“You should get some rest,” he says after a while.
“You’re right.” I nod, even though he isn’t looking at me to see it.
He stands and goes to the back of the overhang, near the deeper crevice.
“Here.” He gestures at the bed of fronds he made. “This is your spot.”
“Thanks.” I crawl over and lower myself onto it. It’s better than the ground, the leaves giving slightly under my weight; the smell of them is green and clean.
He doesn’t lie down next to me.
He moves a good five or six feet away, near the mouth of the overhang, where he has a clear line of sight on the jungle below, and starts arranging his own bed there instead, alone, a stretch of bare stone between us that might as well be a mile.
I watch him do it and try not to feel anything about it. I should be happy I have my space. Iamhappy.
I don’t know what I expected. It’s not like I thought we’d cuddle together for the night, his arms around me, my back against his chest, his breath warm at the back of my neck. We had sex because we were both there and both wanted it. We might die out here, but none of that comes with cuddling attached. It isn’t like that between us.
And yet, I didn’t expect to get his back and his cold indifference either. I don’t deserve it. It takes two to tango.
I could reach out and touch him if I stretched, and instead of facing me he’s turned the other way, watching the trees.
He doesn’t say goodnight.
I lie there for a minute, waiting, in case there’s a word or two still coming. There isn’t. His breathing changes within minutes, deepens and slows into the rhythm of sleep.
I stare at the back of his shoulder, the dark lines of his ink barely visible in what’s left of the light.
I don’t know why this stings the way it does. We’re not together. We were never going to be together. I knew the rules of this before I took off my bra and had sex with him.
I turn onto my side, facing away from him, and pull my knees up toward my chest. I listen to the jungle settle into its nighttime sounds around us: the clicks and rustles and the occasional far-off cry of an animal or a night bird.
Eventually, I sleep too.
22
Magma
My mate is screaming. It’s shrill and hits me deep.
“Sage!” I roar.
I’m running but don’t seem to be getting anywhere, even though I am pushing hard.
Security Central is burning. I am too far away, and the distance stretches longer with every stride I take, the ground sliding under me.
Her screams kick up a notch and adrenaline courses through me. I’m frantically searching and running, yelling for her.
I’m sweating; every part of me is tense. I finally make it to the building and hurry inside. It’s a mess. When I find her, Sage is buried under rubble. My mate is crushed and dying.
This isn’t right.
I wasn’t there when she passed, and she didn’t die like this.
She calls my name, blood trickling from her mouth. I scent the acrid smell of burning. It feels real. It can’t be!
She’s pinned under a fallen beam, blood dark across her stomach. Her eyes find mine, and there’s no fear in them. Justtired relief, like she’d been waiting for me and is glad I finally showed up, even now, even like this.
“You’re late,” she says, and tries to smile.
