been incinerated and given to the Rafini Nebula by now. That was what Starway 8 did with its dead. It was our burial place, beautiful, ashes and colors swirling through the heart of space.
Tears welled in my eyes, and I stood up, getting off the bridge as quickly as I could.
When the door whooshed a second time right behind me, opening and then closing again, I knew Shade had chased after me. Merrick had no reason to follow, and these steps were lighter than Jax’s but heavier than Fiona’s.
I kept walking, but Shade stopped me by quietly calling my name. There was almost a question in the way he said it, an uncertainty that made my heart ache.
“I’m going to shower,” I said, halting but not turning around.
After a moment, he said, “I could use a shower.”
Warmth curled through me. My voice dropped to a rasp. “I’m sure you can use Jax’s once the water recycles.”
Shade’s pause was longer this time. “I’d rather use yours.” His voice had turned husky as well.
I stood there, vacillating. Hardly breathing. My heart beat hard, my body heated, and my mind screamed at me because I didn’t know what to do, and a captain always decided.
Abruptly, I turned. The talk had come, even if I wasn’t ready for it.
“What are you doing, Shade? What are you going to do?” I asked.
He had his cruiser. He could leave. He could blab about the Fold, although I didn’t think he would, or I wouldn’t have brought him here in the first place. And he’d made it through the sticky part without dying, so I figured the Fold must have thought he was okay, too.
Some people totally ruptured on the way in, suffering from sudden, violent aneurysms. They inevitably turned out to be people we wouldn’t have wanted in here anyway. The Fold destroyed her foes, or ours, I supposed, which made us fairly confident about those who got through. And while I couldn’t be certain, I didn’t think Shade had enough type A1 blood in his system to truly invalidate the Fold’s defenses.
He still looked bad—as haggard, tired, and disheveled as the rest of us—but also determined. His eyes snagged mine and held. “I chose you, Tess. I want you. All you have to do is want me back.”
Emotion knotted around my heart, squeezing. I wanted him back, but I was afraid.
Shade’s gaze stayed steady on mine. He was asking me to accept the things he’d done before we met—and what he’d almost done after. To accept and forgive.
Could I do that?
“I think…” I swallowed, my heart hammering out of control. Shade had proven himself to be on my side in the end, and wasn’t that what mattered from now on? I believed in second chances. I’d needed some myself.
“I think my shower is probably big enough for two,” I said.
His eyes flared, the desire in them flushing me with heat. Hesitantly, I lifted my hand to Shade’s chest.
His hand covered mine, pressing until I felt the thud of his heart against my palm. “I want to comfort you, Tess.”
Warmth washed through me, along with the ever-present pain of loss. I wanted his comfort. I probably wanted it too much.
“Fair warning,” I said in a voice I hardly recognized. “The water might run out.”
“Then you need bigger tanks.”
“I do. I could never afford them.”
Shade looked aghast. “Showers are sacred. I’ll fix that.”
I felt myself smile. It kind of broke my face, but it also brought some relief, as though now that I’d done that—smiled after Miko’s murder and Shiori’s abduction—I could take the next step toward moving out of the heaviest part of grief.
“With what?” I asked, wondering how he planned on paying for improvements. “Is there a big stash of universal currency in that little cruiser of yours?”
“I have more than two hundred million units spread over eight different untraceable accounts, and all my pass codes memorized, despite them being annoyingly complex and long.”
I blinked. “Why in the galaxy do you have that much currency?” I asked, tugging my hand out from under Shade’s.
I didn’t need to ask how. The Dark Watch obviously paid its elite bounty hunters well. It was possible I had acquaintances in prison because of Shade, and the fact that I was ignoring that sat like a chunk of ice inside me that wouldn’t melt.
He leaned against the wall, rubbing the back of his neck. He winced, as if the words were hard to get out, and it made me worry