Page 189 of Starside

I give him time. Space. Opportunity. But this time, he does not stop me. His breathing seems to become even more labored. My fingers brush against the edge of his hood, and I swear I can feel him shiver. Perhaps it’s the poison. Or it’s the fever.

With a rush of curiosity, I push the fabric back, and there he is.

And the world isn’t fair, not at all.

Because Harlan Raker is a monster, but he doesn’t look like one.

He is painfully beautiful.

His skin is pale, his cheeks are sharp, his hair is dark and curled around his ears. Just looking at him makes my blood heat. He looks like he was carved by a merciless god, one that wanted a weapon people would run toward.

He’s like a blade. I know if I touch him, I’ll bleed. But I want to, anyway.

I can’t help but be enraptured. I stare, even though he’s watching. I open my mouth, then close it, unable to find the right words.

“Why hide?” I finally ask.

“Why did you?” he says.

“But you—you didn’t have a reason.”

His voice is sharp as a scythe. “Neither did you.”

That isn’t fair. Especially coming from the very person I was taught to fear.

I study him for far longer than is acceptable, and he just stares at me, eyes narrowed, almost as if he’s glaring, but I can’t stop.

“You—” I say, my voice just a breath.

“Are not a coil of snakes,” he says.

I shake my head. “No. Not at all.” Maybe it’s the shock, or the remnants of the poison, or because I’ve finally lost my fucking mind, but I say, “You’re beautiful, Raker.”

He raises a brow at me. “You think I’m beautiful?”

“On the outside, yes.”

He sighs in that long-suffering way I’ve heard before, but to see it … to see the way his eyes close in irritation, the set of his perfect jaw …

He winces, as if pain has lanced through him again. For some inexplicable reason, I want to make it go away; I want to distract him.

“You must be filled with regret … dying for someone so insignificant,” I say, my voice light. Trying to make him laugh again.

But his own voice is serious. “Aris,” he says, my name a deep whisper that scrapes against my bones. “You are irritating. And reckless. And an idiot.”

“Thank you—”

“But you are not insignificant.”

You are not insignificant.

It’s barely a compliment. Barely anything at all … but for some reason … it means something. I feel a rush of warmth.

For a moment, we just look at each other. His gray eyes … they’re like steel in the darkness. Like the magnificent metal of our blades.

“You’re nicer when you’re dying,” I whisper. “You should do it more often.”

And that is the moment I first see Harlan Raker smile.