Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
MELODY
S himmers of warm gold pierce the cave. I stir in Maveryk’s warm arms.
The hum of flying objects, the silence of the Hollowed ones linger. Like a dreamscape I walked through in the darkening night.
But my people have always known the veil between the two worlds flutters and shifts. Too easily sometimes.
Maveryk’s turquoise eyes snap to mine, warmth pooling from them. But hesitation threads his breath and tightens his face.
Wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want me.
The bond still hums through me, hand coming up to cup his cheek. “Too late now, Starman.”
His face warms, corners of his mouth lifting. “Earthman. Never set foot on another planet.”
I nod, the strangeness of his predicament, matching my own in ways I’ve never considered. “Can’t pick what planet you’re born on,” I whisper, fingertips rustling against stubble, thumb dropping to his kissable bottom lip.
He snarls, mock bites my finger, and I giggle, enjoying its ring. That we can be like this now without danger looming.
“How about a spaceship, though? Ever been on one of those?”
He shakes his head, laughing bitterly. “Nope. Never been to Area Fifty-One. Never seen little gray men, or guys dressed in black, either.”
“Sounds boring,” I tease.
“Was,” he grumbles, head descending to kiss my neck and shoulder. “Before you.”
His wounded hand comes up, carefully tracing the line of the bracelet, burned like a tattoo into my arm. Throbbing, awakening at his gentle caress. I stare curiously as his hand covers it, ancient words passing his lips, a flicker of warmth, then nothing.
“Took too much from me last night,” he apologizes. “Have to heal the old way. Use some of your Grandma’s salve.”
“Do you think it’ll glow like your marks?” I ask, awe threading the question.
“Don’t know,” he answers, eyeing me sheepishly. “But to me, every part of you glows, golden like the high desert when the sun hits its zenith. Most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
His words thrum through me like a pulse, mind relaxing, letting me seep back into him. Emotions bleed in. Fierce love. Total devotion. Deep-rooted fear… not for himself but for me, for our future.
I feel the thought before he speaks it—old and heavy, soaked in shame.
I thought extinction was mercy.
Images flicker through his mind: fire, screaming, the crackle of resonance tearing through the hills. If I stayed silent, maybe the world would forgive us.
Martin and June’s faces appear in his memory—steady, kind, the only humans who knew when to look away, when to let him follow his nature.
They gave me peace, the thought drifts, aching. I wasn’t supposed to take it away by wanting you.
My breath catches. I reach for him through the bond, my mind brushing his. You didn’t take anything away, I whisper silently. You brought it back.
His eyes lift to mine, and the guilt that’s lived there for decades finally breaks open.
“I’m sorry, Melody,” he whispers, voice raw and haunted.
“Sorry for what?”
“For needing you more than my selflessness could bear. For not being able to let you go when I should have.”
My heart sinks at the sound of his pain. I stir in his arms, turning to straddle him, palming his square-cut cheeks. I force him to look at me, my gaze defiant, unmoving. “There is no you or me anymore—just us. You never had a choice. Neither did I.”
Sunshine snickers a distance away. Winnie’s tail flicks as she steps forward to drink from the cool stream.
“But even if I did,” he says, eyes overflowing with love. “I would still wait for you, Melody. Still choose you . Whether right or wrong.”
“Did you always know?” Emotions swirl inside, uncertain I want his answer.
He opens his mind, his heart, lets me peer inside. Clean thoughts. Innocent for the neighbor’s little girl. Nothing out of the ordinary. Not strange or different.
Then, he drifts forward, to me pulling up in my GTI, and his world shatters.
A pulse, like pain, living beneath his skin.
Burning like fire, drawing him to me in the barn and then pushing him to the north pasture.
Conflicted feelings, shame, anger, frustration—all burned clean and pure in the searing light of love.
I add my own memories. Grandma and I in the kitchen. The rich, earthy tones of coffee mixed with cream. The brown Carhartt on the porch rail.
The corners of his mouth turn up. “Left that for you, just in case.”
“Test passed.”
He shakes his head, cerulean eyes burning into mine. “Love found.”
“But where do we go from here?” I ask, mind swirling with too many possibilities to speak.
He presses my hand to his chest, eyes meeting mine, gaze steady. “You stay with me. We make a life together.”
“But the mountains? The?—”
He shakes his head. “What we did last night. How we defended ourselves. We can do that again.”
I try to relax; fear still snakes through me. “The dampener, the bracelet? What do we do without them?”
He shrugs. “Rebuild. Find more of our kind. Make the stand that we should have long ago. Let nature hum through our veins.”
“Our kind?” I ask. “But we’re different.”
He nods, smile broadening. “Me a Wildblood, you, a child of the Songline. Together, our best defense against the Sentinels.”
His words rush through me like warmth, the first rays of sunlight piercing through dark storm clouds. His big hands slide down my waist, grip the tops of my hips. My throat tightens.
“Need you,” he whispers, leaning close. Kiss fierce and unapologetic, stealing the air from my lungs. His big hands grind me over him, thick length reminding me of last night’s bliss.
“You know, it was too much,” I whisper, tasting his mouth, tongue mating with his.
“Too much you need again,” he answers dark and steady.
“Know how to make clothes vanish?” I joke. “Like you can heal baby calves.”
Maveryk chuckles, untying my blouse, unbuttoning my jeans. The zipper whirs, and my need throbs, heart catching in my throat. “Some things are best done the old-fashioned way,” he murmurs, fingers sliding beneath the waistband of my panties and into my slick heat.
I gasp, connection burning between us. Feeling all at once the pleasure of his touch and the anticipation humming across his flesh with the slide of his fingers. “Need more of that starlight,” he whispers as his mouth descends to my breasts, casting wet warmth through the lace of my bra.
“But what happened between us yesterday. Will it draw them again?” I whisper.
“Our resonance has stabilized now. Don’t you feel it? Easier to keep between us.” His lips trace over my neck. “This cave helps, too.” His fingers tangle with mine. “Don’t have all the answers, but we’ll learn together.”
The world narrows to heat, breath, and heartbeat until there’s nothing left but the sound of us—two notes of the same chord.
When the echo fades, I press my face to his throat, breathing the scent of smoke and pine and safety. The mountain hums softly beneath us, no longer warning, only remembering.
Outside, dawn waits, and for the first time in a long time, it feels like home.