Page 48 of Star Bright
She threaded her fingers up into his hair, tangling into the dark locks as if she might never let go. And his arms wrapped around her so gently she almost didn’t feel them, even though she knew he would never let her fall.
Their kiss was desperation laced with sweetness. And they could go no further, not in this space and time. Maybe not ever.
“What if I had been an Earther?” he murmured.
“What if I had been a drakling?”
When he gazed down at her, his eyes were even brighter than the icicle lights and illuminated chili peppers that she assumed had come from the Cinco de Mayo party decor. “I have to find out what is left of our lives back on Skyearth, check our legal and financial status, make sure the fledglings are supported through the trauma of losing again.”
“I’m not sure the closed world authorities won’t come and wipe my memories. And I need to have a few intense discussions with my friend Brin about everything.”
They still held fast to each other despite the list of complications.
“Neither of us can make promises right now.”
The regret in his voice made her hands tighten around his waist. “Maybe we don’t have to say anything at all.”
The last kiss was salted with tears, and his shuddering breath almost knocked loose her determination to not blurt out all the things she shouldn’t say when there was so much up in the air.
Even though that was the only place she wanted to be: up in the air with him again.
Her datpad chirped a sharp warning, and they drew apart. “What is it?”
She frowned down at the screen. “There is a ship approaching.” She tilted the pad. “Or something? The outpost scanners are struggling to get a lock through the snow and the usual interference.”
He peered over her shoulder. “It must be the outpost rescue ship. I was hoping we’d at least have Christmas together.”
How could this possibly hurt more than Christmas alone? She turned off the datpad and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I hope you have enough cinnamon rolls for everyone.”
In silent accord, they settled on one of the large couples chairs near the fire. This whole place was set up to encourage closeness and connection, except the ship was coming to tear all that apart. Was that ironic, or just tragic?
She rested, just for a moment, breathing in the spicy musk of him, and the snow paused. A few stars glinted between the thick icing of snow curled along the upper windows, but the trees swayed, hinting at another front threatening.
After another moment, she frowned at the datpad. “Shouldn’t the ship have reached out to us? They should be able to get a connection this close.”
Reaching across her, Vash tapped at the screen, calling up the outpost comms. “Nothing. Maybe it was a false signal.”
“Let me see if Ug and Kong can track it down.”
“Addah?”
At the tentative voice, they sprang apart guiltily. They couldn’t even claim there weren’t enough open seats this big empty lobby.
Yadira stood just inside the doorway, her hands clenched in front of her, staring at the two of them.
Vash pushed his feet. “Yaya? What’s wrong?”
At her his question, she tore her gaze away from them, glancing around the room. “Is Atsu here? I went to his room to check on him, and he’s not there. I thought he came here to peek at the tree and any presents.”
Vash strode toward her. “No, he’s not here. Maybe he went to the kitchen or the gym.”
Darcy tapped the datpad. “Internal scanners are only finding us.” She snapped her gaze to his. “Ug? Are you getting anything?”
His growled negative through her datpad made her grimace. Kong’s mechanized voice shrilled through another channel. “Outpost sensors are tracking the intermittent signal of a ship. It does not seem to be coming or departing, only rising and falling erratically.”
They all looked at each other in horror. “Atsu,” Yadira gasped.
Vash whipped out his datpad. “I left a childminder with him.” He cursed out a harsh breath. “It’s not getting a lock either.” He toggled some setting. “Atsu. Can you hear me? Where are you?”
