Page 2 of The Quoram Effect

“No…I don’t know—”

“If your heart knows what it wants, Remi, I strongly advise you to follow its desire.”

I huffed a despairing laugh. “I’m not going to chase a pointless dream.”

“There is no harm in trying—”

“How can I?” I snapped. “Why would I set myself up for rejection…risk everything I have? I’m lonely enough as it is. Torz…he doesn’t see me in that way. He never has. I’m just…just…”

“The trusted lieutenant he looks out for. Yes, you’ve told me this before.”

“Then why are you asking me the same questions?”

Irritating me further, the suave deity leaned back casually, sipped his wine, and hummed his amusement. “Time is ticking, Remi. And living with regret can tear the soul apart.”

Chapter Two

I wrenched my eyes open, only to squirm at the brightness of the harsh daytime lights streaming through the open lounge doorway. An icy dampness tingled across my shoulders and chest, and I shivered. My pyjamas were soaked in sweat, my bedsheets, too.

What the hell?

With a groan, I rolled onto my back and stared up at the same unfulfilling ceiling that smiled down on me every morning. Three large magenta flowers adorned the metallic shell. I’d painted them in the attempt to brighten my drab, lifeless bedroom years ago, in the hope of lifting my mood.

I wasn’t sure if the theory had remotely worked. Ever.

My eyes analysed the thick brushstrokes, particularly where the paint had flaked away from one of the petal edges. Its imperfections annoyed me, but if I gave myself a quin for every time I promised myself I’d repaint it and never had, I’d be a wealthy woman.

As I lay motionless, staring at my flawed artwork, flashes of last night’s dream shot to the forefront of my mind. I cursed. How many times was I going to dream of the Damson God? Of the same agonising conversation?

It had been nine years—nineGods damnyears—and I couldn’t understand why I was mentally torturing myselfnow.

I’d rejected the Damson bond that had appeared between Torz and me when I was seventeen. We’d accepted our decision. But over the past several months, something had changed: the heartflutters when he smiled at me, the tingles when he brushed against my skin, and whenever he came near, the all-consuming emotional overload.

I craved him, desired him in a way I’d never allowed myself to. And those dreams…they did nothing but intensify my longing for him.

Slipping out of bed, I tore the cold, damp clothes from my body and threw on my old, fluffy dressing gown with its fraying hems and a hole in the pocket. I needed a new one, but my mum had given it to me two months before she died. Nothing could convince me to part with it—nothing.

The thought gave me pause.

Her death had been nine years ago, too.

That year had tried to break me.

Rubbing my eyes, I batted the thought away. Too much clashed about my mind these days, and the fight to dampen those thoughts and memories was waning. What I’d give to stop thinking for a few hours…

Gods! Stop it, Remi.

I’m fine. I’m fine!

I was fine, just tired. At least I hoped that was what the new melancholy swelling in the pit of my stomach was.

As I entered the brightly lit lounge, I dimmed the harsh lights. A used wineglass sat on the round glass table, resting in front of the plush chair the Damson God sat on every night in my dreams. I could’ve sworn I hadn’t left it there yesterday. I didn’t remember drinking wine before bed. But in my exhausted stupor, clearly, I had.

With a sigh, I picked up the empty glass and glanced towards the floor-to-ceiling window edging the inner curve of my living room. Quoram’s glow always cast a violet tinge over the circular structure of the space station I called home. The four rotating rings and the space traffic visiting the docks were usually theonly floating structures I could see from here. But today, I could make out the steady lights of at least four of the huge space stations orbiting the planet. There were eleven stations in total, with a twelfth orbiting Pura, the solitary moon. Each one was unique in size and structure and followed its own orbital path around Quoram. Each station home to thousands upon thousands of people.

How ironic. I was surrounded by an entire civilisation, yet barely knew anyone.

An abrupt hammering on my door made me flinch, and I rolled my eyes. Counting the number of people Iwasacquainted with, there was only one who had the cheek to be so obnoxious.