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He didn’t admit that he wasn’t so confident himself.
He needed proof.
He needed the feelings inside his chest to line up with the evidence before his eyes, and it wasn’t happening. It was a lonely form of torture.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Fucked up.” She took him in, her attention falling from his face to his chest, bringing an adorably confused twist to her brows. “Weird… you’re wearing a shirt. It looks good on you. Your muscles are all…” She cleared her throat, turning red. “Good god, you are hot. I mean really hot. Have I told you that?”
He wasn’t sure.
“I mean we almost died, didn’t we? What if I died and I never told you how good-looking you are?Youare seriously attractive, Caligher. This isimportant. You have to say the important things before it’s too late.”
She coughed a laugh, offering up a sweet little smile. “Annnd now I’m just being inappropriate. Sorry. You’re wearing clothes…”
He was. He had a glossy black one-piece fitted around his body. Her eyes continued exploring, and he couldn’t help the jolt of pleasure her greedy appraisal caused.
“And you look… different. Your skin’s all cracked like marble. What happened?”
“I molted,” he said. “And they tried to get you killed.” Their faces were burned into his mind. “It was already a bad molt. I was drained. So I had to pull from you—”
“Pull what from me?”
“Your spark. We’re connected. Our sparks are linked no matter how far we separate.”
“Ah.” She didn’t seem to fully comprehend his meaning. That was fine. If she had questions, there would be time later. If she stayed.
“I had to destroy the prison ship to get to you in time,” he confessed. They sat in silence as her eyes showed comprehension. More humans had died, so he could escape his cell and reach her—save her.
He would never be sorry for that.
“I’m just glad you’re here,” she finally said.
An inkling of relief settled in… but he hadn’t dealt with the dreaded business. Caligher had wronged her, nearly getting her killed and losing her forever. As far as he could tell, he didn’t deserve her.
And he was terrified that the moment he admitted it, she would agree—and she would leave.
“Lucca,” he started.
Her mouth curved up gently at the corners. Her eyes were so warm and inviting, staring at him like he was the best thing to ever happen to her. As he spoke, her smile gradually faded.
“I have to apologize. I’m the one who put us in that position. I didn’t know you would have my back, and I didn’t see how we could make it work, so I…” He swallowed, noting how pouty her frown had turned. “I’m so sorry, Lucca. I wasn’t able to think clearly until I’d molted.”
Her eyes were luminous, almost watery. They made another trace over his exterior. He wished she would say something—but she was slow to respond.
“My shell stopped fitting me years ago.” He covered his face, the shame overwhelming him. “It doesn’t justify how I treated you. If the ship hadn’t come along when it did—I could have lost you.”
He stared at her, his heart splayed open in the bleakest misery he had ever known.
Something tapped at him. He looked down to find her pawing at his sleeve—swinging and missing. It took her multiple loopy attempts to latch onto the fabric and haul him closer.
She pulled him onto the side of the bed and buried her face in his chest, her nose wedging between muscles. He went entirely still, wondering if this would be the end.
Her voice was muffled when she spoke. “Just put an emergency button in the cage next time.”
A chuckle burst out of his chest, but it had an edge. “I don’t know if you want to be with me after—”
“I still want to be with you,” she said quietly.
