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The weight of her body pressed against mine felt like an anchor to reality—the one thing keeping me from floating away into the vastness of what we’d just become together.

Her heart beat in perfect sync with mine, our shared rhythm echoing through the bond that now pulsed gold and vibrant between us.

Jas’s scent filled my lungs with each breath—citrus and earth spice mixed with something deeper now, marked with my essence as thoroughly as I was marked with hers. Fate-bonded. Claimed. Mine.

I traced the mark on her collarbone with reverent fingers, feeling the raised edges where my teeth had broken her skin.

The bond-mark glowed faintly in the shelter’s low light, a subtle shimmer that marked her as kassari—heart’s match—to any Rodinian who might see her.

My own mark throbbed in response, a pleasant warmth pulsing at the center of my chest where she had pressed her teeth into my flesh.

We remained joined, my knot keeping us locked together, a physical manifestation of the cosmic connection we now shared.

I could feel everything—her racing thoughts, her wonder, the slight soreness in her body from our claiming, the pulsing aftershocks of pleasure that still rippled through her core at random intervals.

Her emotions flowed through me like a river finding its natural course, settling into spaces within me I hadn’t known existed.

“Is it always like this?” she whispered, her fingers tracing patterns on my chest. Her touch sent sparks of sensation through both of us, doubling back through the bond until I couldn’t tell where my pleasure ended and hers began.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, pressing my lips to her temple. “The bond is rare. Sacred. I’ve never...”

“Never thought you’d find it,” she finished for me, the bond allowing her to pluck the thought from my mind as easily as picking fruit from a low-hanging branch.

I nodded, tightening my arms around her smaller frame.

The truth was I’d purposely avoided it—sought isolation in this wasteland to minimize the chance of ever encountering a fate-mate.

I’d seen what happened to Reapers who found their fated pairs—how they changed, how their priorities shifted, how duty became secondary to the needs of their mates. I’d judged them weak. Compromised.

Now, with Jas in my arms, our souls intertwined through ancient blood rites, I understood. This wasn’t weakness. This was transformation—something primal and necessary, written into our genetic code since the first Rodinians looked to the stars.

“You’re thinking too loud again,” she murmured against my skin, a smile in her voice. The sensation of her lips moving against my chest sent another wave of pleasure rippling through us both.

I growled low in my throat, the sound vibrating between us. “Just realizing how wrong I was. About everything.”

Her hand found mine, our fingers interlocking with perfect ease. “We both were. I spent my whole life running from anything that felt permanent.” She lifted her head, her gaze meeting mine with unnerving clarity. “And now I can’t imagine being anywhere but here.”

The admission hit me like a physical blow, the sincerity of her words flowing through the bond with undeniable truth. No one could lie through a fate-bond—not about something this fundamental. She meant it. Every word.

I lifted our joined hands and pressed my lips to her knuckles. “I will spend every day making you glad you stayed,” I vowed, the words tearing from somewhere deeper than thought, somewhere ancient and true.

She smiled, the expression lighting something warm in my chest. “I think I can feel your heart,” she said wonderingly, pressing her palm flat against her own chest. “Like it’s beating alongside mine.”

“It is,” I confirmed, my tail curling more tightly around her ankle. “Part of the bond. We share life force now.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “You mean literally? Like, if I get hurt?—”

“I’ll feel it,” I finished for her. “And if I’m wounded, you’ll know. Distance won’t matter. The bond transcends physical space.”

She processed this, her brow furrowing slightly. I could feel her mind working, cataloging the implications, the advantages, the potential complications. Always the journalist, even now.

“So if something happens to one of us...” she began.

I pressed a finger to her lips, silencing the dark thought before she could fully form it. “Nothing will happen to you,” I said fiercely. “Not while I draw breath.”

The knot binding us together had begun to ease, my body slowly releasing her as the initial phase of the bond settled. I shifted carefully, mindful of her comfort as we began to separate. She gasped slightly at the sensation, a ghost of pleasure-pain rippling through the bond between us.

“Sorry,” I murmured, stroking her hair. “The first time is…intense.”

She laughed softly, the sound like music in the quiet shelter. “You can say that again.” She shifted, wincing slightly as our bodies finally came apart. “Worth it, though.”

I rolled to my side, keeping her tucked against me, unwilling to break contact completely. The completion of the bond had intensified every protective instinct I possessed. The thought of being separated from her—even by inches—made my chest tight with an anxiety I’d never experienced before.

“The bond will settle,” I explained, reading her confusion as she felt my sudden spike of tension. “The first few days, the urge to maintain physical contact will be…strong.”

“I can tell,” she said, amusement coloring her voice as my tail refused to unwrap from her ankle. “Your tail has a mind of its own.”

I huffed, not bothering to deny it. “It knows what it wants.”

“And what’s that?”

“You,” I said simply. “Always you.”

She traced the line of my jaw with gentle fingers, her touch igniting small fires beneath my skin. Through the bond, I felt her satisfaction at my response, the way my breathing quickened, my pulse jumped.

“We need to leave soon,” I said reluctantly, forcing my thoughts back to the dangers waiting beyond our temporary haven. “The tech is stirring. The longer we stay, the greater the risk.”

She nodded, sobering at the reminder of the world beyond our bond. “How long do we have?”

“Until morning, at most,” I said, glancing at the shelter’s environmental display. “The sensors picked up increased activity while we were…occupied.”

Her lips curved in a small, private smile at the understatement. “Where will we go?”

“The nearest outpost is three days’ journey on foot,” I explained, running a mental inventory of our supplies. “If we travel at night and shelter during the hottest part of the day, we should make good time.”

“And then what?” she asked, the question layered with uncertainty that flowed through the bond like a cold current. “Will your people accept me? Accept us?”

I hesitated, unwilling to lie to her, especially now when she would feel any deception through our connection.

“Fate-bonds are sacred among my kind,” I said carefully.

“Even one with an off-worlder would be respected. But there will be questions. Concerns about the tech that brought you here, about what it means that Legion systems recognized you as…something to investigate.”

She absorbed this, her mind working through the implications with impressive speed. “You think I triggered something. When I arrived.”

“I know you did,” I confirmed, stroking her back in a soothing rhythm. “The question is why. What is it about you—about humans—that ancient Legion tech finds interesting enough to wake for?”

She shivered slightly, and I felt her fear—not for herself, but for what it might mean for us, for this bond we’d barely begun to explore. I pulled her closer, wrapping my larger frame around her as if I could shield her from the universe itself.

“Whatever comes,” I promised, my voice a low rumble against her hair, “we face it together now. The bond gives us strength beyond what either of us possesses alone.”

She nodded against my chest, her determination flaring through our connection like a beacon. “Then we should get ready. If we only have until morning...”

I released her reluctantly, both of us feeling the loss of contact like a physical ache as we separated.

We moved around the small shelter, gathering supplies, checking equipment, preparing for the journey ahead.

I noticed how she kept glancing at me, how I constantly tracked her movements, how we found excuses to brush against each other as we worked.

The bond, new and hungry, demanded proximity.

I calibrated the sand-pulse rifle while she packed the portable water purifier, her movements quick and efficient.

Through our connection, I could feel her focus sharpening, her journalist’s mind categorizing and analyzing our situation with pragmatic clarity.

Pride swelled in my chest—my mate was no fragile thing to be coddled.

She was strong, adaptable, fierce in her own way.

“Your commander,” she said suddenly, looking up from her task. “Leontis. Will you report to him about me? About us?”

The question struck at the heart of the conflict that had been brewing inside me since I’d first caught her scent. Duty versus fate. Legion versus bond.

“I’m supposed to,” I admitted, setting the rifle aside. “Protocol demands immediate notification of any anomalies, especially those relating to the buried tech. You qualify as both.”

She absorbed this without visible reaction, but I felt the spike of apprehension through our connection. “And what would happen then?”

I moved to her side, unable to bear the distance between us any longer. My hands found her shoulders, turning her to face me. “They would take you for questioning. Study you. Try to understand how you triggered the systems.”

Fear flashed in her eyes, but she didn’t look away. “And you? What would happen to you for…for bonding with me instead of reporting me?”