Her smile grew. “Just for me, huh?”
That pinkish undertone in his cheeks deepened. “Yes,” he said, casting her a look so tender it made her stomach do something funny. “Just for you.” He looked away, clearing his throat. “You make me want to believe it can be better. When you speak of your homeworld… it makes me realize what a gift we have here. I want to share it with you. This world, unpolluted by greed or misogyny, without the Aurillon in orbit above us waiting to taint it all. I want to believe I can give it to you.”
Her heart fluttered in a girlish way that only one other man had ever been able to call forth. She smothered the feeling.
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re kind of intense?”
“Yes,” he said seriously.
She grinned, shaking her head.
Rentir’s foot slid over a moss-coated rock, jostling her in his arms, and she couldn’t help the small sound of pain that escaped her as her vision flashed white.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “Are you alright?”
“I’m good.” She was lying through her teeth.
He gave her a look. “You do that too readily.”
“Do what?” She dabbed at the sweat beading on her upper lip. Her skin was growing feverish enough that the chill of her damp clothes was a welcome relief.
“Lie.”
She looked up at him in surprise. At times, he seemed so naïve and guileless that she forgot that it wasn’t quite reality. She’d watched him kill a man with grim efficiency.
“What was your job?” she asked. “Before the rebellion, I mean.”
He glanced away. A muscle feathered in his jaw. “Security.”
“So that guy today… he wasn’t the first person you’ve…?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Killed? No.”
The tone in his voice was enough to make her drop the topic. His ears were pinned flat against his head.
So, not innocent—but not happy about it, either. Fair enough. She’d known plenty of soldiers with regrets. She had a few of her own, though none of them involved killing. She was grateful to have avoided that over her brief career.
If she could go back in time, she wasn’t sure she would have joined the military, though she was grateful for all she’d learned during her tenure. The politics were too muddy for her to be confident that everything she’d done had been morally justifiable, despite how they’d tried to impress upon her that it was.
Rentir… he’d never had a choice. God only knew what he’d been asked to do, and his handlers didn’t seem like the type to try and polish it up with a sheen of justification.
Content to drop it, she let her cheek press against his shoulder, and he rewarded her with a deep purr.
CHAPTER 20
Cordelia was alarmingly weak.Her heartbeat was ponderous, and her skin was hot and clammy against his. She didn’t have the coating of soft down he had to regulate her temperature—only a few paltry, widespread hairs that seemed good for nothing. He couldn’t imagine her lasting long in this state, not while exposed to the elements.
He’d only known her so briefly, but if he lost her…
He shuddered. She mewled, shifting restlessly in his tightened grip until he eased it.
The thought of being parted from her was unbearable. He could not lose her.
His heart sang with relief as the trees finally thinned, revealing the sprawling structure of the lodge. It was situated at the precipice of the forest and the beach beyond, so its pleasure-seekers might choose which habitat they would plunder. It was constructed from glass and silvery wood from the local trees, all sleek lines and gleaming surfaces.
Cordelia roused as he slowed his pace. His muscles were screaming from the effort of carrying her so far. He only needed them to last a little longer.
“This place screams big money,” Cordelia muttered.
