Somehow, despite his best efforts, the human female had managed to complicate things.

Days ago, he was more than prepared to leave Helios. He’d hoped the error was clerical; an oversight on her part that he could tear apart, fix, and leave behind with little thought. He’d hoped Adi’sun was incompetent, despite the fact that her reputation said otherwise. He’d hoped the pull he felt toward her over the humans’ long-distance communicator had been merely physical.

None of those hopes had come to fruition.

The error was not of her making, and it had not been a simple fix. Adi’sun was far from incompetent. In fact, he was coming to learn she was just as brilliant as she seemed. And indeed, the pull had not lessened in the slightest. If anything, he’d been drawn to her even more since meeting her.

And the kiss they’d shared yesterday had only served to direct the flames that already burned within him.

Kor’ven was a thoughtful, practical Karuvar. He did not act without first considering all the possible outcomes. But that was precisely what he had done yesterday. Pulling Adi’sun into that supply closet had been a whim fed from the exuberance of the moment--the thrill of scientific discovery and a theory that turned out to be true.

But it had also been an exercise in surrender. He had spent so much energy denying himself--denying his implant--and in that moment, he could do it no longer.

That night when he returned to his cold, hard bed, he had only one wish. He dreamed of her soft, pliant flesh, so different from his own. Her lush curves that fit against him so perfectly. Her eyes blue as the most pristine planet, staring up at him with a complete and consuming desire to match his own.

He wanted her. That was impossible to deny. But he found he did not just wish to slake the insistent lust the implant created within him. His needs felt primal. He wanted to claim her; to mark her as his from this day forth so that no other male could touch her. He wanted to fight for her, which was absolutely absurd. Kor’ven was not built for fighting.

But for Adi’sun and the kits he wished to have with her, he would.

Those were the thoughts he entertained in the dead of the night, when an orange, blinking safety light was the only thing to bear witness to his tossing and turning. When only Kor’ven knew that he was forced to take himself in hand and calm his aching flesh.

The morning brought clarity, however.

This was not the first time he had felt such things. If they were stronger this time, more profound, it was only because he was older and his biology desperately demanded he sire a kit of his own. He could dampen the urge. There were ways to tamper with his implant to make it hurt less than it inevitably would.

The simple truth was that Kor’ven’s destiny--and his legacy, too--were not here with this woman. He would not sire beautiful kits with golden hair and sapphire eyes. He would not find happiness in the first female who truly challenged him. He had a duty to his people, and for that, he must put everything else aside.

The Stars evidently chose to take pity on Kor’ven, as the choice was made for him in the early morning hours. Sometime just after dawn, he was awoken by one of Helios’ communicators, a human charged with relaying messages between Waystations.

“Teiv wishes to speak with you, sir,” he said, the honorific sounding odd to Kor’ven’s ears. “I’ve put him through in the secondary conference room.”

“Thank you,” he said, schooling his features to overcome his drowsiness.

He dressed in fresh clothing, having at least had the foresight to bring a pair, and made his way to the aforementioned room. The screen was already on, and Kor’ven was not entirely certain he was relieved to see his assistant’s smiling face.

“Could this not have waited until I returned?” he asked, hoping to curtail any talk of Teiv’s mate.

It was cruel, yes, and he felt a pang of guilt when Teiv’s ears drooped. But it was self-preservation. The less he thought of mates right now, the better.

“I’ve been processing your data, and I think we have finally reached the breakthrough you were hoping for.” Teiv reached for a sheaf of papers. “Here, see? If you isolate the strands, you can tell exactly where the mutations occurred and whether they were natural or--”

“That is enough,” he snapped. “Teiv, I have told you countless times that we must be discreet.”

Still, his heart was pounding. Could this truly be the proof he’d been seeking all these years? Would he actually have something to present to the Pathfinder? Something that could alter the course of the Karuvar’s fate once and for all?

Kor’ven opened his mouth to respond, but a rap at the door interrupted him. It opened, and his heart sped even more at the sight of Adi’sun.

“Sorry,” she said, glancing to the screen, “Ash told me you were in here, but not that you were in a conference.”

“Hello!” Teiv said, chipper as ever. “You must be Doctor Mun’roh. I have heard so many good things.”

Normally, Teiv’s tendencies only bothered Kor’ven on some surface level. Their personalities did not mesh well, and Teiv was young and idealistic, his beliefs sometimes painfully naive. He was a hard worker, though, and that was why Kor’ven kept him on.

But right now, he rather wished he could reach through the screen and wrap his arms around Teiv’s neck and squeeze until that smile was no longer turned upon his mate. Teiv already had a mate of his own. Adi’sun was Kor’ven’s. The other male did not need to look at her, let alone talk to her. And if he ever got the thought into his head to touch her…

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Adi’sun began. “I’m--”

“Do you not have something you could be doing?” Kor’ven growled, the words harsh and unyielding, hurled at a wide-eyed Teiv.

“I… yes, of course. I will keep working on our project. Forgive me.”

The screen went black and Kor’ven instantly regretted his actions. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to get a handle over himself. By the Stars, he was losing his grip on reality. And all because of the woman who was staring at him like he was some unimaginable tyrant.

“Do you need something?” he snapped.

Adi’sun’s gaze narrowed and the red that tinted her cheeks was not the lovely blush he had come to enjoy, but a flush of anger. “I suppose it’s good to know you treat everyone this way,” she spat. “When you’re done playing Commander, Verkiir and Meg are here for Vazik’s followup.”

He nodded curtly and waited until she left the room before he followed. If Adi’sun had been experiencing a similar pull this morning, it was certainly gone now. And perhaps that was for the best. It would make it easier to leave Helios; to leave her behind.

So long as Kor’ven ignored the pesky fact that he had contemplated killing his assistant in cold blood for so much as speaking to her.

That burst of possessive anger was eventually channeled into a clinical detachment by the time he reached the exam room.

Vazik’s implant was still active. His tattoo was not fully formed, but it would not be until several years from now. His vitals were strong and he seemed quite healthy, despite his sire’s worries.

But as Kor’ven ran the diagnostics, he discovered an issue. The implant did not appear to be running at peak capacity.

“Doctor Mun’roh,” he said, his tone level.

Adi’sun glanced up from the kit and whatever disdain she felt for him was superseded by her professionalism. He gestured for her to examine the readouts from the console, and she came to stand beside him. Kor’ven could practically feel the moment she noticed what he had.

“How is this possible?”

“What?” Verkiir asked, his voice a paranoid growl. “What is wrong? What did you do?”

In this particular instance, Kor’ven could not begrudge him his anger.

“Chill, dude,” Azh’lee said. And oddly, her strange words seemed to get through to the warrior. “But seriously, what’s going on?”

“I’m not sure,” Adi’sun admitted. “When implants activate, we can monitor their initial effects on the body. They start to alter the body on a cellular level. For some reason, Vazik’s implant is not hitting the levels it should.”

“What does that mean?” the kit’s mother asked, wrapping her arms about her son.

“If it is not fixed, he may not adapt the way other Karuvar or humans are able to,” Kor’ven explained.

Verkiir--large even for a warrior of their species--stalked over to him. They were nearly the same height, and thus his intimidations had to rely on his size, instead. The male dropped his voice low and Kor’ven thought not of his own safety, but of his mate’s. He placed himself between her and Verkiir, a growl rumbling in the back of his throat.

“Fix it,” Verkiir said, his tone deadly. Gold eyes flicked to Adi’sun, then back to him. “Pretend as if he is your own kit, and fix it.”

The First Guardian knew, then. As much as that fact unsettled Kor’ven, he could not deny the tug of responsibility that came from his words.

“We will,” he promised.

It seemed he would not escape Helios just yet--whether he wished to or not.

* * *

The problem was not a simple one to solve.

They worked well into the night, yet again. Kor’ven would never tire of being given a problem to pursue, but working alongside Adi’sun was proving difficult. Not because she was in any way difficult to work with. Even though he could tell she was still displeased with him, she kept her focus on the task at hand and contributed clever ideas to pursue a solution. No, the problem was not with her specifically, but with his reaction to her.

It was very difficult not to notice everything she did. Even a simple yawn caught his attention, though he was able to ignore that. What he was not able to ignore was the moment when she fell asleep while attempting to look something up in a reference book. Her cheek rested on her hand, but it slid slowly, slowly off until she was in danger of falling into the open book.

Kor’ven’s lips quirked into a smile. It was an endearing sight, to see her so lacking in composure, but it also spoke to something inside of him. Some nurturing urge that baffled him.

“You should rest,” he said, trying to keep his voice quiet and soothing. She startled anyway. “I can wake you in a few hours.”

Adi’sun blinked at him owlishly, seeming to still be locked in sleep’s sweet embrace. When she woke, though, she was pulled in a direction Kor’ven did not anticipate. Thin, blonde brows came down in agitation.

“I do not need a break. I just need…” She searched around as if looking for something. “Coffee.”

What humans called coffee--a foul black sludge that, as far as Kor’ven understood, bore little resemblance to what had once been ground from a bean--was not present in the room where they worked. She had to leave to retrieve a cup, and Kor’ven’s nose wrinkled at the smell.

“Does my drink offend you?” she asked, taking a sip.

Kor’ven tried not to smile when she winced.

“Yes.”

Adi’sun waved this off and returned to her book. “I don’t drink it for the taste.”

“Would it not be easier to administer caffeine intravenously?”

“…You want me to shoot up caffeine?” she asked, and her lips twitched just slightly.

Kor’ven had no idea what she found humorous about that, or what “shoot up” meant in this context, but an almost-smile was better than a solid scowl.

“I will bring zhavek with me, when next I return. It is a Karuvar stimulant.”

Her eyes lit up at this. “I’ve never had the chance to drink zhavek. Everyone always says it’s too potent for human consumption.”

Kor’ven scoffed and shook his head. “Hardly.”

A genuine smile touched her lips and Kor’ven felt an odd warmth spread through him, accompanied by a very strong need. He wanted to see more of that smile. He wanted to be the reason it appeared.

It transformed swiftly, though, into something he could not name. Adi’sun returned her attention to her book, but soon said, “I assumed once this was finished, you would be returning to Selene.”

His brow furrowed as he considered her words, finally realizing what he’d said. Without even realizing it, he had implied that he would return to Helios. Stars above, he was very foolish.

“I shall,” he said, and that was the end of it. Whatever passed between them was gone, lost in the quiet and independent work they both pursued.

Kor’ven took solace in it, but he felt like he was missing something. Some key component that would illuminate the main issue. His mind drifted, his own fatigue getting to him, but he recalled the conversation with his assistant that morning.

Perhaps he needn’t look so far from his own area of study. Perhaps the research to which he’d dedicated his life would be of use now.

It was a difficult thing to scrutinize the genetic structure of an implant. The biological material used to make them was fragile, and it often changed and adapted after being placed within the body. But Helios had the necessary equipment. As Kor’ven understood it, the collapse of Earth took with it many scientific discoveries. When the Karuvar brought their own technology, such advancements were prioritized for the good of the species. The equipment that existed at Helios, Selene, and other Waystations exemplified the best humanity had to offer, and it was certainly enough.

Retrieving the genetic slides and drawing Adi’sun’s curiosity as he did so, Kor’ven examined them in sequence, looking for adaptations, mutations, and other abnormalities. They existed, of course. All implants were coded with them. But there was something very strange in this one. Something that did not match what was typical.

“Do you have the genetic profile of… anyone, I suppose. Karuvar or human?” he asked.

Adi’sun was watching him work and she nodded. “Give me a moment.”

She returned with the slide and Kor’ven examined that alongside Vazik’s. They would be different, of course, but genetic code was not much of a mystery as a whole. Many strands would read the same, and the differences would be--or should be--minute.

“What are you looking for?” she asked. “Genetics have never been a strength of mine.”

There was a temptation to tell her. Few would know to look for what he was currently searching out because few knew--and even fewer believed--that it was possible to tamper with the genetics in the first place. Kor’ven knew all too well, and spotting an abnormality was as easy for him as a master painter identifying a stray brush stroke.

“I… have learned to identify when genetic code has been tampered with,” he simply said.

Her eyes widened, but she asked nothing further. For now. Instead, she pulled up a stool and sat beside him as he worked. It was comforting, having her near. Almost as comforting as it was distracting, for every second breath he drew in, he could smell the scent of her hair or her skin.

He was able to remain focused, though, and he finally identified a rather significant difference. He pointed it out to Adi’sun, allowing her to take a look.

“If these strands were coded in letters,” he explained, “they would typically be expressed as ABABBA. But you can see this one is ABACBA. The existence of that one protein completely changes the genetic marker.”

When she pulled back from the microscope, her face was alight. He recognized that look: it was the sheer joy of scientific discovery, even if it had not been hers.

“Is this not something that could occur naturally?” she asked.

Kor’ven shook his head. “Assuming there are no anomalies in Mei’gahn and Verkiir’s genetics, no. And the fact that this is an entirely different code speaks of tampering.”

She looked again, confirming what he had seen. Her brow furrowed and he watched as she stepped away from him, pacing the small room. Her anxiety spoke to something in him, and he ached to go to her; to soothe her. But he remained in his seat, simply watching.

“This is a serious allegation. The idea that someone tampered with Vazik’s implant coding is… unconscionable.” She wrapped her arms about herself then turned wide blue eyes upon him. “How do you know this, Kor’ven? Can you prove it was tampered with?”

Kor’ven drew in a breath. He should have known she would ask that. And now that the future of their combined species was at stake, he supposed he owed her the full answer.

“I can,” he said, and prepared himself to explain.