Elder reaches up and brushes a stray strand of hair from my face. I close my eyes and relish the touch. His fingers clench against my scalp—I feel the pressure of his hand, pulling me into another kiss.

And I go to him.

Sweeter, this time. Slower. Softer. I feel his lips this time, not the hunger.

I become aware of his body next to mine. I let my hand rest just above his heart, pounding away in his chest, so violent I can feel it mirroring my own heartbeat.

Then my hand slips lower, down his side. The bottom of his tunic has pulled up, and my fingers slide over the bare skin just above his hip.

Elder moans, a low guttural sound from deep inside him. His hands slide down my mussed hair to my shoulders, and he gently pushes me away. Our feet still touch under the pond’s surface, though.

“Augh!” he says suddenly, smashing his hand into the side of his neck. “I don’t have time for this!”

I scoot away from him, stung, then notice the way his head tilts. Someone is trying to com him.

“I’m sorry,” Elder says immediately, leaning back up and staring into my eyes. “Stars, Amy, I’m sorry,” he adds. “It’s just—with Marae’s death, and the planet, and—frex!”

My eyes widen, but Elder just punches the wi-com in the side of his neck. “What?” he barks into it.

I sit up slowly, no longer comfortable lying in the grass. As Elder listens to his com, I stare at the still surface of the pond.

I have no idea what I want. I told Victria that love is a choice, and I told myself that I didn’t have to choose Elder, but I can’t forget the way my heart stopped when his did.

Chapter 47

47

ELDER

SHE LOOKS SO SAD AND ALONE, SO ABANDONED—AND I’M the one who abandoned her, even though I’m still sitting by the edge of the pond beside her. I shouldn’t have kissed her. It’s like tasting dessert before supper is served; it’s only made me want more. But I couldn’t help it. I don’t know what it is about Amy. I couldn’t help it.

But I should have. With everything that’s happening now, the last thing I should be trying to do is kiss Amy. I need to focus on the planet—and she needs to figure out what she wants. I can see the questions in her eyes, the way she won’t quite name what’s between us.

Now she sits quietly, not meeting my eyes, her cheeks almost as pink as her lips.

Her lips.

No.

I look away from her. And her lips.

“What happened?” she asks quietly.