Krystal
His strong but gentle grip on her hand warmed her from inside, and she smiled up at him, squeezing his fingers.
“I trust you, T’arq.”
He turned and led her from the hangar, her shorter steps making her trot after him. When they had passed out of sight of the busy scene, T’arq stopped, Krystal plowing into the back of him at the unexpected change. He swung her up into his arms, muttering something about being impatient and needing to get her alone. One brawny arm gripped under her thighs, the other around her shoulders. She snuggled into the warm strength of him.
Be still, my frantically beating heart.
As he walked, she breathed in his scent. The familiar spice of his skin was intoxicating, and she closed her eyes, letting her head rest against his chest. Her fingers wandered over his shoulders and neck, trailing patterns against his skin. He stiffened when she brushed against a particularly sensitive place, a low growl coming from deep in his chest.
“Too much?” she asked.
“Never.”
His answer sent a shiver through her.
Krystal let his smooth steps rock her into a contented doze, not paying attention to where they were going until a door opened and T’arq placed her gently down on her feet.
She pulled away to turn and look around. “These are your quarters?”
He nodded and stood near the door as she looked around.
They were much larger, and much neater, than hers. There was a couch instead of an armchair, and the bed was huge. There was a counter along one wall with built-in cupboards, which she knew would house the food replication unit. Its basic style was very much like her own quarters, but he had decorated it differently. There was a purple throw over the couch, and a rug that looked like it had been handwoven hanging on the wall above the bed. The bedspread was in various shades of purple as well, as were the throw cushions that were piled up against the headboard.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“It’s not what I expected,” she admitted, one brow quirked in question. “Why the purple?”
He shrugged. “It’s your favorite color.”
She whirled to face him, gesturing at the decor. “You did this for me? When?”
He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the floor, muttering. “After Zac and Laila’s wedding.”
She strolled toward the couch, picking up a cushion and stroking the velvety fabric absently. “But that was months ago.”
“I know.” He scuffed his foot on the carpet.
“And we met at their wedding.” She hugged the cushion to her chest, as if it would act like a shield against the revelation of his feelings for her.
He paused, biting his lip. His answer was simple, when eventually it came. “Yes.”
She sat heavily on the couch; the cushion still clutched tightly in her hands. “You mean you decorated like this after having only met me once? And you did it because my favorite color is purple?”
He kneeled in front of her. “Yes, Krystal. You were wearing a green dress, and I commented on the color. You said that green was nice, but purple was your favorite.”
She nodded slowly. “Yes, I remember that dress. But I still don’t understand.”
He sat back on his haunches in front of her, at the same eye level as her. “I know you’ve been warned against me. I won’t defend myself against the things people have said because I don’t care what people think. I never have. Except for you. I care very much what you think about me.” He gestured around the room with a hand. “I would do anything for you.”
She blinked; her expression unreadable. Not the reaction he had hoped for.
“Krystal, please say something.”
Krystal stared at him for long, silent moments, eyes wide. She had to be dreaming. There was no way that he had felt like this about her for that long. No way. It just wasn’t possible. She must have hit her head on the shuttle and be knocked out cold. There was no other explanation.
If this is a dream, then there’s only one thing for it.
