Page 15 of The Last Hunt

The next day was worse. Their food stores were dangerously low, and the temperature in their pod kept dropping. It was thirty degrees fahrenheit which wasn’t horrific, but wasn’t sustainable, especially for long periods of time. Luckily they had access to water, and they’d both drank as much as they could, but it didn’t make her feel full. She had a constant low-level headache right behind her eyes. The red light from Jupiter was starting to make her feel unbalanced.

They got under the blanket after another fruitless day, and Maeve pressed her forehead against Aethon’s, her eyes squeezed shut. She tugged him closer and he wrapped his arms around her.

“We’re not going to fucking die,” she whispered.

“We’re going to fucking live,” he replied. “Keep on being strong, chrissah.”

Maeve had opened her eyes then and met Aethon’s gaze.

“Don’t call me that, Trell,” she whispered.

“Why not?” His cheekbones were sharper now, his stubble creating a shadow over his face. Maeve wondered what she looked like. She felt thinner. Like some of her muscle mass was wasting away. They’d been in the pod for six full days.

“Because you don’t know what it means,” she replied. “Not really.”

“I do know,” he said. He raised a hand to cup her cheek.

Maeve had felt an overwhelming mixture of desire and desperation. The likelihood of them being rescued was so slim. And in a day or so, the pod wouldn’t have enough power to maintain life support. They were going to die. She gritted her teeth. Was she really going to die without squeezing every last bit out of whatever life she had left? She wanted a full life. But if she wasn’t going to get that, she could at least take any scrap of pleasure left for her. Maeve felt like death was breathing down her neck. Dark, cold, everlasting. She wanted to light a fire to keep it at bay - just for a little while.

Maeve raised her hand and pulled Aethon’s palm away from her cheek, bringing it to her mouth. She pressed a kiss to the center of his hand. His eyes flared and he wrapped his other hand around her arm.

“We’re not going to fucking die, Aethon,” she said, her voice low.

“No,” he agreed. “We’re going to fucking live.”

Maeve brought Aethon’s hand down to her breast. “Touch me,” she whispered. His eyes finally went soft, his lips parting in a sigh. Maeve leaned forward, her mouth an inch away from his.

“Chrissah,” he groaned. “Do you want this because -”

“I want this,” she whispered. “Isn’t that enough?”

He squeezed her breast and then traced his long fingers along the band of her bra, teasing the skin underneath. “You’re a thorn in my side, Maeve.”

“I think you like getting pricked by me,” she replied.

He chuckled and ducked his head, pressing a kiss to her neck that made Maeve shudder. “I do.”

The tension between them rose until all fear was blown from Maeve’s mind. Aethon stared at her with such raw want. No one had ever looked at her like that. A tiny part of Maeve thought that it was a good thing they were going to die soon, because she didn’t think anyone else would ever look at her the way he was right then. And now that she’d experienced it, nothing else would ever measure up.

Aethon dragged his mouth up her neck, laying kisses on her jaw and behind her ear. He shifted her underneath him, and Maeve slid her hands up his sides, tracing the tattoos she could barely see in the red dimness with her fingertips. She let her legs fall open around him.

He drew back and looked down at her. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

Maeve almost full on laughed. “We’ve been trapped in the same room for a week, Aethon. You’ve seen more of my bathroom habits than anyone else in the galaxy. And neither of us have taken a proper shower in -”

“Accept the compliment,” he growled. He took the opportunity to lower himself fully into the cradle of her hips, pressing his hardening length against her. Though they were both still wearing their underwear, Maeve knew he was big. She could feel every inch of him pressed up against her.

“Oh god -” she hissed.

“Accept the compliment,” he repeated.

“Shut up and kiss me,” Maeve said. She reached up and hooked her hands behind Aethon’s head, dragging him down so that he was resting fully on top of her. His arms were braced on either side of her.

Maeve leaned up just slightly and captured his lips with hers. His kiss was unyielding and thorough. He ground his hips against her as he delved his tongue into her mouth, a precursor of things to come.

“Tell me we’re not going to die,” he said against her mouth. “Tell me, Maeve.”

Maeve leaned her forehead against his, her hands pressing against his stubbled cheeks. “We’re going to live.” She reached down and snapped the band of his boxers in a playful maneuver that defied their circumstances. “Now take these off.” Aethon chuckled.