Page 25 of Shadows of Stardust

Roslyn

Despite the no cuddling rule, I unfortunately wake up very much cuddling my fake boyfriend.

Sprawled across his chest, drooling on him a little for fuck’s sake, I hurriedly wipe my mouth and attempt an escape before he can wake and realize exactly what position we’re in.

Only, as soon as I try to move, I’m pinned in place by a heavy arm wrapped around my back, tugging me closer as a deep, sleepy, satisfied rumble echoes in his chest.

Oh, god.

Why do I like that so much?

I shouldn’t. I absolutely shouldn’t like it. I shouldn’t be tempted to give into that silent invitation, snuggle closer to him, stay here and doze the morning away until we’re both awake and ready for an encore performance of what happened out in the living space last night.

Just that bare reminder is enough to send memories flooding back in.

All of that… really happened, didn’t it?

The scorching kiss on the beach. Zan pushing me up against the door, setting me on the counter, falling to his knees and…

A flush breaks out over my whole body.

And that’s even before the images of what I did to him flash through my mind.

They come back in little bits and pieces. The stiff length of his cock pulsing and insistent in my hand. The sounds he made when I put my mouth on him. The strain of his muscles when he came.

The moments right after still feel like a hazy, half-forgotten dream. Coated in bliss and floating through my memory, it takes that flush and makes it swimmy and warm, so damn tender that a saccharine ache takes up residence just behind my breastbone.

I never would have expected Zan to be capable of that kind of gentleness. And I never would have expected just how easy it would be for us to slip into that place together.

Effortless, natural, at least until reality had to rear its ugly head.

Maybe things went too far.

Maybe all of it was too much.

Maybe we both should have pretended it never happened.

I didn’t need to invite him to bed with me after. And I definitely didn’t need to end up like… this.

Again, I try to wriggle away from him, and again, Zan keeps me in place. He’s still mostly asleep, and something about that—that even while he’s unconscious he wants to keep me close—does entirely unacceptable things to the bottom of my belly and something way too close to the center of my chest.

He did it last night, too.

Pulled me into his arms after he’d gotten off, when any respectable casual sex partner would have been just fine with some space. Kept me there when I tried to get up after seeing how freaked out he looked.

At least I think he was freaked out.

I don’t know.

It’s still a little hard for me to read his expression or know what’s going on behind that stoic, handsome face.

Whatever it was, he seemed just fine with letting this be a non-issue after we talked it out.

Besides, it’s not like this could… go anywhere.

It’s not really a surprise that the Aux keeps its members from forming attachments, and maybe that’s a good thing for us.

We can write this off as nothing more than physical. We can remember where we stand with each other and not let this be weird.

Now if I could only get sleep-Zan on the same page.

One more futile escape attempt is met with a shifting of his broad, muscular body, with two strong arms wrapped around me, with a deep rumble of pleasure as he buries his face in my hair and inhales.

And maybe I’m just touch-starved after going so long without any kind of companionship, but damn it anyway, I like it. I like the feeling of being wrapped up in him. I like Zan sleepy and affectionate. I like the way the morning sun glints off all that plated armor and illuminates the graceful sweep of his horns, the messy scruff of his hair.

I like it so much that I almost forget.

Forget that we need distance. Forget that—even in the face of all the other monumentally stupid decisions I’ve made since I’ve been here—this might actually be the stupidest thing I’ve done.

If I give into temptation and melt into him, shift just a little so my lips could find his, maybe take my own indulgent sniff to see what he smells like in the morning when he’s cozy and dreaming and post-earth-shattering-hookup, I’d be a certified idiot.

So I don’t. I finally manage to wrestle myself away, but end up waking him in the process.

And even then, I’m nearly lost.

Because in those first few seconds, Zan must forget, too.

His deep black eyes flicker open, silver strands catching the morning light and making them even more breathtaking than usual.

Then he smiles.

Slow and satisfied and just a little cocky, like he’s oh so pleased with himself to have ended up here, in my bed, with me in his arms.

And holy hell, that look on him is dangerous.

Even if it only takes a few moments for him to realize, remember, come to his damn senses.

Body stiffening against mine, eyes widening, mouth falling open on a softly gasped inhale, Zan moves quickly away.

He clears his throat as he sits up, and the awkward tension in the room is thick enough to slice through with a knife.

I hate it.

As soon as the moment slips away, something deep and unhinged in me wants to yank it back. I want to turn back time, sink back into him, pretend.

But I can’t let myself go there. Just because we needed to let off some steam and indulge in the sexual tension that’s been simmering between us doesn’t give us permission to forget.

We’re both here for a reason, we’re using each other to get what we want, and just because last night’s stunt might have gone a long way toward fooling the cameras, fooling ourselves would be the height of stupidity.

“I…” Zan starts. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to… I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t worry about it.” I vault myself out of bed and head toward the bathroom. “Bed’s much more comfortable, yeah?”

Zan murmurs something that might be an answer, but I’m already closing the door behind me.

By the time I clean up and get ready for the day, he’s vacated the room, and I quickly dress before stepping out into the living space.

Zan’s not there.

It takes me a few seconds and a tight, unreasonable pinch of irritation that he left without me before I catch sight of him.

Just outside the front window, he’s sprawled himself in the hammock on the bungalow’s front porch. I make a quick pit-stop in the kitchen to grab a cup of something that, while I’m not quite certain what it is, is warm and savory and bitter and has enough caffeine to help me face another day on the Mate Match beach.

“What are you doing?”

Zan cracks an eyelid as I open the front door and step out to join him. “Relaxing. Haven’t you heard? We’re supposed to be enjoying paradise.”

Oh, so I’m getting sassy Zan today.

Good to know he loosens up a little after an orgasm.

I snort. “Relaxing? You?”

“Surprised?”

I step to the side of the hammock and look down at him. With the morning sun washing over him, wearing another white tunic shirt and a pair of the shorts he absolutely can’t stand, Zan does, in fact, look like he’s on some kind of vacation.

I wonder if he gets many of those.

If being a mercenary for the Aux is anything like being enlisted with the Sol Alliance, I can probably guess the answer to that.

“No,” I say. “But I bet you’re just as irritatingly good as it as you are at everything else.”

Though he doesn’t open his eyes, a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “What else am I good at, Ros?”

God, I don’t need to answer that.

I have no business even thinking about all the dark, depraved alleyways the question sends my mind down.

The rasp of his fang on my bottom lip.

The pull of his mouth on my nipple.

The flick of his silver-threaded gaze while he was on his knees, darting up to study my face and watch just what he was doing to me.

“We’ve talked about this,” I grumble, shoving the thoughts away. “You and your ego and the distinct lack of stroking it needs.”

“Well, we might have to revisit the conversation. Especially now that I know how good you are at—”

“Absolutely not.”

Zan’s shoulders shake with barely contained laughter. But before I have time to keep telling him off, his gaze darts to something on the beach. In the next heartbeat, his arm is around my waist, and I barely keep my morning beverage from splashing all over him as he tugs me down into the hammock beside him.

“What the hell?” I sputter. “What are you—”

“Directly in front of the bungalow. Ten meters.”

Of course.

Even if everything between us shifted irrevocably last night, of course we’ve still got to deal with the pesky cameras. We’ve still got an audience and a performance to sell.

So, with that in mind, I lean over and set my mug on the porch railing before curling into Zan’s side.

For the performance, of course.

Not because being here—cuddled up next to him, listening to the steady beat of his heart and basking in the bright morning sunshine—almost makes me feel like I’m on my own vacation. Some little slice of paradise from someone else’s life.

The first camera is joined by another, and they circle to capture a few wide arcs and close-ups, getting the blissful morning-after footage they need before drifting further down the beach.

“No sudden movements,” I mutter. “Or they might come back.”

“Noted.”

He really takes that warning to heart as he slowly shifts to make me more comfortable. Curling me into his side, he rests one hand in the middle of my back, the other propped behind his head in the very picture of casual relaxation. Like he hasn’t got a single care in the world.

And, with the soft breaking of the waves and a few birds calling above, with the warmth and the sunshine, I can’t help but do the same.

Eyes closed, body relaxing into Zan, we lay in silence for a few long moments.

Until he ruins it.

“I know you don’t want to talk about last night.”

I groan, quiet enough to avoid drawing the attention of any passing hovers. “Really? What gave that impression?”

Zan squeezes me and chuckles softly instead of answering, and it makes something low and warm stir to life in my belly.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I huff, doing my very best to squash that feeling.

“I wanted to apologize again.”

Okay. Feeling squashed.

Immediately, irrationally annoyed, I prop myself up on his chest. “Apologize? You mean you regret—”

“Cameras,” he murmurs, and I let out a breath through my nose as I settle back against him.

“I don’t regret it for a moment, Roslyn.” He brushes his lips against my temple. “But I realize it was… perhaps the situation got away from us a little.”

“Maybe just a bit.”

I glance up and catch the grim set of his features and his slow, solemn nod. Despite my better judgment, I can’t let that stand.

“But I don’t regret it, either.”

The soft declaration stops him mid-nod, and his galaxy eyes dart down to meet mine. “No?”

“No,” I confirm, leaning up to speak the words into the curve of his jaw. “I don’t.”

He squeezes me again. “Alright.”

I wish I could let it go there. I really do.

But we both need the reminder, so I make myself say it.

“Not that it changes anything. With us. With why we’re here.”

“I wouldn’t expect it to.”

“Good,” I say, not sure what other boundaries I should set, what distance I should keep, how to best look out for myself here.

Because even though I stubbornly want to believe I’m not full of shit, that all of this is just fun, just letting off a little steam, I can’t convince myself entirely.

Not after everything that’s happened, everything we still have to face.

Not after last night and all those deliciously sensual images that keep playing themselves over and over in my mind.

Not when being here, in Zan’s embrace, makes me feel like I’m not alone for the first time in a very, very long time.

“So we’re… cool, then?”

Zan’s brow furrows, eyes going distant in a look I can already read as a mistranslation in progress, and the corners of my lips twitch.

“Not the temperature. I just mean… we’re alright. With each other. With all of this.”

“Ah,” Zan says with understanding tugging at the corners of his own lips. “Yes. We’re cool .”

“Good,” I murmur, laying my head back down.

“And it would also be cool with me if you ever needed to… how did you phrase it? Blow off some steam? If there’s anything I could do to help with that, please do let me know.”

A hot blush climbs my cheeks. “Noted.”

It’s another thing I could lie to myself about. I could try to make myself believe I won’t take him up on the offer, but some part of me knows it would be just that. A lie.

Even now, the teasing promise in his voice makes my flush deepen and a shiver of awareness race up my spine.

In fact, we might still have some time before we need to get our asses out on the beach and start performing.

Maybe even enough time for me to pull him back inside and—

“Well, don’t you two look cozy?”

Both our heads snap up to see a figure approaching the bungalow.

Marva isn’t trailed by any associate producers or cameras today, but she does have her ever-present comms screen in hand as she walks up, eying us both keenly.

“Marva,” Zan rumbles, tone immediately hardening into formality. “Good morning. What can we help you with?”

She quirks a brow. “I can’t just come by and say hello to my two favorite contestants?”

Zan grumbles a non-reply, but I try for a smile as Marva stops and rests her elbows on the railing.

One of us has to at least attempt civility.

“I also wanted to check in and see how you both were doing. I hear there was a bit of a scuffle at last night’s bonfire."

Alright. Well. I still get credit, even if the attempt lasted all of five seconds.

“Did Ansalla say that?” I prop myself up on Zan’s chest. “Because, if you’ll recall, she nearly knocked me onto my ass about five minutes after we landed here, and I barely—”

“You’re not in trouble,” Marva interrupts with a chuckle. “On the contrary, Sella was in my office this morning singing your praises and gloating about how well the footage they captured is going to play for our audience.”

“Oh.”

“We’re both doing fine,” Zandrel cuts in before I can stick my foot any further into my mouth.

As he speaks, he tightens the arm he has wrapped around my back and it’s… nice. Better than nice, actually, to feel anchored by him, here with him, a united front.

And it seems to appease Marva as well as she looks back and forth between us with a wry, knowing smile on her face. “Good, I’m glad to hear it. And that’s not the only reason I came by. Zandrel, I have a comm here you might be interested in.”

She flicks through a couple of screens on her device before passing it over the railing.

Zan takes it and stares hard at the message for a few long, inscrutable seconds.

“This is legitimate?” he asks, and Marva nods.

“From Chairman Riddik himself. You’ve got a full reinstatement waiting for you when the season wraps filming.”

Zan’s mouth falls open, and if I wasn’t so damn startled by the look on his face, I might laugh.

I never could have imagined what it would be like to see the mighty, unflappable, ever-cocky Zandrel caught off-guard, but damn am I glad to be here to witness it first-hand.

He clears his throat and picks his jaw up off the deck’s weathered wooden planks. “How’d you get Riddik’s ear for this?”

“I have my ways.” Marva’s eyes twinkle as she toys absently with the heavy black stone ring she wears.

I expect Zan to push her a little more, demand to see additional proof, but he only offers her a quick nod as he hands the comms device back.

“Is there anything else you need from us?”

Marva shakes her head. “Not at the moment. Just keep… well, doing what you’re doing, and you’ll have our entire viewership eating out of the palms of your hands by the time this is all over.”

Zan nods again, all business, but my stomach tightens at the reminder.

The time this is all over.

Because it will be over, sooner rather than later. And with the reminder of that ticking clock, the same restless aching in my gut kicks up again. The need to get moving, to get out and search for Savvie, to forget about the damn show and do something .

But we’ve still got a lie to sell, and after Marva takes her leave and Zan and I are alone, I sink back down against his chest.

I probably don’t have to.

The cameras have floated off to capture other things, and it’s probably just about time for us to go engage with the rest of the cast and deal with whatever drama’s on offer today. So it wouldn’t be unreasonable to get my ass up and finish getting ready for the day.

Instead, I keep myself right where I am, breath whooshing out in a long sigh.

“I know,” he teases. “I’m not Marva’s biggest fan, either.”

“It’s not that. It’s just… what she said. About all of this ending. And what that means for… well, you know.”

“I was going to talk to you about that.” His tone turns serious, and he glances up and down the beach before swiping his fingers over the cuff on his wrist to keep any errant cameras away. “We’ll travel outside the filming zone the day after tomorrow.”

My heart jumps into my throat. The day after tomorrow.

I’m going to see Savvie again the day after tomorrow.

“And you were going to mention this when ?”

“I was planning to tell you before we left the bungalow this morning. I checked the production schedule while you were in the bathroom, and there’s an upcoming contestant challenge day that looks promising, plus a forecasted storm front that should give us some additional cover.”

He gives me the rundown in quiet, efficient terms. Not all that different from my original plan to hot-wire a hover and take it into the Eritin jungle, but with a few added layers of protection that I absolutely wouldn’t have without him.

“Alright,” I murmur when he’s finished, and again, the word is like jumping off a cliff. “Let’s do it.”

“What will you do if you find her?”

“I…” I trail off, thinking for a moment.

I’ve imagined our meeting a thousand times, with a thousand different potential outcomes. Now that it’s here, it’s hard to actually picture how the conversation will go if I really get to see her.

It’s been over three years since I last laid eyes on Savvie. She came to see me off at the end of my last leave, and watching her out the departing ship’s window nearly broke my heart.

Not only because I had no idea when I’d see her again, but because I knew something was off. Her light had been dimmer during that visit, the circles under her eyes darker, everything about her a little more world-worn since the last time I’d seen her.

But when I pressed, she brushed me off, and I let it go because I didn’t want to ruin the limited time I had with her.

Now, though, I wish I would have tried harder to find out what was going on. I wish she would have felt like she could tell me.

Maybe none of this would have happened if I’d just tried a little harder.

“I want to know what brought her here,” I say finally. “I want to know that she’s okay, and if there’s anything I can do to help her. I want… I want to know if there’s a way to get her off this planet, for the two of us to go somewhere and start over now that my enlistment is up.”

Zan murmurs in understanding, and we both fall silent for a few long minutes, lost to our thoughts.

When we catch sight of a few more contestants venturing out of their bungalows to start the day, however, it’s clear we should do the same. More camera time, more appeasing the producers, more pretending.

After last night, I’m sure we’ll be under even closer scrutiny.

We head back inside to make ourselves presentable, and just as I’m putting the finishing touches on my makeup, the metallic chime of the comms screen next to the front door rings through the bungalow.

Stomach dropping, I hurry out into the living space to see what it is, only to be blocked by a solid wall of Revexoran male obstructing my view.

“What is it?” I ask, nudging him aside so I can get a look, too.

My stomach drops even further, deja vu curdling low and sour in the bottom of it as I read the message once, then again.

“Well,” Zan grumbles. “I guess we’re finally getting our date.”