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2

The first thing Lia felt was the heat—oppressive, thick, and smothering. It crawled across her skin like molten silk, drawing her from unconsciousness. Her eyelids fluttered open, but the brightness of a blood-red sky made her flinch. Her mouth was dry, and every muscle in her body ached as though she’d been torn apart and stitched back together.

She shifted, groaning softly, her fingers digging into rough, grainy sand. That’s when she felt it: a hand, cool and steady, gripping her shoulder.

“You’re awake.” Ares’ voice was low, quiet, but the relief in it was unmistakable.

Her eyes adjusted slowly, and she turned her head toward him. He was kneeling beside her, his black alloy exterior shimmering faintly under the alien sun. The silver of his eyes had dimmed, but they still burned with an intensity that sent a shiver through her. He looked... almost disheveled.

“Where...” Her voice cracked, and she coughed. “Where are we?”

“Uncharted planet,” he said, his hand never leaving her shoulder. “The wormhole displaced us approximately 6.3 light-years from the origin point.”

Her brain scrambled to process his words, but the heat and exhaustion made it nearly impossible. “Six... light-years? How—”

“The how is irrelevant right now,” Ares interrupted, his tone firm. “Your vitals are unstable. You need water.”

She didn’t resist when he pulled her to a sitting position, his movements surprisingly gentle for someone—or something—so large. Her gaze fell on his hand, the smooth black surface marred by faint scratches.

“You’re damaged,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ares followed her line of sight to his hand, then flexed his fingers experimentally. “Superficial damage,” he said dismissively. “You, however, are far more fragile.”

Her lips twitched despite herself. “You’ve got a way with compliments.”

His head tilted slightly, that too-human gesture she was starting to recognize. “It’s not a compliment. It’s a fact.”

She rolled her eyes, which only made him lean closer. Too close. The heat from the sun was unbearable, but the proximity of his cool presence made the air around her shift. He studied her with unnerving focus, his crystalline gaze sweeping over her face as though cataloging every detail.

“You’re dehydrated,” he said softly.

“No kidding.” She tried to push herself to her feet, but her legs trembled beneath her. Before she could fall, Ares’ arm was around her waist, pulling her upright as though she weighed nothing.

“Careful,” he murmured.

She froze. Not because of his words, but because of the way his hand lingered against her side, steadying her with a firmness that wasn’t entirely necessary. His gaze caught hers, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

Her heart thudded against her ribs, and she hated how aware she was of him—the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his black alloy seemed to gleam like onyx in the sunlight, the faint hum of his internal systems. He wasn’t human. She knew that. She’d built him. And yet...

Ares seemed to sense the tension between them, and he stepped back, releasing her. She swayed slightly, but this time she managed to stand on her own.

“There’s a structure nearby,” he said, gesturing toward a jagged outcrop in the distance. “It may provide shelter.”

She shielded her eyes from the sun, squinting at the silhouette of what appeared to be a crumbling building. “How far?”

“Three-point-four miles.”

Lia groaned. “Of course it is.”

“We need to move now,” Ares said. “The temperature is rising. Prolonged exposure will increase your risk of heatstroke.”

“And what about you?” she shot back, more sharply than she intended. “You’re not exactly built for this either.”

His expression didn’t change, but there was something in his eyes—something almost vulnerable. “I’m designed to adapt,” he said quietly. “But I’m also designed to protect you.”

Her stomach twisted. There it was again—that softness in his voice, that hint of something more. She didn’t know what to make of it, so she shoved the thought aside and started walking.

The sand burned against the soles of her boots, and every step felt like a battle against the heat. Ares stayed close, his presence both reassuring and unsettling. Every so often, she caught him glancing at her, his expression unreadable.

“You’re staring,” she said at one point, her voice dry.

“I’m monitoring,” he corrected. “Your heart rate is elevated.”

“Yeah, well, trudging through a desert will do that.”

His lips twitched, almost imperceptibly. “Noted.”

By the time they reached the structure, Lia was on the verge of collapse. The building was a relic of some long-forgotten civilization, its walls cracked and crumbling, but it provided enough shade to shield them from the sun.

Ares helped her sit against the wall, his hand lingering on her arm just a second too long before he stepped back. She tilted her head to watch him as he scanned the area, his movements precise and deliberate.

He was beautiful, she realized with a start. Not in a conventional way—he wasn’t human, after all—but in the way his design merged form and function so seamlessly. His broad shoulders and powerful frame seemed almost sculpted, and the faint glow of his circuits gave him an otherworldly aura.

She shook her head, cursing herself for even thinking it. “I need water,” she muttered, more to herself than to him.

“I’ll find it,” Ares said immediately.

“Wait,” she said, frowning. “You’re not going out there alone.”

He turned to her, his silver eyes meeting hers. “I am better equipped to handle the environment.”

“And what if you don’t come back?”

For the first time, Ares hesitated. He crouched in front of her, his gaze searching hers with an intensity that made her throat tighten. “I will always come back,” he said, his voice low and steady.

Something about the way he said it sent a ripple through her chest, and she had to look away. “Fine,” she said finally. “But don’t take too long.”

He rose smoothly, his movements almost predatory, and disappeared into the desert.

Lia leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes. Her mind raced with everything that had happened—the wormhole, the crash, Ares’ strange behavior. She didn’t know what to make of him anymore. He was more than she’d designed him to be, and it terrified her.

A soft sound pulled her from her thoughts, and her eyes snapped open. At first, she thought it was the wind, but then she saw the shadows shifting at the edge of the building. Her pulse quickened as she reached for the small utility knife strapped to her boot.

The shadows grew larger, and a figure emerged—a humanoid shape with jagged, insect-like limbs and glowing yellow eyes. It clicked and hissed, its movements jerky and unnatural.

Lia’s breath caught in her throat as the creature advanced, its claws glinting in the dim light. She gripped the knife tightly, her hands trembling.

“Ares,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

The creature lunged.

And then, out of nowhere, a blur of black alloy slammed into the creature, sending it sprawling. Ares stood over it, his silver eyes blazing with fury.

“I told you I would come back,” he said, his voice a growl.

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