Page 27

Roslyn

The hover drops us right back down at the front steps of the bungalow.

Cameras circle to capture the last few moments of our date as Zan helps me down to the sand, but when they finally drift off and leave us alone, I’m still way too keyed up to relax.

I… think that went well.

I hope that went well.

Sella hasn’t materialized to gently tell us how awful we did, so maybe that’s a good sign.

Overhead, the sky is a tapestry of stars. Even with as many worlds as I’ve had the opportunity to visit, I’ve never seen anything like it. Swirling streaks of stardust from the spiral arm of Eritin’s home galaxy, a million sparkling stars laid out in unfamiliar constellations, two moons shining with silver-white light, it’s like something out of a storybook.

This entire night feels like it’s out of a story.

Certainly, it’s not from my life.

My life includes hot, miserable deserts and years of military drudgery. My life doesn’t include nights like this. Nights of wonder and peace and safety.

I glance over at Zan.

He, too, has his eyes fixed on the stars. But like he can sense me looking at him, he turns to meet my gaze.

Did I think the night sky was incredible?

I couldn’t have, because it’s nothing compared to the stars in his eyes.

And maybe I’m still just buzzing from the date. Maybe I’m still lost in the fantasy of it all, because right now I can’t make myself remember it’s all an act, it’s not real, it’s going to end.

Zan takes my hand in his.

“Come for a walk with me?”

“A walk?”

He nods. “Yes, just… I could use a little air.”

We’ve had plenty of air tonight, but I know what he means. If we head into the bungalow now…

A low, anticipatory heat blooms in my belly.

And it’s not just the thought of being behind closed doors with him, either. It’s the way he’s looking at me. Like I’m the starlight, like everything we just shared wasn’t only for the cameras.

“Come on,” he says softly, tugging me toward the surf.

He kicks off his shoes, and I do the same. We walk barefoot all the way down to where the waves break against the shore, sand and saltwater slipping cool and refreshing over our feet.

The night air, too, is cool. Not that Eritin ever gets anywhere near cold , but the breeze is a welcome relief against skin that still feels too hot, too tight, buzzing with adrenaline.

We’re not the only ones out on the beach, but the contestants we pass seem mostly involved in their own little worlds or their own little dramas. Only one cam still tails us, and maybe that’s another good sign for how tonight went. Maybe they’ve gotten all they need from us.

It’s a relief. Some room to breathe and think. An unobserved moment to just be.

“Do you think we won over our audience?” I murmur, keeping my voice low in case the hover drifts closer.

Zan lets out a thoughtful hum, like he hadn’t really considered it. “I do. But that’s not my primary concern.”

With a glance at the hover, he tugs on my hand and turns me to face him.

“I’m more concerned about you.”

“Me? Why?”

“Because I know that couldn’t have been easy for you, sharing that much about your past.”

He’s not wrong.

At first, giving up any of those details felt like pulling teeth. Why the fuck does Mate Match or any of the people who watch it deserve to know about Earth, about where I came from and what I want from my life?

But with Zan’s hand on mine, with the strength of him behind me, thrust into the kind of night I already know I’ll never live again, I couldn’t stop myself. Once the words came, they came easily.

I wanted Zan to know.

Sure, maybe I could have found a different time to share those things with him, but I don’t regret doing it.

I don’t regret making space for him to share, too.

His life on Revexor, a childhood in a world lost to ruin just like mine. The tentative, halting way he talked about it, like he shares those things just as infrequently as I do.

It was a gift. One I’ll never take for granted.

“I’m alright,” I murmur. “And besides, I could say the same for you.”

Zan hums low in the back of his throat. “Fair enough.”

He turns me again so I’ve got my back to his chest, both of us facing the ocean. The waves continue to wash over us, probably ruining the bottom of this crazy-gorgeous dress I’m wearing, but I don’t really care right now.

The night’s still got some magic in it, even without the hovercraft and the cameras and the unbelievable, glowing panorama of Eritin’s jungle below.

I want to savor that magic as long as I can.

Zan’s arms encircle me, and I trace the ridges of his armor, struck again at the sheer power of him, the sheer presence of him. He takes notice, going still behind me as I continue my inspection of him.

When I glance up, he’s watching me closely. Solar storms roil in the black depths of his eyes, and I wish I knew what he was thinking.

I wish I knew how to ask for what I want.

To ignore the ticking clock. To ignore the reality waiting for us tomorrow when we finally go out looking for Savvie, and the inevitable end of all of this when filming wraps next week.

To just be here, tonight, like we were any two normal beings in the universe.

But maybe I don’t have to ask.

Maybe he’s thinking it, too, because just like he did on the hover, he leans down to kiss me. With a firm hand under my jaw, he tips my face up to his. He slants his lips over mine—cool smoke and midnight—and kisses me deep.

Yes. This. This is what I wanted.

The possessive press of his lips and the sweep of his tongue, the steady grip on my jaw to hold me just where he wants me. The noise that breaks in the back of his throat when I open for him, hungry and just a little desperate.

By the time we come up for air, both of us panting for breath, we’ve caught the attention of a few more cams. Zan rumbles his displeasure in the back of his throat and lifts me into his arms. With determined, ground-devouring strides, he carries me back to the bungalow, ignoring the whir of the cams as they try to keep up.

He sets me on my feet just inside the door while he takes care of the locks and sensors, and then he’s back with a vengeance.

Pushing me up against the door, he slams his lips back into mine. Harder, this time. More demanding, more insistent.

The rest of the world’s obliterated, and there’s only this. Only us, and a few more hours until we have to face what’s coming.

And I’ll take every second I can get.

My hands shoot up to circle around the back of his neck, sink into his hair, my body pressed to every hard contour of his. The kiss is messy, desperate, demanding, laced with the magic of the evening and the desperation of knowing just how finite our time is. Graceless and greedy, we trip over each other into the bedroom, kissing all the way, tugging at each other’s clothes.

Just over the threshold, Zan drops his lips to kiss and nip and suck a path over my jaw and down my neck to where it meets my shoulder. He pulls the neckline of the gown aside to give himself better access, and we both seem to realize at the same time what it does to the loose-fitting garment—slipping down my shoulder to expose my scars.

“I’m sorry,” Zan breathes, pulling back. “I know you don’t want to—”

“It’s okay. I do.”

Before I can think better of it, I slide the dress down. With how low it’s cut in the front, it falls easily away and drops to pool at my feet. Breath leaves my lungs in a rushed, shaky exhale as Zan gets a look at me. A bra wasn’t exactly practical given the cut of the dress, and I’m left in nothing more than a pair of black, lacy underwear.

A deep rumble of approval breaks in his chest as he lunges for me. Our lips crash together again and I tug at his shirt, silently demanding he take it off.

With another growl of approval, he complies before swinging me into his arms and carrying me to bed.

He takes care not to touch my scars, and while I appreciate the consideration, I also wonder what it might be like if he did. I wonder how it would feel to have his hands on them, his lips, to have another person know their shape and texture for the first time.

But it’s not something I feel brave enough to ask for. I don’t have the faintest idea how I would ask for it, so I push the thought aside and concentrate on the sensation of those hands, those lips, everywhere else.

Because as soon as he sets me down on the sheets, he’s… everywhere. Heavy and wonderful on top of me, he presses me into the mattress and kisses me deep, hands mapping a path over my breasts, my stomach, my hips, like he can’t decide what he wants to touch first. Like there’s not enough time to touch me as much as he wants to.

Zan’s lips follow the path his hands made, trailing over my throat, my collarbone, to worship at my aching nipples as he pulls one into his mouth, then the other. He swirls his tongue over the sensitive peaks, cups and plumps both of them together so he can switch from one to the other and then back again until I’m arching up off the mattress and my hands are clutched tight around his horns in a silent plea for more.

His armor is the most delicious rasp against my skin—firm and rough and thrilling as he presses even closer.

And even though I’m writhing, desperate for him, he takes just as much time exploring the planes of my stomach, the dip of my navel, the curve of my hips as he works his way down between my thighs.

Zan slides off the bed to kneel on the floor. With a firm grip on the backs of my knees, he tugs me right to the edge, sliding off my underwear and spreading me wide, taking a moment to pause and admire.

We didn’t bother with turning on a lamp, but the moonlight streaming in does just as well. It paints us both with silver, highlighting all the dramatic angles of his rough-hewn features, his armor, the graceful curves of his horns.

The sight of it steals my breath, and all I can do is stare at him, committing the otherworldly sight to memory.

“No snark for me tonight?” he asks, pressing a kiss to my knee, the inside of my thigh.

A tight gasp is the best I can do for a reply. Especially when those lips of his travel higher, breath breaking over skin that feels too sensitive, too warm, too impatient for him.

“Hmmm,” Zan murmurs. “I think I like you like this. Agreeable, for once.”

A strangled, indignant sound breaks from my lips, but when I prop myself up on an elbow, there’s nothing but warm teasing in his gaze, nothing but satisfaction as he lowers himself to my pussy and presses a long, lingering kiss there. Head lolling back, I take hold of his horn with my other hand and tug him closer.

“Agreeable, and demanding.” He swipes his tongue up the center of me, and I cry out. “Yes, I definitely like you like this.”

Lips wrapped around my clit, his two clawless fingers sinking into me, I’ve got no snark for him. I haven’t got a single damn word as I cry out my pleasure. Zan rumbles his approval as he works me, the sound vibrating against my clit.

The tips of the claws on his other hand are still deliciously sharp little pinpricks where he grips my thigh hard, keeping me in place. I buck up into him and he grips me tighter. Tight enough that I hope it leaves a mark.

He crooks his two fingers forward inside of me, draws hard on my clit, and pleasure curls low and tight in my belly. He doesn’t give me a single moment of mercy, no teasing, no slow build as he works me toward my peak.

“Just like that, Ros,” he murmurs into me. “You taste so fucking good.”

A strangled cry breaks from my lips as I fall, body curling into him, hands so tight around his horns that I’m sure all those textured ridges are going to leave a permanent imprint on my palms.

Zan soothes me through every wave and spasm. He keeps me held tight until the last of the tremors break over me in small, desperate, wrung-out gasps, and I relax into the mattress. Only then does he relent, crawling up the length of my body and making sure that no inch of me goes untended.

When he reaches my mouth, he takes my lips in a deep kiss. I moan at the taste of him—the taste of me—the two of us together so damn delicious that I’m brought immediately back to life. Arching into him, pressing my hips up to meet the ridges covering his slit, tugging him closer so I can—

“Still so demanding?” Zan teases. “I haven’t satisfied you yet?”

“Not even close.”

With a hand on the center of his chest, I press firmly. Zan complies with the silent order, easing down onto the bed and tugging me over him as he settles on his back.

It’s a power trip, straddling him like this. Having a fierce, deadly warrior pinned beneath me like this.

The power of him between my thighs, the claw-tipped grip he places on my hips, the low rumble of satisfaction in his chest when I lean down over him to get another taste, it all coils deep in my core.

I take just as much time as he did working my way down his body.

I kiss a trail from his lips, over the firm line of his jaw, the column of his throat. I drag my teeth over him, lick teasing circles around his nipples, kiss my way down his abs until I reach those deep, delicious lines of muscle and armor leading me right where I’m headed.

I kneel between his muscled thighs and can’t help my grin at the strangled, desperate noise that lodges itself in his throat. Glancing up at him, I catch a flash of roiling silver and my grin grows even wider.

“Roslyn,” Zan says, voice tight and husky with desire.

He threads his fingers into my hair, and I let out a short, panted moan at the rasp of his claws against my scalp. He strokes me again, with a little more pressure this time, nudging me back down between his legs.

My lips find that split in his skin and I run my tongue over the smooth seam.

I’m still not entirely certain about all the ins and outs of his anatomy, or how to give him as much pleasure as he just gave me.

But I know Zan, and have no doubt he’ll steer me in the right direction if I do anything wrong, so I lead with enthusiasm. I lap at him, teasing him and dipping inside to find the hard length of his cock, already slick with his natural lubricant.

Hard and throbbing, his cock springs free, and I can’t stop my groan of pleasure.

God, but he’s beautiful.

Thick and long and mine . At least for tonight.

I can’t exactly fit all of him into my mouth considering his size, but I make do. With one hand fisted around his slick shaft, I squeeze and stroke him while I take what I can fit all the way down to the back of my throat.

“Fates, yes,” Zan breathes. “Harder.”

It’s an order I have no problem following as I tighten my grip and revel in his growl of approval. Over and over, finding a rhythm that drives him out of his damn mind, harsh gasps and deep moans slipping from his lips.

“Roslyn,” he groans, and I’m not sure I’ve ever heard a sweeter sound than my name in that voice, that tone, poised right on the edge of his control. “Mercy.”

I pull back, grinning up at him. “I think I like you like this. Desperate. Aching for—”

With a rough growl, Zan lunges for me. In a couple of quick, precise, tactical moves, he has me sprawled back onto the mattress. And just like when we spar, I’m an absolute goner in the face of that physical prowess, powerless against that skill and strength.

But I don’t mind.

In fact, I’m so very far from minding any of it that I might as well be on a different planet.

I shift beneath him, making room, finding where I fit as our bodies settle into each other.

And when I meet his eyes again, I’m pinned even more firmly in place.

A universe, in those eyes. So unlike my own, I’m frozen under their depthless black and silver supernovas, caught in the intensity, breathless with the way he studies me. Focused, enraptured, like I’m the only person in any of his universe’s endless galaxies who matters.