Outpost by Ann Aguirre

I wasn’t alone. However unlikely, I had family in Salvation. Down below, only Stone and Thimble would have noticed my absence … and they wouldn’t have mourned me long. Death was too much an accepted part of our world for it to be a shocking event.
    “I like them,” Fade said softly. Then he shifted closer, drawing me against his side as he had done to comfort me in the past. This time, it had other meanings, and I curled into him, accepting those new terms. His warmth felt delicious, sinking into my skin and making me indolent.
    “They’ve been good to me.” I paused, thinking about the story Edmund told. “Do you think there’s any truth to it?”
    “What part?”
    “The world being like it is as some kind of punishment?”
    He shook his head. “My dad never mentioned it. And he was right about a lot of other things. So it seems like it’s just something that happened.”
    “Then why do you think they tell the story that way?”
    Leaning his head against mine, he contemplated the question. He rubbed his cheek against my hair, and I was glad I had taken it down, so he could feel its softness, even if it wasn’t bright burnished like some. At last he answered, “People try to make sense of things, and if they don’t know the answers, they make them up, because for some, a wrong answer is better than none.”
    That rang true, as it echoed what I had been thinking about the Wordkeeper earlier. “I guess. But I’d rather have the truth, even if it was uncertain.”
    “That’s because you’re a brave and honest soul.”
    “Aren’t you?” I asked.
    “I try to be.”
    Which wasn’t the reply I expected, necessarily, but he distracted me by cupping my cheek in his hand and kissing me. His mouth tasted sweet from the cider he’d had at supper, and it was hot on mine, delicate and delicious. One kiss turned into several; he ran his hands over my back, pressing me close. I touched his jaw, feeling his movements as he kissed me. Then I slid my hands into his hair, silky and cool, sliding through my fingers. The heat escalated until I couldn’t sit still, and I fought the urge to climb on top of him. By the time he pulled free, he was shivering as if he had a fever. Worried, I touched his brow, and he gave a shaky laugh.
    “I’m not sick, Deuce. You don’t know your own charm.”
    My charm? I hadn’t been aware I had any. It must be the dress , I thought.
    “Hm.”
    I felt shaky, fluttery in ways that embarrassed me, like I could never get close enough to him, no matter how hard I tried. The warmth of his palms on my back made me want to arch like a sleepy cat. So I drew away, partly in self-defense, and left only my hand in his. From his expression, he understood the tactical retreat, but his fingers stroked mine as if to keep those sensations alive. Tingles spread from my fingertips up my arms to sharp little sparks in my elbows.
    “Do you like it here?” he asked.
    “In Salvation or with the Oakses?”
    “Both. Either.”
    I nodded. “It’s different, and some of their beliefs don’t make sense, but overall, I do, very much.”
    “Then you’re not sorry.”
    In his dark eyes, I saw another question, so I shook my head. “Not anymore. I wouldn’t go back if I had the option. I have more freedom here.”
    A sigh escaped him, as if he had been worried that I wished I’d never left the enclave. I hadn’t done that for him, though. I’d sacrificed myself so that my friend Stone wouldn’t be sent on the long walk. The only regret I had was that I hadn’t been able to explain to my brat-mate that I’d made a false confession to save him.
    Fade took my hand between both of his and bowed his head over it, so a lock of night-black hair tumbled over his brow, hiding his eyes. “Can you explain why you spent so much time with Stalker if you weren’t—if you don’t—”
    “If I didn’t give him exclusive kissing rights?” I suspected he was asking a different question, but I couldn’t