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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

K ara settled the children at the small table in the lounge area, datapad in front of each of them.

Talia’s quick mind absorbed information like a sponge, her eyes wide with wonder at each new discovery.

Rory worked through his patterns with methodical precision, the same lessons he’d done yesterday and would likely do tomorrow, finding comfort in the repetition.

“Is it okay if I stay?” Thraxar asked from the doorway, his big body somehow managing to look hesitant.

“Of course.” She smiled at him, surprised by his question. “You don’t need permission on your own ship.”

“I didn’t want to intrude.” His tail swished behind him, betraying an uncharacteristic nervousness.

“You’re not intruding.” She patted the seat beside her. “Come help Talia with this section on stellar navigation. I think you know more about that than I do.”

He settled beside them, careful not to crowd the children, but Rory immediately scooted his chair closer until his small shoulder pressed against Thraxar’s arm. He looked down, startled, then wrapped his tail around Rory’s back.

For the next hour, she watched them work together. Thraxar’s deep voice rumbled patiently as he explained concepts to Talia, his finger gently tracing star charts on the screen. Occasionally he’d glance over at Rory’s work, offering a quiet word of encouragement that made her son hum with pleasure.

She’d never seen Rory so comfortable with anyone outside herself. Not his father, not the doctors, certainly none of the miners or guards at the asteroid. Yet here he was, leaning against this massive alien warrior as if he belonged there.

“I have something for you both,” Thraxar said when they finished the lesson. He reached into his utility belt and pulled out what looked like a tangle of metal parts. “It’s not quite finished yet.”

The children watched, fascinated, as he delicately connected tiny components. She leaned forward, equally curious.

“There,” he said after a few minutes. He placed the small mechanical device on the table, and she realized it resembled a silver beetle with intricate gears visible through its translucent shell.

“What does it do?” Talia asked, eyes wide.

Instead of answering, Thraxar touched a nearly invisible switch.

The beetle’s legs began to move in a rhythmic pattern, creating a soft clicking sound as it walked in a perfect circle.

Lights inside its body pulsed in sequence—blue, green, yellow, red—casting tiny rainbows across the table’s surface.

Rory’s hands fluttered with excitement. He leaned forward, transfixed by the pattern of movement and light.

“The pattern changes,” Thraxar explained, his voice soft as he watched Rory’s reaction. “It never repeats exactly the same way twice, but always maintains harmony in the sequence.”

Her throat tightened. He’d made something specifically designed to appeal to Rory’s love of patterns, but with enough variation to gently expand his experience.

Talia clapped her hands. “It’s beautiful!”

“You can each have one,” he said. “I will finish Talia’s tonight. Hers will interact with Rory’s—they’ll recognize each other and create complementary patterns when placed together.”

“You made this for them?” she asked, unable to keep the wonder from her voice.

He ducked his head, the ridges along his skull darkening slightly. “It’s just some spare parts. Nothing special.”

But it was special. The care he’d put into creating something that would delight both children equally, the thoughtfulness behind the design—it spoke volumes about the male beneath the warrior’s exterior.

Something shifted in her chest, a warmth spreading outward that had nothing to do with the ship’s temperature controls.

The rest of the day passed in a comfortable rhythm.

Thraxar showed them how to operate more of the ship’s systems, his patience never wavering as Talia peppered him with questions and Rory needed multiple demonstrations before trying anything new.

They ate together, played together, existed together in the confined space of the ship with an ease that should have been impossible given how recently they’d met.

By evening, she found herself watching him when he wasn’t looking, studying the play of light across his patterned skin, the grace of his movements despite his size, the gentleness in his hands when he helped Rory arrange his collection of treasures.

When bedtime came, Talia fell asleep quickly, exhausted from the day’s excitement. Rory took longer, needing his usual routine of soft humming and gentle back rubs before his eyes finally closed. She sat with them until she was certain they were both deeply asleep, then slipped out to find Thraxar.

He was waiting in the corridor, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

“They’re asleep?” he asked.

She nodded. “Out like lights. Your beetle toy is clutched in Rory’s hand. I don’t think he’s letting go of it anytime soon.”

His mouth curved in what she now recognized as his version of a smile. “Good. I hoped he would like it.”

“Like it? Thraxar, that’s the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given him.” She touched his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric. “You understand him in a way most people never bother to try.”

He looked away, uncomfortable with the praise. “I just paid attention.”

“That’s exactly my point.” She squeezed his arm gently. “Most people don’t.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the ship humming quietly around them.

“I should show you to my cabin,” he said finally. “You need a proper night’s rest.”

“Lead the way.”

He guided her past the lounge to a door tucked away at the end of a short corridor. She’d assumed it was some kind of storage room, but It slid open at his touch to reveal a space that was surprisingly spacious compared to the crew cabin she’d been sharing with the children.

The room was spare but comfortable—a large sleeping platform built into one wall, covered with what looked like soft animal hides; a small desk area with a chair built to accommodate his tail; shelves holding a few personal items and books.

The lighting was dimmer than in the rest of the ship, casting everything in a warm amber glow.

“The environmental controls are here,” he demonstrated, showing her how to adjust the temperature and lighting. “The sanitary facility is through that door. You are welcome to any of the clothing in the storage unit.”

She took it all in, touched by his willingness to give up his personal space. “This is very generous of you.”

“It’s the least I can do.” He turned toward the door. “I’ll sleep in the cockpit. If you need anything?—”

“Stay.” The word left her mouth before she could second-guess herself.

He froze, his back to her, tail suddenly rigid. “What?”

She took a deep breath. She’d been thinking about this moment all day, turning possibilities over in her mind as she watched him with the children.

Life had taught her that certainty was an illusion, that safety could be snatched away in an instant.

The only real security lay in connections—in the bonds between people who chose each other.

And she was choosing now.

“I want you to stay,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “With me.”

He turned slowly to face her, his expression guarded. “Kara, you don’t have to?—”

“I know I don’t have to.” She stepped closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. “That’s why I’m asking. Because I want to.”

“Want what, exactly?” His voice had dropped to a rumble that she felt more than heard.

“This.” She reached up to touch his face, tracing the ridge behind his ear. “Us. Whatever is happening between us. I don’t want to miss the chance to explore it.”

“You do not even know what we could be.” Despite his words, his hand covered hers, engulfing it completely.

“I know enough.” She held his gaze. “I know you’re kind and honorable. I know my son trusts you, and he doesn’t trust easily. I know you make me feel things I thought were dead inside me.”

His breathing quickened. “We do not know what the future holds.”

“No one ever does.” She smiled sadly. “If I’ve learned anything, it’s that the future isn’t guaranteed. All we have is now.”

“And if now is all we have?” His thumb stroked across her knuckles. “Would that be enough?”

She considered the question seriously. “I hope for more,” she admitted. “But if now is all we get, then I want to make it count. I don’t want to look back and regret what we didn’t try.”

His eyes closed briefly, as if her words had struck something deep within him. When he looked at her again, the guardedness was gone, replaced by a hunger that matched her own.

“Are you sure?” he asked one last time.

In answer, she rose onto her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. It was the same kiss she’d given him before—soft, questioning, seeking. But this time, he didn’t hesitate. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her flush against him as his tail wound around her waist.

Heat surged through her at the contact. His body was hard and warm, his muscles flexing beneath her hands.

She could feel his arousal pressed against her belly, the sensation foreign but not unwelcome.

It had been a long time since she’d felt this kind of desire—the kind that made her blood sing and her skin tingle with anticipation.

“I have never…” he started, then hesitated, as if embarrassed.

“Been with a non-Cire female?” she finished for him, pulling back just enough to look up at him.

“With anyone.” His tail twitched nervously around her waist. “I am familiar with the theory, but I have never had the opportunity, or the desire, for more.”

His vulnerability tugged at her. She reached up to touch his face, her fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw. “Then we’ll learn together.”

He nodded, some of his usual confidence returning. “I will do everything in my power to bring you pleasure, my little human. You have my vow.”

“I know you will,” she murmured, her lips brushing his once more. “Now show me.”