I arch against him, my pussy aching and needy. I’m scrabbling at his shoulders. Ineedhim to fuck me. I’m begging him to fuck me, and I think he’s going to. I really think he’s going to, if I could just get closer?—
I sit bolt upright, blinking sleep from my eyes.
Killan (the real Killan) is standing halfway between the door and the bed. He tips his head slightly to one side, watching me through the shadows. I was in too foul a mood to leave the bathroom light on for him, so it’s hard to make out the finer features of his face through the darkness. Still, I know he’s watching me. There’s a flash of something white—his teeth, I think. Because the bastard is still smiling.
Which begs the question: does he know what I was dreaming about? Did I call out his name in my sleep? Was I writhing on the bed in imitation of my dream-self? Embarrassment has my heart beating against my ribs, and when I press my hands to my cheeks, they’re burning hot. Probably my face is the same pink as my hair, and I’m suddenly grateful for the darkness.
There’s another few seconds when he doesn’t do anything. Merely watches me. It’s as though he’s waiting to see if I’m going to start yelling at him again. Or maybe he’s hoping I’ll throw myself at him and we’ll make out again.
I could. It would be exceptionally easy to launch myself across the space between us. Instead, I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around my legs. Which he seems to read as the signal to continue his silent approach. He doesn’t have any clothes, so he doesn’t have to get changed. He shucks off his boots and then he’s climbing onto the bed, his half of the mattress sinking under his weight so that I accidentally slide a few inches closer.
My body remembers what he felt like in my dream, and tingles cascade down my spine in anticipation. They culminateat the crux of my legs, and I press my thighs tighter together, as if that will solve anything.
I’ve let go of the ladder, and I’m free-falling. The farther I fall, the farther I get from returning home. But…the closer I move to Killan. In my imagination, he’s standing at the base of the ladder, waiting patiently to catch me.
“Lydia—”
“Go to sleep, Killan.” I bury my face against my knees to keep from having to look at him. Or rather…to keep him from looking at me, because I suspect Ril’os can see better in the dark than Humans can. He probably knows exactly how red my face is.
The mattress shifts as he lies down. I hadn’t expected him to do as I’d ordered, but perhaps something in my voice betrayed how fucking terrified I am.
Time passes excruciatingly slowly. Killan’s breathing evens out as he falls asleep, but I don’t dare close my eyes again. If I have another dream, there’ll be no disguising it, not with him so close to see me, hear me.
Without a watch or a phone, I can’t tell the time, but I’m guessing it’s a few hours after midnight when I eventually slide off the bed, keeping my movements excruciatingly slow so as not to disturb him. Then I grab my duffle bag and creep into the corridor.
Passing Chloe’s abandoned room is a punch to my chest, and I don’t pause to look inside, not wanting to dwell any longer than I already have on the fact that she got away and I still haven’t.
I understand the choice she made wasn’t a smart one. Killan doesn’t trust Atakis, nor did he appear all that optimistic about the type of reception she’ll get on Ril I. She’s probably snuck out of the frying pan only to find herself directly in the fire.
Still…part of me can’t stop being envious. She wanted to leave and leave she has.
Well, I’m leaving too, I've decided. Not permanently, and I’m not going off-world—not yet, at least. But I am getting out of Killan’s house for a few days. I desperately need some time away from the distractions of Harlee and Roan’s engagement, of the harvest, of Chloe’s second betrayal.
And of Killan.
Grumpy, too-serious Killan, who’s been taking such good care of me even though I’ve been nothing but rude to him. Even though I’ve done nothing but fight with him.
I raid his food storage with the trained eye of an expert, but it still takes longer than I’d like. I won’t be cooking while I’m away, so I can only take things I think can be eaten raw or which come prepackaged.
My hands are shaking by the time I’m done, and it takes some fiddling to get the straps of my duffle bag secured over my shoulders. It’s not exactly a backpack, but I manage to wear it like one (if rather uncomfortably).
All that’s left is to leave a note saying that I’ve gone exploring the underground caves and will be back in five days’ time. I don’t want anyone worrying unnecessarily, and I don’t want anyone coming after me.
Water will be easy to come by in the caves. I can carry five days’ worth of food and clothing in my duffle bag. And I can’t cover so much distance in five days that I’m likely to get lost. I’ll make sure to memorize each cave so that I can retrace my steps when it’s time to return.
More importantly, five days should be plenty of time for me tofinallydevise a solid escape plan for permanently getting off this planet. My bakery lease isn’t going to last forever. I’ve got to start making substantial progress if I’m to return to Earth before the bank cancels my loan.
Considering I haven’t seen pen or paper my entire time on Ril II, the bestdon’t worry about menote I can manage iseyeliner pencil on one of my LOVE GALAXY dresses, which I leave spread over Killan’s kitchen table for him to find in the morning. He can’t read English, but Harlee will read it for him.
He’ll be pissed, of course. He’ll probably blame himself for no reason other than he shoulders too much responsibility.
Harlee will worry. And Briar…well, I’ve got a feeling Briar will understand.
At the moment, I’m too trapped in my own head, and I’m far too easily distracted. I need time to myself to properly focus.
The alternative is…everything I’ve been trying so incredibly hard not to contemplate. A life on Ril II. Tending to the algae farm. Helping with the harvest. Arguing with Killan.
Loving Killan. Making a life with Killan.
