She stares at me. "What do you mean?"
"I mean…" I squeeze her hand gently. "Would you want to go see it? Your building. If I could get us there, would you want to go see it?"
The emotion that crosses her face is almost too much to look at directly. Hope, raw and terrified and desperate.
"I…" She swallows hard. "Yes. I would want to know. But we have responsibilities here. The mission?—"
"Hey." I squeeze her hand. "We'll figure it out. We've got time. It's not going anywhere."
She nods, but I can see the hope she's trying to keep in check. The way her fingers tighten around mine before she deliberately loosens her grip.
"You're right," she says. "There is no rush."
But I'm already turning the idea over in my mind, examining it from every angle the way I'd plan a flight path. An hour east. An hour back. If we finished our work assignments early enough tomorrow, and left with plenty of daylight to spare…
I file it away and focus on what's in front of me. This evening. This woman. This gorgeous sky.
We linger over the last of our meal as the larger sun finally disappears over the desert's edge, and the smaller one drifts lower, stretching our shadows long across the sand. A'Vanti tells me about the Festival of Twin Fire, the one day each year when both suns align on the horizon and set together, flooding the sky with so much color that the sand itself seems to glow. How all of Najara would gather at the desert's edge to watch, how musicians would play and children would chase each other through the golden light.
Her voice is dreamy and faraway, and I don't interrupt. I just listen, watching the way the fading light plays across her face, and I think: I could listen to her talk forever and die a happy man.
Eventually, the air begins to cool. A'Vanti pulls her wrap tighter around her shoulders, and I take the hint.
"Come on," I say, standing and offering my hand. "Let me walk you back before the temperature drops any further. I don't want to have to explain to L'Zaen that I gave you hypothermia on our first date."
A'Vanti takes my hand and rises. "So this was a date."
"Was there any doubt?"
"I wanted to hear you say it." The corner of her mouth curves. "For the record."
I gather the subsonic device and our remaining things, and we head back inside. The hangar is quiet at this hour, most of the crew already in their quarters aboard the transport or in the sections of the barracks that the bots have made livable. Our footsteps echo off the high ceiling as we cross the floor.
A'Vanti doesn't release my hand. If anything, she shifts closer, her shoulder brushing mine as we walk. The contact is light, almost casual, but it sends a current spreading up my arm and into my chest.
We reach the transport and make our way through the corridors toward the crew quarters. The ship is dim, running on nighttime lighting, and the low hum of the engines wraps around us like a cocoon. We pass a few crew members heading in the opposite direction. L'Tav nods to us without comment, though I catch the slight lift of his brow, but otherwise, we're alone.
The walk is too short.
We reach A'Vanti's door far sooner than I'd like, and she turns to face me. In the low corridor light, her scales have taken on a deeper hue, the gold muted to a rich, warm honey.
"Thank you," she says. "For tonight. For the dinner, and for…" She pauses, and her expression falters. "For listening. I have not spoken about Ceraste in a very long time. It felt good to share it with someone."
"Thank you for telling me." I mean it. The things she shared tonight, her life from before, her capture, the people she lost. Those aren't stories she gives away easily.
We stand there, neither of us moving toward the door. The corridor is empty. The ship hums its quiet song around us.
"I should go inside," A'Vanti says. She doesn't move.
"You should," I agree. I don't move either.
Her eyes drop to my mouth. When they lift again, there's nothing guarded left in them at all.
I close the distance between us in a single step.
My hands find her waist first, settling on the curve of her hips, and she meets me halfway. Her mouth is on mine before I've fully registered the movement, and this kiss is nothing like the gentle, exploring press of lips we shared after the movie night.
She tastes like verak nectar, sweet and tart, and her hands slide up my chest to grip my shoulders, pulling me closer. I back her gently into the wall beside her door, one hand braced on the metal, the other still on her hip. She arches into me, and the sound she makes against my lips, a low, vibrating hum, nearly takes my knees out.
