The late afternoon sun had finally begun to surrender its hold on the Texas skyline. It bled through the front windows of the diner in long, syrupy bands of amber and burnt orange, catching the dust motes dancing in the air conditioning stream.
For Raina, the diner had ceased to be a place of food and beverage hours ago. It was now a command center.
She sat in the corner booth, the one furthest from the door, surrounded by a fortress of whiteboards, unrolled blueprints, and a laptop that was humming loudly enough to sound like it was preparing for takeoff. Her eyes locked on the calculator screen in front of her and the numbers were adding up to a sum that was a logistical nightmare that made her stomach turn over.
"Four hundred thousand cubic feet," she muttered to herself, tapping the eraser of her mechanical pencil against her bottom lip.
She looked down at the schematic she had drawn of the tunnel system, then there was the transition chamber and beyond that, the Sphere.
The Spherical Room was an engineering impossibility. It was a perfect geometric void inside the earth. Nature did not make perfect spheres. Nothing in geology created a room that looked like it had been scooped out with a divine melon-baller.
"How do I shore up a bubble?" she whispered to the empty air.
She picked up her schematics for the inflatable shoring system. The plan was to use high-pressure pneumatic bladders, basically industrial-grade balloons capable of holding up tons of rock.
And then there was the air quality issue.
She pulled a sticky note off her laptop screen. It contained the chemical analysis of the condensation she had swabbed from the lower tunnel walls earlier that morning.
It was acidic. It was chemically aggressive.
"So the air eats metal, perfect. Just perfect."
She reached for her coffee cup, only to find it empty and cold. She sighed, letting her head thump gently back against the red vinyl of the booth.
She didn't hear him approach. She never did.
One moment the seat across from her was empty, occupied only by a stack of geological surveys. The next moment, the light shifted, a shadow fell across her paperwork, and Nix was there.
He didn't slide in. It was more like he poured himself into the space, his movements possessing a fluid, almost liquid quality that always made Raina blink to make sure she wasn't hallucinating.
He was breathtaking. It was a fact that Raina tried to ignore for the sake of professionalism, but up close, it was impossible. Nix wasn't just handsome, he was structurally perfect. His skin was poreless and smooth, stretching over high, sharp cheekbones. He sat with the coiled tension of a spring that was permanently wound too tight, yet his face was a mask of serene, symmetrical beauty.
"The math is angry," Nix said.
His voice was a strange thing. It sounded like gravel grinding together at the bottom of a well, yet it had a melodic, hypnotic lilt to it.
Raina sat up straighter, instinctively smoothing her shirt. Working with Nix was an exercise in cognitive dissonance. She knew he was unique. She had seen the way he seemed to know things about the earth that no geologist could learn in a university.
"The math isn't angry, Nix," Raina corrected him, her voice coming out huskier than she intended. She cleared her throat. "The math is impossible."
Nix reached out a hand. His fingers were flawless, the nails manicured to a shine that would make a hand model jealous. He tapped the circle she had drawn representing the Spherical Room.
"The Stone breathes," Nix said softly.
He looked up, locking eyes with her. His gaze was intense, heavy, and it pinned her to the back of the booth.
"You calculate for dead rock," he whispered. "The sphere is not dead rock."
Raina frowned, her pulse quickening. "Metaphorically? Or literally?"
"The walls," Nix said, tracing the curve of the drawing, his finger moving in a slow, sensual arc. "They weep. The liquid comes and goes with the... pressure. Like a tide. You need to push the air when the tide is low. Pull the air when the tide is high."
Raina stared at him. Her mouth went dry.
She looked at her calculations, then back at his lips. The logic was sound. She needed rhythm.
"Rhythm," she whispered. The word felt heavy in her mouth.
She grabbed her pencil, her hand brushing against his arm. His skin was cool, firm, like polished marble. The contact sent a jolt of electricity straight to her core. She scribbled a new formula in the margin, her handwriting shaky.
"Variable flow," that saves me... almost forty percent on power. And I can use smaller ducting."
"You are clever," most diggers... most builders... they just smash. They drill. They force the stone to yield. You listen to it. You try to understand the weight of the air."
Raina felt a flush of pride warm her cheeks, followed immediately by a flush of heat lower down. It was ridiculous. She was a master engineer with degrees from top universities. But hearing this strange, impossibly beautiful creature compliment her intuition felt surprisingly, dangerously validating.
She crossed her legs under the table, shifting in her seat. The way he looked at her, like she was a puzzle he had just solved, made her skin prickle.
"I try," Raina said, exhaling a long breath. She held his gaze, feeling bold. "But the shoring is still a nightmare. The inflatable tubes will slip. The friction isn't there. There's nothing to grip."
Nix's eyes darkened slightly. He leaned closer.
"Then do not use friction," Nix said, his voice dropping an octave, vibrating in her chest. "Use tension."
He tapped the center of the drawing.
"The sphere... it has a pole. Top and bottom. Push against the poles, not the equator."
Raina blinked. Her breath hitched.
"Tension," she repeated.
"Yes," Nix whispered. "Tight. Center line."
Raina looked at the sphere drawing again. A tension rod with the inflatable shores radiating out from the center like the spokes of a wheel.
"A central hub," she murmured, her mind racing, her body reacting to the proximity of him. "I could anchor a jack-post in the center floor... extend it to the ceiling... and hang the supports from that. It keeps the walls untouched but... firmly held."
She looked at Nix with genuine admiration, and something hungrier.
"You have a scary amount of structural insight for someone who doesn't use a calculator," she said.
Nix shrugged, his shoulders rolling in that fluid, boneless way that emphasized the lean muscle beneath his shirt.
"Nix knows the deep places. Nix knows where the rocks want to fall. But you..." He reached out and tapped the back of her hand with one finger. The touch was light, electric. "You know how to explain it to the others. You know the numbers. You are the perfect one for this, Raina. The Stone Keeper chose well."
"The Stone Keeper?" Raina asked, her voice breathless.
"Marcus," Nix corrected himself quickly, his eyes darting toward the kitchen, breaking the spell for a split second. "The Boss."
Raina narrowed her eyes slightly, shaking her head to clear the fog of lust that had settled over her. That was another thing. The hierarchy here was bizarre. Marcus was a special-forces commander and now a diner cook. A good one, sure. But the way Nix, and that terrifyingly intense blonde woman Eira, and even the flighty waitress Liri looked at him... it was like he was a king in exile.
And then there was Pearl.
Raina glanced toward the counter where Pearl was wiping down a sugar dispenser. Pearl played the role of the dizzy waitress perfectly, but Raina had seen her move crates that should have required a forklift.
"She is... enthusiastic," Nix said, leaning back into the shadows of the booth, his eyes gleaming. "But she does not know the weight of the earth like we do, Engineer."
"We," Raina repeated, smiling. She liked the sound of that. She liked the way he grouped them together. "Right. Well, 'we' need to figure out the material list for this tension rod before the suppliers on line close."
Movement from the kitchen caught her eye. The swinging door pushed open, and Marcus stepped out.
He looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his apron was stained with grease and coffee, but he moved with a steady, purposeful calm. He carried a large tray balanced on one hand, navigating the space between the tables with an easy grace that spoke of years behind a line.
The smell hit Raina before he even arrived, roasted garlic, seared beef, and something herbal and sharp that made her mouth water instantly.
"Refueling time," Marcus announced, sliding the tray onto the edge of Raina's fortress of paper.
He placed a plate in front of Raina: a massive burger topped with melted swiss, sautéed mushrooms, and onions that had been caramelized until they were dark as molasses. Next to it, a pile of hand-cut fries dusted with rosemary salt.
For Nix, he placed a bowl. It was filled with raw cuts of steak, heavy on the fat, and... "were those maraschino cherries mixed in?"
Raina watched Nix as Marcus set the bowl down. She expected to be repulsed. Instead, she watched as Nix picked up a silver fork.
"I saw the smoke coming out of your ears from the kitchen," Marcus said, wiping his hands on a towel tucked into his belt. He looked down at the chaotic spread of blueprints. "How bad is it?"
"It was catastrophic," Raina admitted, tearing her eyes away from Nix to pick up a fry. She bit into it, and the flavor exploded on her tongue, salty, earthy, perfect. She moaned softly, closing her eyes. "God, Marcus. You are wasted in this town. But... I think we found a workaround. Nix gave me an idea for the ventilation."
Marcus looked at Nix. His expression was unreadable for a moment, a mix of wariness and approval. He knew exactly what Nix was. He knew that the handsome, slender man sitting in his booth could rip a car door off its hinges with those perfectly manicured hands if he felt like it. But he also saw the way Nix was sitting politely, posture perfect, waiting for Raina to eat first.
"Good," Marcus said, his voice low. "We need the air flowing down there by Tuesday. If we're going to expand... if we're going to secure the lower level... we can't be suffocating."
"We'll be ready," Raina promised, grabbing a napkin. "The tension rod system will take a day to fabricate, but I can rig the fans as soon as I have the parts.. the Core of Engineers will cover the invoices with minimal discussion."
Marcus nodded. He leaned a hand on the back of the booth, looming over them slightly. He looked at Raina, then at Nix, then out the window at the darkening parking lot. He seemed to be counting the cars, checking the perimeter, always on guard.
"Eat," Marcus ordered gently. "Both of you. Brains don't work on empty."
He turned to leave, but paused. He looked at Raina.
"You're doing good work, Raina. I know this isn't exactly the job description you signed up for."
Raina laughed, a short, tired sound. "Marcus, I signed up to fix a basement. I'm currently designing a life-support system for a spherical void inside a limestone cavern while sitting next to a guy who eats cherries with raw steak. I threw the job description out the window three days ago."
Marcus cracked a smile. It was rare, but it transformed his face, taking pressure off him.
"Fair point," he said.
He walked away, heading toward a table near the door where an elderly couple was waiting for their check.
Raina watched him go, then turned back to Nix.
Back behind the bar, the stainless steel world of the diner's kitchen was usually a place of order. It was a domain of rhythmic chopping, timed sizzles, and the predictable mechanics of thermal transfer.
But tonight, the kitchen was a pressure cooker waiting to blow the lid off the entire building.
Liri stood in front of the six-burner gas range. She was trembling. Not the subtle shiver of cold, but the violent, rattling vibration of a boiler that had exceeded its safety limits. Her skin, usually a pale, creamy alabaster, was flushed a deep, alarming rose color, starting at her chest and rising up her neck to her hairline.
She stared at the pilot light on the front burner. The tiny blue tongue of fire flickered.
It wasn't enough.
"More," Liri whispered, her voice sounding like grinding stones.
She grabbed the dial and wrenched it hard to the right. The burner roared to life, a crown of blue and orange fire shooting up toward the ventilation hood. The heat hit her face, dry and intense, but it didn't soothe the itch beneath her skin. It only made it angrier.
"Too small," she hissed.
She grabbed the next dial. And the next. Within seconds, all six burners were raging at maximum output, creating a wall of heat that rippled the air in the narrow galley.
Liri stepped back, breathing hard. Her breasts heaved against the fabric of her apron, the nipples hard and aching against the rough cotton. She felt... wrong. She felt expansive. She felt like her body was a vessel that had been overfilled with a thick, hot liquid that was desperate to spill out, but there were no cracks to let it escape.
A toaster oven sat on the prep counter to her left. It was a sturdy, commercial-grade appliance. It hummed quietly, toasting a side of sourdough for a nonexistent order.
Liri glared at it. The humming. It was mocking her. It was a constant, low-frequency buzz that scraped against her raw nerves like a file.
"Stop it," Liri warned the appliance.
The toaster continued to hum.
"I said stop!" Liri shrieked.
She didn't turn it off. She didn't unplug it. She reached out with her bare hand, grabbed the hot metal casing, and squeezed.
Her grip, fueled by the terrifying strength of her lineage and the hormonal storm raging in her blood, crumpled the steel box like it was made of aluminum foil. Glass shattered. Heating elements snapped with a sharp pop. Sparks showered down onto the linoleum.
Liri breathed heavily, holding the crushed remains of the appliance. It felt good. Destruction felt good. But it wasn't enough. The ache was still there, centered low in her belly, a heavy, throbbing pulse that demanded something she couldn't name.
"That was a three-hundred-dollar convection unit."
The voice was cool, detached, and cut through the heat like an ice pick.
Liri whipped around, dropping the mangled toaster.
Eira stood by the swinging doors. The older sister looked impeccable as always, her blonde hair swept up in a severe twist, her posture regal. But her green eyes were sharp, assessing the chaos with the clinical detachment of a bomb disposal technician.
"It was buzzing at me," Liri panted, backing up against the prep table. She felt cornered. She felt wild. "Everything is buzzing, Eira. The lights. The fridge. You."
Eira walked forward, ignoring the wall of heat from the stove. She reached out and calmly turned the dials off, one by one. The roar of the fire died down, leaving a ringing silence in the room.
"You are spiraling, Little Sister," Eira said, turning to face her. She reached out and touched Liri's forehead.
Liri flinched, a small whimper escaping her throat. Eira's hand was cool, but the contact sent a jolt of electricity through Liri's nervous system that made her knees buckle.
"Hot," Eira diagnosed. "Pupils fully dilated. Skin conductivity off the charts. And..." She leaned in, sniffing the air near Liri's neck. "Pheromones thick enough to choke a Glimmuck."
Eira pulled back, wiping her hand on her apron.
"It is the Fever," Eira stated simply. "The Cycle has come upon you."
Liri gripped the edge of the prep table, her knuckles white. "I am dying. I think I am dying. My insides are trying to become my outsides."
"You are not dying," Eira said, her voice softening just a fraction. "You are ripe. Back in the High Vale, this would be a cause for celebration. We would paint you in ochre and send you into the bridal tent for three days. But here..." Eira looked around the diner kitchen, wrinkling her nose. "Here, we have limited resources."
Liri let out a frustrated scream, grabbing a ceramic dinner plate from the stack and smashing it on the floor. The crash was satisfyingly loud.
"I don't want ochre!" Liri yelled, tears pricking her eyes. "I want... I want to tear something apart. I want to be crushed. I want weight. I need weight on me, Eira!"
Eira nodded slowly. She picked up a cleaver from the magnetic strip, checking the edge idly.
"You need the Sky-Bond," Eira said.
Liri froze. The name hung in the hot air.
"Marcus?" Liri whispered.
"He is the only male of sufficient genetic density to survive you right now," Eira analyzed. "If you take a human male from the town, you will break him. Physically. You will snap his pelvis like a wishbone. Marcus... Marcus is sturdy. He is Earth-touched."
Liri flushed darker, the image of Marcus filling her mind. His broad shoulders. The rough stubble on his jaw. The way his forearms corded with muscle when he lifted a crate of potatoes.
"But..." Liri swallowed hard, the guilt warring with the lust. "He is yours. You claimed the Sky-Bond. The stars wrote it."
Eira stepped closer, invading Liri's comments. She trapped Liri against the counter, placing a hand on either side of her hips.
"I am the Matriarch," Eira murmured, her voice dropping to a low, husky register. "The Bond belongs to me. But the Tribe relies on stability. If you explode, we lose our sanctuary. Therefore... I am making an executive decision."
Eira leaned down, her lips brushing Liri's ear.
"I am going to give him to you, Liri. Just for tonight."
Liri trembled, her breath hitching. "He... he won't know what to do. He is just a cook. He doesn't know the Ritual."
"Then we will teach him," Eira whispered. "Think of it, sister. Think of the relief."
Eira's voice became hypnotic, weaving a picture that bypassed Liri's logic and went straight to her overheating core.
"Imagine him," Eira purred. "He is heavy, Liri. He is solid. He smells of salt and iron and fire. When he takes you, it will not be gentle. It cannot be gentle. You need him to anchor you."
Liri let out a broken sob, her head falling back. "Yes. Anchor."
"He will pin you down," Eira continued, her words explicit and deliberate, designed to focus Liri's scattered energy. "He will use those large, rough hands to hold you against the mattress until you cannot move. He will spread you open, Liri. And he will fill that empty, burning ache inside you with something hard and real."
Liri slid down slightly, her legs turning to jelly. Eira held her up, gripping her arm tight.
"He will stretch you," Eira promised, her eyes glittering with a vicarious intensity. "He is a warrior, remember? He knows how to conquer. He will drive into you, deep and slow, grinding against that itch you cannot scratch. He will not stop when you cry out. He will not stop when you claw his back. He will pound the Fever out of you, stroke by stroke, until you are empty. Until you are silent. Until you are mine again."
Liri was panting now, her mouth open, a string of saliva connecting her lips. Her eyes were rolled back slightly, lost in the fantasy Eira was painting.
"Do you want that?" Eira asked sharply, giving her a small shake. "Do you want the Sky-Bond to break you open and put you back together?"
"Yes," Liri gasped. "Yes. Please. Now. I need it now."
"Good," Eira said, straightening up and smoothing her apron. The mask of the cool older sister slammed back into place instantly. "Because if you break one more appliance, I am deducting it from your share of the tips."
She grabbed a dish towel and threw it over her shoulder.
"Wipe your face," Eira commanded. "You look feral. We are going out there. I will negotiate the terms of the encounter. You just... try not to drool on the customers until the contract is signed."
Liri nodded frantically, wiping sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. The panic was gone, replaced by a singular, predatory focus.
She didn't want to smash the toaster anymore. She wanted Marcus.
"Come," Eira said, kicking the debris of the toaster under the counter. "The Sky-Bond is taking a break. Let us ensure he is ready to work overtime."
Eira pushed the swinging door open, and Liri followed, stumbling slightly, her eyes wide and hungry, ready to claim the only thing that could save her from burning alive.
"On second thought we need to take some time to clean up the Skybond's kitchen, or he will not be agreeable."
They turned back around grabbing some extra towels from the bar.
Back in the dining area, Raina was watching Nix with plenty of curiosity.
He was slicing the raw steak with surgical precision. He speared a cube of red meat and a bright red cherry onto the fork. He didn't just eat it; he savored it. He placed the fork in his mouth, his lips closing around the tines, his eyes fluttering shut in ecstasy. He chewed slowly, a small moan escaping his throat.
Raina felt her toes curl in her boots. It should have been gross. It should have been terrifying. But seeing that level of sensory pleasure on a face that perfect was... intoxicating.
He opened his eyes and caught her staring. He smiled, a slow, knowing curve of his lip and teeth that were blindingly white.
"He worries," Nix said, his voice smooth as velvet. "The Boss carries the sky on his back."
"He carries something," Raina agreed, her voice barely a whisper. She looked at the schematics of the tunnels, then back at Nix's perfect hands. "I just hope these struts can carry the rest."
She turned back to her laptop, typing in the new variables, but her focus was shot. The sun had fully set now, and the diner lights hummed overhead, casting long shadows across the table.
Raina adjusted her glasses. She didn't know everything, she knew that much. She knew Pearl was hiding something behind those wide, innocent doe-eyes. She knew Eira watched the door like a Secret Service agent. She knew Nix was... different. Too fast. Too strong. Too perfect.
But the math? The math she could control. Even if the man helping her with it was making her want to tear her own blueprints in half. For tonight, the math would have to be enough.