The Edge of it All

by Jessica Grayson

  After a moment, he shifts so that my head is tucked beneath his chin. His warm breath blows softly through my hair with each exhalation.

  When he finally speaks, his voice is a low and pleasant rumble above me. "For several months, after Rowan rescued me, I would have nightmares of my captivity almost every time I closed my eyes. I would avoid my sleeping chamber because I was afraid to fall asleep and experience my trauma all over again."

  I tip my head back to face him. "What did you do?"

  He continues. "In the palace common rooms, it is easy to hear activity throughout the rest of the household. If I slept there, when I woke, the familiar sounds would remind me where I was. I would often find Rowan sleeping in a chair beside me. After a while, I realized he did this so that I might wake up to a friendly face and know that I was safe."

  Swallowing against the lump in my throat, I think on all the times I've awakened to find him either asleep in his chair or working at his station, monitoring the glider's controls. Gently, I trail my hand down his arm and entwine our fingers in the Aerilon gesture of gratitude. "You do this for me every time I fall asleep on the bridge, don't you?"

  He doesn't speak, but he doesn't have to. His silence answers for him--confirming what I already know to be true. He understands my pain because he went through this too. I'm not weak and never have been. My first instinct would usually be to pull away because I'm strong; I've never needed anyone. But I trust Soran. Something about him makes me want to stay in his arms.

  Maybe it's because he's one of the only people I know in this godforsaken part of the universe, or perhaps it's because he's kind. Or maybe it's because for once in my life, I don't feel like being strong right now.

  I feel like being held.

  Chapter 12

  Soran

  It's been three days since Liana regained her vision. We sit together on the bridge, and I watch in awe as her hands fly deftly across the control panel. She maneuvers the ship through a small asteroid belt as if she's been piloting a Mosauran glider her entire life.

  Sensing my gaze upon her, she turns to me, and her lips curve into a stunning smile. "Can you show me the shortcut to pull up the nav system again?"

  With a quick nod, I move from my seat to lean over her shoulder. She is so close that the heat radiates from her body to mine, and I can tell by the flush of her cheeks that she finds our close proximity appealing.

  I raise my hand. "Will you allow me?" Although I do not know the full extent of the abuse she went through during her time as a slave, I can only guess how horrible it was.

  She allows me to touch her now, ever since the day she lost her sight, but I always ask because I never want to presume. Her trust is a gift that I will never take for granted.

  I take great care to announce my presence and avoid any sudden movements around her. Although she would never outwardly show her fear, sometimes I can smell the acrid scent of it when she's surprised.

  Tr'lani is even more skittish than her. She was a slave for roughly two cycles before they met, and I shudder to think of the abuse she must have endured being held for so long.

  "Yes." She nods.

  Cautiously and ever so gently, I take her hand and guide it across the control panel until we reach the nav system shortcut menu. Pulling it up, I show her the correct motion to move through the floating display options until we find the ones we need.

  My nostrils flare as I discreetly inhale her delicious scent deep into my lungs. Detecting the faint hint of arousal, I relish in the knowledge that my Ashaya likes the contact of our hands. Fierce possessiveness, unlike anything I've ever known, rushes through me and I long to gather her in my arms. Instead, I force myself to step back and give her space.

  She mumbles something, and I smile when I hear her pronunciation of words in my language. Although she has a translator, she often turns it off so that she may use the language modules to study my native tongue. I do the same as I try to learn Terran, encouraging her to teach me. She has an exceptional ear for linguistics, and I wonder if this is a skill her species is known for or if it is something unique only to her. She does not wish to rely on her translator forever, she says, because technology can always fail. She is wise, my Ashaya.

  "So, where did you find me?" she asks, gesturing at the nav display.

  Moving my hand over the screen, I point to the upper left corner. "There. That is Vylax station."

  Inhaling and exhaling deeply, she maximizes the image and stares at it for a moment, nervously chewing on her bottom lip in the way that she does when she's trying to puzzle something out. And I'm mesmerized, as I always am when she does this. It is a habit she claims to have picked up from her mother.

  She turns to me. "Where is V'lora from there?"

  I point to the star that is V'luna and the second planet orbiting it. "There."

  "And you think Terra might be close to V'lora?"

  I nod. "You look so similar to them. There may be some common evolutionary thread that exists between your people and theirs."

  "Do you have any pictures of V'loryns?"

  Running my hands over the console, I bring up an image of a V'loryn male from the ship's database.

  "Wow," she whispers. "I know you said they're distantly related, but the A'kai look more like demons, and these guys look just like elves."

  "Elves?" I ask, pulling her gaze back to mine.

  "They, uh, on my planet, they're these attractive, mythical beings with pointy ears."

  A sharp stab of jealousy spears through me. It doesn't escape me that she included the word "attractive" to describe the elves that she says the V'loryns resemble so closely. I flex my fingers and crack my knuckles before cutting the picture off.

  "Hey!" she cries out. "I was still looking at that."

  Forcing my expression to remain neutral, I lie. "We have a limited amount of fuel and taxing the computer so you can look at images all day is a waste of resources."

  She narrows her eyes. "Are you—” She cocks her head slightly to the side as she studies me, and a slow smile curves her mouth. "Are you jealous? Of a picture?"

  I tilt my chin up to feign indifference. "Why would I be jealous?" I flick a small crumb off my console. "The V'loryns are a dishonorable people who hide their true intentions behind their stoic masks."

  Her head jerks back in surprise. "What?"

  I cross my arms in front of my chest and lean back in my chair, angling my head back slightly to expose my jaw in the way she has told me looks very distinguished. I'm not sure what she means by that, but the way she said it made it sound like a good thing, and I want her to look at me with the same awestruck wonder she had when she looked at the V'loryn male. I quirk a teasing brow. "To use the Terran vernacular that you are so fond of, they suck."

  She bursts into laughter, doubling over and clutching at her sides.

  Liana

  It takes me a moment to catch my breath, and I reach up to brush away tears of laughter. Shaking my head, I grin and tease him. "You are jealous, aren't you?"

  He gives me an imperious look, staring down his very regal nose at me. "Of course not. Everyone knows Mosauran males are much more attractive than V'loryns."

  My jaw drops at his arrogant statement, but I quickly snap it shut. A wide smile spreads across my face as a witty remark sits just on the tip of my tongue, but I pause as my gaze rakes over his form.

  With his chiseled jawline, beautiful reflective silver eyes, shimmering silver-gray scales, and those massive muscular biceps crossed in front of his broad chest, he's right. He definitely has no reason to be jealous of the V'loryn male. Even the facial scar that he's so self-conscious of suggests a slight hint of danger that only adds to his appeal.

  His remark about the V'loryns bothers me though. "So, what would your people think of me if they dislike the V'loryns so much? I mean, you said I look a lot like them and—”

  He cuts me off abruptly. "You are more like a Mosauran."

  I've seen ima
ges of Mosauran females, and I know for a fact that I look nothing like them. "How's that?"

  Reflective eyes stare deep into mine. "You have the heart and will of a warrior."

  I look away from him. "Don't say that, Soran. I'm not a warrior."

  "Yes, you are," he states firmly.

  I meet his gaze evenly. "No, I'm not." I hate what I've become—someone who can't even sleep in their own quarters for fear that they'll have another nightmare. Angry at myself, I bite my bottom lip to keep it from quivering pathetically as I struggle to contain my emotions. "True warriors are brave. They don't fear monsters that can no longer hurt them."

  He leans forward, his brow creased in a deep frown. "Why do you doubt the strength in your heart? I knew you were a warrior the first moment I saw you, when you fought the Anguis and the A'kai to protect Tr'lani."

  The memory of Talel's invasion of my mind sends an involuntary tremor through me. I curl my hands into fists, pressing them into my lap to still their shaking.

  Soran's voice rips me from my thoughts. "Liana? Are you all right?" His eyes are full of concern.

  "I'm fine.” After all the time spent pushing down my emotions when I was a slave, the practiced lie leaves my lips easily. “I don't want to talk about it anymore."

  He opens his mouth as if to speak but then closes it again and gives me a reluctant nod.

  Neither of us speak. The mood between us is strained now, and it's all my fault. After a moment, I stand and excuse myself from the bridge.

  I keep it together long enough to reach my room. Once I step inside, I lean back against the door and slide down to the floor, wrapping my arms around my knees as my breath comes in quick, shallow pants. I squeeze my eyes shut against the dark and painful memories, holding in my tears. My chest tightens, and I feel like I can't breathe. Clenching my jaw, I slam my fist against the cold, metal floor, raging against the maelstrom of emotions swirling within.

  Despite my best efforts to blink them back, unbidden tears escape, but I quickly brush them away. I can't break down now. I have to be strong. If I'm not strong, I'll never make it back to my family.

  My eyes snap up to the viewscreen and the streaks of white light that fly past it. My crew are out there somewhere, and I have to find them. They're counting on me.

  The door chimes loudly as someone requests entry. I drop my head in my hands and take a deep breath. "Enter," I call out.

  The soft whisper of metal as the door slides open is quickly followed by Soran's voice. "Are you all right?"

  Locking down my emotions, I give him a brief nod but refuse to meet his eyes. I don't want him to see me like this.

  He stands there a moment before carefully lowering himself to the floor beside me. Close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body, but he doesn't touch me. Instead, we just sit quietly together.

  A dull ache settles deep in the center of my chest as I think of my family, and devastation washes through me anew. Stifling a sob, I quickly brush away the tears that fall as I draw in a shaking breath.

  His voice is soft when he finally speaks. "I am sorry if I upset you, Liana. It was not my intention to do so."

  I nod and then turn my gaze back to the viewscreen. "I know, Soran.” As I watch the stars blur past the window, an image of my father fills my mind. A wistful smile ghosts my lips at his memory. "My dad taught us to love the stars. On cool, clear nights, he'd spread this huge blanket out over the grass for us to lay on, and we'd stare up at the night sky while he told us all about the constellations."

  Even without turning to face him, I can feel Soran's eyes on me as he waits patiently for me to continue.

  "On Terra, our ancestors used to navigate by the stars, you know. My dad told us that if you learn the stars, you will never be lost." I turn my attention back to the viewscreen, staring out at the distant and foreign points of light against the black void of space as unbidden tears slip down my cheeks.

  Soran gently puts his hand on my forearm. "Liana?"

  Emotions lodge in my throat, but I somehow force the words past my lips. "But I don't know these stars, Soran. They're not mine." I look down at my hands. How do I describe the despair that threatens to overwhelm me every time I think on all that I've lost?

  I lift my gaze to find sadness reflected in his silver eyes as he stares down at me. "Sometimes I feel like I'm broken. Like I'll never be whole again. And I'm trying so hard to find my way, but I still feel so lost." The admission leaves my mouth before I even realize I've said it aloud.

  Soran says nothing. A pained expression mars his handsome face. What can he say? He was a slave, too, and I know he understands my pain. He lifts his hand and holds his upturned palm out to me.

  I stare at it a moment before placing my hand in his and entwining our fingers.

  He gives me a solemn look. "Not all warriors come back from a battle intact. Just because their scars are not visible does not mean they are not there." He pauses. "When my people fight, we do so in teams so that when one becomes injured, his fellow warriors are there to carry him."

  I'm silent as I wait for him to continue.

  "In battle, your team is only as strong as the weakest warrior among you. We vow to one another that if one of us falls injured, we will carry them to victory or to death. We will not leave them behind."

  His gaze drifts down to our joined hands before he lifts his silver eyes back up to meet mine. "I will carry you, Liana of House Garza, to victory or to death. I will not leave you behind. We are bound to one another, and if you are broken, so am I."

  He continues. "I understand what it is to feel broken. You are lost from your past and the only life that you have known. The things you have suffered—the nightmares you relive in your memories—they will never completely go away. But you will learn how to carry them. There will be some days that are easier than others, but many will still be hard. And every day, you choose the light and resist the darkness that threatens to consume you, you become much stronger. I know you are lost, but you have also been found. You are not alone in your sadness, and I promise to do everything I can to help you to heal. I give you my most solemn vow as a warrior of Mosaura."

  His eyes stare deep into mine with an intense emotion I cannot discern—a strange mixture of pain and devotion. Although he comes from a race of warriors, he understands my trauma, and he doesn't find me weak because of it. His words touch something deep inside me and I know that I'm falling for this man—this alien dragon warrior—despite my attempts to shield my heart from him, knowing that eventually, we will be parted.

  Reaching up, I cup his face. Something about the way he watches me draws me closer. My eyes drift down to his perfect, full lips, and I wonder what it would be like to kiss him. As if sensing my thoughts, he leans in. The warmth of his breath fans across my face—the scent of spice and ginger is a heady mix, and I'm already imagining the taste of his mouth as we drift closer.

  Tr'lani's voice comes over the speaker, startling us both, and I pull away quickly.

  "Liana, come to the bridge. Quickly," she says. "I have the most wonderful news."

  Hot embarrassment burns through me, and I'm unable to meet Soran's eyes as I reply. "I'll be right there."

  As soon as we enter the bridge, a wide smile lights Tr'lani's face, and she embraces me warmly. "We've had a message from my brother. He's going to contact me once they're in range so he can come for us."

  Us. She said the word "us." I'm happy for her. I really am. And I love knowing that she wants me to go with her. In fact, she expects it. But when I think of saying goodbye to Soran, a deep ache settles in my chest like a heavy stone.

  Strange how I've grown so close to him in such a short amount of time. I understand that shared trauma can bond two people very quickly, but it's more than just that. He's easy to talk to. And even on my hardest days, he somehow finds a way to make me smile. He understands me in a way that no one else ever has.

  When Tr'lani pulls back, my gaze drifts t
o his. His lips curl up in a faint smile, but I notice the sadness that flashes briefly behind his eyes. Maybe he's dreading being parted from me as much as I dread the idea of being parted from him.

  Chapter 13

  Liana

  Time is a vague concept in space without the rising of the sun at the start of a new day. So, when a gentle knock on my door startles me awake, I'm mildly disoriented and still half-asleep when I leave the bed to answer.

  When Soran greets me with his beaming smile and asks if I want to join him for breakfast, I realize it must be the equivalent of morning here on the ship, and I readily agree.

  Although this is our usual routine, I can feel his eyes on me as we eat. It's almost like he's nervous about something, but I don't know what. He's never this anxious.

  Perhaps it's that we've been confined to the glider for so long. Maybe it's because there's four of us here, and it feels crowded to him after it had only been just he and his brother before Tr'lani and I came along.

  "Liana?"

  His soft voice breaks me from my thoughts. "Yes?"

  "I have something I would like to show you."

  There's a gleam in his eyes that I've never seen before. It's that edge, that anticipation of...something.

  "Lead the way."

  I follow him down the hallway, and he stops in front of a door. I've been here before and know that this leads to a vacant room. "Where are we going?”

  He motions for me to enter. "You will see."

  When we walk in, I notice the entire space is empty except for a single clear glass globe on a pedestal directly in the center.

  Curious, I study it a moment. "What is this?"

  He smiles before reaching back for a folded blanket on a table I hadn't noticed off to the side.

  Carefully unfolding it, he grabs two corners of the quilt and allows the rest of it to fall open, gently lifting it so that the fabric billows up for a moment before settling on the floor next to the pedestal holding the globe.