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Epilogue

D ahlia

“Am I doing this right?” I ask as I use a wooden mallet to pound a metal stamp into leather. I’m making him a belt, one of my first attempts at leatherworking. I’m not even certain I like this hobby, but I like this part, the part where he saunters over and hunches his big, beautiful body down, pressing his front to my back. Then he reaches around me and tightens his strong hand around mine and taps a few times with the mallet.

Oh yeah. Having him so close to me, breathing on my neck, clasping my hand —that’s definitely fun. The kisses he sneaks to the side of my cheek? Bonus!

We’ve spent almost every minute together in the few months since the wedding. It’s been a blast getting to know him again for the first time.

Little memories are slipping back. He says he’s seen flashes of Asher’s dungeon. He remembers a white dress dripping with red. Out of all the moments of his life that he lost, why he has to remember my deepest moment of shame I have no idea.

But it really doesn’t matter whether or not he remembers —we’re building new memories together.

I wanted to learn how to carve wood, but my first several attempts were such abysmal failures we switched to leather.

At first I hated the smell of the hold, it’s earthy, which, I know, is a ridiculous oxymoron because we’re in space. But now I love the welcoming smell because it’s a rich mixture of leather and wood and expensive, stolen antiquities we inherited from our captors. But mostly I like it down here because it’s our place. We’re more connected down here than anywhere —even the solarium.

We laugh and joke and talk with no need to be serious. And I like that most times when I look up from stamping leather I see my big handsome guy looking at me like he wants to lay me down on the soft pile of furs in the corner. Which, of course, we sometimes do. Well, change the ‘sometimes’ to ‘often’ and it’s more accurate.

Stryker, Steele, and Aries all approached me privately and asked me to teach them to read. I’ve now got a twice-weekly schoolhouse set up and the males are learning so fast it astonishes me. I’m so proud of them, and I have to admit it makes me feel great to be contributing.

“So, Dahl, I was thinking.”

Sometimes we’ll stop a conversation and come back to it an hour or a day later. I think this is one of those moments.

“What, babe?”

“Don’t distract me. You know I love it when you call me sweet names,” his voice is raspy and gruff which means this conversation will probably hit another delay.

“I was thinking about fighting. Actually I was thinking about never fighting again.”

My mouth pops open. I was not expecting that.

“Really?”

“Fighting used to be who I was. It defined me, consumed my identity. It was how I got accolades and extra money.”

And women, I think. He told me all about that, but he’s too much of a gentleman to mention it.

“But I’m not that male anymore. I’m so much more than a gladiator. I’m a mate, perhaps someday I’ll be a father —but I know we agreed to postpone that.

“And I discovered how handsy I am.” He smiles at me because now it’s our private joke. He misspeaks ‘handsy’ and then I correct him. Then he asks what handsy means and I tell him. Then he sidles up to me and shows me just how handsy he can be.

But he doesn’t do that now. He just smiles.

“How would you feel if I quit the fighting life?” He spears me with a serious look. It’s obvious he’s given this a lot of thought before running it by me.

Standing, I turn into his big, warm body, wrapping my arms around him. “I love you, Dax. I’ve never enjoyed watching you in the arena. It’s always scared the crap out of me. I’d be thrilled if no one laid a hand on you again. But it’s not my choice; this is fully your decision. And this will affect the others on the Fool’s Errand . You’ve kept us in fuel and arms almost single-handedly.”

“I’ve been meaning to tell you, Cally put a picture of my dining room sculpture out over the Database. She wasn’t going to sell it, just see what I might get for it. An Emirusian offered fifty-thousand credits.” He smiles proudly. “I can earn my keep selling sculptures.”

“See? Being handsy pays off,” I say, then kiss him. There goes that conversation, because we have way more important things to do like making use of that soft pile of furs for the next hour or so.

He grabs my hand and tugs me toward the pelts, both of us smiling and happy. I was right, being kidnapped by aliens was the luckiest thing that ever happened to me. Well, no, that’s not exactly correct, being thrown into a cell with my strong, brave, smart Dax was the best thing.

The End