Page 30 of Phoenix's Last Heist
“There’s something else,” she says, staring down at the empty bottle. “The reason I was after the Solar Mother idol. You’re going to think I’m crazy, or that my father was crazy, but…”
“I’m too drunk to judge,” I say, joking. “And we’re trapped on this ship for the near future. That idol isn’t going anywhere.”
“I probably shouldn’t tell you…” she trails off, gathering herself. “But if all of this goes wrong and something happens to us…you can’t let Brill get his hands on the idol. Based on what Iathos said…”
I raise a brow at her, swallowing the anger I feel hearing Iathos’s name.
“What did he say?” I ask.
She sighs, leaning her head on her hand and looking up at me with a watery smile, as if she barely believes it.
“The Dark Star. Iathos said Brill wants the Dark Star.”
I freeze, panic spearing through my haze of drunkenness.
“That’s impossible,” I whisper. How could he know?
She lifts a shoulder in a casual shrug. “My dad wrote about it in his journals. He was obsessed with the idea that it could somehow bring my mom back. I don’t know. Whether it can or not, if someone like Brill gets his hands on it…well, those kinds of thoughts keep me up at night. I told Iathos that the Dark Star is the stuff of bedtime stories. Sure, my dad wrote about it in hisjournal, but he was always chasing myths and legends. I’ve never heard any whispers of it being a real, tangible thing until today.”
“Right,” I reply, hoping my nervous chuckle doesn’t ring quite so forced. Anxiety curdles the foul alcohol and my thoughts turn desperate.Please don’t ask me about it. Don’t make me choose between betraying my honesty and betraying my heritage.
“It’s probably just some fancy rock, anyway. I mean, a gemstone with power over life and death? I’ve seen some pretty incredible things in my life but that’s just not possible. It’s scientifically improbable,” she says, her words slurring a little.
“Definitely. It’s got to be some kind of trick. Maybe Brill is just trying to give you unachievable tasks so he can justify keeping you around. He seems reprehensible enough to try it,” I say with a frown.
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” she agrees. “Still, if ever there was a bargaining chip for freedom, the Dark Star would be hard to refuse.”
“Too bad it’s just a story. You deserve your freedom, Lyra,” I say, meaning it.
She chuckles. “Nah, I probably don’t. I’d just end up going back to a life of crime, anyway. It’s in my blood. Just like being an upstanding, honorable, unbearably hot pain-in-the-ass is in yours.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “Oh, so you find me unbearably hot?”
Her cheeks color pink, and she reaches out to shove my shoulder playfully.
“Shut up, you know you are. They say Velusians are bred for pleasure, but with a body like yours, I wonder if Xylothians are, too,” she replies, her voice dipping low and husky. Her hand slides down from my shoulder to my bicep, squeezing gently. I can’t help but flex beneath her appraising touch.
The air between us thickens. Every heartbeat feels like a dare. I should pull away—should say something dry and sensible—but my body’s already betraying me, leaning into her touch as if it’s gravity itself.
I want to kiss her. Even with the threat of artificially manipulated feelings brought on by hervelliaand through the fog of alcohol, I know the truth in it. I want to kiss her passionately, possessively, desperately—until she begs me to make love to her. Forgetting everything—including all of the reasons not to—I lean forward slightly, my gaze pinned to her full, pink lips.
Her eyes drop to my mouth and her tongue darts out, licking her bottom lip. Every muscle in me goes still, bracing for the impact of what I already know I’ll regret and still crave. She tilts her head slightly and I angle in, only intent on claiming what I’ve wanted since I first laid eyes on her.
Suddenly, she stops. The glaze of desire in her eyes melts into regret and she pulls back.
No. No no no no.The word ricochets through my skull, frantic, disbelieving. The growing space between us feels too cold and distant. I can still feel her warmth against my skin, a ghost of a touch already fading. I want to reach out, to pull her back, to tell her I need her to kiss me—but the words die in my throat.
She shakes her head, as if clearing the potential mistake from her thoughts, then stands from the table and sways unsteadily toward the door. Even the power of the Zorium moonshine does little to my erection at the sight of her mesmerizing hips and perfectly round ass. She’s leaving, and I’m left with the taste of what almost was—an ache that feels too big for one body. My hands are still shaking when I realize I’m clutching nothing.
“Goodnight, Ranger,” Lyra calls over her shoulder. “Get some sleep. We’ve got a few long days ahead of us.”
9
lyra
Hangovers and Heists
This iswhat death feels like—I’m sure of it. The throbbing headache builds between my eyes and the swirling nausea roils in my gut, launching me up and out of bed hours before I would have normally woken. I hurtle to the bathroom as fast as possible, crashing into the walls of the corridor in an effort to make it to the toilet before I vomit all over the floor.
