Shattered Stars

by Theresa Kay

  He points in the opposite direction from where I was headed. “Go down the far hallway. The door at the end.”

  I spin around and tug Lir after me. Rym’s directions take me to a large bedroom on the other side of the apartment. I shut the door behind us and sit down on the bed next to Lir.

  “That was intense.”

  “Sorry.” His voice is soft, and his gaze is firmly focused on his hands. That awful desolation is still flowing across the bond.

  “What are you apologizing for? If anyone should apologize, it would probably be me for my little outburst. I couldn’t stand watching—and feeling—what that conversation was doing to you. What was he saying to you?” I run a hand down his arm. “I mean, if you want to talk about it.”

  A halfhearted laugh escapes his mouth. “He claims he was doing what he thought was best for the E’rikon. Jastren may have pushed him into things here and there, but it was never things he had not at least thought of on his own. The ambition was always my uncle’s; Jastren simply twisted it into something he could use.” His hands clench into fists in his lap. “What Vitrad did to me was, in part, because he genuinely thought me a traitor. But it was also a kind of… parting gift from Jastren, who filled him with a blind rage toward me.”

  I reach over and cover his hands with mine.

  “Stella has been staying here with him, but he sent her away for the evening so he and I could have time to ‘put aside our differences.’ As if it would be that simple. I would much rather have spent this time with my sister. I haven’t seen her since…”

  His jaw tenses, and he closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath through his nose. “My uncle thinks because his mind was not fully his own it was not his fault.” The words hiss from between his teeth, and his body starts vibrating. “He said… he said… my mother would want us to forgive each other.”

  Despite what I may have done in the past, I don’t enjoy killing people, but right now… I could kill Vitrad and not lose a wink of sleep over it. For him to suggest that Lir had done anything requiring forgiveness… And then to bring Lir’s mom into it? In my opinion, that’s more despicable than anything the guy ever did to me. Vitrad may have tortured me—or signed off on it—but as he’s virtually a stranger to me, it was never personal. To Lir, he’s family—someone Lir trusted. Probably even loved at one point.

  “I’m sorry,” I say quietly.

  He turns to look at me. “For what?”

  “That I didn’t intervene sooner. That you don’t get to see your sister tonight. That we had to come here at all…”

  He sighs. “Trel promised I could see Stella as soon as we’re done meeting with the Council tomorrow. ‘Family drama’ aside, we would have ended up in this situation eventually, and the humans and the E’rikon need to find a way to work together.” He lifts my chin with two fingers and smiles softly. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For pulling me out of there. For wanting to protect me”—a kiss to my forehead—“for being you”—to the tip of my nose—“for being mine.” His lips brush against mine, softly at first, then harder as he pulls me into his lap and I turn around to frame his hips with my legs.

  The kiss is both a plea and a demand. The fear and despair from earlier are still threatening to pull him under, and he clings to me as if I’m the only thing keeping him afloat. His fingers dig into my sides, and I match his intensity, pressing my upper body against his chest so there’s no space between us.

  He pulls back, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and rests his forehead against mine. “Sorry… I…”

  “Nothing to be sorry for,” I whisper before pulling his face and his lips back to mine. I run my hands through his hair, down his back, and up to his face, then deepen the kiss, sliding my tongue along his lips, then past them and into his mouth. Our teeth clink together, and a giggle bubbles up from my chest. He smiles against my mouth, but doesn’t pull back. His despondence and desperation are draining away, replaced with a single-minded desire that he pours into the kiss. And into me.

  Heat gathers low in my body. My lips tingle, and sparks jump along my fingertips as they brush over him. His hair. His face. His neck. And that little sliver of soft, warm skin between the back of his shirt and his pants. I want more of him.

  I tug at the bottom of his shirt and slide it up and over his head, pausing only long enough to drop it on the ground. My hands splay across his back and slide downward until they hit the top of his pants. I concentrate there, sliding one finger gently over the edge of his pants from his side to the center of his back, where skin meets scales.

  A heated, breathless groan vibrates against my mouth, and his hands lift the bottom of my shirt—slowly, questioningly. I nod. Then my shirt is gone, across the room somewhere, and Lir’s hands are roaming across my bare skin, gripping my sides, sliding up my back to trace the edges of my bra. I press myself closer to him and run two fingers along the base of his neck.

  He pauses, pulls back from the kiss, and rests his forehead against mine, panting heavily. “We should… We should…”

  I claim his lips with mine, then lean back and grin at him. “Do that some more?”

  A smile breaks across his face, and affection twinkles in the depths of his eyes. Most of the turmoil from the events of the day has finally washed away. “Yes. But probably not right now. I don’t want to rush things, and a quick tumble in my uncle’s guestroom after the day we’ve had doesn’t seem like it would do you justice.”

  “A tumble?” My shoulders shake with laughter. “I think your cousin’s love of slang is rubbing off on you.”

  “What can I say? Rym can be a ‘cool dude’ sometimes.” He shrugs and brushes my hair behind my ear, his face going serious. “Don’t think that just because I was upset earlier, or may be upset in the future, that we have to do anything. I know I was intense, and I acted not entirely like myself. I’m perfectly content with the way things are, and I want you to set the pace for this. When you’re ready…”

  My cheeks heat, and not entirely because of the awkwardness of this conversation. Yes, there’s a hell of a lot of desire on his end of the bond, but I’m sure he can feel mine too. I want him. I would love nothing more than to be wrapped in his arms with nothing at all between us. And if the situation right now were a little less precarious…

  “You’re right about the whole ‘being in your uncle’s guestroom’ thing, but when things are different…” My eyes come up to meet his, and I smile. “I am ready.”

  Shocked excitement and something like admiration flow through the bond, and Lir places a kiss on my forehead. “Okay then.”

  I move off his lap, grab my shirt, put it back on, and shimmy out of my pants. By the time I’ve done that, Lir has lain down and is holding the covers up for me to get under. I crawl into the bed, curl into his side, and rest my head on his chest. Wrapped in his arms with the sound of his heartbeat in my ear, I quickly drift off to sleep.

  I’M DROWNING IN DARKNESS, pain, and fear.

  And memories, too.

  Blond hair. Blue eyes. Bloody hands and betrayal.

  A tray clatters to the floor outside. A shaky hand slides open the slot at the bottom of the door and pushes the tray through. I don’t know what the person is so afraid of. Oh, yeah. Me. But what they don’t know is, even if I decided to grab hold of their mind—and didn’t double over in pain from the effort—there’d be no point. Jastren holds the only key to my cell, so the most I could make someone do is attempt to kick the door in. Not going to be very effective.

  So I’ll just sit here. In the corner. With my arms wrapped around my head. And rock.

  I don’t know how long I’ve been locked in here. Maybe hours, maybe days. I know it’s been more than minutes, because the deluge of all the thoughts and memories and emotions Grandfather had blocked from me has slowed. Not enough for me to move, to do anything but sit here and breathe—certainly not enough to eat—but it has slowed.

  I p
ull my eyes up and glance at the tray. My stomach churns, and acid climbs the back of my throat. Eating is definitely out.

  I let my forehead fall back onto my arms.

  I’m so tired.

  The room spins, and my eyes slide shut.

  * * * * * * *

  Shouts and the sound of a slamming door pull me from my fitful sleep. Footsteps echo in the hallway along with raucous voices and words I can’t make out. Something bangs against my door, and I jerk fully awake.

  “Got yourself a new buddy, fag,” says a voice I recognize. One that fills me with hatred and anger. “Try not to kill this one.”

  Try not to kill. . .

  Flint’s death plays out in slow motion in my head, and all emotions other than gut-wrenching shame and guilt flee my body. Oh what I wouldn’t give for Grandfather to slither back in and take away this pain. Where is he? Why won’t he help me? Did he desert me just like—

  My stomach twists and my muscles lock, pulling my body into a ball. I lose my balance and tumble from the cot—When did I get on the cot? My hands refuse to catch me, and the side of my face and my nose crack against the concrete floor.

  I lie there—too tired, too sad, too worthless to rise—as blood drips from my nose and pools under my cheek.

  It’s as if by having been suppressed for so long, my natural emotions are stronger now that they’re allowed through. They’re like savage animals that twist my body and rip at my mind. How much longer can I last like this? Do I even want to? Couldn’t I just—?

  Get up, you sniveling fool.

  Grandfather’s voice echoes, and I can feel him crawling through my head, slimy tendrils that caress some thoughts and push others away. I shouldn’t want him there. But I do. I know what he’s doing, and I know when he finishes…I can sit up again. I can sleep again.

  I can forget again.

  * * * * * * *

  Whispered words breach the darkness and filter into my ears. Grandfather revving up for another… conference? But they’re too soft. Too gentle. And definitely not coming from inside my mind.

  I struggle to raise my eyelids against the ache in my head. My stomach rumbles—loudly. I’m hungry. I haven’t been hungry in… how long? The rumble turns into a twisting scream as the utter emptiness of my stomach makes itself known.

  I manage to pry my eyes open. I slide off the edge of the cot and drag myself to the tray by the door. Soup of some kind, long-cold, congealed grease floating on top. It’s been here a few hours at least. Doesn’t matter. I tip the bowl into my mouth, and when the liquid is gone, I shovel up the rest of it with my hands.

  With my most immediate need satisfied, the rest of my body starts sounding off. In addition to the ache in my head, the side of my face and my nose hurt too. My fingers are scraped raw, the ends bloody and ragged. They probably match up with the dark rust-colored streaks on parts of the wall…

  The food tries to come back up, but I swallow against it. My throat burns with the effort, raw from screaming and who knows what else.

  What happened? There was something… something I needed to remember. What was it?

  My stomach turns, and this time I can’t stop the soup from coming back up. It hits the floor and seeps into the fabric of my pants.

  I should move.

  But I don’t.

  Tears trickle down my face. I know I deserve this, but I can’t remember why. There are holes in my memory, things missing that I know hurt, but being without them hurts more. I think…

  Grandfather… he… he’s helping me. Something awful happened, and he helped me forget. That’s a good thing. Right?

  Yes.

  Then why do I feel so empty? Is it because Jax isn’t here?

  Jax… where is she? She was here, and then she wasn’t. Where did she go? She knows what it’s like to be broken. She could help me.

  But she won’t.

  I give my head a brisk shake, and the lingering fog clears away. Ugh. I push myself to the side and away from the mess on the floor, then use one sleeve to wipe my eyes. There was something that woke me up, a reason I came over here…

  The voice.

  I pull myself closer to the wall and put my ear against it. The basement might be soundproofed from the floors above, but the walls between the cells are apparently thin. I can hear someone on the other side, talking quietly to themselves.

  I tap on the wall with one finger. “Hello.” The word is a croak pulled from my dry and underused throat.

  The words stop, and I hear a shuffling noise, like the person is moving closer. “Who’s there?”

  The voice is familiar, and it fills me with light and hope—even though the sound of it opens the door and lets a few memories trickle back into my mind.

  “Hi, Peter,” I whisper.

  I JERK AWAKE, AND THE dream I was having fades into the back corner of my mind, leaving nothing but a lingering sense of clouds and wings and feathers. It wasn’t a nightmare, but I’m awake all the same, and I don’t see myself going back to bed.

  Lir is still fast asleep, but after the day he had yesterday, I’m not surprised. The conversation with his uncle was draining for him, and I’m hoping there won’t be another repeat of that today. Seeing his uncle again is clearly harder on him than he’s willing to admit, and no matter what I said about hashing out the family drama, this simply isn’t something that can be fixed—at least, not when Vitrad doesn’t care to take any responsibility for, well, any of it.

  I let myself enjoy his arms and the feeling of quiet contentment flowing between us before I slide out of his hold. I rise to my feet, pull on my jeans, and slip out the door into the hallway. A faint light from living room illuminates my path. I’m hoping that doesn’t mean someone else is awake.

  Poking my head into the living room, I breathe out in relief. Empty. I walk to the shelves near the floor-to-ceiling windows and run a finger over the contents. The first three shelves contain only slim metal cases—hologram videos or some other type of data disks—but the others are filled with books. Unfortunately, it looks like they’re written in whatever language the E’rikon speak and I’m not exactly fluent.

  Then my eye catches on the lower right corner of the bookshelf, and I smile. There are a few old Earth books shoved in with the rest. I pick one at random and curl up in the large chair nearest the window.

  The book is kind of silly, but it lets me wander a world where everything is peaceful and the worst thing that could happen is an argument with a friend. Still, it doesn’t hold my attention for long. My eyes drift to the window. Sunrise is a couple hours away, and in the quiet stillness of the night, everything is paused. It’s as if the world is holding its breath, waiting… for what I’m not sure. But something is coming. My life, all our lives, are lingering on the edge of a precipice, one I’m hoping we won’t go careening off. The outline of a bird passes in front of the moon, and a shiver runs down my back. I place my palm against the window.

  “What are you doing?”

  I jerk my hand away and twist around, nearly falling out of the chair. “Oh. Hey.”

  Trel tilts her head to the side and gives me an expectant look.

  “I was reading. Sort of.” I adjust myself so I’m sitting in the chair like a normal person. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “I see.” She runs her eyes over me in assessment. “You are not what I expected.”

  I’m unsure how to respond to that. I’ve spent exactly zero time with her one on one, and the golden-haired girl isn’t what I was expecting either. She’s pretty intense, but generally polite, I suppose.

  Trel situates herself on the chair across from me. “I enjoyed that one. The book,” she says, motioning to my lap.

  “Oh. Yeah. It’s okay…”

  A small, tight smile. “You do not care for me.”

  “Uh…” I’m super eloquent this morning. Not that I’d know how to respond to that even if I were fully awake.

  “It is understandable. I realize how yesterda
y may have looked, but it was not my intention to…” She shrugs.

  “Leave Lir to deal with your father on his own the first time they’ve been face to face since… oh yeah, since your father beat the crap out of him?”

  She flinches. “I am sorry.”

  “Your father did horrible things to Lir, and he couldn’t even be bothered to apologize.” My jaw tenses and I rise to my feet. She has no idea what Lir went through, not a clue. “And you and Rym just sat there.”

  She holds up a hand. “I deserve your anger, but please know that if I had been aware of what my father was planning to discuss, and how he was planning to discuss it, I would not have subjected my cousin to that so soon after your arrival.”

  I shake my head and sit back down. She sounds sincere, and I’m too pissed and tired to think of a retort.

  Trel leans forward and rests her hands on her knees. “Steliro… Lir is my family, and he is one of my closest friends. In my grief and my desire for revenge, I have wronged him. I am sorry for that as well. He and I will make our amends.” She rubs a hand absently over her stomach and bites at her lower lip. “I realize I have also wronged you, and I hope you will accept my apology. As Lir’s bondmate, you are now part of my family.”

  “Okay…”

  Her smile is still small, but some of the tightness leaves her face. “I know it will take time, but I would like it if we could eventually be friends as well.”

  I study her. For all her faults, she doesn’t have her father’s arrogance or demeanor. And it’d certainly make Lir happy if she and I got along. I return her smile. “I’d like that too.”

  “Good,” she says, rubbing her stomach again and grinning. “Now, I am starving. What about you? Would you like something to eat?”

  I chuckle and nod. “Sure.”

  Trel has to rock back and forth a couple of times before powering to her feet and leading me into the kitchen. It’s nice to know she’s not graceful and perfect all the time.

  I lean against the wall while she bustles around the kitchen pulling things out and piling them on the counter. She’s pulled out some kind of greenish-blue vegetable I don’t recognize, along with what has to be the synthesized meat product Lir once told me about. She slices the vegetable, divides it between two plates, adds one of the strange brownish blocks, and hands a plate to me.