Page 122 of The Last Hope
“Are you sure that’s it?” I ask.
“Unfortunately, yeah.” He nods. “Some have sought refuge on other planets, but those are few. Maybe another hundred, if that.”
Two thousand lives. A people who are uncertain of death. Who weep over the ones they love and selflessly sacrifice all they are for all their people are.
“So it’s even more important,” I realize. “To save Earth.”
He gapes, wordless for a moment. “I thought… I thought you’d see it the other way. So did the admirals.” He frowns deeper. “There aren’t a lot of people left. Easier to just throw your hands up and let Saltarians take Earth and watch the human race die out. That’s what Court would do.”
“You underestimate him,” I say out of defense, but I share Court’s emotions, and I do know there is a cold part of him that could prove Stork right.
Stork thinks this over. “Maybe…”
“Does Earth have oceans?” I wonder.
“Just one,” he tells me. “There used to be more. But waters rose and the islands and landmasses started sinking underneath.Now there’s just a single continent: Gaia. One land. One ocean. One people.”
It sounds more unified than Saltarians, who’ve divided themselves upon five different planets. “What else?” I ask.
He thinks for a second before speaking. “Our armor and clothing—the tunics and linen skirts,” he explains. “Humans didn’t always wear them. There was a time when our style was a lot like the Saltarians’. Pants and boots and even heavy armored vests for war. But when Saltarians were banished from Earth, humans tried to cling to the things that reminded them of the timesbefore.So they began to adopt styles from the ancient eras, and after more centuries, it evolved and stuck.”
I try to imagine humans from theLucretziain ripped shorts. It’s a fuzzy picture, but I do have a good view of Stork in a pair.
We drift closer, knees knocking together. “Do you think I’ll like it? Earth?” I ask.
“I hope so.” His words are filled with a tender conviction, and I almost don’t hear them over the growing waves.
Our eyes latch. Heat blossoms everywhere, but neither of us looks away. I take the opportunity to trace the lines of his jaw and the sculpted arc of his nose. Light bathes him like the moon knows he’s beautiful. But even more than that, he’s bared more for me than I ever thought he would.
In his vulnerability, I feel compelled toward him. He has an unflinching responsibility and a heavy burden that he can’t share with anyone.
We’re not lifebloods.
We’re not linked.
But I’ve begun to empathize with his impossible situation. Head and heart scream at me to run in his direction, even when I try and stumble away.
He leans forward, just enough that our knees thread and his hand rises up to brush a flyaway hair behind my ear.
An unnamed sentimentswellsso big inside of me, and whenhe turns to look at me, it’s as if our lips find each other before our eyes do.
His mouth deepens the blazing kiss, and his hand cups my cheek.
Inhibitions releasing, my hands roam.
Three off-kilter pulses thump my veins, and I try not to waver.I’m not hurting Court or Mykal,I remind myself, but Stork pauses as I hesitate.
“Is this okay for you?” he whispers.
Yes. Gods, yes.But why is it so hard to give him the satisfaction and make my emotions plain and clear? Maybe because it’s taken me this long to admit them…
“I want you… I mean I wantto,” I murmur.I’m messing this up.
“Franny,” he whispers against my lips. “I want you too.” His soft lips press back to mine. I breathe into the kiss like I’m ripping through restraints, only feeling my body against his body and this emotion—gods, this emotion—that explodes with everythump, thump, thumpof my heart.
I’ve never kissed anyone like I kiss Stork. With this unbridled feeling swimming around in me: nerves and giddiness and affectionate thrill.
Going to bed with no-names and somewhat friends, I only had the heat and the pleasure. I loved both of those—I still love both, but this is new.
