Page 24 of Fifth (Intergalactic Warriors #5)

Her turn—she speared a wedge of the root mash and a length of blistered greens, brought both to his lips.

Salt caught on his lower lip. She brushed it away with her thumb and fed him the next bite leisurely, just to watch the way his throat worked.

He hummed, low, and cut fruit into thin crescents, pale and dripping, tipping one to her mouth and then one to his.

The rhythm settled: fruit to her, greens to him, meat shared.

They ate until the tray was nearly bare, laughter coming easily between mouthfuls and the scrape of forks, heat ebbing to a soft glow that sat warm under herskin.

“Do your parents know you were captured by slavers?” Locus asked, thumb warming her knuckles. “What do they currently believe?”

“I don’t know,” Hannah admitted. Sheset the fork down and stared at the last wedge of fruit as if it could tell her the right order of things. “It’s been two weeks since we last spoke. They have to be frantic. Idon’t know what they think happened. An accident. Worse.”

“How did they take you?”

“The last I remember, I was at a bar with friends. I woke up in a cage.” Her gaze fixed on him. “And then you showed up.”

Locus didn’t reach for the fork. He reached for her fingers. “We shall make a plan for seeing your family.” His tone turned practical without losing warmth. “First, we contact them shortly. Your voice, not mine. Abrief message to say you are safe and will call. Today.”

She nodded, breath catching. “Okay. Second?”

“Second, we decide what to tell them about the past two weeks.” He studied her face. “Do you want them to know about the slavers?”

Her stomach lurched. “I’m just not sure. Iwant to tell them the truth. Ialso don’t want to watch my mother break. Maybe we play it by ear?”

“Perhaps we give them a true thing that is not the whole thing,” he said.

“Medical quarantine after a violent incident. We focus on the need to evacuate you for treatment. You are cleared and coming. Details in person. Once we see them, you can tell them the truth about the slavers if that seems more tenable.”

She let the words settle. They tasted possible. “Third?”

“Appearance,” he said. “Do you want me to look Earthen?”

She pictured her parents’ faces if a seven-foot amethyst-eyed warrior walked into their kitchen. “Yes. Earthen.”

“I will adapt,” he said. “We can tell them that I rescued you from the accident or from slavers, if that becomes necessary. They will believe that, given my size.”

“Fourth,” she said, finding the rhythm with him, “what do we say about us?”

He held her gaze. “Do you want to tell them we are mated?”

Her mouth went dry. “Married? If I say that word my mother will start a list and cry into it.” A breath that was almost a laugh. “Not yet. Not as a word. We can say we are committed. That I’m safe and happy. That you’re my partner. We can tell them more once they’re breathing again.”

“Then that is what we say,” he agreed. “Committed. Partner. Your choice.”

She squeezed his fingers. “Fifth: where?”

“Their home,” he said. “Daylight. Quiet. Isuggest inside their house, if they insist, but a park is better. You choose.”

“Their house,” she decided. “They won’t let me meet them anywhere else first.”

“Sixth, safety,” he continued. “I will stay one step behind you. Sixth will put a perimeter two streets out without being seen. Translators on. If anyone approaches who should not, we leave.”

“Seventh,” she whispered, throat tight, “if they ask where I’ve been?”

He spoke it clean. “We give them what we agreed, medical care after a violent incident. No specific designation. You were moved and protected. You are cleared. You are home.”

She breathed. It didn’t solve the ache, but it gave her something to hold. “And if they ask about the future?”

“We say we are building one,” he replied. “Together. We will honor your customs and mine. If they ask about marriage, we say we will have a ceremony your way when you are ready.”

Her eyes burned. “And if they ask if you’re human?”

“We do not tell them unless you wish it.” His mouth softened. “If they press, Iwill be what keeps them calm. Later, if you want the truth, we will give it to them.”

Hannah picked up the final slice of fruit and held it to his mouth.

“Here’s what we agreed to,” she said, as if saying it made it real.

“We call today. Short message. I’m safe.

I’ll come see them tomorrow. You look Earthen.

We say partner, not married. We tell them I was under medical care after an accident and that I’m cleared. We keep the rest for later.”

He bit the fruit and nodded once. “Affirmative.”

She caught his wrist, alaugh slipping out. “And until then? Just… be my quiet place.”

“I am.” He reached past the tray and pulled the bedding higher over their legs as if that simple act could keep the plan in place. “We will do this. Step by step.”

He reached for the corner of the sheet as if to tuck her in. She shook her head, smiling. “Shower. Fast.”

“Affirmative.” Two fingers touched the wall panel. “Bathing chamber. Cleanse and rinse, low heat.”

The door whispered open to the same chamber she had used before—panels giving off a low, ambient glow, steam once again lifting from invisible seams. At a brush of his fingers, water poured in a seamless, soundless veil from overhead.

The sonic field kept the air warm as the dark floor wicked moisture away with no visible drain.

They went in together. Warm spray fell in a steady sheet.

Locus stepped in behind and set her where he wanted her under the fall, one palm firm at her hip, the other tipping her chin so the water sluiced her face.

His touch was assured, skimming her shoulders, working soap through her hair, careful over the places his teeth had marked.

She soaped his chest in return, along with the long planes of his back, quick and efficient.

Their bodies bumped once and he caught her with a low, rough growl.

He cut the heat for the last pass, acool rinse wakingskin.

She hissed, then grinned.”Done,” she said, breath easy again.

He touched the panel and the air-dry engaged. Warm currents spiraled down while a faint sweep of light passed over their skin, drawing moisture away without a towel. In moments they were dry. They returned to the bed clean and loose-limbed. He lifted the sheet and pulled herin.

“Should I call my parents now?”

“Give me a moment. Iwill route the call through a secure relay and send your ‘I am safe’ message first—voice only.”

The line opened and her mother broke on Hannah’s name, tears and relief pouring through the speaker. Her father came in gruff, questions clipped, and then steadied as she said, “I’m safe,” again and again.

“Are you hurt?” her father demanded.

“No,” Hannah said. “I’m being cared for. Ipromise. I’ll come tomorrow.”

Her mother sobbed. “Tomorrow. Oh, Hannah—tomorrow.”

Her father cleared his throat. “Bring the person who’s been taking care of you so we can thank them.”

“What time?”

“Ten tomorrow morning.”

“Ten,” she said. “I love you.”

Unable to sit still after the emotional conversation, she and Locus dressed and left the room.

The corridor outside overflowed with quiet, lights set to mimic a late hour.

She clung to his hand. He moved beside her like a wall that breathed.

Apair of warriors passed and nodded. Amedic rolled a cart and didn’t lookup.

Sixth turned a corner with two officers. He saw Hannah first. It was obvious in the way his attention settled on her face and not on Locus’s shoulders. He lifted a hand and the others fell back a step. He stopped at a respectful distance and spoke to Hannah as if she were the only one there.

“Was it your choice?”

“Yes,” she said, clear.

He gave a single nod that read as approval. “Good.” He turned his head the slightest degree toward Locus. “Debrief at third hour.” Then he walked on with his officers, leaving silence in his wake and the clean relief of not having to defend what washers.

Back in their room Hannah stood at the door and let her back press to it as it sealed.

She laughed a little under her breath and then crossed to the bed.

She climbed in and Locus gathered her without words.

She tucked her forehead under his chin and let her body soften into sleep, hearing again what he had breathed against her shoulder the first time they made love: “You are safe with me from now on.”

The vow settled over her like a warm blanket, the vow one she’d finally begun to believe. She tucked herself beneath it, fingers linked withhis.

Sleep found her holding one small, certain thought. Tomorrow, she would take him to her parent’s house and then they’d begin the rest of their lives together. Lives filled with a bright, danger-free future.