“Jak’ri stared at her. “There are no Gathendiens on Purvel, Ava.” The Lasarans and their Aldebarian Alliance allies had decimated the Gathendien military and driven whatever remained to the outer reaches of the galaxy a long time ago.
His heart clenched when a tear spilled over her lashes and trailed down one cheek.
Her throat worked in a swallow. “That’s why I don’t think I’m on Purvel.”
Jak’ri just stared at her, uncomprehending.
She motioned to the vast blue ocean beyond the cliff. “I don’t think this is real.” Another tear slipped down her cheek. “And I really want this to be real, Jak’ri.” Easing forward, she slid her arms around him, pressed her face to his neck, and hugged him tight. “I wish this were real,” she said brokenly. “I wish you were real.”
Sliding an arm around her, he cradled her close as he kept them afloat. “I am real, Ava. I’m right here, holding you.” He pressed a kiss to her hair. “It’ll be all right. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”
Squeezing him tighter, she whispered, “I wish this were real.”
And the despair in her sweet voice made him want to weep, too.”
―
Dianne Duvall,
The Purveli