Starbreaker

by Amanda Bouchet

  “I want to cover you.” Protect you. Shelter you. Lose myself in you. “I want you under me.” I slid my hand between her legs. She scalded my fingers already, even with her clothes on. Tess rocked into my grip, her hips rolling in a sultry motion.

  She reached down and tore her shirt over her head, her hair flying in every direction. It looked brighter in this lighting, some of the redder strands standing out from the brown. I brushed a lock over her shoulder. She shivered, her lips parting on a sweet sound.

  Tess dropped her shirt on the floor and leaned her forehead against my jaw, breathing raggedly. My arms came around her, my heart thumping like a hammer. She seemed suddenly vulnerable, half-dressed and balanced against me, and my heavy pulse echoed with all the worries and hopes we’d just confessed to each other. How had I ever contemplated turning her over to the Dark Watch? It would’ve been like carving open my own chest and tearing out my vital organs.

  I’d made my intentions clear—I was in this, with her, for the long run. I wanted to say more. I wanted to tell her how I felt about us, about her, but Tess’s breath fanned my neck in fast, warm pants, and the words grew too big and clogged in my throat, sticking there.

  I nudged her down and undressed us both. Words wouldn’t come, so I used my body to show her. And if she didn’t understand that I loved her, then I’d show her again tomorrow.

  Chapter 5

  TESS

  The sun rose in spectacular fashion, pouring warm splashes of dawn-pink light into the open side of the bungalow. Watching the jungle-thick air brighten and change from Shade’s arms and the hot-blooded sex that followed made me wish we were here for more than just two days—and for an actual vacation. Getting out of bed early wasn’t even hard when the stocked kitchen provided fruit, juice, sweet trigrain rolls with chocolate centers, and fresh-ground coffee complete with cream and sugar. A delicious three-course breakfast magically—well, robotically—appeared at our doorstep only a few minutes after we pushed selection buttons on a wall-mounted menu. The Aisé Resort was heaven.

  The Gano River, however, was hell.

  Shade kept us well back from the bank until the lumbering-on-land-but-deadly-in-the-water cyclodiles mostly cleared out and went back to their den or burrow or mud pocket or whatever it was they had upriver. A few lingered, their knobbly backs breaking the surface like prehistoric monsters before disappearing again under the eddying ripples.

  A multicolored flutter caught my eye. “Shit!” I flapped my arms wildly, but the graceful long-necked bird swooped down from the treetops and landed in the middle of the river anyway. Two seconds later, it disappeared in a thrashing of foam and feathers. A bit of pink, yellow, and white plumage popped back up and swirled downriver on a blood-soaked current.

  I made a face. “Awesome date, Shade. You took me to murder highway.”

  He shrugged. “Predators. Prey. It’s just the natural way of things.”

  “Says someone who’s only been a predator.”

  He went quiet, and I instantly regretted my words. I hadn’t meant to bring up his bounty-hunting days and ruin our morning together.

  “Mostly,” he finally said, “but not always. I’m pretty sure I was easy prey for Scarabin White when he was holding my father’s gambling debts over my head.”

  I tightened my ponytail, getting my hair off my sweaty neck. “You were young and grieving. Anyone might have made the same mistakes.”

  He looked away and then back at me, a small self-critical smile flattening his mouth. “Maybe.”

  “If you’d won that bet White offered, it all would’ve worked out. You’d have had your docks, debt-free. We all make choices, and only hindsight can tell us if they’re good or bad. I’m choosing to protect Mareeka and Surral and Starway 8, even if it means the Overseer getting some enhancers from my blood.”

  Shade took my hand in his and led me toward what looked like a bridge, although I was kind of hoping the long, narrow, vine-hung contraption wasn’t our next destination. The cyclodiles were already terrifying enough.

  “I hope you don’t live to regret your decision, like I regret mine,” he said.

  “I don’t regret your decision.” I swung our joined hands a little. “It’s selfish, but I don’t.”

  Shade rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze firmly trained on the river. The hand that held mine squeezed. “You know what? Maybe I don’t regret it anymore, either.”

  My heart leaped, the hard beat rocketing heat through my whole body in one quick rush of blood. Grinning, I ducked my head.

  “Careful now.” Shade snagged me around the waist and whirled me away from the riverbank. As we spun, I saw a flash of teeth. Heard the snap of jaws. I yelped, getting ready to run. Shade clamped a hand around my arm.

  “Shh. Hold still. They’re attracted to sudden movement and noises.” His voice just a hint of words in my ear, he added, “Having one eye means their hearing is well-developed.”

  I didn’t move a muscle, not even to breathe. The beast turned and slipped back into the water with a scaly twist, the tip of its ridged tail disappearing last.

  Quietly, I dragged in a shaky breath. “I thought they were done with their breakfast.”

  Shade wrapped his arms around me and nuzzled my neck. “Mmm. You are tasty. Can you really blame them?”

  “Yes!” I shoved away from him, his warm kisses not enough to distract me from the remnants of total terror. “And I’ll blame you when I’m dead, mauled and eaten by cyclodiles.”

  He chuckled, as though that weren’t a genuine possibility right now. “Let’s cross the bridge. We climb up and away from the river on the other side.”

  I eyed the bridge, getting my first good look at it now that we were closer. “Yeah, I don’t think so. Ropes? Wooden slats? Hung between two trees? That, Mr. SRP, is a hazard to humanity.”

  “Where’s your sense of adventure, Captain Bailey? Besides, I wouldn’t be a Space Rogue Phenom if I didn’t know which jungle bridges were safe in the galaxy.”

  I huffed. “It might be rotten in the middle. We’ll fall straight into a monster’s gaping maw, landing whole inside its huge belly to be slowly digested by stomach acid along with a flock of shredded birds.”

  He cracked up. “You do have an overactive imagination.”

  “Like I said, it’s very helpful. In keeping me alive.”

  “The bridge is perfectly safe. The resort maintains it.”

  I narrowed my eyes. At him. At the bridge. At the now-undisturbed water. “Can cyclodiles jump?” I searched the river for signs of impending doom. “Where is that thing? Lying in wait? Licking its chops? Planning something gruesome?”

  Grinning, Shade held my hand and tugged me in the direction of obvious disaster. “Cyclodiles can’t jump, but they can run, even if it’s awkward. We’d be safer on the bridge than here, and the far bank is even safer.” He continued toward the jungle walkway that looked like something people had stopped building about a bazillion years ago—for good reason.

  Half-heartedly dragging my feet, I eyeballed the whole construction. There were at least six-inch gaps in between each of the planks across the wide, lazily moving river. You had to climb a huge old tree to get onto the bridge and climb down a huge old tree on the other side to get off it. The only way up or down was a freaking rope ladder.

  Excitement rose inside me nevertheless. No way was I missing out on this. “Is encouraging guests to face possible death just for fun and resort ambiance?”

  “That’s what I’ve always assumed. Really livens the place up.” Shade winked at me, handsome and cocky enough to pull even that off without seeming ridiculous. “But seriously, who would come here if they couldn’t take a little kick of adrenaline?”

  “Someone who’s being led around blind and doesn’t know what she’s getting into,” I answered dryly.

  Playful challenge char
ged his expression with little sparks of humor that lit up his brown eyes. “Tess Bailey: the galaxy’s Most Wanted. Can jump into a black hole but won’t cross a river?”

  “I didn’t plan on surviving that trip. This one, I rather hope to come out of.”

  “And you will.” Shade grabbed the bottom of the rope ladder and gave it a few hard tugs to show me it was sturdy. “See? Nothing wrong with it.”

  “Ow!” I slapped an insect from my wrist. Crap. Too late. My sixth itchy red welt of the day rose, puffing into a lump right under a freckle like a bull’s-eye for the next vicious little biter. “Damn it. If I don’t get attacked by a hungry one-eyed reptile or fall off the rickety bridge, I’m probably going to keel over from some weird Reaginine venom.”

  Shade’s lips jumped up. He pressed his mouth flat. It popped back up again.

  “Don’t laugh,” I muttered. “They’re not eating you—which is totally unfair, by the way.”

  “I told you you were tasty.”

  I scratched the new bite. “Compliments don’t work on me when they involve bloodsucking whatsits.”

  “Scratching makes it worse.” Shade removed my scraping fingers from my wrist. “And I think you’re grumbling so much because you secretly love this.”

  I scowled.

  “See? It’s obvious,” he said in response to my scrunched-up face.

  I hmphed. It was almost a laugh, and Shade knew it. His eyes practically glittered in triumph.

  “Are you trying to get rid of me?” I asked. “There are easier methods than death by bugs, monsters, or hazardous walkways.”

  Shade placed both my hands on the rope ladder. “You’re just stalling. You won’t fall off unless you throw yourself over the railing.”

  “Well, don’t make idiotic suggestions.”

  Giving me a stink eye that barely contained his laughter, Shade gripped the ladder to hold it steady. “If you keep hopping around on the bank and making noise, every predator in the Gano is going to head over, and I’ll be forced to shoot something.”

  I grimaced. No thanks. There was enough killing going on here already. We both carried holstered weapons, though, just in case things in the jungle got too crazy. We’d drop them off at the bungalow before meeting with Bridgebane. Guns weren’t permitted in the temples, even for the Dark Watch.

  I glanced back in the direction of the house, suddenly overwhelmed by our real reason for being on Reaginine. Not that I’d forgotten for a second, but Shade made it easy to think about other things. “I don’t want to be late for our meeting. Maybe we should just go to the Grand Temple and wait.”

  “It’s not technically meeting day yet, and even here, it’s still early. Better to blend in with the bigger crowds later today—like we already decided.”

  I nodded. We had a plan and should stick to it. I took a first hesitant step up the rope ladder. Uncle Nate wouldn’t be here yet—or at least not checking his watch for us. Shade was right; we should enjoy our morning. With the Ahern mission looming, who knew if we’d even still be alive ten days from now, or free, or together.

  A painful burst of memory jolted through me. Was I repeating a pattern? Seven years ago, my boyfriend Gabe and I had been in a good place, happy together, looking for a crew to join after leaving the orphanage. But we took on a job out of our league that went bad so fast we didn’t know what hit us. The Dark Watch showed up. We ran and got separated. They caught me and hauled me off to prison. I didn’t know what happened to Gabe. I probably never would, and now it could happen all over again with Shade.

  I lifted my chin, did my best to shake off those thoughts, and climbed the damn ladder. It swayed, even with Shade holding it. I didn’t mind the movement. Or the height. Or the setting. I was mostly complaining for the fun of it, and because I liked how happy it seemed to make Shade to reassure me and guide me through this place.

  Sure, the Gano Jungle and this scratchy rope ladder were slightly terrifying, but life without any unexpected zaps to the nervous system didn’t seem worth living. And Shade and I were making memories together. Good ones. I wanted that with him.

  Almost to the top, I looked over my shoulder. Honey-brown eyes met mine. The sexy curve of Shade’s lips sent a zing of heat through my belly.

  I climbed the final few rungs, transferred my weight onto the platform, and tested it with a couple of hops before letting go of the ladder. Shade started up after me.

  As he scaled the tree, I ventured out onto the narrow walkway. It rocked beneath me, lifting and rolling in a way that made my stomach roll, too. It squeaked and bounced higher with every step I took away from the anchor of the tree. Fear hit my bloodstream like a flare of solar energy. My heart punched against my ribs, and I froze, my hands gripping the thick rope railings for balance.

  Turning carefully, I waited for Shade to catch up, my breath coming short from the way my pulse pounded. “Don’t you think it’s weird the Overseer didn’t mess with universal time? I’m surprised he didn’t switch it to match Alpha Sambian or something.”

  “Are you trying to distract yourself?” Shade asked from below me.

  “Yes.” Don’t look at the river. “Go with it.”

  “Novalight’s megalomaniac enough to do it,” he agreed, three quarters of the way up now. “Give him time. Maybe he just hasn’t thought of it.”

  “Or gotten around to it.” The Overseer was too busy making sure he and his Dark Watch controlled everyone’s lives down to the thoughts we allowed ourselves, the books we read, and the color of our clothing. If it wasn’t restrained, dull, and limited, he didn’t like it. If his endgame was to anesthetize the entire population with a mixture of fear and boredom, it was working.

  Shade swung a foot onto the platform. “He’s too busy spinning the oppressive shit he does as necessary to our well-being—and making sure people either buy into it, or shut up about it.”

  That about summed up life as we knew it on every planet, spacedock, and ship across the galaxy. But our rebellion worked against him, and it was powerful enough to turn resist into a dirty word for the Overseer.

  I glanced at my watch as Shade took in the view from the platform, double-checking that my alarm would go off the second we hit the day we were supposed to meet Bridgebane. I moved around so much that my watch only showed universal time. I’d never bought anything fancier or that required multiple dials. Shade’s had two: the date and time in Albion City, and the date and time on Earth, at some place called Greenwich.

  “Greenwich,” I muttered aloud as I verified the time there, pronouncing it like sandwich, which Mareeka insisted was wrong. It looked like Green Witch to me, though. I liked the way it sounded—and the idea that some ancient witch dressed in green had imposed her notion of time on all of humankind.

  The earliest galactic government had established universal dates and time based on Earth’s orbit around her sun. That had still meant something to them at the time and had proved useful in the long run. Some planets had seasons, others didn’t. On some, a day was short and spent in half darkness. On others, it was bright and interminable. An orbital year was four universal months on the fast-moving Greera but took thirty-two universal months on a slow giant like Capita Leo. Every inhabited planet kept its own calendar right alongside Greenwich mean time, which was used to calculate age, among other things. Spread out as we were now, with some of us living in the Dark most of the time, it was one of the ways for humanity to maintain something in common. Certain things would never change. We all needed to eat, drink, and breathe. And apparently, grow old on the same schedule. In any case, universal time gave a useful reference point for all the space rats who zigzagged across the galaxy.

  Shade’s hand shielded his eyes from the bright light of the Great Star as he surveyed the jungle from the platform. He looked perfectly at home here, as though he could just as easily have been an archeologist, a naturalist, or
an explorer instead of an engineer, navigator, and bounty hunter. He was even still tan from summertime on Albion 5, although life in the Dark was starting to chip away at that. There didn’t appear to be a drop of sweat on him, which just proved he was in his element. I was blazing hot and dripping.

  He turned, lowering his hand. Finding me watching him, he smiled as he stepped onto the bridge. It jiggled under his weight, and I held on for dear life until he joined me. Shade gave me a peck on the lips before slipping past me, his hands skimming the weather-smoothed railings without really gripping them. When I didn’t immediately follow, he looked over his shoulder. “Come on, starshine. You can do it. One foot in front of the other.”

  Cautiously, I trailed after him. The river rushed beneath us, a low and constant rumble. The long bridge bobbed and swayed, moving up and down and back and forth, which was frankly a little too much unpredictable movement for my liking. Shade slowed down so that I could just shuffle along behind him, absorbing sights and sounds I’d never imagined seeing even in my most vivid daydreams.

  A pair of ice-blue birds with fancy white crests and four crimson-tipped wings swooped back and forth across the river, bringing bits and pieces to a large nest they were building. A smaller species crowded several entire trees, singing to each other from the branches, their calls operatic and their feathers an explosion of different shades that defied my knowledge of colors. On the opposite bank, not far from the rope ladder, a squat little creature with creamy-white fur and fuzzy ears clung to the side of a tree and tapped at a spiky purple pouch stuck to the bark. The orange stripe down its back matched the long nails it used to pound on the thorny ball like a hammer.

  “An orange spearback,” Shade said quietly, nodding toward the animal in the tree. He stopped and held out an arm to keep me behind him.

  I peered past him, watching the small round-bottomed creature work industriously. It seemed almost cuddly, about the size of Bonk. “The name sounds more dangerous than it looks.”