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“You don’t understand it. Or are youchoosing not tounderstand it?”

I smirked. “Choosing not to understand.” It hurt too much, the surreal evidence that I was unsupported by my environment—a mighty tree, broken and blocked.

He didn’t pry. “I want to show you something.”

He returned to the ship’s containers, this time opening a chest, padded for breakable items. He pulled forth another phonograph, this one larger than the one I purchased. He set it upon the table and ran his finger along the crystalline base.

A ballad sang from the horn. It was a tune usually played late in the night—a song of storytelling and beauty. A chance to take a break after a faster dance. This one told of the romance between a princess of the Dawn Court and a swan shifter.

I picked up another date. “Now it’s a perfect night.”

The ballad played out, a long and familiar tune, wrapping around me like a warm blanket.

“Do you sing?” he asked. “Or play an instrument? Since you like music so much?”

I laughed. “Not since I was a child. My sisters had music lessons, and Mother encouraged me to attend them. But the human songs never interested me—my voice wasn’t suited to it. Once I discovered fiddle bars, I never attended a lesson again.”

“Shame, I would have liked to hear you sing.”

I blushed. Even in privacy, I hadn’t sung in years. “What about you? Do you sing?”

“I don’t even dance.”

“Really?”

He shrugged. “I know some of the formal dances. I learned refrains from the starlit chorus. It was part of my education, for a time.”

“Is the starlit chorus as enchanting as I’ve heard?”

“It’s breathtaking.”

He began to relax, leaning on the table and supporting his chin with his hand. When he caught me looking at him, the corners of his lips turned in a slight smile. He had nice lips. Good for kissing.

I waited for my doubts about him to set in, for my fears to change my mind. But I knew what I wanted. I distracted myself, reaching for another date, only it was too sweet.

I needed something…different.

The way Zayne was looking at me, a glint in his eyes. He could be thinking the same thing.

The shadows sharpened his features, highlighting him in his element. His horns added to his stature as his dark eyes beckoned.

He smirked. An invitation—one I rushed to accept.

My hand gripped his shoulder as he grabbed my waist. Our lips met, sealing our kiss. We pulled ourselves together. We pressed closer.

His mouth was firm. I assailed him with hard kisses. He sucked at my tongue, and I bit at his lips.

When I straddled him, his hardness grew. I wallowed in the pressure against my crux. A promise. This thing between us, the desire—

Am I safe?

I gasped, breaking the pull of his lips. I forced myself to take a proper breath.

Zayne hesitated, his hand supporting my ass, bracing me against him.“Sorry. I… We said no kissing,” he said. Yet he didn’t push me away, and I didn’t stand up.

I wanted him. I wondered if I could handle him after what had happened with the assassin. Just one more kiss…

There were countless reasons to slow down. Yet I hungered for him, and my body was clear about its desires. “I’m open to changing the rules,” I said.