Page 33 of Zinnia and the Zombie
“Oh God. Me neither,” she managed, clinging to him as he cradled her in his arms.
When her body finally stopped trembling, he gently withdrew and set her back on her feet. He was still hard, his shaft glowing.
“Does it… go away?” she asked curiously.
“It will eventually grow dormant again. Do not worry, my Zinnia. We have all the time in the world.”
As he pulled her close, she pressed her face against his chest and allowed herself to acknowledge what her heart already knew.
Against all odds, on this ruined world so far from home, she had found something she’d never truly believed in before—a connection that transcended mere attraction or convenience.
She had found love.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Jaxx carried his sleeping mate to the sleeping platform and laid her down, his heart full. He had never felt such pleasure—not mere physical pleasure but a sense of connection so deep that it seemed to exist at a cellular level. A mate bond, he thought wonderingly. He had never truly understood what that meant before, but now he knew.
She was his.
His Zinnia.
The knowledge settled over him with a sense of belonging so profound it was beyond words. Instead, he breathed a silent prayer to the Ancestors and climbed carefully out of bed. As he did the cover slipped down to reveal a soft pink-tipped breast and his mating organ immediately began to rise. Despite what he’d told her, he wondered if it would ever go dormant again as long as they were together—which would be always, he vowed silently.
But for now she needed rest, not his insatiable desire.
He pulled on his pants, unsuccessfully trying to wrestle his unruly body under control, then slipped silently out of the bedroom. He crossed to the huge windows, automatically surveying the city. Despite the profound change within himself, everything outside the window appeared the same. Had he really expected anything else?
Shaking his head at his foolishness, he stared towards the food preparation area, then paused. There was a discrepancy between the length of the two rooms. He examined the wall paneling more closely and found a clearly concealed switch. Braced for danger, he flipped the switch and the panel slid smoothly aside.
No drones emerged from the room behind the panel. Instead he found what must have been a study of some kind, the walls lined with data units from ancient scrolls to data crystals no different to those he had used in the past. A curved console of some rich, dark wood occupied the center of the room.
He examined it more closely and discovered another small hidden panel concealing a tangle of crystalline circuitry, the pattern surprisingly familiar. If he could restore the power…
He set to work, carefully tracing the connections and checking each junction. An hour later he was about to complete the final circuit when he sensed Zinnia entering the room. He gave a hum of satisfaction when the console flickered with pale blue light and rose to his feet, smiling at her.
She’d wrapped a thin silk throw around her delectable body, and she looked impossibly tempting, her hair tousled and her cheeks still flushed from sleep. He was tempted to forget his project and carry her back to bed, but perhaps he could find some answers at last.
“Backup systems,” he explained. “Minimal functionality, but enough to access the data archives. Perhaps we can discover what happened here.”
He studied the console for a moment before moving across the controls, rapidly growing more confident.
“You know how to use this?” she asked, moving closer.
“The interface is… recognizable.” He frowned down at the interface. “There are similarities to systems I’ve encountered before.”
The console responded to his touch, symbols flickering across its surface, and he tilted his head, studying them. There was a teasing familiarity to the script but he couldn’t quite decipher it. He sighed and flicked through the options until he found Galactic Standard.
“What does it say?” she asked, peering at the symbols.
“Personal logs,” he translated. “Final entries.”
He found the appropriate control, and a section of the room before them shimmered. A hologram materialized—a tall, slender being with iridescent skin and elongated features. He didn’t recognize the species but he could read the profound sorrow in its large, multi-faceted eyes.
“Final entry,” the being said quietly. “The Last Architect’s Testament.”
A sudden feeling of dread swept over him and he tensed.
“The quarantine has failed.” The hologram’s voice was weary, defeated. “The spores have spread to every district. Containmentwas… a fantasy. The warning signs were there for decades, but we were too proud to heed them.”
