Page 16 of Fourth

She walked beside him in silence, but it was not passive. Her gaze flicked between the colored indicators, fingers brushing each green-panel door in brief, casual touches that seemed more habit than need. No lingering. No pauses. Just a silent test as she kept pace besidehim.

Riv’En tracked each movement, an exercise in restraint, because her touch lingered longer than necessary. The way her palm hovered against the metal, fingers grazing the surface in brief, testing touches, it was not mere curiosity. It was the same energy she carried in her gaze—focused, charged with something neither of them spoke aloud. Not anymore. There was intent in it. Aquiet, simmering awareness neither of them voiced yet, but both reacted to. Testing. Memorizing.

“Green means safe,” she murmured under her breath, more to herself than tohim.

Riv’En caught the motion of her palm sliding along the cool metal, acaress that set his blood to a slower beat. Her body moved with quiet assurance, her steps measured and silent, as if pacing through a challenge she had already accepted. His gaze tracked the subtle command in her posture, not a sway or show, but a presence—calm, engrossed, aware of him. He followed that shift automatically, tracking the quiet power in her frame instead of the rhythm of her stride.

She paused at one of the green-lit doors, letting her hand rest against it a second longer than necessary. “And red means dead, Iguess.” Her tone was dry, but the way she looked over her shoulder at him was not. It held awareness. Challenge wrapped in something subtler. Something slower. Something intentional.

Her gaze swept down his frame once, just as his had done to her, and a flicker of heat twisted tighter in his blood. It was not simply a look. It was testing, marking, cataloging in the same quiet way she touched the ship’s walls, like she could memorize him through observation alone. And he let her. Not because it was tactical. Because he wanted to see how long she would hold his eyes before looking away. How long before she admitted there was no ignoring what now burned betweenthem.

Thank the gods for Rule #3: No touching.

Riv’En forced himself not to reply to her. He did not need to. His silence was measured, letting her pick up on the pressure of it as much as his presence beside her. Her body language changed with every step, the initial tension bleeding into a more cautious intent. Aslower burn under her skin and his, winding tighter with every step shetook.

Her eyes shifted to him again before she moved on, aglint of heat catching in her gaze for a single beat before she dropped it. No flare, no challenge. Just a flash of something harder to define—wariness mixed with interest, sharp and constrained. The pulse of it pressed against his skin, aheat that should not have been possible from mere proximity. As if her body was learning the same rhythm as his, step for step, breath for breath.

Riv’En tracked her in silence, his focus narrowing with each step she took. Whether she tested the ship’s boundaries or his mattered less than the fact that both were being pushed. And neither could afford to break first.

There was a sharpness to her now, aheat under her skin that had not been there before. Her breathing edged quicker in subtle bursts, her pulse beating in her neck just a fraction too fast for mere exertion. It was not fear. It was something more primal. His gaze narrowed, analyzing the minute shifts: the wayher fingers paused on each green-panel door as though weighing her choices, the slow stretch of her stride as if subtly testing his patience, her movements tuned to the same measured rhythm ashis.

And then there was the bite. The raw imprint of her teeth against his skin, his blood in her mouth. That single moment had changed everything, etched its mark into both of them like a brand neither could erase. He had not considered the consequences fully. Not until now. But as he followed her through the corridor, the quiet magnetism drawing her closer step by step, it became impossible to ignore. Whatever ancient protocol his people once buried—whatever mating process the Elaroin had hidden from outside worlds—it had begun. And it was not one-sided.

They reached the galley. Riv’En keyed open the door, gesturing her inside. “Eat. You will require stability to function.”

She stepped past him into the stark room, eyes sweeping the space with quick, sharp attention. “And after that? Where are we going?”

Riv’En followed, letting the door seal behind them. He did not sit. “That depends.” A pause. “If you do not break the rules, we continue as planned.”

She frowned. “Which is what exactly?”

His gaze met hers across the room, steady as ever. “Continuing toward my rendezvous coordinates. Survival until then.”

The galley door sealed behind them with a quiet hiss. Riv’En stepped forward first, crossing to the central console, his movements smooth and capable despite the sharp pulse still dragging through his veins.

“This station will produce sustenance calibrated to your species,” he said, tapping a sequence into the panel. His voice remained flat, but his focus never left her. Maya stood near the entrance, her gaze sweeping the room, marking every detail. It was impulse, he recognized that. And something else. Awareness. The same quiet pull that had thickened between them since he released her restraints.

Her hands slid into her pockets. “And I do what, exactly?”

Riv’En stepped back, allowing her access. “Select your preference here. Protein, starch, flavor modifiers. The system will synthesize in under one Earth minute.”

She approached slowly, tension held tight in every line of her frame, her focus shifting between him and the console. Close enough now that he caught the low rise of her breath, the faint electric prickle in the air between them, heat sizzling like static before a storm. It pressed against him, asubtle pull, steady and relentless.

“Flavor modifiers,” she repeated with an edge of humor. “Right. Alien cafeteria style, Iassume.”

He did not correct her, mainly because he had no idea what she meant.

Her fingers hesitated over the panel. “You said it’s safe?”

“Affirmative. This unit is programmed for human-compatible sustenance.”

Her gaze flicked to him again, sharp, assessing. And then she made her selection. The machine hummed softly, the compartment sealing as her meal processed.

They stood in silence while it worked, the hum filling the space between them. Not a single word spoken. Despite that,the tension stretched tighter. The influence of her in the room. The way her presence pushed at the edges of his control. The knowledge of what had passed between them, of what might still.

A low hum sounded and the compartment slid open. Steam rose from the tray as Maya pulled it free, revealing a compartmentalized meal that resembled some kind of protein layered over grain, with a side that might have been a vegetable. She stared at it with wary curiosity, lifting the tray with both hands.

“Looks... vaguely edible,” she muttered, carrying it to the nearest table.She sat first, setting the tray down withcare.

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