Page 57 of Autumn L.A.W

“Ground rules,” he echoed. “Yes.”

They moved inside. The soft lamp cast warm light across the cramped beds, shadowed corners, and the two duffel bags that represented their entire portable lives.

Sahara opened her bag, grabbed her notebook, and sat cross-legged on his lower bunk. Ezra stayed standing for a moment, then sat on the other end, turning so they faced each other like two diplomats negotiating a treaty.

“Rule one,” she said. “If the obelisk calls me again, and I’m awake, I won’t go alone. And the same goes for you.”

“Agreed,” Ezra said at once. “Rule two. If either of us feels compromised, we tell the other immediately.”

Her brows lifted slightly. “Compromised… I can’t tell you when I’m dreaming. What do you mean? Emotions?”

A corner of his mouth curved. “Any vulnerability, especially emotions.”

She looked down at her hands. “That sounds dangerous.”

“It sounds honest.”

She blew out a slow breath. “All right. Rule three. A whole new one. We loop in Rayna and Joell, even if I have to borrow the ship’s radio or steal the captain’s SAT phone, as soon as we have something useful. Not just ‘the rock thinks I’m pretty.’”

Ezra’s laugh was soft. “That may be the first time anyone has called an ancient obelisk romantically biased.”

“It’s imprinting,” Sahara said more quietly. “Not love. Not want. Just making me its functioning puppet.”

“And you still have a choice,” he said gently. “That is the one thing you must refuse to surrender.”

“And what if I’m under its spell again?”

“From now on, we don’t keep watch on the object. We keep watch on each other.”

Their eyes held, a moment too long. But not long enough. Sahara cleared her throat first. “There’s one more rule.”

“I’m listening.”

“If I start to slip again,” she said quietly, “don’t be polite about stopping me.”

He didn’t joke. Didn’t soften it. “I wasn’t polite the first time.”

“What do you mean? Did you hit me over the head and drag me like a caveman?”

“Almost.”

“Oh.” Something in her settled at that. But why? You’re just relieved that he’ll keep you and the damn obelisk from making sweet-sleep-love.

The ship rolled, wood creaked, the sea kept breathing.

Ezra rose. “You should try to rest.”

“You should too,” she replied. “You took first watch. And saved me from scaling the world’s ugliest jungle gym.”

“Occupational hazard,” he said lightly.

She hesitated.

Then, because they were past pretending, she added, “And thank you. For the creative grounding technique.”

His ears flushed faintly. “It was statistically effective.”

She snorted. “Sure. We’ll call it science.”