I couldn't. God help me, I couldn't.
When his lips met mine, it was like coming home and falling apart all at once. The kiss was gentle at first, questioning, giving me every chance to pull away. But when I didn't—when I leaned into him instead—it deepened into something that made my toes curl. His other hand found my waist, pulling mecloser, and I let the scissors clatter to the floor as I gripped his shoulders.
He tasted like mint toothpaste and something uniquely Cristox, something I remembered from that night, and every nerve ending in my body came alive. His hands were warm against my skin, careful despite the obvious hunger in the way he kissed me. Like he was holding himself back. Like he was afraid I might shatter.
Or disappear.
I kissed him harder, my fingers threading through his mane—shorter now, but still soft, still him. A low sound rumbled in his chest, and it sent a shiver of pure desire racing down my spine. He stood, lifting me slightly as he did, never breaking the kiss. My back hit the counter, and his body pressed against mine, solid and warm and right in a way that terrified me. His tail wrapped around my thigh, a warm, gentle pressure that felt impossibly intimate.
Because this was dangerous. This was the kind of thing that could destroy me.
But I couldn't stop. Not when his mouth moved to my jaw, trailing heat down to my neck, his breath hot against my skin. Not when his hands slid under my shirt, fingers splaying across my ribs, leaving trails of fire. Not when every touch sent memories flooding back. His body over mine, the weight of him, the way he'd made me feel things I'd never felt before, the way he'd worshipped me with his hands and mouth until I'd forgotten my own name.
And that was exactly the problem.
I pulled back abruptly, my breath coming in ragged gasps, my body screaming at me to stop being stupid and let him continue. "I can't—we can't—"
His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, his chest heaving. His tail reluctantly unwound from my leg, the loss of contact making me feel suddenly cold. "Ruby—"
"I'm sorry." I ducked under his arm, putting distance between us before I could change my mind. Before I could let myself fall into him and forget all the reasons this was a terrible idea. "I need to—Teddy. I should get Teddy."
"Ruby, wait—"
But I was already moving toward the door, my whole body humming with want. I felt the phantom pressure of his hands on my skin, the heat of his lips, the warm weight of his tail around my leg. I remembered the way he'd looked at me that night, the way he'd touched me like I was something precious. The way he'd made me come apart with a skill that should've been illegal.
God, I wanted him. I wanted to drag him to the bedroom and let him do all those things again. I wanted to feel that connection, that intensity, that perfect rightness of our bodies moving together.
But he was leaving. Going back to his ship, his mission, his whole other life light-years away from here.
And Teddy was already attached. Already calling him "Uncle Cristox" and drawing pictures of the three of us together like we were a family, like this was permanent.
If I let this happen—if I let myself fall, it wouldn't just be Teddy's heart that shattered when Cristox left.
It would be mine, too.
And I'd barely survived putting myself back together the first time.
Chapter 11
Cristox
I made my way through the cobblestone streets toward the peacekeepers' office, my mind churning over everything that had happened in the past few days. The building came into view—an old-style clapboard house that looked like it had been transplanted straight from Earth. It was well-maintained, the white paint fresh and gleaming in the afternoon light, the small porch swept clean of the ever-present dust that settled on everything in the village. Someone took pride in keeping order here.
I climbed the three wooden steps, their boards creaking under my weight, and knocked on the doorframe before pushing open the screen door. Inside, the office was just as neat as the exterior suggested. Filing cabinets lined one wall, their labels precise and uniform, each drawer handle polished to a shine. A desk sat in the center of the room, papers stacked in tidy piles with corners perfectly aligned. Craig looked up from his datapad, his brow furrowed in concentration.
"Cristox," Craig said, setting the device down with a soft click and gesturing to the chair across from him. "Come in. I was hoping you'd stop by."
I settled into the offered seat, the wood smooth and worn beneath me, my tail curling around the chair leg out of habit."I wanted to find out if you'd made any progress on the fire investigation."
Craig leaned back, his chair groaning softly, his expression thoughtful as he steepled his fingers. "Actually, yes. We think we've identified the ship the accelerant was siphoned from. I cross-referenced the chemical signature with fuel types used by vessels that docked here in the past month and narrowed it down to one particular supply freighter that came through about a week ago."
"That's good news," I said, leaning forward, a spark of hope igniting in my chest. "Did you question the crew?"
Craig's face fell, the lines around his eyes deepening. "That's where we hit a wall. Unfortunately, there are no cameras at the landing field. Budget constraints—this settlement doesn't exactly have unlimited resources. So while we know which ship it likely came from, we have no visual evidence of who took the fuel or when. The crew manifest lists eight people, but any of them could have done it. Or it could have been someone else entirely who had access to the ship."
My jaw tightened, fury coiling in my gut, my tail twitching with barely restrained aggression. Someone had deliberately tried to burn down Ruby's bakery, had put her and Teddy in danger, and nearly destroyed everything they'd built. The thought of my mate and cub threatened by an unknown enemy made my blood run hot with protective rage.
"What about questioning the crew?"
