Page 85 of Escape Velocity

Quickly she took off her clothes and hung them on a wall hook before stepping into the tub. She didn’t want to sit down, so she stood in the tub and turned on the water, which ran cold. There was no soap, but she used the water to wash the parts of her body that had landed in the muck. When she’d cleaned up, she climbed out and peered in the cracked mirror over the sink, studying her face. The swamp and the washing had taken off part of the makeup Max had applied before they left the ship. Now it made her look like part of her skin was peeling off. With a grimace, she removed the rest of it, although she still looked like she’d crawled out of the bayou.

When she had dressed in the musty shirt and opened the bathroom door, she saw Max through a bedroom door.

“You can sleep in here,” he said.

“With you.”

“Rafe and I have to stand guard.”

“You can take turns.”

“I should . . .”

Before he could finish, she crossed the space between them. “You should stay with me—because maybe it’s the last time we’ll have together.”

She saw he wanted to protest. She also saw he recognized the truth of her words.

“Let me talk to Rafe—and get cleaned up,” he said.

“Then you’ll come in here with me?”

“Yes.”

She hoped he wasn’t trying to trick her as she closed the door and looked around the small room. It had a bed, with a little table that held a lamp beside it. Across from the bed was a chest with drawers. The lamp didn’t work, but in one of the drawers, she found some folded sheets. Getting them out, she laid two on the bare mattress. They did nothing to improve the look of the ugly little chamber, but at least they’d be a clean place to lie down.

Still standing beside the bed, she looked up to see that Max had opened the door. He’d washed and was wearing only a pair of rough pants. In her own eyes, she still looked bedraggled after cleaning up. He looked like the sexiest man she had ever seen.

The intensity of his gaze as he closed the door almost took her breath away, and she realized that he must be thinking about what she’d said earlier. This might be the last time they ever hold each other.

They each took a step across the worn floorboards and met in the middle of the room. When he reached for her, she came into his arms, clasping him to her.

The words he spoke surprised her. “Sing to me.”

“Sing?”

“With that sexy voice of yours. I love to hear it.”

She felt almost too choked to comply, but she cleared her throat and took a small step back, looking up at him as she began a song she hadn’t dared to sing in years.

“My lover is far away, and I think I will not see him forever. But the wind sweeps down from the mountains, swirling leaves off the trees, and blowing him toward me.”

She sang in her own language, and he asked. “What does it mean?”

“Lovers reunited.”

“Where did you learn it?”

“I made it up.”

He stared at her, shocked. “It sounds very . . . polished.”

“Thank you. It’s from my childhood, when I still dared to think that I was normal.”

“You are!” he said, punching out the words.

“No. Not on Naxion, and not here.”

“Why not here?”

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