Page 21

“Then humans are fools.” He took another drink, the liquor burning pleasantly down his throat. “Your former mate dishonored himself through his abandonment.”

“You seem to take it personally.”

Thraxar was silent for a moment, considering how much to reveal. The liquor had loosened his customary reserve, and something about the quiet darkness of the ship, the intimacy of the hour, prompted honesty.

“I would give anything to have a child,” he said finally. “But without any Cire females, it will never happen. From what I have heard, the ruling council has attempted artificial reproduction back on Ciresia but with very limited success.”

“But you left?” she asked softly.

His jaw tightened. “We never should have been there to begin with. My family were traders—we lived aboard our ship and traveled widely. We returned just as the plague reached its height and I lost them all—mother, father, brother. I couldn’t remain there after that. I left and never returned. I could not face the emptiness of a world without—” He broke off, the words catching in his throat.

“Without your family,” she finished for him.

“Without hope,” he corrected. “I not only abandoned Ciresia, I have avoided any of the other Cire who have left. That’s why I trade in this sector so far from the central systems. “

“And you are sure that interspecies compatibility isn’t possible?”

He focused on the glass in his hand, avoiding her curious gaze. “So I have always believed. Until recently.”

The implication hung in the air between them, unspoken but unmistakable, and when he looked up she was studying his face.

“So you’ve been alone all this time,” she said, changing the subject slightly. “Trading, traveling.”

“Yes.” He welcomed the shift. “Solitude became… familiar. Preferable to the politics and desperation of Ciresia.”

“I understand choosing solitude,” she said. “After everything with Rory’s father, I kept to myself. It was safer that way.”

“Yet you care deeply for your offspring.”

“He’s everything to me.” The simple declaration carried absolute conviction.

He nodded, understanding completely. “On the asteroid, you placed yourself between him and danger without hesitation.”

“Any parent would.”

“No. Many would not.” His voice roughened. “Your courage was… remarkable.”

She looked down, seemingly uncomfortable with the praise. “It wasn’t courage. Just necessity.”

“They are often the same.” He rose from his seat. “Would you care for a drink of your own?”

“Please.”

He moved to the small cabinet where he kept his few luxuries, selecting a second glass. As he poured a modest amount for her, he became acutely aware of his bare torso, the scars and patterns fully visible in the lounge’s soft light. Among Cire, such casual undress would be unremarkable, but he was uncertain of human customs.

“I apologize for my state of disarray,” he said, returning with her drink. “I had attempted to rest before coming here.”

Her eyes swept over his chest, and something flickered in her gaze—an interest he hadn’t anticipated. “Don’t apologize. I don’t mind.” A hint of color tinged her cheeks as she accepted the glass. “The patterns on your skin—they’re very striking.”

“As I said, they identify lineage.”

“They’re beautiful,” she said, the color on her cheeks intensifying.

The slight huskiness in her voice and the increased sweetness in her scent triggered an instinctive response in him, and his tail gently circled her wrist as he handed her the glass.

He settled back into his chair, oddly pleased by her appraisal. The liquor warmed him from within, softening the edges of his thoughts.

“Have you considered what you will do after we reach the Patrol station?” he asked.