Into the Stars (USC Series Book #2)

chapter twenty-eight

INTO THE STARS
———
BRINLEY

The morning rays of sun spill through the sheer curtains, the room glowing and casting a soft shine on the bed where I lay.

The first thing I acknowledged upon waking up this morning was my lack of clothing, first of. And then, I noticed the naked body laying beside me, our limbs entangled. Waking up right next to Malachi this morning was... serene. Comfortable. Oddly idyllic.

There was one—the more sane—part of me that was battling with my heart, which was telling me to stay for as long as possible, enjoying his warmth and the contentment of it all.

Clearly, my heart gave out because thirty minutes later, I am still laying in Malachi's bed and in his warmth.

It's dangerous. Risky. This whole situation is. One week with him and I can already feel myself potentially catching feelings that I am more than sure are not reciprocated.

Which is all the more reason to leave this bed right now but... I just cannot find the will to do so.

My hand is splayed out on Malachi's bare torso, concentrating on the feeling of every steady rise and fall with each breath he takes beneath my palm. Lazily, I trace the beautiful design of one of the many butterfly tattoos scattered across his chest. I take everything in because, within a few hours, this serenity will all be gone. This bubble we have been trapped in will have popped. And life will be back to normal. I don't know what that means for us. Or if there even is an "us."

The light spilling through the window creates a gorgeous glow across Malachi's tanned and tattooed skin. I think I am obsessed with how peaceful he looks currently with the morning sun shining on his bare body, his face relaxed and free of the impassive expression he usually mars.

I close my eyes momentarily, Malachi stirring awake beside me. His muscles pull taut with his deep inhale while he gains consciousness. One arm snakes around my back, tugging me closer to his body until we are essentially cuddling. I can't ignore how right our bodies feel together in such a simple way, and I like it entirely too much.

A grumbled, strained noise falls from his lips and I press my chin to his chest, staring up at him. "Morning," I mumble once he opens his eyes just a sliver, looking directly at me.

If I thought his eyes were beautiful in the darkness, nothing compares to the way they look first thing in the morning, the sun shining on them and making them look like silver.

"Sleep well?" I whisper.

Malachi makes a noise and I can't discern the meaning behind it. "No nightmares, so that is a plus, I guess."

A sad yet pleased smile tugs at my lips. Sad because no one should have to fear sleep because of their past. Pleased because he escaped his demons, even if it was for one night. That is always progress.

A tranquil silence envelops us. His arms remain a constant around my body, heating my body and seemingly protecting me from the world.

"We go back home today," Malachi states, and I know it is a scary thought for both of us. He knows it too or else he wouldn't have said anything.

I dismiss him, ignoring the anxiety that rolls through my body at our impending reality. My hand goes back to his chest, tracing a different butterfly tattoo this time. "Why butterflies?"

Malachi releases a noncommittal sound, leaning back ever so slightly so I can get a closer look at the pieces of art scattered over his body. "I get them every year on my mother's death anniversary." He clears his throat, hesitant to move on. "They, uh, sort of, remind me of her. Butterflies closely resemble the process of spiritual transformation and change. And they also serve to remind us that human life is short, hers being a prime example. My first tattoo was actually a butterfly when I was seventeen, and I haven't stopped the tradition since."