Page 72 of Shadows of Stardust

Finishing up in the shower, I wrap a robe around myself and walk through the bedroom to poke my head out the door into the living space. Zan’s at the island, eyes narrowed as he studies something on his ever-present comms screen.

“You’re up,” I tell him, nodding toward the bathroom door.

It’s the one concession I’ve made on space, letting him in to shower in the bungalow’s main bathroom. There’s a small half-bath in the living space, and an outdoor shower around back to clean off from the beach, but it seemed like a real jerk move to gatekeep the luxury bathroom indoors.

I might still be making him sleep on the couch, but I’m not entirely without mercy.

Zan gives me a curt nod, eyes fixed somewhere over my shoulder as he stands, crosses the room, and disappears inside the bathroom.

I walk to the dresser and let my robe drop, opening the top drawer and perusing the selection of ridiculous, skimpy little underthings. Apparently production thought even my underwear needed an upgrade, because they spared no detail in the wardrobe department. Sifting through the pile, I’m just about to pull out a set in nude lace—perfect for the flowy cream-colored dress I’m planning to wear tonight—when a noise catches my attention.

A faint click sounds from behind me, and it takes a second to realize what it is.

The handle on the bathroom door.

Whirling around, I find Zan in the doorway, hands raised and mouth hanging open.

“Sorry,” he chokes out. “I didn’t mean to—I forgot my—I was just going to…”

Giving his head a hard shake, he retreats into the bathroom and hastily shuts the door behind him.

I’m frozen where I stand.

Sun streams in the open window, a faint ocean breeze breaks over my bare skin, and the crash of waves on the shore sounds somewhere far in the background, but I’m barely aware of any of it. At least not over the pounding in my ears and the uncomfortable buzzing sensation spreading across my skin.

Zan just saw me naked.

Every inch of me.

Including my scars.

It’s that last fact that finally pierces through the numb haze of shock. My stomach drops. How much did he see? How good a look did he get at all the ink-covered burn scars on my back and shoulder?

The scars I’ve been studiously covering since I stepped on this beach.

The scars I haven’t told anyone about.

The scars I’m not even certain I’ve wrapped my own mind around.

He saw all of it.

As my senses return, I’m aware of the shower starting up, and hastily pull on my underwear and toss the dress on over it. I try to ignore the shaking in my hands and the way the silky smooth material feels like sandpaper on my skin, try to breathe, try to convince myself that maybe it all happened too fast. Maybe he didn’t see anything. Maybe he won’t mention it. Maybe…

Letting out a long, shaking breath, I leave the bedroom and plant myself on a seat at the kitchen island to wait.

20

Zandrel

Coming up through the ranks in the Aux, I learned the fine art of getting my ass in and out of a shower in two minutes flat. No fuss, no extravagances, just a quick scrub before heading off to whatever training or mission was waiting.

But standing under the spray in what might just be the most luxurious bathroom I’ve ever stepped foot in, I’m sorely tempted to stay here for hours, days, maybe the rest of my life.

Coward.

The word echoes through me as I rest my forehead on the damp tile wall.

I’ve already been in here far longer than necessary, but somehow I can’t make myself shut off the water, towel off, and face what’s waiting for me.

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