The Zeqnid's compound eyes took in my fangs, the threat display of a Vinduthi ready for violence. “Apologies,” he wheezed.
I dropped him. He scurried away, his opponent already gone.
“That was unnecessary,” Sabine said, but she was trying not to smile.
“He ruined your meal.”
“He bumped the table.”
“Same thing.”
The Orlian woman brought us new food, free, grateful we hadn't destroyed her stall in the altercation. This time Sabine ate quietly, but the tension between us had ratcheted higher. Every look lasted too long. Every accidental touch burned.
“We should go,” she finally said.
“We should.”
Neither of us moved.
“The room,” she clarified. “Before...”
“Before I kiss you here in front of everyone.”
“Would that be bad?”
“It would be the beginning of something I couldn't stop.”
She stood, her body brushing mine as she squeezed past in the narrow space. The contact sent electricity through every nerve. “Then we should definitely go.”
The walk back was torture. Every casual touch burned. When someone bumped her and I steadied her with hands on her waist, we both froze. The heat of her skin through the thin fabric. The way she leaned back against me for just a second. When she reached across me to point at something, a vendor selling what looked like mechanical flowers, her breast pressed against my arm, and I nearly dragged her into an alcove.
The corridors grew emptier as we descended toward Level Seven. Fewer witnesses. More shadows. More opportunities to do what my body was screaming for.
At the door to our quarters, she turned. “One more night.”
“The toxin's gone.”
“I know.”
“We could return to The Penumbra now.”
“We could.”
The keypad beeped. The door opened. She stepped inside, then looked back at me. The invitation in her eyes was unmistakable.
“Are you coming?”
Every careful reason to wait, to be strategic about this, melted away. Tomorrow could bring complications. Tonight was just us.
I followed her in.
The door sealed behind us with a soft hiss of finality.
She set down her packages carefully, methodical even now. Each bag placed precisely on the small table. Her back to me, shoulders tense with anticipation. The blue fabric she'd bought at the market was folded on top, and I remembered how she'd looked wearing it. How badly I'd wanted to peel it off her right there in the merchant's stall.
“Varrick.” My name, nothing more. But the way she said it, breathless, wanting, destroyed the last of my control.
I crossed the space between us in two strides. My hands found her waist, turning her to face me. Her hazel eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with desire. Three days of circling this. Three days of want building until it was a living thing between us.
