Ash nods. “And you know best what happens to those.”
He’s talking about more than anthropology.
He turns toward me, resting his forehead against mine. “We did it,” he whispers. “We survived.”
“Together.” I breathe.
But something has changed, and we both know it.
Survival builds strength.
But it also etches scars.
Hopefully, they will never have to run deeper than these.
He squeezes my waist. “Shh… No more worrying. We’re safe now. Together.”
That’s all that matters.
Somewhere in the silence between us, I understand: every ending hums with its beginning.
Outside, the first fingers of dawn brush the peaks. The aurora fades. But deep in the heart of the mountain, I swear I can still feel a pulse.
Soft, slow, waiting.
Chapter
Twenty-Three
JOSEPHINE
Shimmers of gold pierce the cave. I stir in warm arms.
Ash’s turquoise eyes slide to mine, warmth pooling. But hesitation threads his breath and tightens his face.
“Wouldn’t blame you if you don’t want me.”
The bond still hums through me, hand coming up to cup his cheek. “Too late now, Starman.”
His face relaxes, the corners of his mouth lifting. “Earthman. Never set foot anywhere else.”
I nod, the strangeness of his predicament still settling in. “Can’t pick what planet you’re born on,” I whisper, fingertips rustling against stubble, thumb dropping to his kissable bottom lip.
He snarls and mock-bites my finger. I giggle, enjoying how we can be like this now without danger looming.
“Wouldn’t want to be born anywhere else.”
“And we already went over the spaceship thing. Geez, you’re the most boring alien I’ve ever met.”
He shakes his head, laughing bitterly. “Nope. Never been to Area Fifty-One. Never seen little gray men, or guys dressed in black, either.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” I tease.
“Wasn’t fun,” he grumbles, head descending to kiss my neck and shoulder. “Before you.”
His hand comes up, carefully tracing my arm. Awakening my flesh with gentle caresses. He shifts and grimaces.
“You okay?”
