Page 63 of Shadows of Stardust

He lunges for me and I dodge with a turn, sand shifting under my feet.

“No. That I earned myself.”

A swipe of his huge, muscled arm attempting to grab me around the waist and I turn again, jabbing an elbow into his side.

He’s pulling all his punches. Beyond a few soft taps to point out where I’m leaving myself unguarded, and some truly diabolical footwork that’s sent me sprawling into the sand half a dozen times, he’s taking it way easy on me.

But I’m not playing by the same rules.

We’ve already established that even at full strength, he barely feels my hits through his plating, and I’m taking full advantage of that fact.

Around us, three hovers capture our every movement.

It might be a Mate Match first, two supposedly-in-love contestants engaging in physical combat instead of spending their time… I don’t know. Kissing, talking, lounging on the beach, whatever normal couples do.

And maybe weshoulddo that instead. But I still cringe inwardly when I remember our previous attempts at acting like a normal couple.

Granted, that was before our truce three days ago, but given what Zandrel said about the courtship customs on Revexor… maybe this counts as flirting?

I don’t know.

No one has come over to chew us out, though, and we’ve stopped earning ourselves so many disappointed looks from production.

In fact, a dozen or so meters away, Sella’s wandered over to see how her stars are doing. Judging by the wide—if somewhat bemused—smile on her face, I’d say we’re performing adequately.

Especially when Zandrel gets close enough to swing an arm around my waist and pull me close.

To the cameras, it probably looks playful, like he’s taking advantage of our sparring session to get me right where he wants me. But when he leans down to speak into my ear, it’s anything but affection or sweetness.

He touches a hand first to his belt and then to my side, where I’m sure some vital organ sits beneath my soft, fallible human skin.

“If I carried the plasma blade I usually wear here,” he murmurs, lips hovering just over my skin, breath breakingacross my neck in a way that definitely, absolutely doesn’t send another thrill down my spine, “you’d already be incapacitated.”

I can’t help it, another gruff laugh slips out. “And that’s why I’d never leave my ship to engage in combat with a soldier like you.”

God, I can almost feel his silent preen. The very last thing he needs is me stroking his ego.

Zandrel lets me go, and as I stumble back a step, he folds his arms over his chest. He looks me up and down, appraising.

“We all have to lean into our strengths, I suppose.”

I just roll my eyes. “And yours are, what? Irritating your enemies to death? Striking them down with the sheer force of your arrogance?”

“Among many other talents,” he says dryly.

“Again?” I ask, dropping back into my starting stance.

“Again,” he agrees, and I could almost mistake the glint in his galaxy eyes as approval.

By the end of our first week as an official Mate Match couple, Zandrel and I have gotten our feet a little more firmly beneath us.

We’re on the same page, in lock-step about the mission and what it calls for.

Throw the cameras a bone, try to look like we don’t want to murder each other, and we seem to be keeping production happy enough with us.

At least for now.

It’s fascinating, watching the way storylines unfold on the beach. And with Zandrel’s steady stream of murmured, barbed commentary, it gets even easier to suss out all the machinations. Right now, there are a couple of love triangles, a messy breakup, and a dramatic declaration of matehood that are sucking up allthe oxygen and a lot of the camera time, diverting attention away from us.

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