Page 93 of Stars in Nova

‘What about the Sorans?’ the Rider asked, his gaze fixed on her.

Samira straightened, her tone shifting. ‘We’re the ones who stayed above, on the islands and shores. Our bodies are more robust, dealing with uneven terrain and different climates, yet we adapted to the freshwater surrounding our continents and archipelagos. Our skin became semi-porous, designed to absorb moisture and connect us to the water. We wear armored suits and boots that draw water from the ground. We built our cities around the lakes and rivers, with flowing canals and aqueducts near us. Our communication relies on fluid kinetics, like the Quarians, but we manipulate freshwater streams instead ofoceans. Without our lakes and rivers, we’d weaken. So, however divergent the Sorans and Quarians are, we’re united by water and connected in purpose. We trade knowledge, goods, and culture. The divide isn’t a fracture—it’s an evolution.’

Kisan nodded. ‘Symbiotic. But different.’

‘Exactly,’ Samira said. Her tone grew heavier. ‘Nonetheless, that connection is fragile now. The Corilian invasion has disrupted everything. The Quarians, less capable of fighting on land, have retreated deeper into the oceans, protecting their cities, while we fight on the dried surface. If we fall, the split will become permanent. If we lose our fresh water forever, we will be extinct.’

Kisan studied her, the meaning of her words sinking in. ‘You’re carrying a lot, Samira. Fighting for your people, trying to hold onto something that might shatter any day.’

She met his gaze, her expression steady. ‘It’s what I was born to do.’

For a moment, the hum of the ship was the only sound settling between them.

They stared at each other for a long time.

She reached for his arm and stroked it, her hand following the emerging inked contours and shapes. Her fingers brushed the glowing lines of his tattoos.

‘What do they mean?’

He huffed. ‘I program them myself, with the names and last utterances of those I can remember I harmed. A reminder of my past and the choices that had guided me so far, good and bad.’

She tilted her head to consider him, eyes softening with compassion. ‘You can’t live torturing yourself this way, Kisan.’

‘How else can I recall?’ he growled, laced with torment.

She contemplated him for a long time. ‘By doing good. The more you help, the more their memories need to go onto your skin; soon, you won’t be reminded of the pain you caused but thehope you delivered. It won’t take the bulk of your guilt away but perhaps dull the edges.’

He shivered as her caress continued, and she inched closer, working her hand up to his neck where the ink glowed and pulsed, then up, trailing to his lips.

His eyes closed as if capturing the moment in his mind.

When her hand fell away, he opened his eyes, and they locked gazes before he gave a wry turn of his mouth and chin jerk.

They put their plates and glasses away in the sonic washer in silence.

Kisan walked her to her quarters.

The corridor was lit with built-in lamps guiding their path, and the gentle hum of the ship’s systems was the only sound.

They paused outside her door, the air charged with something neither dared to name.

‘Santefor dinner, Rider,’ Samira whispered.

Kisan nodded, his emerald eyes meeting hers. ‘Anytime.’

The quiet between them stretched, heavy with unspoken words.

Samira leaned in before he stepped away, her lips brushing against his in a soft and fierce kiss.

For a moment, Kisan froze, his mind reeling—but then he responded, his hands finding her waist as he deepened the embrace, his tongue darting over her sensual lips.

Igniting a storm of emotions that tore through his meticulously constructed barriers.

Even as her curves molded to his harder, sinewed limbs, his thoughts and heart churned. Flashes of his past intertwined withthe present—memories of violence, of failure, of the person he had been.

Yet, she was kissing him, her touch grounding him in a way he hadn’t thought possible.

Her palms rested on his muscled, heaving chest, and for a brief moment, he hesitated.

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