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"Don't." She cuts me off, the word sharp enough to slice through the tension between us.
"Right." I drop it.
Can't ignore the mating bond buzzing under my skin though, alive and pulsing with a current that's all Aisling.
"Feeling better?" she asks, but her gaze drifts away, out towards the horizon through the porthole window, like she's searching for an escape or maybe an omen.
"Much." The lie tastes like ash, but I'm not about to show weakness. Not when everything's hanging by a thread and Gunnar and Oberon's absence is a scream in the silent room. They should be here. That they aren’t makes my skin crawl, even if Gunnar is probably gonna kill me as soon as he finds out what happened.
We sit there, the silence stretching, taut as a wire. I could reach out, touch her, remind us both that we're still alive. But I don't. Because there's something final in the air, a curtain call neither of us asked for.
"Talk to me," I say, my voice a raspy whisper. It feels like sandpaper dragged over raw skin.
She turns, eyes hooded. "We got out," she starts, her voice low and even. "Vance showed up with a bunch of Angels and they took on the Eclipse on the dock while the colonists rebelled against the alphas in their midst. We took back the Garden."
"New Eden?"
"History now. We're rebuilding from scratch." Her fingers grip the rail tight enough to make her knuckles bone white. "Dreamland omegas stayed behind—they've got plans for the place."
“Oberon was part of the rescue party, I take it?”
She nods. “And Rook. Everyone is safe, alive. Not as many casualties as there could have been.”
I sit up, ignoring the dull throb that settles at the base of my skull. "And Gunnar? Where's he?"
She flinches, looks away. "Gunnar's…" She chokes on whatever comes next, swallows it down. "He's pissed, Luka. Furious about—about us."
"Let me talk to him."
"No." The word slices through the thick air. "It's on me. I wronged him. I need to sort this mess."
"But—"
"Listen." Her hand finds mine, squeezes once, hard enough to hurt. "I can't drag you into this. Not until I make things right. For now, we keep our distance."
“Hard to keep your distance in a town as small as Celestial Hills,” I tease.
But she doesn’t laugh. “You’ll do it though. For Gunnar…and for me.”
I lean back, closing my eyes.
"Where do we go from here?" I ask, my voice steady despite the chaos that's been our lives. The boat rocks gently beneath us, almost lulling me back to sleep. I think Rook must have dosed me with a sedative, because I feel great—muddled, though.
Aisling takes a long breath before answering, her face unreadable. "Rook's taking us in," she says, and there's something like gratitude in her voice, but it's laced with worry too. "Me and Oberon. We've got his guestroom."
"Rook, huh?" I mutter.
"Yeah." She nods, but there's no mistaking the distance she's putting between us, physical and otherwise. "He’s playing the neutral party, and I don’t…I don’t think Gunnar would take it well if we threw our lot in with Vance, or with you."
“Plus, the church is a little too small for three.”
“True.” She does laugh now, but it’s hollow. Something is breaking her down, like acid in her veins.
"Right." I try to keep the bitterness from seeping into my tone. There's a pull inside me, the mating bond tugging like a leash I can't slip.
Her hand reaches out, hesitant, then settles on mine with a weight that feels like an anchor. Her touch sends a jolt through my body, and it's all I can do not to pull her closer.
"Before I go—" Her voice breaks off, and when she looks at me, her eyes shine with a mix of resolve and something softer, vulnerable.
