Page 18 of Alien’s Love Child

CHAPTER 18

TYREN

S leep evades me again. The hum of the ship's engines should be soothing, but my mind races with fragments that don't make sense. Memories scatter like broken glass, cutting deep when I try to grasp them.

I press my palms against my eyes. The darkness behind my eyelids fills with flashes – Jesse's laugh, the curve of her neck, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug. But that's impossible. I've never seen her drink tea.

"You're getting soft, Tyren," I mutter to myself, rolling onto my side. The narrow bunk creaks under my weight.

The boss's words echo in my head: "She'll try to get in your head. That's what she does. Crafty little minx has talked her way out of more situations than I can count."

But these visions feel real. Too real. The way she looked at me today when I adjusted our course – like she knew exactly what I was going to do before I did it. Like we'd flown together before.

My hand traces the small burn scars on my arm; a physical marker that reminds me why I do what I do. The medics said the explosion should have killed me. Sometimes I wonder if it did, and this is some sort of purgatory where nothing makes sense.

The mate bond pulses between us, even through the walls separating our quarters. It's supposed to be impossible – Kaleidians don't bond with humans. That's ridiculous. Yet here I am, feeling her presence like a second heartbeat.

"Get it together," I growl, punching my pillow. "You're Tyren. You work for the boss. That's all that matters."

But if that's true, why do I remember the taste of chamomile on her lips? Why do I know exactly how she laces her boots? Why does every fiber of my being scream that I'm on the wrong side of this mission?

I sit up, running my fingers through my hair. The mate bond thrums stronger, and I wonder if she's awake too, thinking about me. About us. About whatever truth lies buried under these fractured memories.

"I need to stretch my legs," I say to no one, an excuse to get out of bed and pace the quiet hallways.

Something small and solid crashes into my legs, nearly knocking me off balance. A mop of silver hair tilts back, revealing wide eyes that mirror his mother's.

"Sorry!" Leo scrambles back, his tiny hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "I was playing spaceship."

My chest tightens. The kid's fear radiates off him in waves, yet there's something else – curiosity maybe? The mate bond pulses, reminding me of Jesse. This is her son. Our-

No. Not our anything. I've never seen this woman before, the resemblance is a coincidence. She simply must have a type.

"Up!" Leo raises his arms, fear forgotten. "I wanna see out the window!"

My hands move before I can stop them, lifting him easily. His small weight settles against my chest, and something shifts inside me – a crack in the wall of certainty I've built around myself.

"Is it true you can see the stars better from up here?" Leo presses his nose against the viewport, leaving smudges. "Mom says they look different on every planet."

"They do." The words come out softer than I intend. "See that blue one? That's Kalei's sun."

"You're from there! Is it pretty? Do they have ice cream? Mom says some planets don't have ice cream and that's sad."

A laugh escapes me before I can catch it. "We have something better. Frozen crystal fruit that changes flavor while you eat it."

"Really?" His eyes go wide. "Can we get some? Please?"

The earnestness in his voice hits like a punch to the gut. I should put him down. Return to my quarters. Instead, I find myself pointing out constellations, explaining how ships navigate between them.

"Did you know," Leo whispers conspiratorially, "that Mom can fly through an asteroid field with her eyes closed?"

"No, she can't" I say without thinking. "Rena can though."

Leo gasps. "You know Auntie Rena?!"

Footsteps pad down the corridor, and Jesse appears in sleep shorts and an oversized shirt that slips off one shoulder. For a moment I'm pleased I let them bring their luggage on board. Her hair's a mess, curling wildly around her face. Something in my chest tightens at the sight.

"Leo, what did we say about bedtime?" She crosses her arms, but there's no real heat in her voice.

Leo, still pressed against my chest, waves at the viewport. "But Mom, look! Tyren's teaching me about the stars. Did you know there's special fruit on Kalei that changes flavor while you eat it?"

"Time isn't real in space anyway." The words slip out before I can stop them. "The stars don't set or rise here."

"Don't encourage him." Jesse's eyes meet mine, and something flashes in them – recognition, hurt, hope? The mate bond pulses stronger, and I have to look away.

"He's right though." Leo bounces in my arms. "No sun means no bedtime."

"Nice try, spaceman." Jesse steps closer, close enough that I catch the faint scent of engine grease and something floral. "But growing boys need sleep, even in space."

"But Mom-"

"Bed. Now." She holds out her arms, and I transfer Leo over, trying not to notice how our fingers brush in the exchange. "Say goodnight to Da- …to Tyren."

"Night!" Leo wraps his arms around Jesse's neck. "Can we have space fruit tomorrow?"

"We'll see." Jesse's voice softens as she carries him away. "Sweet dreams, little star."

I watch them disappear down the corridor, my hands still warm from where they touched them both. The name feels wrong now – Tyren. Like wearing someone else's clothes.

The smell of coffee draws me to the kitchenette. My steps falter at the doorway as Leo's giggle echoes off the metal walls.

"No, Mom, you're doing it wrong!" He waves his spoon like a conductor's baton. "The spaceship goes whoosh, then zoom, then kaboom!"

Jesse arranges protein cubes into a pattern on his plate. "Oh, excuse me. I didn't realize I had a flight instructor at my table."

"I learned from the best." Leo beams at her. "Remember when you showed me how to dodge asteroids?"

"That was a simulation, mister. And you crashed into every single one."

"Did not!"

My head throbs. A flash of Jesse in the captain's seat, giving orders while Rena's hands dance over controls as she guides us through... No. That never happened.

The mate bond pulses, and Jesse's head snaps up. Our eyes meet across the room. The spoon slips from her fingers, clattering against the table.

"Good mor-" she starts.

I turn and walk away before she can finish, my boots heavy against the deck plating.

Hours later, I'm organizing supplies when voices drift from the cargo hold. Curious despite myself, I follow the sound.

"And this goes here?" Leo sits cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by spare parts. He holds up what looks like a burnt-out power coupling.

"That's right." Jesse helps him connect it to something that might have once been a data pad. "Now we just need to route power through-"

"The auxiliary battery!" Leo finishes. "I remember. You showed me how to fix the com unit last time."

My vision blurs. Jesse's hands covered in engine grease, Par teaching me the peculiarities of the ship's systems. The proud smile when I improved the shield configuration...

The memory slams into me like a physical blow. I stumble back, knocking over an empty crate.

"Are you okay?" Jesse stands, concern etched across her features. "You look pale."

"Fine." The word comes out rough. "I'm fine."

I retreat to my quarters, but the memories follow. They can't be real. They can't be mine. But if that's true, why do I know exactly how Jesse talks to her crew? Why do I remember the sound of her laugh?

The mate bond thrums between us, a constant reminder that nothing about this mission is what it seems.

Much later, I'm checking the navigation systems one last time before turning in when footsteps approach from behind.

"Leo's asleep. We need to talk." Jesse's voice is firm, brooking no argument.

"It's late."

"I've given you time to figure it out yourself." She moves to block my exit. "But I'm done waiting."

My head throbs. "There's nothing to figure out."

"Look at me." When I don't, she steps closer. "He is your son."

The word hits like a physical blow. "He's not-"

"Three years ago. In that alley on Glimner. Rain soaking through our clothes, your hands in my hair-"

"Stop." The memory crashes through my carefully constructed walls: Jesse pressed against wet brick, her lips tasting of rain and desperation.

"You pushed me away," she continues. "Told me to get back to the ship, to stay safe while you handled the warehouse."

My hands shake. "That's not possible."

"The silver in his hair. The way he tilts his head when he's thinking – just like you do. He's your son, Davin."

The name triggers something. Gunfire. Smoke. Jesse's face illuminated by emergency lights as I shoved her toward safety.

"Get out of here!" My own voice echoes in my head. "Go warn the crew. I'll handle this. Go!"

"You remember." Jesse's fingers brush my arm. "I know you do."

The explosion. Heat searing across my chest. The last thought before darkness took me – keeping her safe.

The mate bond surges between us, and suddenly I'm drowning in memories. Jesse's smile across the galley table. Her fingers intertwined with mine. The way she said my name – my real name.

"I told you to run." My voice cracks. "I needed you safe."

"I know." Her hand cups my cheek. "Welcome back, Davin."