Page 25 of Tattooed Cowboy
The air splits.
For a moment, I think we’ve torn the world in two.
Then … silence.
Not absence, but relief.
The light dies. The hum fades.
Smoke curls from the ground where the bracelet and dampener once were. For a heartbeat I think I see them still—shapes made of light—then they crumble into ash.
My hands shake as I stare at the scorched skin of my wrist, a faint imprint of the bracelet burned into the flesh. Maveryk’s arm bears the same mark, higher up near his elbow.
The resonance scar. It syncs through both our minds, origin unknown. My knees buckle until I sit on the ground.
He exhales, voice ragged. “They can’t track us anymore.”
I nod, but my throat won’t work. The loss feels bigger than victory—like something sacred died to save us.
He crouches beside me, resting his forehead against mine. “You did it,” he whispers.
“No,” I breathe. “Wedid.”
Somewhere in the silence between us, I understand: every ending hums with its beginning.
Outside, the first fingers of dawn brush the peaks. The aurora fades. But deep in the heart of the mountain, I swear I can still feel a pulse—soft, slow, waiting.
Chapter
Nine
MELODY
Shimmers of warm gold pierce the cave. I stir in Maveryk’s warm arms.
The hum of flying objects, the silence of the Hollowed ones linger. Like a dreamscape I walked through in the darkening night.
But my people have always known the veil between the two worlds flutters and shifts. Too easily sometimes.
Maveryk’s turquoise eyes snap to mine, warmth pooling from them. But hesitation threads his breath and tightens his face.
Wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want me.
The bond still hums through me, hand coming up to cup his cheek. “Too late now, Starman.”
His face warms, corners of his mouth lifting. “Earthman. Never set foot on another planet.”
I nod, the strangeness of his predicament, matching my own in ways I’ve never considered. “Can’t pick what planet you’re born on,” I whisper, fingertips rustling against stubble, thumb dropping to his kissable bottom lip.
He snarls, mock bites my finger, and I giggle, enjoying its ring. That we can be like this now without danger looming.
“How about a spaceship, though? Ever been on one of those?”
He shakes his head, laughing bitterly. “Nope. Never been to Area Fifty-One. Never seen little gray men, or guys dressed in black, either.”
“Sounds boring,” I tease.
“Was,” he grumbles, head descending to kiss my neck and shoulder. “Before you.”
