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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

T hraxar guided the ship carefully into hyperspace, his body on autopilot while his mind remained back in the market with the lavender child and the cage.

The memory of Rory sitting cross-legged in front of the bars, rolling that bolt back and forth with such gentle persistence, made something in his chest tighten uncomfortably.

He set the course, then checked the readings one final time before rising from the pilot’s seat. Behind him, he could hear the soft voices of Kara and the children in the main cabin. The sound wrapped around him like a warm current, filling spaces in his ship that had been silent for too long.

It felt right. Dangerously right.

He paused with his hand on the doorframe. What was he doing? In the span of days, he’d gone from solitary trader to… what? Rescuer of a human woman and her son? And now a second child?

Don’t get attached, he warned himself. This is temporary. They will leave. They always leave.

He pushed away from the door and made his way to the main cabin.

Kara had the lavender child on her lap, gently cleaning dirt from her face with a damp cloth.

Rory sat nearby, meticulously arranging small objects in a pattern only he understood.

The scene looked so natural, so comfortable—as if they belonged here, on his ship. With him.

“We should eat,” he said, his voice gruffer than he intended.

Kara looked up, her eyes meeting his. “I could help prepare something.”

“No.” He shook his head. “You tend to the children. I’ll manage the food.”

He retreated to the galley, grateful for the distraction.

Cooking had always been a solitary activity for him, one of the few pleasures he allowed himself during long journeys between ports.

Now he found himself considering what the others might eat, what flavors would appeal to them.

He prepared a simple meal of protein cubes, grain, and the few fresh vegetables he had on board.

When he returned with the food, the lavender child was wearing one of the shirts Kara had altered from his old clothes. It hung like a dress on her small frame, but she looked markedly cleaner and less frightened.

“Here,” he said, setting down the tray. “Nothing fancy, but it’s nourishing.”

“Thank you, Thraxar.” Kara’s voice was soft, appreciative in a way that made his skin tingle.

He watched as she helped the children fill their plates. Rory immediately began separating his food by color, while the lavender child sniffed each item cautiously before taking small, quick bites.

“She’s hungry,” Kara observed. “Who knows how long they kept her without proper food.”

His jaw tightened. “That trader will answer for his crimes.”

“You reported him?”

“I sent an anonymous tip to the port authorities before we left.” His tail lashed. “It’s not enough, but it’s something.”

She nodded, then turned her attention back to the children. “Eat, Rory. Just the yellow ones first if you want.”

He filled his own plate but found he had little appetite. The domesticity of the scene before him was both alluring and painful. This wasn’t his family. They weren’t staying. In a few days, he would deliver them to the Patrol station as promised, and his ship would return to its silent state.

“I should check our course,” he said abruptly, setting down his half-eaten meal. “Enjoy your food.”

He didn’t wait for a response, just turned and strode back to the cockpit, where the emptiness felt suddenly oppressive rather than familiar. He sank into the pilot’s chair and stared out at the streaking stars of hyperspace.

What was wrong with him? He’d been alone for years—by choice. After losing his family to the Red Death, he’d vowed never to form those kinds of attachments again. The pain of loss was too great, too consuming. Better to live alone than to love and lose.

Yet here he was, already dreading the moment when Kara and Rory would walk off his ship and out of his life.

And what about the lavender child? Where would she go? The thought of her being processed through some sterile Patrol facility made his stomach turn. She needed care, patience, understanding—all the things bureaucracies typically lacked.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the soft footsteps until Rory was standing beside the pilot’s chair, looking up at him with those solemn gray-blue eyes.

“Hello, little one,” he said, his voice softening automatically. “Did you finish your meal?”

As usual Rory didn’t answer, but he held up his arms. Thraxar automatically picked him up and placed him on his lap. Rory stared out at the hyperspace view, his fingers moving in a repetitive pattern against his thigh.

Thraxar found the rhythm oddly soothing. They sat in companionable silence, watching the stars streak by. After a while, Rory leaned against his arm, his small body warm through the fabric of his shirt.

Something uncurled in his chest—something he thought had died with his family on Ciresia. He allowed his tail to curl protectively around Rory’s back.

“You’re a brave one,” he said quietly. “The way you approached that child in the cage. No fear, just… kindness.”

Rory continued his finger movements, but he leaned more heavily against Thraxar’s arm.

“I wish I had your courage,” he admitted, the words easier to say to someone who wouldn’t respond. “I’ve been running for so long. Hiding from connections. From feeling anything.”

He glanced down at the boy’s tousled brown hair. “But you and your mother… you make me want things I can’t have.”

The door to the cockpit slid open, and Kara appeared, her silhouette backlit by the corridor lights.

“There you are,” she said, her voice warm with affection. “It’s getting late, Rory. Time for bed.”

Rory didn’t move immediately, his fingers still tracing their pattern, and he felt an unexpected swell of pride that the boy seemed reluctant to leave his side.

“Go with your mother,” he said gently. “The stars will still be here tomorrow.”

Rory slid from the seat and padded over to Kara, who ran her hand through his hair. She looked over him, her expression unreadable in the dim light.

“Thank you,” she said. “For everything today. What you did for that child…”

He nodded quickly and turned his attention to the control panel, afraid that if he looked at her, she would see too much. See the longing, the fear, the confusion roiling beneath his disciplined exterior.

“Anyone would have done the same,” he said gruffly.

“No,” she replied. “They wouldn’t have. Most people would have walked away.”

She stepped closer and placed her hand on his shoulder. The warmth of her touch seeped through his skin, and before he could control it, his tail betrayed him—curling around her wrist in an unmistakable gesture of affection.

He froze, mortified. Among his people, such a gesture was intimate, possessive. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, afraid of what he might see in her eyes.

“Goodnight, Thraxar,” she said softly, and if she was disturbed by his tail’s behavior, she didn’t show it.

His tail reluctantly unwound as she stepped back, taking Rory’s hand. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

The door slid closed behind them, leaving him alone with the hum of the ship and the weight of his conflicted emotions. He remained in the cockpit for hours, running unnecessary diagnostics, checking and rechecking their course—anything to keep his mind occupied.

When he was certain enough time had passed for Kara and the children to be asleep, he finally left the cockpit.

The ship felt different now, with others aboard.

Not just the sounds—the soft breathing from the crew cabin, the occasional rustle of movement—but the very air seemed changed, charged with potential.

He made his way to the lounge, intending to review the ship’s logs before attempting to sleep. The room was dark, illuminated only by the ambient glow from the corridor. He didn’t bother with the lights; his eyes adjusted quickly to the dimness.

He sank into his favorite chair, the one molded perfectly to his body after years of use.

The datapad felt cool in his hands as he began scrolling through the day’s records.

His mind, however, kept drifting back to the marketplace, to Rory finding the cage, to Kara’s determined face as she said, “We can’t leave her here. ”

The door to the lounge slid open with a soft hiss. He looked up, his night vision easily picking out Kara’s slender form in the doorway.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” he said, his voice low.

She stepped into the room, and the door closed behind her. “I couldn’t sleep.”

He set down the datapad, suddenly very aware of her presence in the darkened room. She wore the sleep clothes he’d given her—altered to fit her smaller body, but still recognizably his. The sight of her in his clothes stirred something primal in him.

“Is everything alright?” he asked. “Are the children?—”

“They’re fine,” she assured him. “Sleeping soundly.”

She moved closer, her bare feet silent on the deck. In the dim light, her features were softened, her eyes large and dark.

“Then why are you here?” The question came out harsher than he intended, defensive.

She stopped a few paces from his chair. “Because I wanted to talk to you. Alone.”

His tail twitched nervously, trying to reach for her. “About what?”

“About what happens when we reach the Patrol station.” She took another step forward. “About what happens after.”

His heart rate increased. “I told you, I’ll ensure you’re safely processed. You’ll be returned to your homeworld, or wherever you wish to go.”

“And if I don’t know where I wish to go?” Her voice was quiet but steady. “If Rory and I have nowhere to return to?”

He clenched his hand on the armrests of his chair. “The Patrol will?—”

“I’m not asking about the Patrol.” She was directly in front of him now, close enough that her sweet, intoxicating scent surrounded him. “I’m asking about you.”

“Me?” The word came out as little more than a rumble.

“Yes.” She took a final step, bringing her between his knees. “You.”