Page 17 of Her Alien Cyborgs (The Drift: Haven Colony #10)

Anyone who traveled the void knew that time moved differently there.

The distance between stars was too immense with no landmarks to pass.

Day and night were meaningless constructs marked by the dimming of the lights at a certain time.

Crews learned quickly that the only way to avoid losing track of the days and stumbling around in a fugue was to stay busy.

Hezza was pleased that Kalan and Fyr’enth embraced this new way of life with surprising ease. She’d been worried that after a lifetime of enforced idleness and restrictions, they would struggle with the unending list of chores that filled most of their waking hours.

She ensured that they had enough downtime to watch vids and read through the ship’s database of information on any topic that caught their interest, but otherwise, something was always needing their attention.

By the second day, it was clear that the ship ran better with a crew to help her manage things. By the third day, she wondered how she’d managed to do it without them.

They had the size and strength to accomplish things she couldn’t have.

While they didn’t have the skills or knowledge needed to make the repairs themselves, they were eager to learn.

She taught them everything from how to bang out dents to overhauling the hydraulics that controlled the heavy hatches, which sealed the ship in case of a breach.

As she moved through the ship, she saw the changes, and it made her smile.

The Gambit felt alive again, and so did she.

Was it the sharhal ? In part, yes. She was riding high on endorphins, pheromones, and mind-meltingly good sex.

That wasn’t all of it, though. She liked them.

They were good, decent beings with personalities that were a mix of hard edges and surprising innocence.

Did she still have doubts? Some. But it was hard to be cynical when things were going so well.

They hadn’t done much talking that first night, but in the morning, they’d come up with a plan over coffee, waffles, and more bacon.

She’d explained the risks and rewards for each potential destination.

They’d asked her pointed questions that made her consider things she hadn’t before—like if anyone there might recognize the ship despite the fact she’d swapped transponder IDs.

The Gambit now appeared to be the Artful Dodger , a cargo vessel registered to a small corporation from a backwater part of the galaxy.

Was it legal? Hell no. But it was another layer of protection. One she should have used back at Carnax Station, but she’d been certain the IAF wouldn’t be looking too hard for her.

She wouldn’t make that mistake again. Not when the stakes were this high.

Another error she’d made last time was trying to go it alone.

While many of her friends and compatriots weren’t around anymore, Phylomenia’s reappearance in her life had shown her that she still had friends she could call on, as well as her daughter.

She’d always taken care to keep plenty of distance between Anya and the shadier parts of her life, but this was different.

Anya would want to help this time. The trick was finding a way to let them all know she needed them.

She knew someone on Taza Four who could make it happen, but she didn’t know if Flek was still there or if he was still in the game. They wouldn’t know until they got there, which would take days of travel.

“Ship, where are the rest of the crew right now?” If they weren’t doing anything pressing, it might be a good time to introduce them to the weapons systems. She really hoped they wouldn’t be in any firefights, but she wanted to be prepared for anything.

“Crewmembers Kalan and Fyr’enth are currently in cargo bay three.”

Of course they were. She should have guessed as much.

That was the bay she’d suggested they use as a recreation area.

It was the largest open area on the ship, with enough height to allow them to stretch their wings and fly—or at least glide.

She’d shown them how to adjust the gravity in that section to make it easier for them to stay airborne despite the lack of air currents.

They’d turned one corner into a makeshift gym.

The weights were all cobbled together from spare parts, but they made it work.

She avoided that area, though—not because she was averse to exercise, but her cyborg lovers had decided they wanted more of a challenge and increased the gravity in that small area to twice normal.

She had enough trouble with the slightly heavier gravity when she visited Haven.

The doors were open as she approached, which let her hear the clank and slam as one of the pair lifted weights she couldn’t have moved if her life depended on it.

She stopped at the doorway, one shoulder pressed into the frame, and watched. Kalan had his back to her, his wings outstretched as he squatted while holding a bar with what looked like engine parts strapped onto each end.

She knew every scar on his body now, though she hadn’t heard the history behind all of them. The play of muscles beneath his scales made her hands itch with the need to touch him. The sharhal no longer made it impossible to think, but her libido was still running in overdrive.

Tearing her eyes from Kalan, she spotted Fyr’enth soaring the length of the bay. When he reached the far end, he banked and turned, letting him see her.

“ Zana ,” he called down to her. “How long have you been watching us?”

“Hey, Stormy. I just arrived a minute or so ago.”

Kalan set down the weight bar and turned to smile at her. “Hello, Alyssa.”

She got a tiny thrill every time they said her name. If anyone else dared to use it, she’d have kicked their ass into the middle of next week. But with them, her usual rules never seemed to apply.

“I thought you two might want some time working with the ship’s weapon system. If you’re busy, though, it can wait.”

“Not busy,” Kalan said quickly. “You know how much I love blowing things up.”

She laughed and wagged a finger at him. “But only in simulations. Missiles are expensive!”

She made it into a joke, but the reality was that she didn’t have a lot of money on hand.

Flying around the galaxy doing good deeds might be fulfilling, but it also meant she hadn’t completed a single contract in the last two months.

She had to assume her accounts would be watched, so she couldn’t access what little savings she had.

That was another reason they were headed to the Taza system.

She hoped someone there might buy out her contract for the goods she had on board.

As she considered their situation and how much to tell them, Fyr’enth flew over to her while Kalan made his way on foot.

Fyr’enth reached her first and drew her into his arms for a long, hot kiss that banished all her worries.

He held on to her even after the kiss ended. His gaze was locked on something behind her. She assumed it was Kalan.

“Now?” he said suddenly.

“Now,” Kalan replied.

“Now what?” she demanded. She hated not knowing what was going on.

Fyr’enth sighed and brushed a gentle kiss to the tip of her nose. “I wanted to wait and do this tonight over dinner.” He glared over her shoulder at his brother. “When we weren’t sweaty and in need of a shower.”

“We’ve waited long enough already,” Kalan said.

Hezza placed a gentle hand on Fyr’enth’s chest and stepped out of his arms so she could see Kalan.

He dropped to one knee with his hands resting on his thigh. Fyr’enth joined him, the two of them so tall they were almost eye level with her even kneeling.

“Cutie, Stormy. What’s this?” she asked.

“We have something for you,” Fyr’enth said.

Kalan reached out and held up one hand, uncurling his fingers to reveal a data stick. “We want you to have this.”

She took the device, still unsure what was going on. “I’m missing something.”

Fyr’enth nodded at the item she held. “The contents of the data stick are important but not as important as what we’re doing.” He scowled. “This is why I wanted to wait, Kal. We needed more time to practice.”

“Practice what?”

“Explaining,” Kalan said. “We’ve been learning about Vardarian culture. It’s traditional for males to offer their mahaya a blade at some point during their early courtship.”

Fyr’enth continued the line of thought. “The blade represents the males’ intention to protect their mate.”

She knew about the tradition. What she didn’t understand was why they were talking about it when they had made it clear they didn’t see themselves as Vardarian. She kept her confusion to herself and waited for them to explain.

Kalan touched her hand. “We don’t think you need our protection, Alyssa.”

Fyr’enth placed his hand over Kalan’s. “Well, maybe a little.”

Warmth filled her chest, and a smile played at the corners of her mouth. “Fair enough. I have been known to attract trouble from time to time.”

Kalan smiled back at her, the tips of his fangs showing. “The information on the data stick was given to us by someone on Orio Station. She said it contained everything she could gather about the research being done there and what they did to us. We want you to have it.”

His hand tightened around hers. “You don’t need our protection, but you have earned our trust. We trust you, Alyssa. With our lives, and with the information you hold.”

Her chest tightened as a tidal wave of emotions crashed over her. She felt honored and unworthy at the same time. Blinking hard to hold back her tears, she nodded. How had they gotten here so quickly? And why did it feel so damned right?

She already knew the answer to her question. It felt right because it was right. All of it. Every bit of chaos and craziness had led to this moment. It wasn’t just the ship that felt renewed. She felt it too. She had a fire in her soul that had been missing for a long time.

She just wasn’t sure it would last.