Defy the Worlds (Defy the Stars #2)(84)

No denying it: Noemi feels cheated. “For what?”

“For acting on my romantic feelings.” Abel explains this as easily as he would the workings of the mag engines. “I don’t expect you to share them. But my momentary impulse may have made you feel awkward. I won’t make the same mistake again.”

Slowly Noemi says, “Oh, Abel—that’s all wrong—”

“What do you mean?”

She can’t come up with the words. Words aren’t important. Nothing matters except a truth she didn’t know until this moment.

Noemi puts her arms around Abel and brings her lips to his. When she kisses him, he tenses; at first she thinks she’s gotten it wrong somehow. But then he embraces her, brings her closer, kisses her back. She gives in to it, opening his mouth with her own.

The first time they kissed, she was floating in midair. Gravity holds them fast now, but somehow it feels the same, like she’s flying inside.

No, better. Last time she was only kissing Abel good-bye. It was an ending. This is a beginning.

When their mouths part, Noemi’s breathing hard. Abel’s expression looks more dazed and wary than elated. “We shouldn’t get caught up like this. Not in the middle of such a serious crisis.”

That’s what Captain Baz would tell them. That’s good military training. Noemi has never given less of a damn about military training in her life.

Then Abel continues, “But as you humans say—to hell with it.” And he kisses her again.

This time the kiss goes on much, much longer. Their tiny corner of the Osiris—their patch of this new world—feels like all there is to the entire universe. Noemi combs her fingers through his fair hair, leans against him so that he’ll feel her heartbeat through his chest; maybe it will feel like a heartbeat to him, too. He doesn’t have a heart or pulse of his own. She’ll share hers.

Finally, Abel breaks the kiss and folds her deeper in his embrace. Noemi buries her face in the curve of his shoulder.

Tentatively he asks, “Is it bad form to ask for romantic clarification?”

She laughs in his arms. “I don’t know. I don’t care. Ask away.”

“Would you describe yourself as ‘in love’ with me, or merely interested in exploring a romantic connection?” He sounds so earnest, so unsure. “Either alternative is extremely acceptable. But I’d like to know.”

“Probably? Maybe?” Noemi’s more confused than Abel could possibly be. She only knows that she couldn’t have gone one more second without kissing him. “When I went back to Genesis, my old life didn’t fit me anymore. Some of that was because we lost Esther, and some of it was because I was a pariah—”

“Pariah?”

“Skip it for now. Mostly my life didn’t fit because I changed on that trip. The idea I had about who I was going to be, and the kind of person I could care about—that didn’t apply anymore. Nobody understood that, but I knew you would. I wished I had you to lean on, and to talk to. I imagined what you would say about everything, and I wanted to hear it. Even if you were going on forever or being arrogant! I didn’t care.”

Abel says, “It is not arrogance if I am realistically assessing my abilities as superior, which generally they are.” Of course that’s the point he’d have trouble with. But she’s begun to smile, and so has he.

“I didn’t fall in love with you on the journey,” she says. “I don’t know if I’m in love with you now. But you’re probably the best person I’ve ever known. I care about you more than anyone else in this entire galaxy. I don’t know what comes after this, if anything even can. All I know is you’re the only person I can’t imagine living my whole life without.”

Noemi never feels like she’s said the right words, except maybe this time. The way Abel’s face lights up, the pure hope that’s shining from him—she must’ve gotten at least some of that right.

He kisses her one more time, but when their mouths break apart, he holds up one finger. “…We should probably do something about the mines.”

“Yes. Bombs.” She pulls back and shakes her head, trying to clear it. “Good idea.”



First they turn to one of the largest intact corridors in the ship, the one that will be most useful to both Remedy and the passengers.

In Genesis military training, cadets extensively study both space and planetary mines. Noemi worked harder than most. The last moment she spent with her family was the moment before they drove over an explosive device not so different from a mine; for her, defusing bombs feels like defeating an enemy. Those diagrams come to mind as clearly as if they were still on her academy screen. “Okay,” she says as they stand at the far end of the corridor. “I’m going to crawl into the service tube and check this one out. If I can defuse it, great. If it’s too thorny, or requires equipment I don’t have, we move to the next corridor.”

“I should be the one to take the risk,” Abel insists, like she knew he would.

Noemi clasps his hands in hers. “I’ve worked with mines before. I know what I’m doing. You’re exhausted, and you’re more damaged than you’re letting on.”

“I still have full dexterity in my wrist.”

“Maybe you do. But let me handle this one, okay?” She struggles for the words. “I don’t mind letting you do more, because you are stronger than any human could ever be. You do have more info in your memory banks than any brain could hold. That doesn’t mean you automatically have to be the one who puts yourself in danger every time.” Noemi brings his hand to her lips and kisses it. His skin is terribly abraded from their icy climb through the crevasse. “Your life matters as much as any human’s, Abel. Remember that.”