Page 37 of Bound to the Alien Orc (Alien Gambits #1)

Chapter 37

Tasha

I lean back, stretching my arms above my head, feeling the satisfying pop of my spine. I’ve been hunched over this project for hours, but I can’t bring myself to mind. Not when it’s for such a worthy cause.

My gaze slides over the rough sketches littering the table, a hint of a smile on my lips. It has taken some time, and more than a few heated arguments, but the design is finally coming together. I can almost picture the finished product now.

The thought of my unborn child sends a wave of protectiveness washing over me. My hand drifts to my stomach, still flat but nurturing a precious secret. A baby. Droilin’s baby. Our baby. The thought brings a smile to my face, a giddy bubble of joy rising in my chest.

It’s been a whirlwind since the Rite, since Droilin’s victory over Garrox. So much has changed, but through it all, Droilin has been my constant, my rock. My love.

I glance down at the ring on my finger, the simple band of luminore that binds us together. Some nights, I still wake in a cold sweat, the memories of that terrible time flooding back. But then Droilin is there, his muscular arms pulling me close, his deep voice murmuring words of comfort. And I know I’m safe. I’m home.

We are still building our life together, finding our way, but I know we will face whatever challenges come our way. As a family.

I look over at the clock, my stomach growling in anticipation. It won’t be long before the midday meal, and Droilin should arrive home at any moment. Since he was named High Chieftain, his responsibilities have only increased, but he is always home on time for the midday meal. A fact that he is extremely proud of.

Just as I am contemplating a quick snack to tide me over, a noise at the door startles me from my thoughts. I rise to my feet, a smile already tugging at my lips. There’s only one person it could be. I hear the familiar sound of Droilin entering the house, the heavy tread of his boots announcing his arrival.

I hurry to the kitchen, eager to greet him. He looks up as I enter the room, a grin lighting up his face. My mate, my heart. Droilin stands at the counter with a half-eaten slice of bread in his hands, his dark eyes warm and full of love. He’s dressed casually, a loose tunic and pants, so different from the armor he once wore. But he’s no less handsome, no less striking.

His gaze slides over me, drinking me in, and his eyes darken with desire. The sight sends a shiver down my spine, a pulse of need racing through me. But there will be time for that later.

“Hello, wife,” he rumbles, the word sending a thrill through me. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing it.

“Hello, husband,” I reply, stepping into his embrace. His arms come around me, pulling me close. I breathe him in, the scent of him, the solid strength of his body against mine.

We stand there for a long moment, simply enjoying the closeness, the warmth. Finally, Droilin pulls back, a frown creasing his brow.

“What is this? You should not be working, my heart,” he chides gently, his hand stroking my barely there baby bump. “Your task is to rest, to keep our little one healthy and safe.”

“I can’t sit idle, Droilin. And you know how stubborn I can be.”

“Ah, yes. I know it well.”

I laugh and swat at his arm playfully.

He catches my hand, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “I missed you,” he murmurs.

I laugh. “It has only been a few hours!”

He pulls back, his eyes twinkling. “A few hours too many,” he declares. “What are you working on that’s so engaging?”

I take his hand, leading him into the house. “Come and see.”

He turns to me, his eyes wide. “You did this?”

“Yes,” I reply, a swell of pride in my chest.

Droilin moves toward the table, his eyes roaming over the detailed drawings. “These are amazing. I know you are a talented engineer, my heart, but I had no idea you were such a skilled designer.”

“I never told you?”

He shakes his head, his expression softening. “You are a woman of many talents, my heart.”

“You flatter me.”

He chuckles, his fingers trailing over the drawings.

The workshop is filled with half-finished projects, blueprints and sketches pinned to the walls. But pride of place goes to my current endeavor.

“What is this, though?”

“A hover cradle,” I reply, excitement bubbling up inside me. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said, about the lack of safety and support for young Morcrestian babies. And your father’s hovercraft inspired me.”

Droilin nods, a thoughtful expression on his face. “And how does it work?”

“It’s powered by wind energy, and has a built-in sensor that detects changes in the environment, keeping the baby at a steady temperature. It also has a built-in speaker system, so the parents can soothe the baby with lullabies or stories.”

I beam up at him, unable to contain my enthusiasm.

“It’s still a work in progress, but I’m hoping it will help make raising a young warrior easier, safer, more comfortable. And maybe someday, we can make them available to everyone.”

Droilin smiles, pulling me into his arms.

“You never cease to amaze me, my heart. And what is this?” He asks, gesturing towards the pile of redwood in the corner.

“For ours, I made a frame from a beautiful redwood from the Jrosk jungle. I’ve been carving designs into the headboard, scenes from Morcrestian legends, from our own story. We can finish it together. As a family,” I say, my throat suddenly tight.

Droilin steps forward, his fingers tracing the delicate lines. “Tasha,” he breathes. “It’s beautiful.”

I lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder. “I wanted to make something special. Something just for our little one.”

His hand comes to rest on my stomach, large and warm. “Our little one,” he echoes, wonder in his voice. “I still can’t believe it, sometimes. That this is real, that we’re here.”

I smile, reaching up to cup his cheek, my thumb brushing over his skin. “Believe it,” I whisper. “This is our life now. Our family.”

He kisses me then, soft and sweet. I melt into him, into the feeling of his lips on mine. It’s a promise, a vow, a declaration of love.

I break the kiss, breathless and giddy. Droilin chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest.

“And how is my little one today?” He asks, his hand moving to stroke my stomach.

“Growing,” I reply, my hand joining his. “I’ve been thinking a lot about names, about the traditions of both our worlds. What do you think about Zander, or Alanna, or perhaps something more traditional, like Drax or Kelzor?”

Droilin laughs, the sound filling the air.

“I have an idea, my heart,” he says, his voice warm.

“Tell me,” I demand, attention captured.

He takes my hands, his expression softening.

“Whatever their name, whatever traditions we follow, our child will be loved fiercely. They will be raised with a fierce spirit and a tender heart. They will grow up knowing they are cherished and protected. That is all that matters, Tasha. All that has ever mattered.”

I nod, tears pricking at my eyes. He’s right. Our child will be loved and cared for, no matter what.

“But I still have a name in mind,” Droilin says, his tone conspiratorial.

“Oh?”

“Doran,” he says, his eyes shining. “It means warrior, and that’s exactly what our child will be.”

I consider it for a moment, rolling the name around in my head. It is strong, noble. It suits our child, and our family.

“I like it,” I say, a smile tugging at my lips. “Welcome, Doran Frosthok.”

Droilin kisses me. The taste of him, sweet and spicy, intoxicating.

A chime sounds, breaking us apart. Droilin sighs, resting his forehead against mine. “That’ll be the Council,” he said. “I’m needed at the Great Hall.”

I nod, understanding. As the new High Chieftain of Morcrest, Droilin’s duties are many and varied. But he always makes time for me, for us.

I smile, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Go,” I tell him, giving his hand a squeeze. “The baby and I will be waiting for you when you return.”

“My heart,” he growls, pulling me close. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

I watch him leave, a sense of pride and satisfaction washing over me.

It’s difficult, being a leader. But together, we will lead our people, and our family, into a bright future.

“See you later, husband.”

“See you, wife,” Droilin replies, his eyes gleam

He steals another quick kiss. “I won’t be long,” he promises.

I watch him go, love and pride swelling in my chest. He’s come so far, my brave warrior. From a disgraced soldier to the leader of his people, guiding Morcrest into a new era of peace and prosperity.

I hear his boots thud down the hallway, the sound of his departure fading. I glance around the workshop, taking in the half-finished projects and scattered drawings. I smile to myself. This is a good place. A happy place.

It hasn’t been easy. There was so much to do in the wake of Garrox’s fall. Alliances to forge, trust to rebuild. But Droilin has faced every challenge with courage and wisdom, and the clans have rallied behind him. Morcrest is changing, becoming a brighter, better place. And it’s all thanks to my mate, my warrior.

Even the STI, see the truth. With the evidence we gathered during my exile, and the testimony of Yalrog and Keklor, they couldn’t deny Garrox’s treachery any longer. They publicly cleared my name, reinstated me as an engineer. I could have returned to my old life at the Orion Outpost, but there was never any question. My place is here, with Droilin, with our people.

It hasn’t always been smooth sailing. There are still those who cling to the old ways, the old prejudices. But we are working to change their minds, one step at a time. Most of the people of Morcrest have welcomed me with open arms, accepting me as one of their own. It warms my heart to know that our child will grow up loved and cherished by so many.

I wander out of the workshop, into the main living area. It’s a cozy space filled with mementos of our life together. Holos of our life-mate ceremony, of laughing with friends and clan. And there, in pride of place, the knife that killed Garrox mounted on the wall.

I was disappointed Droilin wasn’t able to use my electric knife modification in the Rite. I had hoped it would provide an advantage for him against Garrox’s brute strength. But Droilin is adamant that I helped in other, more important ways. He says my faith and love gave him the emotional strength and courage he needed to prevail. Though the rules excluded my device, Droilin insists my contributions meant everything to his victory. In the end, that’s what matters most—that I stood by him and lent my talents as best I could.

I run my fingers over it, remembering that fateful day. The fear, the desperation, the burning need to do something, anything, to help Droilin. It seems like a lifetime ago now, a distant nightmare.

I shake off the memories, focusing on the present. On the warmth of the sun through the windows, the contentment settling in my bones. This is what matters, this life we’ve built together.

I potter around the house, tidying up, humming softly to myself. There’s a peace in these simple domestic tasks, a joy in creating a home for my family. For my mate.

As I’m putting away the last of the dishes, I hear the door open, the sound of heavy footsteps. My heart leaps, a smile already blooming on my face.

Droilin is home.

“Tasha?” He calls, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine.

“In the kitchen!” I shout, unable to keep the excitement from my voice.

Droilin enters the kitchen, his eyes finding me immediately. “I’m home,” he says, the words full of quiet wonder, as if he still can’t quite believe it himself.

“Welcome back,” I reply, going to him. He sweeps me up in his arms, spinning me around. I laugh, clinging to his shoulders.

He sets me down gently, his hand coming to cradle my face. “I have a surprise for you,” he says, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh? What kind of surprise?”

He takes my hand, leading me towards the door. “Come and see.”

We step outside into the cool summer afternoon. Droilin leads me down the path, towards the Great Hall that once housed Garrox and his cruelty. The building has been transformed, rebuilt into a center for community and compassion. There are gardens, where younglings can learn and play. There are rooms for meetings, for celebrations, for coming together as a people.

Droilin pushes open the doors, revealing a scene of lively activity. Morcrestians of all clans are here, laughing and talking, working together to hang garlands of flowers, to set out great platters of food.

“What’s all this?” I ask, turning to Droilin.

He smiles, pulling me close. “A celebration,” he said. “For you, for our child. The clans wanted to show their joy, their support.”

Tears prick my eyes, overwhelmed by the love and acceptance radiating from every face. My eyes well with tears. I lean into Droilin, my emotions running high.

“Keep it a secret, you said! I didn’t think this would mean so much to them,” I admit, my voice thick with unshed tears.

Droilin chuckles, the sound warm and comforting. “I know I said keep it a secret, but our joy is their joy. They care about you, Tasha. You have brought so much light into our world, into my life. You have given them hope, and a future.”

I smile and nod, as Droilin leads me into the crowd of well-wishers.

The festivities last well into the night, music and laughter ringing out beneath the stars. I dance with Droilin, our bodies moving in perfect sync. His hand rests on the small of my back, the other twined with mine, and I’ve never felt so cherished.

As the night winds down, Droilin pulls me away from the crowd, into a quiet corner. “I have one more surprise,” he murmurs, producing a small box from his pocket.

I take it, my fingers trembling slightly as I lift the lid. Inside, nestled on a bed of soft fabric, is a pendant. It’s a luminore crystal, shot through with veins of gold and red. It pulses softly, warm to the touch.

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, tears welling up once more. “What does it mean?”

Droilin takes the pendant from the box, fastening it around my neck. “It’s a heart stone,” he explains. “Crafted from the luminore of our mines, imbued with the love and strength of our ancestors. It is a symbol of our bond, a reminder of our promise to each other, always. It is a piece of my heart for you to carry with you forever.”

I clutch the pendant, feeling it thrum against my skin. “Thank you,” I breathe. “For this, for everything.”

He pulls me close, his lips brushing against mine.

“This is just the beginning, Tasha,” he says, his voice rough with emotion. “Our journey is only just beginning. We have so much more to discover, so much more to explore. I am the luckiest male in the galaxy.”

We stay like that for a long moment, wrapped in each other, in the love that binds us. And as I stand there, my mate by my side, our child growing within me, I feel a sense of peace settle over me. A bone-deep certainty that, no matter what the future holds, we’ll face it together.

And that is the greatest gift of all.

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