Amy A. Bartol

You cannot thrive under the wrong stars, Kricket_ the stars here are in opposition to you_ can__ you feel it?_ Let us take you home.

I'm stone, nothing touches me-nothing.

I should love her like there is an ache that won't go away unless I'm with her.

Okay, you must have forgotten that I know when someone's lying-it's one of my special, freaky priestess gifts, remember-the one you love to use until it becomes inconvenient for you? You can try to throw me off, but even half truths ring false with me.

We__l sleep when we__e tired. When we wake, I__l find a way to make you laugh and I__l live in the sound of it._ My throat gets tight because I long for that day to be now. __e__l find somewhere you__e never been and we__l make it ours__ill it with memories of us. That__ what I want._ I finish with the alcohol swab. Leaning close, I gently blow on his healing wound to ease the sting. Reed takes my hand and brings it to his lips, kissing it tenderly. __nd when we get that sleep, there will never be a your side or a my side of the bed__e__l always meet in the middle. And when I hold you there, in our bed, you__l let me rest my lips here._ Reed lets go of my hand to move his thumb to caress the sensitive skin of my neck just beneath my ear. I get swept up in him: my body his with one touch. I turn and rub my cheek gently against his palm. __nd we won__ rush...ever,_ I murmur, forgetting to be scared. I want that future with him. __he world can spin around us but we__l take our time, savor every moment._ My head rests on his shoulder. __ust you and me.

War sounds romantic, heroic even, until everyone you know starts dying.

I prefer my justice to be blind.