The world blurs at the edges.
Focus narrows to light, touch—to the beat of her heart against mine.
I pull her closer, a desperate growl escaping my chest. Like I’ve spent decades holding my breath, lungs straining only to exhale finally.
Her arms thread around my neck, fingers tangling in my hair. My mouth drops, hungry and fierce, lips seizing hers, unraveling in the heat of our need.
My hands cup her cheeks, stepping her back to the table’s edge. My tongue sweeps into her mouth, ravenous, desire climbing like the thunderheads outside.
The air swarms—alive. Whispers thread it, chanting our secret, tucking it into mist and shadow.
I angle her head. The kiss deepens until space itself thins. The cabin glows, its objects a riot of hum and light.
Her hand comes to my forearm, and the light of my tattoos liquefies, wrapping around her.
“You don’t know what this means.” But she grips me tighter, eyes finding mine. Her chin lifts, voice a silk-edged dare. “Then show me.”
Her arms tighten around my body, hands pressed to bare flesh. Chest to chest, breathing each other’s air.
The world goes silent, one held breath between heartbeats.
Then a single note floods everything, raw, pure, unheard for too long to remember—the Starborn pitch, the one that lives in bone.
Her fingers are electricity on my skin, burning and awakening. Shivers of need slide through me. My heart pumps, blood singing with her name, the bond quickening, yet to be spoken in flesh.
I sense the part of her that wants to run from the power of this. It echoes in the tremor of my hands.
But the rest—her truer self—leans in like I do.
“Whatever this is,” she whispers. “I want to feel it all.”
“You shouldn’t,” I murmur against her warm lips.
“You think I don’t feel it?” She inches back, eyes darting to mine. “You’re wrong. The same wildfire is in my bones. I want to burn anyway.”
My breath catches in my throat. “But your need for data. Explanations…”
“Field research. All fives senses.”
Our lips tangle again. When I pull back panting, I add, “More than five… technically.”
Her eyes round. “Not ready for that yet.”
I huff a laugh. Can’t remember the last time I felt this light. My hands skim her shoulders; the coat pools at our feet. My fingers tease the front of her mint blouse, tugging at the ties.
Each unknotting a binding.
“Need you.” My voice is raw, breathing ragged.
“Yes.”
Her answer trembles with the shaking of her body.
“But how can you be sure?”
“Ash,” she whispers, large mossy eyes looking at me. “How can I deny this? When I feel it in every part of me?”
“But distance is discipline.”
