honest with my guys. I’ve come to know and appreciate them and the last thing I want to do is betray them. But before I truly accept my fate here, I need to see the other women for myself and then talk to Breccan about what their plans are to wake them up. For most of my life, I’ve let things happen to me and those around me…not anymore. A weird twist of fate brought us here, and I’ll be damned if I don’t take care of the other girls.

Maybe it’s all the talk of breeding and responsibilities. Maybe it’s because I’ve spent so much time around the guys and long to see someone like me. I didn’t realize how lonely it was to be the only human among a bunch of aliens. Whatever the reason, I reach the cryochamber and wave my armband under the scanner with my heart knocking against my ribs so violently, I fear I may pass out.

The screen beeps the familiar access tone and my bones turn to jelly in relief. I glance over my shoulder as I step through the door. The cameras will record my presence and by the time they question my visit, I’ll have come up with an explanation. I don’t think I’d get in trouble for being here, but I don’t want an audience either.

It’s not until I turn back around that I find I’m not alone in the room. The door closes too quickly behind me for me to slip back through, and then I’m trapped with a several cryotubes—the one I came from empty, the others still occupied—and a mort. I can’t tell who.

I can’t go back out without gaining his attention; it’s a miracle he didn’t notice me the first time. I hesitate for a few moments before I realize what he’s doing. It takes a few minutes because the only light in the cryochamber is a faint blue color that emanates from the vertical tubes. The sleeping women don’t require light, so most of the room is bathed in shadow.

At first, I think it’s Avrell. He always seems to be running back and forth, checking their stats and testing them for genetic compatibility with the morts—something I’ve tried not to think about. I had a choice—if not at first, then certainly later—but these women don’t. Maybe that’s why I’m here. To give these women one.

I take a step closer and the mort shifts toward me.

Calix.

The blue glare from the tubes reflects on his glasses so I can’t see his eyes. The stylus he carries religiously is tucked behind his pointed ear, forgotten. His claws are extended and scrape against the glass, the sound muted by the humming from the machines. Maybe that’s why he didn’t hear me enter. That, or he’s so entranced with the woman in the tube in front of him that one of those geostorms could happen right now and he wouldn’t notice.

My throat clamps closed, making speech impossible as Calix keys in a command on the tube’s touchscreen that causes the window in front of the woman’s body to slide open. He braces one arm on the cryotube over his head and lifts the other to press to the material of the thin gown she’s wearing.

I try to rationalize what he’s doing. He’s the disease specialist. It makes sense that he’d be running tests on the women, but he doesn’t have any equipment with him and the way he’s touching her surely isn’t clinical. The expression on his face is reverent, awed, but my brain skips right past that and to the violation that feels all too familiar.

“What are you doing?” I bark.

Calix blinks slowly, as if caught in a dream. “Aria?”

“Get your hands off of her.”

He jerks them back and they tighten into fists by his side. “Does Breccan know you’re here?”

“Oh, he will soon enough. What were you doing to her?”

“Doing?”

My stomach churns as Kevin’s face swims in my vision. The image is fleeting, but it causes what little breakfast I’ve been able to eat to slosh uncomfortably. “Touching her like that.”

“I wasn’t hurting her.” He looks appalled at the notion, but my anger isn’t swayed.

“You shouldn’t be touching her.”

“She’s to be my mate, Aria.”

I press a hand to my belly and spin around, sure I’m going to be sick. “I’ve gotta go.”

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