Zeph stood outside her window, in the shadow of his spaceship, peering up at the glass and wood between them. Faded traces of her lavender scent tickled his senses.
If he listened closely, he could hear the others in the household preparing for bed. Some of them, he knew, waited up to watch his ship take-off. Janet wasn’t one of them. Her steady breathing indicated sleep.
Even, settled, comforted-fucking-breaths. If he didn’t know that she wanted him too, the fact that he contemplated taking her against her will would have been candy-crazy. Psychotic.
He pulled out a cig and lit up. The embers brightening up his gloved hands. Smoke twisted through the air; black against the darkness.
By the time it was no more than a bud and discarded ash on the dirt, he’d convinced himself that he was perfectly sugary-sane. Janet’s breaths deepened. His audio-tech focused solely on her. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Zeph could hear her heartbeat like a low beat in the back of his mind.
Clouds drifted overhead, obscuring the stars. Sea fog curled up over the edge of the bluff. It licked and lapped at the giant Montihan house. He wondered what it tasted like.
Lavender. His mouth watered.
It tasted like lavender.