Page 136 of Saved By the Alien Hybrid

“Don’t torment yourself with what might have been,” he continued. “Look at what you have accomplished. We arefree, Cordelia. TheGidalanlooms no longer.”

“I just wish he were here to enjoy it.”

Haerune sighed. “As do I. But I am deeply grateful to him. Thanks to his sacrifice, you are still here, and with my brother at your side. I do not think Rentir would have survived your loss.”

“Because of some biological imperative he had no say in,” she murmured.

“Because he loves you,” Haerune said gently.

Rentir sighed in agreement. A hand smoothed over his brow and skimmed down his cheek.

“Rentir? Can you hear me?”

He leaned into her touch, breathing deeply to draw her into his lungs.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her breath tickling his ear. Then she was peppering kisses over his forehead, his cheeks, his lips.

With a few false starts, he managed to peel open his ponderously heavy eyelids. The world was blurry at first, but he would recognize even the vaguest outline of her profile anywhere.

“Cordelia,” he rasped, reaching for her. He frowned when his hand didn’t come into view.

She made a strangled sound, her breathing breaking into the jagged rhythm of silent tears. Her hand smoothed over his cheek again. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

More beautiful words he’d never heard spoken.

“You did it.”

“We did it,” she corrected. “I was lost without you, Ren. Not just on that ship, but all my life. I can’t go back. Do you understand me? You’re stuck with me, for better or worse.”

He smiled dreamily at her. Her face slowly came into focus; her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

“I will hold you to that,” he said, reaching for her again.

He frowned, looking down. Were the sedatives still…

There was nothing where his arm should have been. He was sure he could still feel his fingers pricking and tingling, but the evidence was impossible to argue with. It was gone. His shoulderthrobbed, a dull ache layered over a sharper pain that came and went as he tried in futility to lift a limb he no longer possessed.

“My arm?”

Cordelia’s tears spilled over, and her lower lip trembled.

“The damage was extensive,” Haerune interjected.

Rentir’s head lolled toward his brother, who was standing nearby with his hands clasped together—a learned habit to keep from fiddling nervously. It was a tell that had gotten him in trouble when they were young, but now the clasped hands were just as pointed.

“The medpod did its best to reconstruct the joint, but the tissues were greatly damaged. Fendar believes he may be able to come up with a suitable prosthetic, but for now…”

Rentir grunted, reeling now as his mind struggled to grasp onto a new reality. Cordelia leaned closer, the curtain of her hair falling between him and Haerune.

“Everything will be okay,” she soothed, even as she sniffled with sadness. “I promise you that. We’ll figure it all out together.”

“Together,” he echoed, reaching up with the hand he still had to stroke a tear off her cheek.

She smiled weakly, then dipped down to press her salt-slicked lips to his. He wove his fingers into her hair and closed his eyes, losing himself in the press of her lips. When he moved beneath her, she indulged him, and then their tongues were tangling, and everything outside of their kiss felt less relevant to him.

She was alive and well and professing her devotion with every third word. That was all he needed out of life. The rest… well, like she said. They’d figure it out.

When she drew back, he groaned a protest.