SANTIAGO
Two weeks after the attack
The whine of the jet's engines signaled we were starting our descent. Below us, Paris was a web of gold spread against the deep blue of twilight. From up here, it seemed peaceful. A world away from the mud, blood, and burning metal we had left behind in Scotland.
But I knew better. It was going to take a long time for everything to go back to normal.
The events at the dig site had been all over the news. Some things were censored, some things were public, and the rest were in a gray area.
What was definitely way out in the open though, was my identity. I had been consistently dodging reporters, fans, and haters. The last ones were my favorite. Apparently, I was not to be trusted with making the right choice between Humans and Specters. At the same time, I was sitting here, baffled that they truly believed I had to make a choice in the first place.
Leaning over Arden, I tried to get a better view of the city as we got closer. She smiled, the expression full of the bittersweetness I had already grown used to seeing.
I wanted to make her happy. For as long as I could. For as long as she would let me. And that meant I had a lot to make up for and figure out how to deal with.
I'd given her space to process, to come to terms with what she had learned, to work through what had happened. The aftermath of the attack had been filled with government debriefings, meetings with scientists, therapy sessions, as well as endless hours of questions and statements. Yet, she was still not quite ready to talk. Not to me. Not about the deep stuff. But I could wait, taking small steps with no pressure.
First step, the trip I had promised her. A chance to relax. Convincing Taylor to let us take a break hadn't been easy, but I'd pushed hard until he had no other choice but to accept.
Seeing Arden away from the chaos, away from Taylor's calculating stare and the weight of the world was something I needed. To prove to myself that I hadn't just dragged her into the darkness, but that I could also lead her into the light.
And to my relief, the tension that had held her shoulders in a permanent state of readiness for the past two weeks had begun to ease. The evidence was in the soft curve of her neck, the slight parting of her lips.
She hadn't said much since we'd taken off, and I hadn't pushed. Given that silence was a luxury we hadn't been afforded, I wanted her to drink it in.
As soon as we touched down, I put on my sunglasses and baseball cap, giving Arden a wide smile. "How is my cover?" I asked. "Do I need a mustache?"
Her chuckle was the best thing I'd heard in a while. She handed me my backpack. "I think you've got this. And if you don't, I'll just pretend I don't know you," she teased.
Those little teases were like a breath of fresh air. So far away from the madness that had taken over our lives.
Sliding the sunglasses down to the tip of my nose, I gave her a wink. "Oh, no. I'm afraid you're stuck with me now."
My hand reached for hers and I led her outside the jet, toward a car waiting on the tarmac. As we drove to the heart of the city, the Eiffel Tower rose up like a beacon in the distance.
There were still signs of upheaval here and there, but they were few and far between. A burned van, a boarded up café...But Paris seemed to be getting back to business, at least on the surface. Despite the initial unrest, France had been quick to react, and had been one of the most successful countries in keeping the peace.
In a way, the streets looked the same. Though, the people didn't. I could tell. It wasn't just the increased security, the police on every corner. It was the way people moved, the way they eyed each other. There was a new layer of suspicion.
The car stopped at the entrance of the hotel and I got out, helping Arden as the bellboy grabbed the bags from the driver. The doorman bowed, opening the door for us to enter the lobby.
We walked to the front desk where I gave the name Reyes, a simple alias that felt like a shield. As the concierge handed me the keycard, addressing me as Monsieur Reyes, I caught Arden’s eye. A small, conspiratorial smile touched her lips.
God, I could spend the rest of my life trying to make her smile and laugh...
We took the elevator to the top and the bellboy opened the door to our room.
Arden narrowed her eyes at me. "The penthouse suite, Monsieur Reyes?" she whispered.
I slipped a bill into the bellboy's hand and he left. "Only the best for you," I said, grinning.
She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks had flushed a pretty pink. She was already making her way into the living room, eyes scanning the space.
The suite was absurdly opulent, all creams and golds with floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the Eiffel Tower. For a terrifying second, I thought I might have overdone it.
Arden stood in the middle of the room, turning in a slow circle. Staying by the door, I observed her. Her eyes grew wide as she took in the lush furnishings and the panoramic view of the city skyline.
"You know what?" she said. "I could get used to this."
I crossed the distance and pulled her in, wrapping my arms around her, inhaling the scent of her hair. "You should," I said and stepped back, still painfully aware she wasn't ready for anything more. "It's only fair for you to get the VIP treatment. You're basically the most important person in the world right now."
Arden made a face. "Don't remind me," she said, her eyes drifting to the window. Her mind seemed already miles away, probably thinking about the stellachart and how she was still required to interact with it until KUASI could take over completely.
Checking on the bottle of champagne chilling in a silver bucket, my hands worked the cork free with practiced ease. The celebratory pop sounded jarringly loud. She flinched and I stilled, allowing her the time to find her way back to the present and a more relaxed state.
The fizzing was the only sound in the room as I poured two glasses. I held one out to her and she took it, her fingers trembling slightly.
"Thank you," she whispered.
We didn’t toast. We just drank. She took a small sip, her eyes staying on me, and in their depths, I saw the ghosts of everything we had survived. The fire, Murray, Diego’s sacrifice...
I put my glass down and took hers from her hand, placing it next to mine. My palms cupped her face, thumbs stroking the faint shadows under her eyes.
"You're safe here," I said, the words feeling inadequate.
"I know," she replied, leaning into my touch, her eyes fluttering closed. "I’m just…tired."
This time, when I wrapped my arms around her, she didn't hesitate. She melted against me, her head finding the curve of my shoulder. We stood there for a long time, holding each other.
"Are you also hungry?" I finally asked. "Or do you want to sleep?"
She pulled back, her face still so close. "Let's eat."
I kissed her forehead. "Anything you want," I said.
We had dinner on the balcony, looking at the Eiffel Tower's dazzling display, without talking much. When we were done, Arden went to bed and I stayed up a bit longer to finish my drink. She was sound asleep by the time I joined her. Watching her for a while, I wondered if she was dreaming of the ship, or if she was able to enjoy some peace.
The next day, Paris worked its magic.
Under the vibrant blue sky, Arden slowly came back to life. We walked through the winding streets of Montmartre and she bought a tiny painting from a street artist, haggling in endearingly terrible French. Then we sat at a café, sipping espressos and observing the world pass us by.
She was eating a crepe oozing with chocolate, when a smudge of it gathered at the corner of her mouth. Without thinking, I reached out and wiped it away with my thumb. Her eyes locked with mine, and the bustling city faded away. The simple, intimate gesture hung in the air between us. She was the one who broke the spell, her lips curving into a shy smile before she took another bite.
That smile. I would have faced a thousand Specters for that smile.
Later in the evening, she chose a small restaurant tucked away on a side street, the kind of place with checkered tablecloths and candles dripping wax onto old wine bottles.
We talked for hours, the banter gradually deepening into something more.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"What are you apologizing for?" I asked, my eyebrows knitting together.
"I've been so consumed by everything..." She paused, her expression dead serious.
"Arden...It's normal. You've been through a lot."
"Still, I feel like I haven't been there for you. I've neglected you."
"You have nothing to apologize for," I replied.
She focused her eyes on the remnants of her meal. "I do, though. You lost your father. I know you weren't close but..."
"It's okay," I said, reaching for her hand. "We can talk about it whenever you're ready." I swallowed, the food in my stomach suddenly heavy.
She looked up at me, her gaze steady. "I'm ready now," she said.
Trying to choose the right point to start, I searched for the words. "Diego was...complicated," I said, the understatement of the century. "He spent his whole life looking for a way home. In the end, I think he realized home isn't a place you find, but something you protect." My throat tightened. "He was protecting me."
She took my hand in both of hers. "I'm sure he was proud of you."
I smiled but my voice caught. "I don't think he had a clue what pride is," I said, thinking of his usual confusion when human emotions were brought up.
Arden let out a soft laugh, her grip stronger on my hand. This discussion wasn't easy. It was necessary though. It was a step in the right direction, despite the awkwardness with which we talked about those who were gone, about the Wardens that were still out there...About KUASI and Arden's connection to the alien tech...
"It’s still there. A hum," she said. "Like a radio playing in another room." She met my gaze. "Sometimes I’m afraid of what will happen if I turn the dial."
"You won’t have to do it alone. Ever," I promised, taking in the shift in her expression from fearful to comforted.
Back at the hotel, Arden headed straight for the bathroom, probably exhausted. I stood in the bedroom, not quite sure what to do with myself. When she finally emerged, I didn’t dare move.
Her shirt was half open, the bra peeking through. She closed the gap between us, placing her hands on my chest and pushing me back until I sat down on the edge of the bed. She climbed onto my lap, straddling me, and I tentatively reached for her hips. We hadn't done anything more than lightly kiss since the attack.
"What are you doing?" I asked, looking up at her.
She brushed her fingers through my hair, her eyes shining with warmth. "I'm choosing hope," she said.
It felt like my heart stopped. I searched her eyes, trying to find a hint of uncertainty but all I found was determination. "Arden..."
"Kiss me."
Sliding my hands up her sides, I felt the smooth skin where her shirt had ridden up. She took a deep breath, leaning in closer.
Our lips met in a slow, tender kiss.
She deepened it and the ache in my chest flared. This was a whole new level of need. I wanted to forget the outside world, to lose myself in her.
My fingers roamed over her back, finding the clasp of her bra.
"I love you," I said, kissing the crook of her neck.
Her body answered with a shudder, and a soft whimper escaped her lips. I tugged her shirt up, letting her bra follow it to the floor, and she pulled away enough for her hands to slide to my belt, unfastening it.
The look in her eyes was intoxicating, full of a desire that had me throbbing. Once my belt was loosened, I gently flipped us over to lay her on the mattress.
My eyes stayed on hers as I finished what she'd started. Shedding my jeans, I moved on to work on her zipper. My fingers brushed her stomach and her hips raised to help me get rid of her pants and underwear.
When she was fully naked, I held myself over her, taking a second to commit this moment to memory. I caressed her sides, loving the way she shivered, and removed my shirt, the last piece of fabric separating us.
Our bodies molded perfectly together as I pushed inside her.
"Tell me what you want," I said.
She started rocking her hips against me as her hands slid over my back. "I want you to show me a reason to choose hope every day."
My breath hitched and I drew her in for another kiss before pushing in farther. I set a slow rhythm, her warmth tight around me. I savored the taste of her lips, of her skin, as she arched into me, searching for more.
We lost ourselves in that gentle dance, kissing away the pain and the fear...forgetting all that was waiting for us outside. It was just us and we were safe.
Arden moaned my name in that addicting little whine, and the way her body felt underneath me was almost too much. I kissed a path to her mouth, then claimed it again.
As the climax drew me closer to the edge, I brought my lips to her ear. "Is it okay if I let the plasma out?" I asked, the effort to keep it contained mounting. The thought of it triggering awful memories for her made me stop for a second.
"It's part of you," she replied, grabbing onto me. "I want all of you."
That melted away all of my worries.
"I like the way it feels," she continued, then dragged her lips and tongue up my throat.
A deep moan left me at her words and caress, and her fingers grasped my arms, urging me on.
A series of fast thrusts and the plasma shot out of my spine, dark and hot tendrils flowing over our naked bodies. Every breathless gasp she offered sent the pressure building inside me. The soft cries turned into one sustained moan, her walls clenching around me, and I thrust deeper.
I let go to share the most beautiful explosion with her.
Rolling over, I gathered her in my arms. She snuggled close, spent and satisfied.
"How was that for a reason?" I asked, earning a smile.
"Great. Though, you might have to remind me every day."
A chuckle escaped my throat and I pressed a kiss to her forehead, holding her until we drifted to sleep.
On Sunday morning, I woke up before her. The first light of dawn was painting the sky in shades of red as I walked to the balcony, the cool air contrasting the warmth of our bed.
Arden joined me a couple of minutes later, wearing one of the hotel's plush robes. She came to stand beside me, leaning her head on my shoulder, and I instinctively wrapped my arm around her.
We stayed like that, listening to the awakening city.
"Good morning," she murmured.
The lines of worry that had been etched around her eyes had softened. A small, contented smile played on her lips as she watched the sunrise.
I squeezed her gently. "Any morning with you is a good morning."
She turned her head, her eyes meeting mine. "Keeping myself separated from this charming side of you was such a mistake," she said, her smile growing wider. "I missed it."
"Good. Because I got so much of it pent up. I need to unload it on someone," I said, a grin on my face.
"I'm pretty sure I can handle it." She pressed closer to me and tilted her chin up for a quick kiss before turning back toward the sun.
In the quiet clarity of that Parisian morning, a thought settled into my soul with the undeniable weight of truth.
This was the woman I was going to marry.
The thought was so powerful it almost brought me to my knees. Everything I had fought for, everything I had endured, it had all led me to this perfect moment. To her.
I pulled her closer, my arm wrapping around her waist. She hummed in contentment, but I didn't say a word. It wasn’t the right time.
Soon. I would figure out how to do this without overwhelming her. All I needed to do in the meantime was find a way not to blurt out the question that had now taken hold of me.
I knew she was the one, and that was enough for now.
Because, for the first time, the future didn’t feel like a battlefield to be survived. It felt like a promise.
__________
Thank you for reading!
"The Shade Descendant" is Book One of "The Sellachart Chronicles", a series of standalone novels that follow humanity’s journey to the stars. New characters, new loves, new mysteries await along the path...
Follow the journey HERE