“What did you hope to gain by making for the structure?”
“Better shelter, at least. Some method of communication, at most.”
“With whom did you wish to communicate?”
“Is that a trick question?”
“All our questions are extremely serious, Major.”
“Anybody who could hear us. I had Lilac LaRoux with me. I knew her father would stage a retrieval at any cost, if he knew where we were.”
“It was on your mind that you were with Monsieur LaRoux’s daughter.”
“It could hardly escape me.”
“Just the two of you, alone.”
“I noticed that too.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
TARVER
I WANT TO SURGE UP AGAINST HER, tangle my fingers through her hair, pull her down to meet me—and for a moment I find myself reaching for her, unable to resist. How long have I been wanting to touch her like this? A charge runs from her fingertips and into my skin, and all my careful self-control starts crashing down as I feel the heat of her near me. I want to lose myself in her, let this moment take me over completely.
My fingers find the edge of her shirt, and she makes a quiet sound as my hand curves against the small of her back. She shifts, and I realize it’s my bandaged hand in the same instant that a white-hot line of pain runs up my arm. A groan tears out of me as I tense, pushing her away with my good hand.
We’re left gasping, staring at each other—she, confused, uncertain why I stopped; me, trying to breathe, pushing away the need coursing through me despite the ache in my hand.
I know what this is. I recognize that desperate longing in her expression—I’ve seen it before, in the field. Lilac was very nearly left alone on this planet, and she’s mistaking her relief for something else.
A girl like her would never look at a guy like me in other circumstances. If that building on the horizon is our ticket home, I’m not sure I could stand to see her waltz off into her old life and leave me behind. Not if I let myself—no.
I can’t afford to show her how badly I want her.
Not when it isn’t really me she wants.
Her expression is shifting with every moment I keep her at arm’s length, eyes darkening, the confusion turning to doubt.
A treacherous part of me doesn’t care that she’s confused, desperately wants to kiss her anyway. Maybe one moment would be worth it, even if afterward it all dissolved into mist, like our trail of purple flowers.
I could be wrong. Maybe she does want—maybe—
I’m drawing breath again when she pulls away sharply, climbing to her feet to stalk off into the darkness. There’s anger in her jerky movements, in the tense line of her shoulders.
My mind thunders with everything I should say, the words tangling in my throat. Wait. Come back. Tell me you won’t vanish the moment they find us here. Tell me if I touch you I’m not going to lose you.
“Don’t go far,” I call instead, and silently curse my own cowardice.
She doesn’t come back, but she does stop where I can still see her, choosing the cold, windy emptiness of the dark plain over returning to me. The mirror-moon gives off enough light that she probably won’t break an ankle, but I wish I knew how to call her back.
In the end I unroll the blankets and stretch out on them—I’m too weak, too tired to sit up and wait for her. When she returns to lie down beside me, it’s at the edge of the blanket, as far from me as she can get.
I have to say something. This will get worse overnight. I reach inside myself and find the part of me that’s used to dragging the unwilling through all kinds of uncompromising landscapes, and I try for a lighter tone. “Stop that, will you come over here? I’m an invalid, I need you to keep me warm.” If I can get my arms around her, maybe she’ll understand.
She’s silent so long it doesn’t seem like she’ll reply at all. When she finally does, her voice is hoarse and hostile. “You’ll survive.”
“Probably,” I agree. “But I’d rather be comfortable.”
She keeps her back to me, spine curved as she curls in on herself. “Tarver.” Now she sounds like she’s the one talking through gritted teeth. “I’m humiliated. I’ll be fine in the morning, and we’ll keep going and get rescued, and then this will be over. Just leave me alone right now.”
“Lilac—”
She curls up away from me more tightly, tucking her head down as though she can block out my words. Eventually I stop waiting for her to roll over and join me. I lie on my back to stare up at the unfamiliar stars and the bright, blue-white mirror overhead, and wait for sleep.
It’s bitterly cold without her.