Page 102 of Shadows of Stardust

At first, giving up any of those details felt like pulling teeth. Why the fuck does Mate Match or any of the people who watch it deserve to know about Earth, about where I came from and what I want from my life?

But with Zan’s hand on mine, with the strength of him behind me, thrust into the kind of night I already know I’ll never live again, I couldn’t stop myself. Once the words came, they came easily.

I wanted Zan to know.

Sure, maybe I could have found a different time to share those things with him, but I don’t regret doing it.

I don’t regret making space for him to share, too.

His life on Revexor, a childhood in a world lost to ruin just like mine. The tentative, halting way he talked about it, like he shares those things just as infrequently as I do.

It was a gift. One I’ll never take for granted.

“I’m alright,” I murmur. “And besides, I could say the same for you.”

Zan hums low in the back of his throat. “Fair enough.”

He turns me again so I’ve got my back to his chest, both of us facing the ocean. The waves continue to wash over us, probablyruining the bottom of this crazy-gorgeous dress I’m wearing, but I don’t really care right now.

The night’s still got some magic in it, even without the hovercraft and the cameras and the unbelievable, glowing panorama of Eritin’s jungle below.

I want to savor that magic as long as I can.

Zan’s arms encircle me, and I trace the ridges of his armor, struck again at the sheer power of him, the sheer presence of him. He takes notice, going still behind me as I continue my inspection of him.

When I glance up, he’s watching me closely. Solar storms roil in the black depths of his eyes, and I wish I knew what he was thinking.

I wish I knew how to ask for what I want.

To ignore the ticking clock. To ignore the reality waiting for us tomorrow when we finally go out looking for Savvie, and the inevitable end of all of this when filming wraps next week.

To just be here, tonight, like we were any two normal beings in the universe.

But maybe I don’t have to ask.

Maybe he’s thinking it, too, because just like he did on the hover, he leans down to kiss me. With a firm hand under my jaw, he tips my face up to his. He slants his lips over mine—cool smoke and midnight—and kisses me deep.

Yes. This. This is what I wanted.

The possessive press of his lips and the sweep of his tongue, the steady grip on my jaw to hold me just where he wants me. The noise that breaks in the back of his throat when I open for him, hungry and just a little desperate.

By the time we come up for air, both of us panting for breath, we’ve caught the attention of a few more cams. Zan rumbles his displeasure in the back of his throat and lifts me into his arms. With determined, ground-devouring strides, he carries me backto the bungalow, ignoring the whir of the cams as they try to keep up.

He sets me on my feet just inside the door while he takes care of the locks and sensors, and then he’s back with a vengeance.

Pushing me up against the door, he slams his lips back into mine. Harder, this time. More demanding, more insistent.

The rest of the world’s obliterated, and there’s only this. Only us, and a few more hours until we have to face what’s coming.

And I’ll take every second I can get.

My hands shoot up to circle around the back of his neck, sink into his hair, my body pressed to every hard contour of his. The kiss is messy, desperate, demanding, laced with the magic of the evening and the desperation of knowing just how finite our time is. Graceless and greedy, we trip over each other into the bedroom, kissing all the way, tugging at each other’s clothes.

Just over the threshold, Zan drops his lips to kiss and nip and suck a path over my jaw and down my neck to where it meets my shoulder. He pulls the neckline of the gown aside to give himself better access, and we both seem to realize at the same time what it does to the loose-fitting garment—slipping down my shoulder to expose my scars.

“I’m sorry,” Zan breathes, pulling back. “I know you don’t want to—”

“It’s okay. I do.”

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