Page 41 of Alien Mercenary’s Wife (Lathar Mercenaries: Warborne #7)

She flexed her left foot as a test and it moved easily. Perfectly. Holy shit. Her eyes shot open wide when fingers moved when she told them to, steady and sure. Whatever they'd done to her, it had actually worked.

She lifted her head to look around. The medical bay around her looked nothing like the tiny one aboard the Sprite .

Warm amber light glowed from the walls. The bed beneath her was larger than anything she'd slept in and adjusted to her every move.

Equipment hummed quietly in the background…

alien technology that looked more like art than medical devices.

A soft sound drew her attention to the chair beside her bed.

T'Raal sat slumped to the side, his elbows on the arms of the chair and his hands clasped loosely over his flat stomach.

His dark hair had come loose from its usual tie, falling forward to hide his face.

Even in sleep, he looked tense as hell, jaw clenched tight.

How long had he been sitting there?

"T'Raal," she said softly.

His head snapped up. Blue-green eyes found hers, and relief flooded his features.

"Reese." Her name on his lips carried weight—gratitude, desperation, something deeper that made heat curl low in her stomach. "How do you feel?"

She sat up carefully, waiting for the familiar stab of pain that never came. "Like myself again. Like..." She paused, searching for words. "Like I remember being."

"Good. That's good." He leaned forward, one hand reaching toward her before stopping himself. "The treatment worked better than Laarn expected. They fixed everything."

Something was wrong. She read it in the tension around his eyes, the careful control in his voice.

"What did it cost?" she asked quietly.

"I had to acknowledge who I am. Publicly. Officially." T'Raal stood, moving to the small viewport that showed stars wheeling past in the darkness. "Crown Prince T'Raal Verran-K'Saan, and heir to the Imperial throne."

Shit. Hearing his formal title made the reality of what he'd done crash over her. For her. He'd given up everything he'd built, everything he'd chosen to be, for her sake.

"T'Raal..." she started.

"Eventually anyway." T'Raal turned from the viewport.

"Why?" The word escaped before she could stop it.

He frowned. "My father won't live forever. When he dies, the crown passes to me whether I want it or not."

She clicked her tongue against the back of her teeth. "Not that. Why did you do it?"

"You know why."

"Tell me anyway."

He dropped back into the chair again and leaned closer.

Close enough that she could see the gold flecks scattered through his eyes.

"Because losing you wasn't an option. Because watching you die slowly while I had the means to save you would've destroyed me.

" His voice roughened. "Because I love you. "

"T'Raal..." She reached for him, needing contact, needing to bridge the distance he'd put between them.

He caught her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers. "I know what acknowledging my heritage means. I know it changes things for both of us. But I'd do it again. A thousand times over."

His certainty hit her hard. "You claimed your birthright for me."

"I claimed it for us. For a future together." His thumb traced patterns across her knuckles. "The crown, the responsibilities, the politics… none of that matters if you're not here to share it."

Heat built behind her eyes, threatening tears she hadn't shed since her squad died. "I never asked you to?—"

"I know." T'Raal lifted their joined hands, pressing a soft kiss to her palm. "You never asked for anything. That's what made the choice easy."

"Easy?" She stared at him in disbelief. "You call giving up your independence easy?"

"Easier than losing you. Easier than living with the knowledge that I could've saved you and chose not to."

"I love you too," she said, the words coming out rough and unsteady. "I love you, and I hate that you had to sacrifice so much for me."

Relief softened his face, quickly replaced by fierce possessiveness. "Don't hate it. It was my choice. My decision." He leaned closer, close enough that she could feel his breath against her lips. "And I'd make it again."

Before she could respond, he kissed her. Soft at first, careful, like he was afraid she might disappear if he held too tight. Then she kissed him back, pouring everything she felt into it, and he pulled her closer.

His hands found her face, fingers threading through her hair as he deepened the kiss. When they broke apart, both breathing hard, he rested his forehead against hers.

"What happens now?" she asked softly.

"Now we figure out how to build a life together. Imperial politics, royal responsibilities, whatever comes next—we face it together."

"As what? The future Emperor and his human mistress?"

T'Raal pulled back to look at her, something dangerous flickering in his expression. Then he rolled up his sleeves, revealing the dark, intricate patterns that traced beneath his skin. "See these? They appeared when we mated. Which means, technically, we're already married."

Her breath caught as she stared at the patterns. "Married?"

"Bonded. Mated for life, by Latharian law." His lips quirked up at the corners. "Which makes you a princess, like it or not. My equal in every way that matters."

"A princess." She tested the word and met his gaze in a panic. " Fuck. I don't know how to be a princess."

"Good thing I don't know how to be a prince either." His smile was filled with wicked amusement. "We'll figure it out together."

She found herself smiling, the first genuine smile she'd felt in months. "I suppose someone does need to keep you from making a complete mess of Imperial politics."

"Exactly." He grinned, the expression transforming his serious features. "Might as well be someone who's not afraid to tell me when I'm being an idiot."

Despite everything, she found herself laughing. "I do have experience with difficult commanding officers."

"Perfect qualifications." His expression grew tender again. "I want you beside me for whatever comes next, kelarris . All of it."

"I want that too." The words came easily. "You keep calling me that. What does it mean?"

"What? Kelarris?"

" Uh-huh." She nodded as he moved to sit on the bed with her, pulling her into his arms.

"Kelarris means beloved. It means heart of my heart. Soul of my soul," he explained, his deep voice filled with rough temptation as he reached up to trace the line of her jaw gently.

She tilted her head to study his expression, seeing past the man underneath.

Her alien prince.

Her husband.

Her everything.