Page 34 of Zayrik

“I stand by my choices,” I quipped.

His mouth quirked. “So do I.”

For a second, neither of us moved. His breath touched my cheek. I could smell the faint metallic tang of heat and sweat. And him.

I shifted again, and this time my hand landed squarely on his chest. Solid. Warm. Rising slightly with every slow breath.

Zayrik’s voice was a murmur, so low I felt it more than heard it. “You keep touching me like that, and this ship’s going to need additional life support foranotherreason.”

I looked up. Our mouths were an inch apart.

Then Nav’s voice crackled over the speaker above us: “Am I interrupting something, or should I give you a privacy buffer and play sensual pan flute music?”

I jerked back. Or tried to. I knocked my head on the ceiling instead.

Zayrik caught my arm as I swore under my breath. His touch lingered a second longer than it needed to. Then he released me and began backing out of the crawlspace without another word.

Nav sighed dramatically. “Ah, young star-crossed lust. So clumsy. So doomed.”

HOURS PASSED. WE PATCHEDwhat we could. Zayrik got the comms partially working. Just enough to ping an outpost three jumps away. If we could make the jumps. If the drives held.

I found him back at the cockpit, shirt damp with sweat, a streak of something dark smeared along one temple. He looked exhausted. Also... stupidly attractive. Which wasnothelpful.

“We’ve got a shot,” he said, without looking at me. “But it’s going to be rough.”

“Rough I can handle.” I crossed my arms, feeling the ache settle into my bones.

He glanced at me then, something softer in his eyes.

“You did good today.”

My throat dried up. To moisten it, I swallowed. “Don’t say that.”

His brow lifted, barely. “Why not?”

“Because I’ll start wanting you to mean it.”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. Just held my gaze like he was trying to read the spaces between my words.

I looked down first.

Because I didn’t know what I wanted him to say.

Didn’t know what it would mean if hedidmean it.

The silence dragged out. Excessively long, it stretched thinly over a truth I didn’t mean to expose.

So, I walked away.

Not far. Just enough to breathe.

Just enough to pretend I hadn’t cracked wide open in front of someone I shouldn’t trust.

Nav cut in, deadpan and perfectly timed. “By all means, trust the navigation system that predates half the known galactic languages. What could possibly go wrong?”

I didn’t answer.

Didn’t have to.

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