Page 26

Chapter 26

Neon Valkyrie

C onsciousness filters back like fragments of corrupted code slowly piecing themselves together, each bit bringing fresh waves of sensation. The antiseptic scent hits me first, and panic claws up my throat—too similar to the sterile lab where they’d stripped away my defenses one neural probe at a time. My implants spark wildly as my heart rate spikes, the monitors screaming in protest.

But then another scent cuts through the terror—spiced leather and starlight, uniquely Cirdox. The steady pulse of our bond wraps around my battered consciousness like a protective shield, grounding me in the present moment. This isn’t the Eclipse lab. I’m safe.

The soft hum of medical equipment still sets my teeth on edge, each tiny sound amplified through my damaged neural architecture—the whisper of fabric as someone shifts position, the subtle click of monitoring equipment, the barely audible whoosh of recycled air. My implants sputter and spark, failing to establish stable connections with nearby tech. The malfunction sends electricity dancing along my nerve endings, making me flinch.

“Neural patterns destabilizing,” a Borovian doctor growls, his obsidian scales rippling with concern as he studies the medical readouts. “She’s going into fight-or-flight.”

McCoy stands behind the doctor in the medical bay, her stern features drawn with worry as she monitors the situation.

Before the words fully register, Cirdox is there, his wings creating a protective cocoon around me that blocks out the harsh medbay lighting. His presence through our bond radiates fierce love and worry despite what I can tell is significant physical pain on his end.

“You’re safe, little hacker,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead to mine. “I’ve got you. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

Memories flash through my mind in disjointed fragments—his roar of fury as he tore through the Eclipse facility, the way his wings had mantled over me when the extraction went sideways, how he’d refused to let me go even as his own wounds bled freely.

I grip his arms, anchoring myself in his solid presence as my breathing slowly steadies. His tribal markings pulse softly, their familiar crimson glow infinitely more comforting than the sterile white of the medbay lights.

“Neural patterns stabilizing,” I hear the doctor—or is it McCoy—say through the hazy fog of consciousness. My implants feel raw, like someone took sandpaper to my neural pathways, but I catch the subtle shift in her voice—something deeper than clinical detachment. Not quite envy in her expression, but a profound understanding as she watches us. “The specialized treatment protocols are working. She’s fighting.”

“She never stopped fighting.” Cirdox’s voice is raw, like he’s been roaring for hours. The pride and fierce love carrying through those words makes my chest tight.

I force my heavy eyelids open, ignoring how the light sends fresh spikes of pain through my damaged neural architecture. My implants spark erratically, but none of that matters when I finally focus on him. Dark circles ring his eyes, and fresh bandages wrap his torso, but his smile when our gazes meet could outshine the stars themselves.

“Took you long enough to wake up,” he teases gently, though I feel his relief singing through our bond.

“Had to make sure you missed me properly,” I manage to rasp back, earning a soft laugh that makes his wings quiver.

My breath catches at the sight of him. He looks like he went ten rounds with a Bravorian war squad and lost. Fresh bandages wrap his broad torso, already showing spots of crimson where his wounds have seeped through. His left wing hangs at an awkward angle, the membrane torn in several places. Dark bruises mottle his bronze skin, and there’s a nasty gash above his right eye that’s definitely going to scar.

But his markings pulse with pure joy as our eyes meet, and the smile that breaks across his face makes every bit of pain worth it. He’s the most beautiful male I’ve ever seen.

“Welcome back, little hacker,” he murmurs, his large hand engulfing mine. The contact sends warmth flooding through our bond, chasing away the lingering cold of unconsciousness. His thumb traces gentle patterns on my palm, the tender gesture at odds with his fierce warrior appearance.

“You look like shit,” I croak, but I squeeze his hand hard enough to make my knuckles white. I’m not letting go. Not ever again. The bond pulses with shared understanding—we both came too close to losing this.

He laughs, the sound rough with exhaustion but gloriously real. “You should see the other guys.” His free hand comes up to brush a strand of hair from my face, and I lean into the contact shamelessly. “Though K’vex and Kira won’t be threatening anyone for a very long time.”

The names send fresh shivers down my spine as memories surface—Kira’s synthetic voice as she directed the neural probes deeper, K’vex’s mechanical precision as she detailed exactly how they planned to weaponize our bond. I start to tremble, and Cirdox’s grip tightens protectively.

“The physical trauma is stabilizing,” the doctor says, keeping his voice steady despite his furrowed brow as he studies the readings. “But these neural pathways . . .” he shakes his head and looks gratified to see Officer McCoy step forward.

“I’ve called in specialists from Orion Outpost,” McCoy adds, her usual authoritative tone softened with genuine worry. “The best neuro-techs in the quadrant. The damage the Eclipse’s probes did to your neural architecture is . . . extensive. But they’ve had success with similar cases. It will take time to fully heal.”

I try to sit up, but my body feels like it’s made of lead. Cirdox supports me with gentle hands, helping me find a more comfortable position. The movement sends fresh sparks of pain through my neural ports, making me gasp.

“Easy,” he murmurs, his wing curling around me protectively despite his own injuries. “You’ve been unconscious for three days. Your body needs time to recover.”

“Three days?” I blink in surprise, then immediately regret it as the motion makes my head spin. “What happened after . . .”

“After I got you out?” His chest markings pulse darker, and I feel his fury at the memory bleeding through our bond. “The Brotherhood launched a coordinated strike against Eclipse holdings across three sectors. We’ve already taken down four major facilities and rescued dozens of other victims from their ‘research’ programs. McCoy’s evidence, combined with what you managed to extract before they caught you, was enough to finally force the STI to act.”

“The Planetary Police have strike teams hitting every Eclipse facility we can identify,” McCoy confirms, adjusting something on my IV. “Ta’vag’s diplomatic channels are working overtime to coordinate with local authorities. We’re not just pushing them back—we’re dismantling their entire operation with your assistance. And, most importantly, you are a free woman.”

Pride and satisfaction war with lingering fear in my chest. “And Kira? Did you . . .”

“She’s alive,” Cirdox says softly, his hand tightening on mine. “In a secure medical facility where they’re working to undo the Eclipse’s programming. It will take time, and she may never fully recover, but there’s hope.”

I nod, ignoring the way the motion makes my vision blur. Hope is more than I expected. More than I dared dream when I first discovered my sister had been transformed into one of their cybernetic monsters.

“The crew sends their love,” McCoy adds with a rare smile. “Though keeping them out of here has been . . . challenging. Especially Zara—she’s appointed herself your personal guardian. I had to threaten to sedate her to make her get some rest.”

The thought of the fierce Vulpexian defending me brings unexpected moisture to my eyes. When did I acquire such a loyal family? The lone hacker who trusted no one now has an entire crew ready to tear apart the galaxy to protect her.

“I’m surprised they managed to keep you out this long,” I say, my voice weak but carrying a hint of my usual snark. My neural implants still spark erratically, sending jolts of pain through my skull, but seeing Cirdox’s tribal markings pulse with relief makes it worth the effort to speak.

“Bold of you to assume she succeeded,” he rumbles, and McCoy snorts.

“Your mate nearly tore apart half my medical staff when they tried to separate you for treatment,” she says dryly. “We had to set up a second bed in here just to keep him from reinjuring himself trying to reach you.”

“They lived,” Cirdox growls, but there’s no real heat in it. His thumb continues its gentle patterns on my palm, and I feel his contentment humming through our bond. Having me awake and talking has eased some of the desperate tension I can still sense in his muscles.

“Barely,” McCoy mutters, but her eyes are fond as she checks my readings again. “The neural specialists will want to run more tests now that you’re conscious, but I think we can wait until tomorrow. You need rest more than anything else right now.”

I start to protest, but a massive yawn betrays me. Cirdox chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest in a way that makes me want to curl up against him.

“Sleep, little hacker,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?” I hate how vulnerable the word sounds, but the bond pulses with his fierce response.

“Always,” he growls, his wing tightening around me. “Nothing in this galaxy will take you from me again.”

I let my eyes drift closed, surrounded by his warmth and protection. For the first time since waking, I feel truly safe. The bond hums between us, strong and steady, a reminder that I’m no longer alone.

The next few days pass in a blur of tests and careful healing. The neural specialists work to repair the damage done by Eclipse probes, but it’s slow, delicate work. Every successful interface brings fresh hope, while each failed connection reminds me how far I have to go. Through it all, Cirdox remains my constant anchor, his presence steady and unwavering despite his own injuries.

The crew visits in carefully controlled rotations, bringing gifts and stories to lift my spirits. Zara smuggles in actual coffee from her private stash, while Grig shares tales of how the Brotherhood fleet is systematically dismantling Eclipse smuggling operations. Their visits help piece together what I missed during those three days of unconsciousness.

K’vex’s betrayal hit the Brotherhood hard, but it also united us in ways I never expected. Other captains have stepped up, pledging their full support to hunting down Eclipse cells. Even Vornak, who once challenged Cirdox’s authority at every turn, now leads strikes against their holdings with devastating efficiency.

A week after waking, McCoy finally clears me to leave the medbay. My neural ports are mostly stable, though certain connections still spark unpredictably. Walking is a challenge after so long in bed, but Cirdox simply scoops me into his arms despite my token protests.

“I can walk,” I grumble, even as I curl into his warmth.

“Indulge me,” he rumbles, his tribal markings pulsing with satisfaction as he carries me toward his quarters. Our quarters now, I realize with a start. The thought sends a different kind of warmth curling through me.

The bond hums with shared need as he palms open the door and gently lays me on his massive bed. His markings pulse with an intensity that takes my breath away as he looks down at me, wings mantling protectively.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he whispers, and the raw emotion in his voice makes my heart clench. His hands map every inch of me like he’s trying to memorize me all over again, checking for injuries the medical staff might have missed. “When the bond went so quiet . . .”

I pull him down to me, silencing his fears with a kiss that quickly ignites into something deeper. There’s desperation in the way he touches me, like he needs to prove to himself that I’m really here, really safe. I pour everything I feel into the bond—my love, my trust, my absolute certainty that we belong together.

When we finally come together, it’s with a tenderness that brings tears to my eyes. Every touch, every kiss carries the weight of what we almost lost. The bond explodes with shared pleasure and emotion as we move together, erasing any lingering doubts about where I belong. His wings wrap around us like a living cocoon, tribal markings pulsing in time with our racing hearts.

Cirdox’s hands, warm and gentle, trace the contours of my body as if rediscovering every curve and line. His touch is a balm, soothing the lingering aches and fears that the Eclipse left behind. I can feel his restraint, the careful control he exerts to ensure he doesn’t cause me any pain. But beneath that gentleness, there’s a burning desire that matches my own.

His lips find mine in a kiss that’s both tender and hungry, a promise of the passion we’re about to share. I can feel the bond between us pulsing with need, a shared longing that’s been too long denied. As his hands roam lower, exploring the sensitive skin of my hips and thighs, I can’t help but arch into his touch, craving more.

He moves slowly, deliberately, making sure to gauge my reactions with each caress. When his fingers finally slip between my legs, finding the heat and wetness that’s been building there, I gasp into his mouth. The sensation is almost too much, but he holds me steady, his wings enveloping us in a cocoon of warmth and safety.

“Cirdox,” I whisper against his lips, my voice trembling with need. “I want you. All of you.”

His eyes, those deep red pools of desire and love, hold mine as he positions himself between my thighs. I can feel the hard length of him pressing against me, ready but waiting. He’s giving me the choice, the control, even now. And that’s why I love him—because he understands what I need, even when I can’t find the words to say it.

I wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him closer, urging him to take me. He enters me slowly, carefully, his eyes never leaving mine. The sensation of him filling me, completing me, is almost too much. Tears prick my eyes as the bond between us flares with a brilliance that’s almost blinding.

We move together, our bodies finding a rhythm that’s as natural as breathing. Each thrust, each roll of his hips, sends waves of pleasure crashing through me. His wings pulse with the same rhythm, their tribal markings glowing brighter with each shared breath.

His hands roam over my body, touching, caressing, claiming every inch of me as his own. And I do the same, my fingers tracing the lines of his muscles, the scars that tell the story of his battles, the markings that speak of his heritage. We’re not just lovers; we’re warriors, bonded by more than just passion. We’re bound by love, by shared sacrifices, by the knowledge that we’ve fought for this moment and won.

As our pleasure builds, I can feel the bond between us growing stronger, more intense. It’s not just physical; it’s emotional, spiritual. It’s everything. And when we finally reach the peak, the explosion of sensation is almost too much to bear.

We cling to each other, our bodies shaking with the aftershocks of our shared climax. His wings tighten around us, holding me close, protecting me even now. I can feel his heart beating against mine, the steady rhythm a reminder of the life we share, the love that binds us together.

This fierce, protective warrior is mine, just as I am his. The Eclipse tried to break our connection, to reduce it to cold data, but they never understood. What we share can’t be quantified or controlled. It simply is.

Later, wrapped in his wings and watching his tribal markings pulse in contentment, I trace the new scars on his chest. The bond thrums with peaceful satisfaction between us, stronger than ever after our intimate reunion.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” I murmur, following the path of a particularly nasty scar that I know came from protecting me during the escape.

He catches my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. “You have nothing to apologize for. You fought them every step of the way. I felt it through the bond—your strength, your defiance. You never broke.”

“We broke them instead,” I say with fierce satisfaction. “The data I managed to extract before they caught me, combined with what you recovered during the rescue . . . McCoy says it’s enough to bring down their entire operation.”

“The Brotherhood is already moving against their remaining cells,” he confirms, his fingers playing idly with my hair. “The STI can’t ignore the evidence anymore. Even Ta’vag’s diplomatic channels are buzzing with calls for action. Things are changing, little hacker.”

I shift closer, letting his warmth chase away the lingering chill of memory. “And Kira?”

His arms tighten around me protectively. “The specialists are making progress. The Eclipse’s programming is being purged, but . . . it will take time. She may never fully recover. But there’s hope—yesterday she remembered your name without prompting.”

I nod against his chest, grief and hope warring in my heart. Maybe someday I’ll get my sister back. Maybe I won’t. But I’m not alone anymore.

When Cirdox and I step onto the bridge, Zara’s russet fur practically bristles with excitement. She bounds over, her usual military precision forgotten as she wraps me in a careful hug.

“Finally! The bridge hasn’t been the same without your sarcastic commentary,” she says, her tail swishing with genuine joy. “Grig’s attempts at witty banter are terrible.”

From his position at the helm, Grig’s pale blue features arrange themselves into an exaggerated pout. “I’ll have you know my humor is highly sophisticated. You just lack the intellectual capacity to appreciate it.”

I can’t help but laugh, even though it makes my still-healing implants twinge. “Missed you too, you overgrown blueberry.”

Grig’s large eyes crinkle with amusement as he abandons his post long enough to give me a quick, gentle embrace. “Welcome back, little hacker. Perhaps now the Captain will stop prowling the bridge like a caged predator.”

Cirdox’s wing brushes protectively against my back as he growls, “I do not prowl.”

“Of course not,” Zara agrees with a completely straight face, though her tail twitches with suppressed laughter. “You merely . . . patrol. Aggressively. While glaring at everything.”

The warmth of their welcome, the easy banter and genuine affection, brings tears to my eyes. These people—my family now—had risked everything to save me. And somehow, impossibly, they still want me here.

Zara pulls me into a careful hug, her russet fur tickling my nose. “Don’t ever scare us like that again,” she growls, but her smile is wide. “I’m not explaining to the medical staff why I had to sedate your mate twice more.”

“Only twice?” I tease, earning a playful swat from her tail.

Looking around at these faces—my family now—I feel something settle deep in my soul. The lone hacker who trusted no one has found her home among the stars. The Brotherhood is changing, becoming stronger and more united than ever. And I’ll be here to help guide that change, with my mate by my side.

Cirdox leads me to the vacant seat beside the captain’s chair. The crew watches with barely concealed grins as he guides me to the empty co-pilot’s chair—the one I’ve noticed has remained conspicuously vacant since I first stepped foot on the Void Reaver.

“This seat,” he says, his deep voice carrying layers of emotion, “has been empty for far too long.” His wings shift restlessly as he meets my gaze, red eyes glowing with intensity. “It belongs to someone who can match my tactical experience blow for blow. Someone brilliant enough to outmaneuver our enemies and brave enough to face whatever challenges await us in the dark between stars.”

My heart skips as I realize what he’s offering—not just a position, but a future. A place truly my own, earned through trust and respect rather than obligation or destiny.

“The co-pilot position is yours,” he continues, “if you want it. Though I warn you—smuggling runs are never boring, especially with the Brotherhood’s reputation.”

I catch Zara hiding a pleased smile while Grig’s large eyes sparkle with approval. This isn’t just Cirdox’s decision—the whole crew wants me here. The realization warms something deep inside me that I thought had frozen long ago.

“Boring?” I smirk, sliding into the chair that feels like it was made for me. “With my brilliant hacking and your brooding intensity? We’ll be legendary.”

His markings pulse brighter as he moves to his own seat, wings brushing mine in a gesture that sends warmth through our bond. The bridge feels right with both of us here—balanced in a way I never expected to find.

“I love you,” I whisper through our connection, letting him feel the depth of my certainty. This isn’t just about the position or the ship—it’s about choosing each other, every day, in all the ways that matter.

His markings flare again with answering warmth as he reaches for my hand. “And I you, little hacker. Always.”

And as Cirdox plots our course for our first official smuggling run together, I can’t help grinning. The future I never dared dream of is finally mine—ours—and I couldn’t be more excited to see where it leads.