Because he was right: She did want to go home, and she was ecstatic that it now seemed truly possible, but she didn’t want to leave him, either. It was hypocritical and confusing, and she didn’t know how to explain it without botching it up and hurting his feelings.
She just kissed him, putting all those emotions into that one act. Pouring herself through him and clutching him close in a desperate attempt to hold on to him a little longer. She didn’t know what this was between them, wasn’t sure she could call it love yet, but it was something and it was strong.
She didn’t want to give him up.
And she also didn’t want to give up her freedom.
CHAPTER 22
She woke up in his arms.
He had them wrapped around her waist, holding her back to his front. His soft breaths fanned against her neck from where he’d buried his head against her in his sleep. They were still clothed, him in sleep pants similar to sweats, and her in one of his large T-shirts.
They’d made out for a long time last night, clinging to each other as if the only source of oxygen came from the other’s mouth. Then they’d silently changed and slipped under the covers. He hadn’t pressured her for more, hadn’t said a single word. Instead he’d held her close and they’d dozed off like that, content to simply be in each other’s presence. Not needing any confirmations or promises.
There was a certain freedom in that she’d never felt before, and now in the bright light of day, the reality of that hit her.
Carefully easing out of his hold, she tiptoed around the bed to the bathroom. A mirror stretched over the sink, and she stopped when the lights flickered and she spotted her reflection.
Olena’s almond eyes stared back at her, set beneath dark brows that almost appeared painted on. The Lissa didn’t have so much as a blemish, just smooth, milky skin.
Delaney pressed against a high cheekbone, picturing the smooth curve of her own, the freckles she had. On her real face, there was also a thin scar at the corner of her right eye that she’d gotten as a child.
And Ruckus didn’t know any of this. They’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms last night, were sort of unofficially dating, and yet he didn’t even know what her actual hair looked like. He’d told her not to let it bother her, and she’d tried, but it was hard not to second-guess what was between them, especially now that she was in so deep. Questioning how badly she wanted to go home because it meant leaving him behind? What was that about? People didn’t try to kill her there, for one, and two, she could actually be herself.
On Xenith she was Olena Ond, Lissa of the Vakar, and that was all she’d ever be. If they did discover she wasn’t really who she claimed, a war would start, and she’d probably be murdered for real. The attempts could only fail so many times, after all.
Besides, she couldn’t stay even if she wanted to—which she didn’t. Not unless she wanted to be forced into marrying Trystan and ruling the Vakar—which she also didn’t.
Yet, even knowing all this, when she thought about never seeing Ruckus again, her heart twisted painfully. She’d developed an attachment to him here because of the secret they shared; did that mean there was a chance it would dwindle once she was back among people who knew the real her? Or would this stick with her? Would she be forced to miss him for the rest of her life?
She rolled her eyes, annoyed that she was being so melodramatic. People had crushes all the time, and those crushes ended. This was no different. She wasn’t an idiot; it wasn’t like she was madly in love with the guy or anything like that. She couldn’t be.
And more important, he couldn’t be with her for all the reasons she’d already noted. Sure, physical appearances weren’t everything, but anyone who thought they weren’t at least slightly important was either an idiot or a liar. Chemistry was nature’s way of drawing two likely spouses together. Pheromones and all that jazz held at least some sway over attraction.
People could grow to love one another despite outward appearances, of course, but she was selfish. She wanted it all. She wanted Ruckus to be attracted to her outer self as well as her inner self. What would happen if he wasn’t? What if the second they used Gibus’s device, he took one glance at her and threw up?
It was easy to say there was a bond between them now, here on Xenith, where their lives and the lives of millions of people—earthling and alien alike—hung in the balance. They needed to rely on each other, get close to each other in order to protect themselves and the secret. It was a lot of pressure, and situations like that had a tendency to rush connections and speed up feelings that otherwise might take months or years to form.
Under normal circumstances, would Ruckus even be interested in her? If they’d met at the club, his knowing she wasn’t Olena, would he have noticed her? Would she have caught his eye, at the very least, or would he have overlooked her the same as he no doubt had every other human in the room?
She knew she still would have been attracted to him; without a shadow of a doubt, back home his face would be plastered all over billboards and magazines.
She would have missed out on knowing a really great guy. And he was. He was kind and thoughtful and caring. He was also a soldier who’d dedicated his life to protecting people, and had been given a high-ranking position at a very young age. He had dedication, passion, determination, all things she found very sexy.
“Don’t do that,” his voice cut across the large bathroom then, causing her to jump. He was standing in the open doorway, arms crossed over his bare chest. He hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt, or change out of the low-hanging pants.
Unable to help herself, her gaze shifted lower, roaming over the sharp V formed by his hip bones and the trail of dark hairs that disappeared down his center. His muscles were well defined, and she shivered at the reminder that all that had been wrapped around her only ten minutes ago.
She should have stayed in bed.
“Do what?” She had to clear her throat in order to get the words out, eyes still trailing the contours of his six-pack.
“Judge what’s going on here.” He stepped forward suddenly, forcing her to raise her gaze and look him in the eye. “Whatever is between us, it’s real. I don’t need to have seen your face for that to be true. Don’t you realize how insulting it is to me for you to constantly think otherwise?”
A bit too late, she figured out he was angry.
“What kind of a person do you think I am, Delaney?” He was rushing on before she could answer. “I wouldn’t care if half of your face was scarred. Or if you were missing a finger, or had no hair at all. I’d get past that, because how you look isn’t all of you.”
He had the uncanny ability to leave her speechless, something her parents would no doubt love to learn the secret to.
She must have kept quiet too long, because he let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand forcefully through his already unkempt hair.