Grayson hadn’t let go, and now he was leading Neville deeper into the garden, their joined hands swinging slightly between them.
The warmth from Grayson’s palm seeped into Neville’s skin, traveled up his arm, and settled sowhere in his chest where it had no business being. He tried not to think about it.
He tried not to focus on how natural it felt, how right—no, that wasn’t the word.
Convenient. It was convenient for so purpose. That was all there was to it.
"What kinds of ingredients do you want to buy?" Grayson asked, his voice a low, steady rumble that cut cleanly through Neville’s internal struggle.
The question caught him off guard.
He glanced up at his boss—no, at Grayson—who didn’t seem the least bit bothered that they were still holding hands. He wasn’t just not bothered—he looked completely comfortable, as if this level of proximity were a given. Maybe he was reading too much into it, but it was annoying that he seed to be used to this kind of interaction.
"I..." Neville’s thoughts scattered like startled fish. They walked through the tunnel corridor, its walls lined with bioluminescent strips that pulsed in rhythm with their footsteps. "I don’t know yet."
"Hmm." He humd as he squeezed Neville’s hand lightly.
It was impossible to tell if that ant approval, disappointnt, or just a re acknowledgnt. Grayson’s emotional range typically fluctuated sowhere between focused on work and sothing related to work, so this trip into recreational activity felt like stepping into uncharted territory.
The corridor curved gently, revealing a massive door at its end. As they approached, Neville made out the label etched into its surface: ’Edible Leaves—Fruits Included.’
The door parted with a hiss, releasing a wave of humid air that carried the scent of earth—and sothing sweeter underneath. Neville stepped through and froze.
Is this really a cultivation facility or a forest?
The space before him defied logic. Towering shrubs rose toward the sky that could be seen through the do’s ceiling. Their branches twisted into impossible shapes that suggested they had been guided by soone with an artistic eye and too much ti.
Vines hung everywhere—thick ones that could support a person’s weight, delicate ones that dripped with moisture, flowering ones that perfud the air. The entire arrangent created the illusion of a maze garden, one that belonged more to Earth’s Amazon than a sterile cultivation facility on Planet Xylos.
Flowering plants occupied every available surface, arranged with precision that sohow enhanced rather than diminished the wild atmosphere.
Colors flooded his vision—purple blooms the size of his head, tiny white flowers that clustered like snow, red petals glowing from within.
And there, just at eye level, hung clusters of berries that looked exactly like—
Was that raspberries?
Neville’s feet moved before his brain caught up. He rembered briefly seeing raspberries on the list Shelly gave him. There was a note there that it has high nutrient content and versatility in cooking. The real thing looked even better than the holographic display; each berry was perfectly round and glistening with condensation.
His hand was halfway extended when sothing yanked him backward.
The world spun, and Neville stumbled on his feet. Suddenly, he was falling—no, not falling, being pulled. His back hit sothing solid, warm, and very much alive.
"Oh—" The breath left his lungs in a sharp gasp.
He had landed against Grayson’s chest. The man had sohow caught him mid-stumble, one arm locked around his waist to keep him upright. Except ’upright’ was a generous description when Neville’s entire body was pressed flush against his chest, close enough to feel the steady rise and fall of breathing that wasn’t his own.
He was close enough to inhale Grayson’s pheromones.
Grayson’s pheromones were so concentrated that his face instantly flushed red. Blood rushed to his cheeks in a way that had to be visible even in the garden’s natural lighting.
"S-sorry, I didn’t an—" Neville tried to push away, palms against Grayson’s chest, to regain his footing.
The arm on his waist tightened, just a little, enough to prevent him from escaping his clutches.
Grayson didn’t let him step away. Instead, he leaned down, bringing his lips close to Neville’s ear. Too close, his breath brushing against Neville’s sensitive ear.
He whispered, "Don’t co close to the plants in here."
Every nerve in Neville’s body burned at once. He froze, then tilted his head up automatically—instinctively—and found himself face-to-face with Grayson at a distance that could only be described as dangerous. He was staring wide-eyed, directly at Grayson’s eyes.
His heart stopped. Just—stopped.
Grayson’s silver eyes held his. From this distance, Neville could see everything—the faint ring of darker gray around the iris. He could count the individual lashes that frad them. He could notice how those eyes dipped briefly to his lips before returning to et his gaze, holding him captive.
If he tiptoed even a little, their lips would—
The thought fried his brain. His mouth went dry. His hands, still pressed against Grayson’s chest, picked up the man’s heartbeat—steady, unhurried, completely at odds with his own.
"That one’s called Ilex Alder1," Grayson continued, his voice dropping low. It was hoarse and seductive. "If you touch it directly, the toxin reacts with your skin. Causes it to break like a honeycomb. Tiny holes, clustered together. Not pleasant."
It took a full three seconds for the aning to register. Neville’s brain had split into two departnts: one screaming about inappropriate workplace proximity, the other whispering I wonder what his lips taste like. Neither paid attention to the horrible consequences of touching that plant with bare hands.
"I-is that so." He managed to force the words out, then imdiately moved his face away from Grayson’s.
Distance. He needed distance to breathe.
His face felt like it was on fire, and he was fairly certain his pheromones had started leaking a little through his pheromone patch.
Not good. Definitely not good.
Grayson’s gaze lingered for another mont before finally letting go of his waist. His arm dropped, fingers slipping down—only to catch Neville’s hand again, intertwining their fingers like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Still holding hands.
"Co on," Grayson said, voice gentler now, leading him deeper into the garden. "That one over there is Abrus Bead1."
He gestured toward a vine laden with small black fruits. "The black skin looks poisonous, but the red fruit inside is edible once you peel it."
They stopped in front of the vine. Grayson reached out, plucked one of the black fruits. Then he turned, holding it out to Neville.
"You can touch this one," he said, tone soft but sure. "Its leaves are safe too."
Neville looked at the fruit. Then at Grayson. Then back to the fruit again.
Then back at Grayson, who waited with infinite patience with a faint expression of amusent glimring in the depths of his eyes.
Neville sighed in defeat.
He gave up.
Whatever was happening, Neville decided to stop trying to make sense of it. His brain hurts. His face still felt warm. And Shelly was probably secretly recording every second of this mont for future embarrassing purposes.
Sure enough, a red bean-like fruit erged, glossy and appetizing.
"What about that one?" Neville pointed toward a plant standing alone at the center of the garden.
It looked like a spider lily, but white—stark white, the kind that glowed faintly. The flower stood by itself in a circular patch of soil, separated from everything else by at least two ters of empty plot of land.
"That one’s rare." Grayson’s tone changed with genuine interest. "You’re lucky to find it."
"Really?"
"Yes. Sanicle Equinox1." Grayson started walking again. He had a firm grip on Neville’s hand as he gently pulled him along. "Everything from its flowers to its roots can be used as dicine. It’s considered a special herb."
Neville studied the plant as they passed by. The petals curved with effortless elegance, and the stans seed to breathe a soft light.
"Why did you say it’s rare?" he asked, curiosity winning over awe.
"It can only be found, not bred," Grayson explained. "This facility has more than most—maybe a dozen of Sanicle Equinox across different dos. Other facilities barely have one, if any. We still don’t know why it refuses to grow in the sa place as its own kind. That’s what makes it rare."
"Are you going to buy it?"
"No." The answer ca fast, almost reflexive, without hesitation. His silver gaze didn’t even flick toward the plant. "I don’t need it."
Neville blinked. "But it’s rare."
"All the more reason to leave it alone." Grayson countered, his voice flat.
Neville frowned, completely lost. "That makes no sense. If it’s rare and valuable, shouldn’t you—"
He cut himself off mid-sentence, eyes catching on sothing overhead.
Suspended above them, tangled in thick vines, were clusters of what looked like lychee. Except these lychees had hair—actual hair, long for a fruit and wispy, swaying softly in the artificial breeze.
Neville looked at it and failed to process what he was looking at.
"Wha—"
BAM!
Sothing huge dropped from the canopy with a force that rattled the ground. The reinforced flooring was dented inward by the impact. Neville jumped backward and stumbled straight into Grayson—Again.
Seriously? Again?
He stared, wide-eyed, at the thing that had nearly crushed them both.
"What—what was that?!" His voice jumped an octave before he could rein it in.
Grayson didn’t even flinch. He simply turned his head just enough to speak over Neville’s shoulder, his hands coming up to grip Neville’s waist and hold him steady effortlessly.
Then ca the sigh—low and tired, almost theatrical weariness, like a teacher who watched a student ignore safety warnings for the third ti.
"I told you," Grayson said, his voice dropping low, a deep resonance that vibrated right through Neville’s chest but edged with dry reproach, "not to touch things around here."
looks like winterberry but tastes like raspberrieslooks like Rosary Pea, but its fruit was a red beanlooks like a hybrid of White snakeroot and Spider lily but acts like a saffron and works like a ginseng
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