Frustration flares, despite the urge to let it slide under the circ.u.mstances. "Do you really have to do that, after everything? Act like you're beneath me?"

He smiles again, shrugging, dismissive. "The whole universe knows I'm beneath you, Miss LaRoux. It doesn't bother me."

"Fifty thousand people on that ship, give or take." I choose my words carefully. "Three thousand of them soldiers. At least a dozen decorated war heroes. I looked at you."

He starts to speak, but I run my hand along his arm, and this is enough to make him hesitate, voice catching in his throat at my touch. This newfound power is intoxicating.

"Do you think I like you just because you saved my life? Because you know what to do and I don't, because you make sure I eat enough and you keep me from losing my mind? Because you're the only man on the planet?"

He protests, but I see it in his face. I'm not completely wrong.

"It is," I whisper. "It's because of all those things. It's because of your strength, but it's because of your goodness too, and your softness. You act like you inherited nothing from your mother, but that's not true. There's-there's poetry in you."

He inhales sharply, the arm around me tightening and his fingers twisting into my hair, tugging at it, tugging me close. I can't breathe-I don't want to. When he speaks his voice shakes a little, the way it did right before he kissed me for the first time.

"Sometimes you take all my words away from me." He leans back onto his elbow, then pulls me down to him so he can stop me answering with the press of his lips. When he breaks the kiss I end up blinking down at him, breathless.

"I'm still not sure you're right, Miss LaRoux," he murmurs. "I am beneath you."

It takes me a few seconds to see the spark of amus.e.m.e.nt in his eyes as he looks up at me. I realize he's laughing, in his way, not at my expense but because he's happy too. So I blurt one of the words I learned from him in his fever, and reach for the laundry bag that serves as our pillow to swing it at his head.

He catches my wrist before I come close, moving with such speed that I'm left gasping, laughing as he pulls me back down into our nest. He stops my laughter with his mouth, sending electricity crackling down my spine, like sparks resting in my belly.

Tarver tilts his head to kiss me behind my ear, teasing. I lift my chin and he makes his way down my throat, the softness of his mouth at a sharp contrast to the roughness of the stubble on his face.

Sparks, I think, something in the back of my mind stirring. The seed of an idea, the one I've been trying to ignore, leaps into a fully fledged plan.

"We should blow the doors off the station."

Tarver stops mid-kiss, lifting his head and looking absolutely baffled. "We should what now?"

"The doors! They're too thick to break open with any battering ram we could lift, but an explosion? That would do it, wouldn't it?"

He's blinking at me, half confused, half cranky. He doesn't like being interrupted. "You're being even more bewildering than usual."

I laugh, reaching up to run my fingers through his hair. "The hovercraft, in the shed? There are fuel tanks in the back. Stack a few of those up against the door, make a fuse out of some string, and we've got ourselves a party."

His expression is shifting from cranky to cautiously impressed, and I can't help but feel a thrill of excitement that he's impressed with me. Genuinely, without sympathy or surprise. Like equals.

"Who are you," he says eventually, "and what have you done with my Lilac?"

My Lilac. I want to stop and revel in that, but I'm too excited by my idea. "Anna has older brothers, and when I was little we'd blow things up all the time on our tennis court. My father had to have it resurfaced so many times." The memory causes a pang, my throat closing a little. For the loss of my cousin, for the loss of the way things were when we were children-for the loss of my own childhood.

Tarver's eyes soften, seeing my face. "We'll have to be careful. Clear the trees from the door, minimize the debris and the danger of a fire afterward."

There's an electricity in the air, a nearly tangible sense of purpose. We have a plan. I ignore the stab of pain that lances through me-now there's a limit on our time together. A countdown clock, set to some finite amount I can't see. Each moment is one we'll never get together again.

"Could we use your gun to set it off?"

His lips purse, thoughtful. "The Gleidel was designed to interact with organic matter-not metallic. Meant to prevent anyone dumb enough to fire it on a ship from breaching the hull. Wouldn't so much as scratch the tank." He reaches out to trace his fingers along my lips.

"A fuse, then. Like we used as kids." I close my eyes and kiss his fingers as they wander across my mouth. "I've never used fuel as an explosive, but the principle's bound to be the same. A sudden impact like that should blow the doors right open, leave the rest of the station intact."

Tarver makes a low sound in his throat, making me shiver. "Keep talking about blowing things up," he suggests, bending his head to resume what he was doing before I interrupted him.

It takes nearly an entire day to clear the area in front of the station doors. The power tools have long since lost their charge, so we're using rusty saws and a big pair of shears from the shed. We probably would have finished earlier, but I keep finding myself at his side without remembering the impulse to go to him. I keep demanding kisses, and he keeps dropping what he's doing to oblige. We don't make a very good team, distracting each other from what we're meant to be doing. We cut down the young trees, clear away the brambles, stack four of the fuel tanks against the doors.

I look over the dents and damage on the tanks, and finger the uneven length of rope we've found for a fuse. Suddenly I'm not so sure this is as foolproof as I'd thought. There are so many ways it could go wrong.

As the sun slants through the trees, close to the horizon, Tarver drags the last of the fallen saplings away and then arches his back until it pops. I move toward him and he lifts his arm without looking, knowing I'll be there. I slip beneath it, wrapping my arms around his waist.

"Do we do it now?" I rest my mouth against his chest, eyes turned up to look at him. Let him be the judge of when we start being rescued. I can't see it objectively. I so badly want it and don't-I'm caught so tightly between staying and going.

"Depends on what you mean by *it,'" he says, letting his fingers creep in against my arm under the edge of my T-shirt sleeve.

"Quit it," I reply, though I doubt he'll take me seriously with laughter in my voice.

"Not tonight," he says before leaning down to kiss me. It's a long moment before he speaks again. "We'll wait until there's good light, when we're sure we're ready. Tomorrow."

"If people were stationed here, there could be food inside. Hot water, maybe, if there's a generator inside. Beds too." I grin at him. "Though I suppose not having a bed hasn't really been a problem for us so far."

Tarver lifts an eyebrow, shifting his weight and wrapping both arms around me. "No, but the ground does have its limitations."

He leans down to kiss me again, his bandaged hand sliding up my side under my shirt, and that reminder of his injury-how close I came to losing him-sends a jolt through me. I can't let him be the one to do this. We don't know how volatile the fuel tanks are, or how fast the fuse will burn.

I let him kiss me for a while, wait until I feel him make the soft, growly noise he usually makes before he tries to remove some item of my clothing. Let him be as distracted as possible, before I try to do this. Because he's not going to like it.

I pull my mouth away a fraction and murmur, "I'll start testing fuses tomorrow morning. I don't relish the idea of losing a hand lighting this thing."

Tarver starts to lean in again, but then stops, frowning at me a little. "I don't relish the idea of you losing a hand either. I like both of yours. I'll do it."

"Don't be silly," I say, trying out my best, most capable smile. I can't let him see how desperately I need him to believe me. How much I need him to not get hurt if something goes wrong. "I did this all the time when I was a kid, my father never knew."

He's still frowning, something lurking in his expression-fear? I can't make it out. "I know how to take a hit," he says. "How to drop and protect myself in an explosion."

"But I won't need to do that, because I know what I'm doing. I'm not trying to be a hero or anything. I'll be perfectly safe. If something did go wrong, if something happened to you, I'd last a grand total of ten seconds out here by myself. But if something happened to me, you'd be just fine."

He's gazing at me like I've just offered to stab him in the gut. I can almost see him fighting with himself. But I'm right, and if nothing else he'll have to see my conviction. I can see his fevered face in my mind's eye, and my throat constricts just remembering how close I was to losing him. I can't let that happen again.

"It's a simple risk-reward a.n.a.lysis," I murmur. "You taught me that."

Tarver lifts one hand to touch my face, tracing the curve of my cheek. "Lilac, if something happened to you," he murmurs, "I would be anything but fine."

I reach up to take his hand, curling my fingers through his.

"Lilac, are you sure?"

I squeeze his hand, looking up at him, letting him see the confidence, the easy knowledge. I can do this. I will him to see it, with every fiber of my being. I can't let him light the fuse. I can't watch him put himself in danger again.

"Positive."

His gaze searches mine for a few moments as I hold my breath. Then he ducks his head to kiss my forehead, and turns to lead the way back to the cave.

There aren't many things my old life prepared me for. Not many skills developed in the world of society, of b.a.l.l.s and dresses and intrigue, apply out here in the wild, with this man I would've never known but for this strange twist of fate.

But at least I'm still a good liar.

"You were found not far from the structure. Can you clarify what happened to it?"

"I was trying to get inside. Whoever left it last was inconsiderate enough to lock the doors, so we had to get creative."

"And was Miss LaRoux involved in this act of vandalism?"

"Vandalism? We were trying to survive."

"Shall I repeat the question?"

"Of course she wasn't."

"And yet you say you were together the entire time."

"Miss LaRoux isn't the kind of girl to get her hands dirty. She waited in the woods, out of harm's way."

THIRTY-ONE.

TARVER.

"I WONDER IF THE KITCHEN'S STILL WORKING. Just think, real food could be on the other side of that door." She wants to distract me that night, keep us from revisiting the conversation about the fuse. I've considered telling her that if she wants to distract me, all she has to do is take her shirt off.

"I hope so." My head hurts with misgivings. I know it's smarter to let her light it. She's done it before. If she's hurt, I can help her better. She's less likely to be hurt.

And still.

"A bed too, no more sleeping on the ground."

I squeeze her. "You do keep ending up back at the bed. You have a preoccupation, Miss LaRoux."

"Any objections?" She's arch, smug, running a hand up my arm. If I were wearing a shirt, she'd be tugging on my sleeve, summoning me for a kiss as though she can't bear to be apart any longer. She's noticed she can make me forget my words halfway through a sentence.

"Objections? h.e.l.l, no." I'm so tempted to let her have her way, to just give in to her attempts to distract me. She can make my mind shut down faster than anyone I've ever met. But I'm still not sure. "Maybe we just leave the building," I suggest quietly. "Let it stay as it is. Do we really need to get inside this badly?"

Her hand stops, and she pulls back far enough to look at me. "Are you serious?"

"I'm not an idiot, Lilac." I trace her cheekbone with my fingertips, watching the color spring to her fair skin at my touch. "I know how dangerous this is."

"It's our only chance at being rescued. There has to be communications equipment inside, something we can use to send a distress signal."

Maybe being rescued isn't my top priority anymore. The words are there, just not the courage to say them. Instead, I pull her closer, tightening my arm around her waist. "I hope so. We don't even know why this place was abandoned. Something to do with the whispers, I suppose, but what exactly?"

"Secrets upon secrets," Lilac murmurs. Before I can ask what she means, she draws in one of those slow, careful breaths that mean she's organizing her thoughts before she speaks. "You said there were rumors about the military experimenting with mind control and telepathy. Maybe corporations are too. What if that's what this is?"

It's a little disconcerting that Lilac thinks best in bed. My brain pretty much flatlines under the same circ.u.mstances. "You think they discovered these beings, and then hid this place from the rest of the galaxy so they could study them."

"I don't know what's on this planet, Tarver, but whatever-whoever-it is, they can do things. See into our hearts, change our dreams, make us think things. They can create objects out of thin air. Who knows what else they can do? I know that any corporation, or the military for that matter, would stop at nothing for power like that."

I'm trying to ignore the sick feeling in my stomach, but I know she's right. There aren't many corporations with the resources to terraform planets that are known for their compa.s.sion and moral fiber.

"Whatever's going on," Lilac continues, "the whispers led us here. The answers are inside that building. We'll find out tomorrow."

I find a grin. "Tomorrow," I echo, giving her a squeeze.

She curls against me, tucking herself perfectly along my side. "What will we do, if we're rescued? After we've finished eating and drinking and smiling for the cameras?"

"You'll be smiling for the cameras," I correct her, laughing.

"You'll have your fair share," she tells me. "You're the one who saved the life of Roderick LaRoux's only daughter. It'll be hard to slip away."

"My commanding officer will sort it out. I'll get a week to go home and show my parents I'm whole, then a posting somewhere quiet for a while. Very quiet, if we've seen things we're not supposed to." Her skin's so impossibly soft. My hands feel rough against it as I run my palm down her side.

She's quiet for a little, holding still against me, not leaning into my hand as she usually does. I wait, and let her turn it over in her mind. Eventually she speaks again. "You'll just-disappear?" The question's very soft. "What about you and me? What happens to us, if you just vanish?"

I have no flippant answer for her, no deflection this time. I don't know what happens to us. It's the question I've been trying to avoid every second of every day since we saw the building on the horizon, and discovered the possibility of rescue after all.

"I'm not fourteen anymore." She lifts herself up on one elbow, gazing at me. "My father is powerful, changing the galaxy to suit him, but he's not going to change this. He's strong, but I'd fight him." Her blue eyes are grave, determined-calm. "I'd fight for you."

She's stolen my breath. My hand tightens at her waist until she makes a soft sound of protest, and it takes me a moment to realize I'm hurting her. I want to kiss her until she's as lost as I am. My heart fills my chest.

But I've seen what happens when people go back to the real world. I've seen what happens when they're reunited with their friends, their families. When the everyday rhythms rea.s.sert themselves, little currents pulling and tugging them back into the stream of life. Right now this is what she wants, but when she's back in a life with no room for someone like me? If I let her make these promises and then have to watch her return to her old life, leaving me and all we've gone through behind...I'm not sure I can survive that.

With an effort I force myself to start breathing again.

"Lilac." My voice sounds weak even to me. "Neither of us should make promises like that."

She swallows. "Are you saying that because you aren't sure, or because you think I'm not?"

"I'm saying I don't think it's as simple as either of us would like it to be."

"It's the simplest thing in the world," she whispers, leaning down to brush her lips against mine. "But I don't mind waiting until you're sure. You'll come around."

I want to tell her I've already come around, that I was there before she was-that I'd face down an army of paparazzi and her father to boot if she asked me.