Page 81 of Stardusted

The thing that had been Sky gaped down at his shimmer-speckled hands, turning them over slowly. Then he lifted his head, and I saw his eyes.

No whites. Just inky black, swallowing the sclera whole. His pupils glowed, iridescent blue in every shade imaginable. Impossibly bright and jeweled.

And in them, I read panic.

His mouth had fallen open, but he clamped it shut again and staggered back, like he could vanish into the shadowy bushes behind the dumpster. His outline seemed to melt into them, but it was too late.

Far too late. I’d seen him.

We both knew it.

I stood there, gulping air in ragged pants.

Like he knew there was no hiding now, he straightened slowly. His chest rose and fell just as quickly beneath his human clothes. Bartender clothes. A detached part of my brain registered how strange it was, that long, lean body in that fabric withthatskin…

The glow was fading from my palm, dwindling fast. I couldn’t even look at it, though. Rain sliced sideways into the shelter, plastering my hair to my cheeks, but I barely noticed.

It was Sky. And it wasn’t.

He was staring back at me. Even in the gloom, his skin glimmered faintly. It was…oddly beautiful. Terrifying.

I couldn’t close my mouth.

He shifted his weight, swallowed hard. Cursed under his breath in a voice that sounded strangely resonant. Musical. Human words coming from something that wasn’t. The sound struck me to the bone. Jolted free the only thing rebounding in my brain, over and over:

“Holy shit,” I whispered hoarsely. “Sky, you’re…analien.”

Chapter 22

THIS IS FINE. (IT’S SO NOT)

Faith’swipers squeaked across the windshield in a rhythmic slide. They were crooked and missed a spot with every pass. I’d normally be annoyed by that, but right now it was hard to care. Rain slithered down the glass in watery snakes, blurring the lights on the road in front of me, and a clap of thunder drowned out the swish of my tires over the puddle-ridden asphalt.

Holy. Shit.

Sky was an alien.

I readjusted my grip on the steering wheel and forced myself to breathe, despite my panic-cramped chest. I needed to keep breathing. I needed to keep driving. I needed to wake up from this insane dream.

But it wasn’t a dream. I was awake. I could tell by the way my head pounded dully.

The urge to smash the gas pedal to the metal and keep going forever was nearly overpowering. Screw it. I could go into hiding. Maybe that whole bunker thing wasn’t such a terrible idea after all.

Thank God Sandy had cut someone tonight. The idea of working the rest of the shift like nothing was wrong while Sky—alien freakingSky—slung drinks like everything was fine and dandy made me want to throw up.

I hadn’t missed the fact he’d been throwing me quick, cautious looks before I’d taken off. He’d tried talking to me when I was clocking out. I’d practically run away screaming, all the way to my car.

Kelly had said something, too, and I didn’t remember if I’d even looked her way. I was too busy chewing over tonight’s massive revelation.

The one where Sky was an alien.

Sky was a mother-freakingalien.

“Holy shit,” I choked out, strangling the wheel with both hands. The stoplight cast red across my rain-slicked window. The engine’s rumble and the wipers’ squeaks were muffled by the rush of blood in my ears.

A part of me still desperately wanted to believe this was all a dream and I would wake up soon and never eat whatever I’d had for dinner again.

So far, I’d handled all this alien crap with surprising ease. I’d looked at it like a problem. A research project. Something separate from myself I could analyze and investigate and pick apart and, hell, maybe even solve. Like one, big cosmic-sized puzzle.