Setting Fire to the Stars (a MM Sci-Fi Romance)

Chapter 9: Confrontation

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Lauren
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"Wake up."

A sudden breath of morning air filled my lungs as my eyes snapped open. Radiant daylight streamed across the grey surface of the ceiling, colors dancing over my face where the sun caught on drops of rain on the window. The pleasant chirping of songbirds outside sang in my ears. The smell of bacon and seasoned eggs lingered in the room and my empty stomach rumbled with hunger.

Obviously, this wasn't my school dorm room. A throbbing pain in my side drew my attention. Touching the area around my ribs gingerly, a sharp grunt of pain left me feeling drained.

"Shit—" I hissed through clenched teeth. Carefully, I sat myself upright to find myself seated in a leather chair. My insides ached as though I'd been steamrolled by a truck.

"Ah, he lives," came a melodic tenor near my right-hand side.

Annoyance prickled across my skin as I already guessed who it was. Sure as the dawn, Wyatt stood wearing fresh clothes, the brown suspenders and slacks reminding me of my old English teacher. I noticed that the man always managed to dress well, even in the midst of an alien apocalypse. Still, the argument we had the night before grated on my patience.

Speaking of last night, all the memories from the past two days abruptly flooded to the forefront of my mind and my head spun in a swivel to the large bed where I'd last seen Peter lying with a fever. The bed was empty, the sheets made up as though he had never been there. An unstoppable wave of fear surged through me, followed quickly by fury.

Chucking the blanket from my body, I leaped out of the chair and clutched a fistful of Wyatt's shirt. The blond tried to shove me off, but I still managed to drag him down to my height. My blood pounded loudly in my ears, anger stealing all rational thought and weighing down the stone lodged in the pit of my stomach.

"Where is he?" I seethed, crushing his crisp dress shirt between my fingers. "If you've touched even one hair on his head, I swear—"

"Lauren."

That familiar, deep voice instantly cooled my inner fire, my gaze fixing on the man standing at the top of the stairs.

Peter stood there in a navy blue shirt and jeans, his white sneakers exchanged for a pair of brown boots. The top was a tad too tight, the shelves emphasizing the defined muscles of his upper arms and torso, straining against the confines of the dark fabric. Ebony hair hung just shy of his brows, appearing freshly washed. Peter's eyes were focused and clear from the illness of yesterday.

My heart instantly jumped up into my throat. God, he looked incredible. Sexy.

"I'm fine. You can let him go," he assured me, taking a step towards me.

My lips parted, my grip easing on Wyatt's shirt.

With an indignant huff, the accosted blond tore himself out of my grasp and stepped out of reach, smoothing out the wrinkles with a scowl. "So much for gratitude."

I couldn't spare Wyatt a glance, all of my attention was held captive by the man in front of me. Peter's complexion was so much better than before, the warm skin of his collarbone on full display. The weariness in his face had all but vanished and that burning knot of anxiety nestled in my chest finally deflated like a burst balloon. "H-How do you feel?" I stammered. God, why did I feel so nervous? "Any pain?"

For a moment, Peter just stood there silently, his attention nowhere but me, the dark blue and specks of seafoam green in his eyes colliding like a vigorous riptide. My heart rate kicked up as he remained silent, his attention narrowing on a spot near my neck. I watched his Adam's apple bob, his hands flexing at his sides as if he didn't know what to do with them.