by F. T. Lukens
The door creaked open. Ren stepped through and closed it behind him, locking it with a spark of his star.
Asher stood across from him. His blond hair hung in wet strands, limp on his forehead and around his temples, brushing over the curve of his ears. He needed a haircut. The vibrant liquid green of his eyes stood out from the thin skin and dark circles beneath. His cheekbones cut edges into his skin. His jaw, though set, trembled, and his bruised lip puffed out. The shirt he wore hung from his shoulders, and Ren imagined the blue and purple bruises which undoubtedly mottled Asher’s skin underneath. He’d changed so much in such a short time.
“Ren,” Asher said.
“Are you okay?” Asher looked away, and Ren closed his eyes. “I meant, are you injured? Does your shoulder hurt?”
“It’s fine. It’s not like before.”
Ren swallowed the lump in his throat. “Good.”
He opened his eyes and stepped forward. The void between them was expansive if only a few feet, and Ren couldn’t handle the space any longer. Drawn toward him, Ren closed the distance and curled his arms around Asher’s body. He drew Asher’s head to his shoulder and held on.
Asher’s body pulled taut, resistant for a strained moment, before he shuddered and melted into Ren’s arms. He clutched at Ren, his fists clenched into the fabric of Ren’s shirt, and pulled him in. He smelled of soap and warm skin, and the heat of him burned into Ren’s middle and eased into his bones and sinew, and the tension that had set in his spine since he’d woken by himself on a cold metal slab, sloughed away. Ren had never felt at peace: always looking to the stars when on Erden, always looking for control when consumed by his star, always looking for family when lonely, always looking for calm when panic gripped him in its suffocating embrace. But this, Asher in his arms, and Asher’s breath on his neck, and Asher’s hands molded on his back, was as close as Ren had ever come. This was a kind of tranquility of the soul that he hadn’t known was possible for him. Now that he had it, he would never relinquish it.
“I’ve got you,” Ren said. He tucked his face against Asher’s neck. “I’ve got you. And I’m not letting you go again.”
Crushing Ren close, with their bodies cradled against one another, Asher held on.
“Don’t. Don’t let me go.”
“Never.” And he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. And it was a dangerous thing, an exquisite ache that resided in his soul, a promise and a responsibility he’d never leave unfulfilled. “I killed him,” Ren whispered. “I’d do it again. I’d do anything for you.”
Asher shivered. “I know. I know, but I don’t want that. I don’t want you to do things you don’t want to, Ren. I want you to be free.”
“I told you. There is no point to freedom without you.” Ren’s cheeks heated with a fierce blush.
Asher shook his head against Ren’s shoulder. He mumbled into Ren’s collarbone while Ren petted his head.
“What was that?”
“I said, you smell,” he mumbled.
Ren froze. Giddiness bubbled up from his chest to his throat. His body shivered, and he chuckled. Asher shook with him as he muffled his laughter into Ren’s shirt. They laughed, holding each other as all the pent-up adrenaline and grief washed out of them in gales and chuckles, snorts and watery gasps. Ren pulled back, swiped his fingers along the corners of his eyes, then cupped Asher’s jaw, and ran his thumbs over the stubbled and flushed skin, wiping the streams of tears away.
Asher caught his fingers. He turned his head and kissed the center of Ren’s palm.
Ren’s breath stuttered, and Asher pressed his soft smile into Ren’s hand.
“I should go shower,” Ren’s voice was thick.
“Stay.” Asher’s response was clipped and quick with an undercurrent of fear. He closed his eyes, relaxed his shoulders, and ducked his head. “Stay with me.”
“Okay.”
“After you shower.”
Ren swallowed. “After I shower.”
“Yes, shower,” Asher said. He guided Ren to the adjoining bathroom, his fingers curled around the indent of Ren’s waist. “And then come back.”
Ren raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve been sleeping in Ollie’s room on a medical cot. Or on the common room couch. Or where I just…” he waved his hands, “wherever I pass out.”
“Is that what you’d like to do tonight?”
“No,” Ren breathed.
Asher’s lips ticked up into a smirk. “Then come back.”
Nervousness of a different kind flooded Ren’s veins, and he welcomed it. He smiled back at Asher, helplessly, before closing the door behind him.
_
Ren emerged from the en suite bathroom in a cloud of steam. His skin was pink from the warm water and from scrubbing away the stench of their ordeal on the planet. He smelled of soap and shampoo instead of sweat and ash, and that lifted his mood. Any reservations he’d held about returning to Asher’s room to sleep had melted away. Now his nerves were from blooming excitement and thick anticipation rather than fear and panic.
The little hair he had left dripped, and beads of water rolled down his neck and over his collarbone. He rubbed a towel over his head, then tossed it in the corner.
Asher sat on the edge of the bed. He looked up from a data pad. He started, his gaze sliding over Ren’s bare torso and landing on the stitched angry wound on Ren’s side. Self-conscious, Ren covered it with his hand. “Sorry,” he rasped. “I need to bandage it. I forgot the supplies. They’re in Ollie’s room.”
Asher didn’t say anything, merely beckoned Ren closer. He lifted a roll of medical tape and a sterile pad. “Pen brought them by when she didn’t find you in the common room.”
Ren swallowed. “Oh.”
“Do you want me to?”
“I…” Ren’s throat went dry. He swallowed, then nodded his head.
Ren cautiously padded across the room to the bed. The hem of his threadbare sleep pants brushed the tops of his feet. The bare skin of his chest prickled; the environmental controls were set a little cooler than usual. Rowan and Lucas were recovering from the hours spent planet-side in the heat and kept the ship nearly frigid.
His muscles jumped as Asher lightly ran his fingertips over the skin near his navel and drifted slowly to the stitches. Ren bit his lip. The air charged.
“Hold this.”
Ren held the bandage in place as Asher tore strips of the medical tape, then smoothed them over Ren’s skin. The process only took a few minutes, but, by the end, Ren was alight with anticipation.
“Are you tired?” Asher asked, as Ren stood and trembled before him.
“Exhausted despite the small nap.”
Asher nodded. “Me too.” He swallowed and met Ren’s eyes, seemingly making a decision. “Well, come on then.” He patted the bed.
Ren’s pulse ticked up. His heart hammering, he sat on the edge. “Do you want near the wall?”
“Stars, no,” Asher said with a shake of his head. “I just spent several weeks trapped and sleeping in a cell. I don’t like the feeling.”
“Okay. I like the wall. I can feel the ship. It’s… safe.”
“Okay.”
Ren scrambled onto the bed and slid under the sheets. Asher followed and lay beside him. Flat on his back and stiff as a board, Ren stared up at the ceiling. His and Asher’s arms brushed. Gone was the ease of the times they’d slept next to each other in a cell or in a hollow tree or on a ship with people they didn’t trust. A dense potential energy lay between them now, and Ren didn’t know what to do, how to act on the feelings that stirred in his gut. He clenched his fists at his side.
The bed was not big, and Asher had to be uncomfortable so near the edge. Ren squeezed as close as he could to the wall while Asher fidgeted next to him.
�
��This isn’t what I imagined.”
Ren was suddenly breathless. He cleared his throat. “What did you imagine?”
Asher chuckled ruefully. “Well for one, it wouldn’t be freezing. And for two, you wouldn’t be injured.”
“I’m fine.”
Asher rolled to his side and propped up on his elbow. The collar of his sleep shirt slipped and revealed the wide, ridged scar on his shoulder. He pushed away the sheet, and the goosebumps on Ren’s skin betrayed him. He shivered, and Asher raised an eyebrow, silently questioning. Tentatively, Asher rested his hand across Ren’s stomach so his fingers spread over the covered wound.
Ren flinched. “I’m sorry.” Tears came unbidden. “I’m sorry.”
Asher trailed his fingers over Ren’s torso, away from the bandage, then leaned over and bracketed Ren so his body curled over Ren’s shaking form. “Ren—”
“I’m sorry.” Ren surged upward, wrapped his arms around Asher’s shoulders, twisted his fingers in Asher’s hair, and tugged him close. He squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m… so sorry. I should’ve trusted you. I should’ve listened to you. I should’ve never questioned your loyalty to me or to Rowan or—”
Asher brushed his thumb over Ren’s mouth, and held it there. The pressure was gentle but grounding. “I could’ve been more transparent with my plans. I thought if I kept everyone in the dark, even you, that it would be better. That I could fool VanMeerten on my own. But I made you doubt me, and I’m sorry for that.” He ran his thumb over the blush of Ren’s cheek and slid his palm over the curve of Ren’s jaw.
“Don’t apologize.” Ren swallowed, throat bobbing. “Please.”
“It was all to protect you.”
“I know. I realized in the tunnel on Crei that everything you did was for my benefit. You gave yourself up for me. You’ve done nothing but protect me since we met in that cell at the citadel.” Ren opened his eyes. “Why?”
Asher smiled, a wry lift of his lips. “I’d still be in that cell if it wasn’t for your fierce single-minded duster idiocy. You were so certain you could escape. And it was maddening and endearing. And I…” Asher laughed. “I couldn’t help but think that if anyone on that planet could get out of that mess and save the cluster, it would be the cog with the glowing blue eyes.”
“You never told me that,” Ren said.
“I’m not good with words.” Asher dipped his head and rested his forehead against Ren’s. He continued the maddening caress of his fingers along the line of Ren’s jaw. “I’m better with actions.”
Asher’s body was a wall of heat above him. Ren’s stomach was a tight coil, and his muscles went taut with eagerness. Ren wanted.
“I’m not good with words either,” he stammered.
Asher’s laugh was a gust of air over Ren’s lips. “We’ll practice.”
“I’ve never—”
Asher kissed him, tender and unafraid. Ren melted into it; his eyes fluttered shut; the tension eased out of him. He relaxed into the mattress, and all the scattered thoughts and the remnants of fear evaporated once he was wrapped in Asher’s arms. He gave in, allowed his actions to speak for him, and trusted Asher to lead the way.
7
The air around Ren shimmered. Splotches of color appeared, then solidified and coalesced into a room Ren didn’t recognize. He squinted as the bright lights dimmed and twisted, and shadows deepened, providing contour and depth. There was a low bunk with a thin mattress and four close metal walls. The door in one wall was short but thick with a forcefield around a small window. Ren pressed his fingertips against the field and found it solid and cool to the touch. Nothing stirred under his skin. No hum reverberated in his flesh. Brow furrowed, hands in his pockets, he turned and let out a squawk when he spotted Asher in a corner.
“Ash?”
Asher looked around, face pale. He wore his Phoenix Corps uniform and glossy boots, though the insignias weren’t quite correct—the details were off because they were in a dream. Eyebrows raised in a look of confusion, Asher examined his uniform. Ren peered down at himself and saw the outfit he’d last worn on Erden.
“Where are we?”
“Liam?” Ren called. “Are you here?”
A blurry mass of color on the bed slowly came into focus. It morphed from a blob to the shape of a person. The figure developed features and red hair. Liam appeared, dressed in a simple, white outfit, stretched out on the bed’s stiff white sheets. He propped himself up on an elbow. The square pillow dimpled beneath him. Metal clamps hung beneath the bedframe and they swayed as Liam sat up. He squinted at Ren, and then his eyebrows shot up when he saw Asher standing in the corner.
“You’re both here. Are you two… near each other right now? Touching while asleep?”
Ren blushed. The tips of his ears burned. “Yeah, we are.”
Liam’s mouth quirked up. “So, this is the guy? The soldier?” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. Approaching Asher cautiously, Liam eyed him up and down. “You’re shorter than I imagined.”
“You must be the brother,” Asher said. He crossed his arms over his chest. He lifted his chin. “Is this a dream?”
“Yeah, it is.”
Ren ignored the stare-off on the other side of the small room and rapped his knuckles on the wall. “Is this where they are keeping you?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve hidden it from me.”
“I’ve tried to project nicer environments. I didn’t want you to worry.”
Ren frowned. “I’ll always worry about you.” He cast a glance at Liam, and his frown deepened. Liam had dark circles under his eyes like bruises, and his face was pale. His cheeks were hollow, his lips chapped, and he had an abrasion and a collage of purple and green around his jaw. “It’s the older brother’s job to worry.”
“You’re not much older than me.”
“Why did you bring us here?” Asher pressed his hand to the wall, fingers spread. He furrowed his brow, as if trying to figure out how their dream environment could appear so real.
Liam’s shoulders drooped. “I think they’re moving us. There are whispers about insurgencies and rebellions. They’ve made me dream constantly these last few days, going into people’s thoughts, searching for information, manipulating things, and I…” Liam’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I’m so tired. I just want to sleep.”
“Liam—”
“I know I said to live your life, Ren, but I… I want to go home. I want to go home.”
Ren rushed forward and caught Liam in a hug, wrapping his arms around his brother, trying to erase the image of Liam looking worn and lost. Liam rested his head on Ren’s shoulder and clutched at Ren’s back.
“It’s okay. I’m working on it. I promise.”
Liam shivered. His shoulders shook, and he sobbed. Ren’s shoulder gradually grew damp, but he didn’t pull away. Hot with shame and worry, Ren held on, upset with himself that he hadn’t yet found Liam, had doomed him to a life in a cell, similar to what Ren had escaped from with Asher’s help. He cast a glance to Asher, whose stoic expression had softened.
“Do you know where you are?” Asher moved from his spot by the wall. “Any idea at all?”
Liam shook his head, which was buried in Ren’s shirt. “No.” His voice came out thickly. He took a breath and composed himself before stepping out of Ren’s embrace. “I’ve been trying to figure it out, but they’re keeping me in this cell now. I’m not even leaving for sessions anymore. They come in here and…” Liam trailed off. Ren’s gaze zeroed in on the clamps in the bed. Disgust rose in his throat.
“Do you have any idea of a timeline?”
“I don’t… a few days, maybe? It’s been the past week that everything has suddenly increased.”
Asher ran his hand over his jaw. “Whose dreams have you walked in? Maybe there is a clue in there. Are they Cor
ps members? Drifters? Dusters? Have you spoken to Vos?”
Liam wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his scrubs. He shook his head. “I just… there is a guy here who can make you do things with his voice. It doesn’t work on the staff, only on others like us. He makes me go into the dreams, and then I forget after I report.”
Ren jolted. Shock and fear and a vivid memory of Abiathar’s voice compelling him to unlock his cuffs washed over him. He felt sick to his stomach and he staggered away from the bed toward the wall. He leaned against it.
“Ren?” Liam asked. “Are you okay?”
Ren nodded, but pressed a hand to his chest to focus on his breathing.
“We’ve met him before,” Asher said. He moved next to Ren and threaded their fingers; the pressure from both their hands on his sternum grounded Ren. “He’s the one who figured out Ren was a technopath. He was the one who wanted to weaponize your brother.”
Liam’s eyes went wide. “Oh, weeds, I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay. He needs a minute and—”
Footsteps sounded outside the door. Liam’s brow creased and he grabbed Asher’s arm.
“They’re coming to wake me up.”
“Can you fight them?”
Liam shook his head; his green eyes were wild. “No. I can’t. I can’t.”
Ren shook off the flood of memories and grabbed Liam’s hand, forming a triangle between the three of them.
“Hold on! Don’t let go!”
Ren reached for his power and grasped nothing. He looked to Asher, pleading for an idea. Asher’s expression gave nothing away, but his grip on Ren tightened.
“I can’t do anything,” Ren breathed. “I have no power here. And if I try any more, I might access the ship we’re on and—”
The door swung inward, violently banging against the wall. Shadows moved into the room, silhouettes of figures, their details indiscernible. One raised a hand and the impression of a baton folded out.
Liam’s face twisted.
“I’ll find you,” Ren gasped. He gripped his brother’s hand; his knuckles were white, and his palm was slick. “I promise, Liam. I will find you and—”