I’ve got no idea what Killan’s going to say. I can never predict what mood he’s going to be in. Grumpy? Angry? Frustrated? Exasperated? Condescending? Whatever it is, it’s never fun.
He doesn’t stop climbing until he’s looming over me. I can feel him behind me, the length of his body pressed to my back, as if he’s never heard of personal space. Even standing on the rung below the one I’m on, he’s taller than me.
I’m in the cage of his arms, one on either side of me. And he’s still got a hand free with which to pluck at my stiff fingers.
“Don’t!” I press as close as I can get to the ladder, but that doesn’t stop Killan from prying my left hand loose, him being so much stronger than me.
“I’m serious.” Panic fills my voice. I suddenly don’t care who knows how fucking terrified I am, if only he’d stop.
I yank my hand out of his hold and make a grab for the railing again, but he catches my wrist in his free left hand and transfers it to his other left arm—the one holding on to the ladder, so that I’m clutching him as I would clutch the railing.
I don’t care that my fingers are digging into his scales. I don’t care that I’m probably hurting him. His muscles flex under my hold, but at least he’s solid, and now that I’m holding on to him I don’t think I can let go. He’s going to have to pry me off him.
Serves him right.
He presses against my right side, evidently trying to turn me around so that I’m facing him instead of the wall. I refuse, and he growls low in the back of his throat.
“Let go, Lydia.”
“Yeah, nah.” I shake my head. “That’s not happening.”
“Do you think I would let you fall?”
“You shouldn’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to.”
He snorts. Not in amusement, but in annoyance, and his hot breath tickles the back of my neck. It makes me shudder, and he takes the opportunity to yank my right hand off the ladder. In a heartbeat, he’s turned me around.
Gasping, I wrap myself around him—my legs around his straight waist, my arms around his neck.
“Screw you,” I hiss, but my words lose their sting because I’m already burying my face against his chest, my eyes pressed tightly closed so that I don’t have to see how far I could fall.
Chapter Two
Killan
Ikeep my eyes fixed on the ladder as I climb, determinedly ignoring the feeling of Lydia wrapped around me. My heart is racing, and I can only hope she is too distracted to notice.
Easily, I remember how shocked Lydia had been when she first realized exactly what John Smith had stolen from her. She was planet-bound before LOVE GALAXY, unaware of the existence of complex space travel or of the multitude of other species that inhabit our shared universe. Then, she was brought here, to Ril II, and her entire world was thrown into chaos.
I fixate on that memory—on the way her eyes had widened and her mouth had fallen open. On the way her muscles had tensed and how she had stared at me, as if I had been the one to betray her.
And maybe I had. When you really think about it.
It was because my brothers and I applied to LOVE GALAXY that Lydia, Briar, and Harlee were stolen from their homeworld. They were brought here for us, toys to tempt us.
Reaching the top of the ladder, I step onto the metal grate that is the balcony. Lydia does not release her death grip on me, and I know it is because she does not want to see the view, even from the safety of the platform. So I head toward the door that leads to my house, intending to deposit her inside before returning to my work. Unlike Roan, I have nothing to tempt me away from our farm.
I never should have trusted LOVE GALAXY. It was a mistake from the beginning. John Smith manipulated us all, pitting us against each other, trying to stir up drama. Always, he thought about the best storylines to film. He never intended to help us find love. Always, he planned to ruin our lives.
Catastrophe and heartbreak make for much more compelling viewing than romance.
In the end, John Smith deserted Ril II partway through production, after my brothers, Briar, and I thwarted his plan to murder Briar and stage her death as another plot point in his sick story.
He really broke Lydia’s heart then, leaving her stranded here.
With me.
Stepping through the doorway, I deposit her feet on firm ground, and she grasps my kitchen table, releasing me. Her face is pale; little color stains her soft cheeks, made all the more obvious by the pink of her dyed hairs.
