The Host by The Host

feeling of rejection that's making my eyes sting.
    “Will you talk to me? Please?” he murmurs. I can feel his breath on my cheek, and it's a few seconds before I can think at all.
    His eyes make me forget that I am mortified, that I wanted to never speak again.
    “If I got to pick anyone, anyone at all, to be stranded on a deserted planet with, it would be you,” I whisper. The sun between us burns hotter. “I always want to be with you. And not just… not just to talk to. When you touch me…” I dare to let my fingers brush lightly along the warm skin of his arm, and it feels like the flames are flowing from their tips now. His arm tightens around me. Does he feel the fire? “I don't want you to stop.” I want to be more exact, but I can't find the words. That's fine. It's bad enough having admitted this much. “If you don't feel the same way, I understand. Maybe it isn't the same for you. That's okay.” Lies.
    “Oh, Mel,” he sighs in my ear, and pulls my face around to meet his.
    More flames in his lips, fiercer than the others, blistering. I don't know what I'm doing, but it doesn't seem to matter. His hands are in my hair, and my heart is about to combust. I can't breathe. I don't want to breathe.
    But his lips move to my ear, and he holds my face when I try to find them again.
    “It was a miracle–more than a miracle–when I found you, Melanie. Right now, if I was given the choice between having the world back and having you, I wouldn't be able to give you up.
    Not to save five billion lives.”
    “That's wrong.”
    “Very wrong but very true.”

    “Jared,” I breathe. I try to reach for his lips again. He pulls away, looking like he has something to say. What more can there be?
    “But…”
    “But?” How can there be a but? What could possibly follow all this fire that starts with a but?
    “But you're seventeen, Melanie. And I'm twenty-six.”
    “What's that got to do with anything?”
    He doesn't answer. His hands stroke my arms slowly, painting them with fire.
    “You've got to be kidding me.” I lean back to search his face. “You're going to worry about conventions when we're past the end of the world?” He swallows loudly before he speaks. “Most conventions exist for a reason, Mel. I would feel like a bad person, like I was taking advantage. You're very young.”
    “No one's young anymore. Anyone who's survived this long is ancient.” There's a smile pulling up one corner of his mouth. “Maybe you're right. But this isn't something we need to rush.”
    “What is there to wait for?” I demand.
    He hesitates for a long moment, thinking.
    “Well, for one thing, there are some… practical matters to consider.” I wonder if he is just searching for a distraction, trying to stall. That's what it feels like. I raise one eyebrow. I can't believe the turn this conversation has taken. If he really does want me, this is senseless.
    “See,” he explains, hesitating. Under the deep golden tan of his skin, it looks like he might be blushing. “When I was stocking this place, I wasn't much planning for… guests. What I mean is…” The rest comes out in a rush. “Birth control was pretty much the last thing on my mind.” I feel my forehead crease. “Oh.”
    The smile is gone from his face, and for one short second there is a flash of anger I've never seen there before. It makes him look dangerous in a way I hadn't imagined he could. “This isn't the kind of world I'd want to bring a child into.”

    The words sink in, and I cringe at the thought of a tiny, innocent baby opening his eyes to this place. It's bad enough to watch Jamie's eyes, to know what this life will bring him, even in the best possible circumstances.
    Jared is suddenly Jared again. The skin around his eyes crinkles. “Besides, we've got plenty of time to… think about this.” Stalling again, I suspect. “Do you realize how very, very little time we've been together so far? It's been just four weeks since we