Chapter 73: Taran

"Stunning," I whisper, more to myself than the man dogging my steps through the massive greenhouse.
Stunning is truly the only word that encompasses what I'm seeing. Row after row of beautiful greenery of all kinds. I recognize some but not all. "What are these?" I ask, reaching out to touch the tips of one row of plants. The even rows are neat and attractive, the tips green and almost fuzzy instead of leafy.
Manuel, the man in charge of the greenhouses, snatches my wrist and pulls my hand away. "Carrots," he says disdainfully, as though I should've known.
Grayson steps between us, breaking Manuel's hold. "Don't touch her again."
His voice is so cold and mean sounding, his stance so aggressive, that even I want to take a step back like Manuel is hastily doing. I place my hand on Grayson's arm and step around him. "Thank you, Grayson. Let's continue the tour."
We explore the rows of greenery and I ask more questions, penetrating the inner workings of the greenhouses. I find out that this one is for hardier vegetables while the other holds a variety of fruit and a few of the more difficult to grow vegetables.
"Depending on the variety, fruit tends to be more delicate. We need to adjust the warmth in the house, which requires an extra generator. It's an expensive process."
"I'm sure it is." I stop walking and turn to him. "I'll need a breakdown of the exact materials you'll need to make a third greenhouse, including building supplies, planting supplies, everything."
"But your husband knows everything we used to build these first two greenhouses, Mrs. Fuentes. You can just ask him if you're curious. There aren't enough resources for a third greenhouse."
Grayson opens his mouth to put Manuel in his place again for arguing with the Warlord's wife. I raise a hand, halting him. I haven't needed anyone to fight my battles since I was a child. I certainly don't need anyone's help dealing with this snobbish man, though I appreciate Grayson's willingness to defend me.
"How many people does this greenhouse serve?" I ask sharply.
He hesitates for a moment side-eyeing my bodyguard, clearly not wanting to continue this conversation, but not wanting to annoy Grayson either. "It serves the entire city, Mrs. Fuentes."
"No, it doesn't," I contradict him.
He looks offended by my assertion. "I beg your pardon? These greenhouses were built to supplement the entire city. Our top advisors took part in their construction. I must insist that the produce coming out of here is more than enough for Sanctuary."
"I'm going to have to disagree with you, Manuel," I say sharply, and when it looks like he intends to argue again, I continue, "You've clearly never spent any time in the slums, trying to make food rations stretch, running on an empty belly more often than not. If you had, you'd be doing everything in your power to extend your food supplies and help me get another greenhouse built instead of standing here arguing with me."
He gapes at me for a moment before opening his mouth. Grayson steps closer to my back, his arms crossed over his chest. Manuel takes a step away and nods, "Of course, I'll get your list together. I'll have to run it by Commander Fuentes though."
"You are welcome to waste his time," I tell him, turning away and walking toward the entrance leaving him to follow or not. "I have the Warlord's complete approval for this project." I glance back and give Manuel a stern look. "I would suggest you readjust your attitude before I come back tomorrow. You're much better off working with me than against me."
* * *
"I heard you were torturing my head of food manufacturing." Diogo's voice sounds from behind me and I twist around to look at him.
I sigh deeply and wave my hand over the strawberry plant. After spending time in the lush greenhouses, I immediately came home and immersed myself in our lovely little greenhouse shed. As wonderful as the industrial greenhouses are, I prefer our tiny sanctuary inside of Sanctuary. The fragrant aroma of flowering plants soothes my agitation with Manuel and helps me think.
"Skye has been pecking away at the strawberries before we even get a chance to eat them." I cluck my tongue over the holes eaten away in the plump red fruit, though I'm amused by the plucky little bird. I'll be forced to pick the fruit and throw them out. I glance up at the nest where the baby birds have fallen silent and the wren is giving me her beady-eyed stare, watching as I handle her treats with barely concealed hostility.
"I'm not surprised." Diogo steps up beside me and touches the leaf of one of the strawberry plants. I lean into the heat of his big body, inhaling his familiar masculine aroma. "Food is scarce, her easiest source close to her hatchlings is right in here."
He turns me to face him, taking my hands and placing them on his chest before pressing me tight against his body in a hug. His hands curve over my hips and then my ass, squeezing the cheeks. A spark of pleasure ignites, sending cascades of awareness through my body.
"You are so fucking perfect," he mumbles, lifting me up and dropping his head into my neck.
I laugh and hold him just as tight as he's holding me. "I'm too small."
"Blasphemy," he growls. "You might be small, but you have a big heart and big ideas. I wouldn't want you any other way."
"Thank you." I lift my head and mould my lips to his.
"You have nothing to thank me for, baby. I mean what I say. There is no other person in this world that will hold my heart the way you do."
We stand that way for a few minutes, deep in each other's embrace, the world around us fading to nothing as we enjoy our newfound love. Finally, we break apart and Diogo sets me back on my feet. I turn back to my strawberries and start gathering the ruined half eaten ones.
"Your production manager is an arrogant jerk." I finally address Diogo's earlier observation. "He needs to go spend some time starving in the slums."
Diogo chuckles indulgently. "He may be obnoxious but he's good at his job and he's a trained agriculturalist. He knows what he's doing better than anyone in Sanctuary. We're lucky to have him."
"So you want me to stop arguing with him then?"
"You can argue all you want, baby. I'd have enjoyed watching you put him in his place. Perhaps I should come out to the site and help supervise."
"You wouldn't have watched. You'd have done something terrible to him for daring to talk to me the way he did." I'm only part joking. Diogo doesn't tolerate insults toward his wife. I hadn't even known him a day when he threatened to cut off the Judge's tongue for being disrespectful. "If you expect me to work with the man then you'd better stay clear of the greenhouses for a while."
"If you wish." He tugs the tips of my hair and then runs his fingers down my back, drawing a shiver from me. This is something I've noticed about Diogo. When we're in a room together, he's always touching me.
"It's for the best," I assure him. "By tomorrow evening we should have a comprehensive list of all the supplies we'll need to start construction on another greenhouse. I'll run everything by you before we get started."
"No need." He leans down and runs his lips over the shell of my ear. "You have my permission to go ahead with whatever you want on the farm. I'm putting you in charge of food production and distribution. Hire who you need, build what you need. My resources are at your disposal."
The responsibility he just placed on my shoulders is massive. But it's also exactly what I want, and I'm definitely up for the challenge. I know what he's doing. He's giving me a project near and dear to my heart to help soothe my restlessness at abandoning the rebellion. Even if his intervention is manipulative, his methods are sound. I can do so much more to help the slums on this side of the fence than I could as the Desert Wren.
I twist in his arms and tip my face up to his. "Thank you, Diogo. You have no idea how much this means."
His dark eyes narrow on my lips and the heat that always simmers close to the surface when we get within a few feet of each other, bursts into flames, igniting between us. "Then thank me," he says huskily and drops his head to mine, taking my lips in a stinging kiss.
And though I try my best to thank him the way he wants to be thanked, he takes over, pressing me down on the bench and proceeding to take what he wants anyway.