She smoothed the fabric of her dress and caught his eye.
He was watching her, and for once there was no trace of amusement or anger or anything else. He was just looking at her. It was a look that made her heart pound and her face spread in a smile. It was a look that said he was thinking the exact same thing.
Her hands itched to touch him. It felt like it had been forever since they’d touched him. They’d been surrounded by Argenti officials ever since the awful showdown with her father. Stopped for questioning until finally they got clearance to leave. She’d declined the offer to stay in Argentus to witness the trial, when it finally happened.
They’d had to go pick up Staria, who’d still been at the ball, having the time of her life, surrounded by Argenti. She’d agreed—reluctantly—to leave, but only because Tor swore there’d be an Argenti base built on Vesta in the next six months.
Staria had sent Spiro, who’d still been groggy and grumpy after taking a second sharp object to the neck, a look that had sent his blond eyebrows high, and his bold blue eyes burning.
If Klym had to guess, Spiro would find a way to be the commander of that base.
And finally, she and Tor were alone. Well, almost.
Staria pulled off her harness. “I’m not going to Lasserone,” she said, tilting her chin back, and glaring at Tor, all spit and defiance.
“That’s fine,” he said quietly. “You can stay at the Roq as long as you want.”
She rose slowly. “I’ll stay until that Argenti base is built.”
Tor lifted his shoulder.
Staria chewed on her thumb nail. “How long until we get to Vesta?”
“Nine days.”
Staria pulled one side of her mouth down. “I think a heat is coming on.”
Tor’s jaw dropped. It might be the first time she’d ever seen him truly surprised.
A heat meant that Staria would go insane with lust, it meant she’d become almost violently aroused and release pheromones in the air that would make any male irrational with lust. A quick flash of Staria’s long skinny arms and legs wrapped around Tor had Klym rising to her feet.
Someone would die before that happened.
She would not share him. She traced her fingertips along each ridge of her pearls. “Maybe we should go back to Argentus, then. Find someone to…”
Tor’s dimples went positively murderous. “Why didn’t you say something soone—”
“Just kidding.” Staria clapped her hands together and guffawed. “But you should see your faces.”
Klym’s heart resumed its beat. Tor’s mouth twitched.
“I’m going to go lock myself in the other bunk. Let me know when we get there. You kids have fun.” Staria sauntered down the hall.
And like that, they were alone.
Just Klym and Tor, on the spaceship they’d fallen in love in, barreling through space at two hundred meters per second, passing from portal to portal, toward a fiery-amber planet full of people who were her enemy no longer, where they would make war on the Alliance, and peace with Argentus.
“So, what’s going on back in Tamminia?”
“Gaspart is handling things until we’re back.”
“And Pijuan?”
“He’ll come back.”
Klym spread her hands over her thighs. Pijuan would come back, and he would find a united regio and selissa. He’d find her accepted because, if nothing else, the gift Janna’s video had given her was proof of acceptance like she’d never known before in her whole life. They accepted her despite who she was born to, not just because of it.
She licked her lips. “And there will be a war?”
His dark eyes glittered in the dark. “Not if I can help it.”
She shook her shoe, and the bell on the tip jangled. She didn’t need to know anything more. “Then I’m ready.”
“Ready?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and steepled his palms.
She nodded. “Ready.”
“For?” He traced his thumbs against each other. The ship’s low orange lights played on his sharp collar bones, and shadows pooled behind his jaw. His hair shone darkly in its bun.
“You,” she breathed, staring at his thumbs in their slow rhythm. “Whatever happens.”
He trailed his tongue along his teeth, a little smile playing around his lips. “Whatever happens,” he repeated slowly. The dimple glimmered with carnal promise, but he didn’t move.
She tapped the bells together. “Maybe you’ll become addicted to me.”
“I already am.”
Warmth spread through her whole body. “Maybe your pheromones will induce some sort of weird hybridized heat.”
The sly smile stretched into a wide grin, and his knee bounced up and down a few times.
“Or maybe we’ll end up in a haze.”
He looked down at his hands. “You’ve spent some time thinking about this?”
“I’ve thought about it a lot,” she admitted.
“Me too.” He looked up at her, the tip of his tongue between his teeth. “In great detail.”
“And? What did you decide?”
“Doesn’t matter. If you go into a Vestige-style heat, I’ll gladly fuck you through it until we are both dehydrated, starving, and shaking from the effort. And if it goes the other way, Argenti style, and I end up being addicted to your pussy?” He spread his hands. “Well, that isn’t much of a change. Can’t say I’d mind having you addicted to my cock, though.” He lifted a shoulder. “I just hope I don’t hurt you.”
She blew out a long breath. She was ready. She’d imagined this moment a hundred different ways.
Holding his gaze, she walked to him. “Says the man who’s always threatening to spank me.”
He shifted his legs, and she stepped between his spread thighs. “It’ll happen.”
She took his face between her palms. “Come with me.”
His hands closed around the backs of her knees, those thumbs tracing along the sensitive skin there, making her shiver. He pulled her closer, until their lips hovered over one
