Page 11

CHAPTER 11

CORA

T he shuttle glides through the water, the ocean a dark, endless expanse outside the reinforced glass. I press my face against the window, my breath fogging the surface as Veritas Base Alpha comes into view. It’s like something out of a sci-fi movie—a massive, glowing dome that seems to hum with energy, its translucent surface shimmering like a mirage. Inside, I can see the faint outlines of towering structures, their lights twinkling like stars in an underwater sky.

“Focus, Cora.” Orion’s voice cuts through my awe, sharp but not unkind. His scaled hands move over the control panel with practiced ease, the red of his skin catching the soft blue light of the shuttle’s interior. “You’re going to need to know how to do this yourself.”

I tear my eyes away from the view and lean closer to the console. The symbols on the buttons are familiar—I’ve been studying the Vakutan language in my spare time, though it’s slow going. “That’s the docking sequence, right?” I point to a cluster of symbols. “And that one’s for stabilizing the thrusters.”

Orion’s purple eyes flicker with something I can’t quite place—approval, maybe. “Not bad. You’re picking it up faster than I expected.”

“Well, I am a quick study.” I grin, though my heart’s still racing from the sheer scale of the base. “But, uh, maybe let’s not test that theory today. I’d rather not crash into the side of that dome.”

He snorts, a low, rumbling sound. “Fair enough. But next time, you’re flying.”

The shuttle slips through the dome’s permeable surface, and suddenly we’re inside. The base is even more breathtaking up close—gleaming towers, bustling walkways, and ships of all shapes and sizes moving through the air like fish in a coral reef. Orion guides the shuttle into a docking bay with the precision of someone who’s done this a thousand times before.

Once we’re docked, he leads me through the base, his massive frame cutting a path through the crowd of Vakutans and humans alike. I try not to gawk, but it’s hard—everything here is so alien , from the architecture to the technology to the people. Orion doesn’t seem to notice my wide-eyed wonder, or if he does, he’s too polite to mention it.

We reach the holo-gym, a vast, empty chamber that hums with potential. Orion taps a few commands into a console on the wall, and the room shifts, transforming into a crumbling urban landscape. The air smells like smoke and ash, and the sound of distant gunfire echoes in my ears.

“Urban combat simulation,” Orion says, handing me a sleek, futuristic-looking pistol. “Your objective is to survive. The Grolgath are your adversaries. Don’t die.”

“Don’t die. Got it.” I grip the pistol, my palms already sweating. “Easy.”

The first time, I don’t even make it five minutes. A Grolgath—its scales shifting to blend into the rubble—ambushes me from behind, and I’m dead before I can even turn around. The second time, I manage to take one down before another gets me. By the third attempt, I’m starting to get the hang of it—moving cautiously, using the environment to my advantage, keeping my back to the wall.

“Better,” Orion says after my fourth attempt, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “But you’re still too predictable. Think like a predator, not prey.”

I wipe the sweat from my brow and nod, determined. The fifth time, I finally make it through, my heart pounding as I take down the last Grolgath with a well-placed shot. I turn to Orion, grinning despite the ache in my muscles. “I did it.”

“You did.” He steps closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over me. “But that was the easy version. Now let’s take off the training wheels and do the real simulation.”

“Again?” I groan, slumping back against the wall of the holo-gym. My arms feel like jelly, and my legs aren’t much better. “Orion, I just survived your so-called ‘real’ simulation. Can’t I at least bask in my victory for five minutes?”

His lips twitch, and for a moment, I think he’s going to smile. But he schools his expression into his usual stoic mask. Almost. The corners of his mouth are still fighting it.

“You’re not smiling, are you?” I narrow my eyes at him, pointing an accusatory finger. “Don’t you dare smile right now. You’re the worst .” I step closer and punch him lightly on the shoulder. It’s like hitting a brick wall, but it’s the principle of the thing.

He laughs—a deep, rumbling sound that fills the room and makes my knees go weak for entirely different reasons. “Fine. You passed. But there’s always room for improvement.”

“Improvement?” I throw my hands up. “I’m a human, Orion. Not one of your tireless Vakutan warriors. I need rest. And food. Mostly food.”

He crosses his arms, his red scales catching the light. “Food, huh? What’s in it for me if I indulge you?”

I smirk, leaning in a little closer. “Well, I won’t complain if you take me to that little Italian place I love. You know, Eleven Eleven? My favorite. Ever since I was a kid.”

His eyes soften, and he nods. “You’ve earned it. Let’s go.”

We head back to the shuttle bay, and this time, Orion gestures for me to take the controls. My stomach flips. “Seriously? You’re letting me fly this thing?”

“You’ve been studying. Time to put it to the test.” He stands behind me, his imposing presence both comforting and slightly intimidating.

I slide into the pilot’s seat, my hands trembling as I grip the controls. The shuttle jerks as I take off, and I let out a nervous laugh. “Okay, okay. I’ve got this.”

Orion’s hands hover near the controls, ready to take over if needed, but he doesn’t interfere. Slowly, I find my rhythm, the shuttle gliding smoothly through the water. As we pass through a school of bioluminescent creatures, I can’t help but gasp. The water glows with soft blues and greens, the creatures swirling around us like living stars.

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, my heart soaring.

Orion’s voice is soft behind me. “It’s like seeing it for the first time all over again. Through your eyes.”

I glance back at him, catching the warmth in his gaze. For a moment, I forget about the controls, and the shuttle dips slightly. Orion chuckles, reaching over to steady us. “Eyes forward, pilot.”

“Yes, sir,” I say, my cheeks heating.

As we leave the ocean and soar into the sky, Orion takes over the controls, guiding the shuttle effortlessly. The ride from Alpha Base to the helipad on Orion Plaza is seamless, the Vakutan technology making the journey feel like a blink.

“Twenty minutes,” I mutter, shaking my head. “If only commercial flights were this fast.”

Orion smirks. “Humans will get there. Eventually.”

I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling as we land. My stomach growls, reminding me of the promise of a delicious meal. “So, Eleven Eleven?”

“Eleven Eleven,” he confirms, his voice low and warm. “Let’s see if their pasta lives up to your glowing reviews.”

Orion’s hand is massive, his scaled fingers dwarfing mine as we step into the elevator. His grip is firm, possessive in the best way, and I can’t help but feel a flutter in my chest as the doors close behind us. The descent is smooth, but the tension in the air is anything but.

“So,” I say, breaking the silence, “how does it feel to be whisked away by a human to her favorite restaurant?”

His lips twitch, that almost-smile I’ve come to adore. “I’ll let you know after I’ve tasted this pasta you’ve been raving about. If it’s half as good as you say, I might have to reconsider my opinion of Earth’s cuisine.”

“Oh, it’s better than half as good,” I shoot back, leaning into his side. “Just wait. You’re about to have your scales blown off.”

The elevator doors slide open, and Orion’s limo is waiting, sleek and black, with a driver who nods respectfully as we approach. Orion opens the door for me, his hand lingering on the small of my back as I slide in. The interior smells like leather and something faintly spicy—him, I realize. It’s intoxicating.

The drive to Eleven Eleven is short, but it feels like an eternity as I try to guess what Orion saw in my diary. He’s quiet, his gaze fixed on the passing city lights, but there’s a glint in his eyes that makes me think he’s enjoying my impatience.

When we arrive, the hostess greets us with a smile and leads us to our table—a secluded corner with a view of the restaurant’s garden. The candles on the table flicker, casting a warm glow over the polished wood and white tablecloth. It’s perfect.

I waste no time ordering my favorites: the burrata with heirloom tomatoes, the truffle fettuccine, and a bottle of dry red. Orion watches me with amusement, his purple eyes gleaming in the dim light. “You’re not holding back, are you?”

“Life’s too short for bad food,” I say, grinning. “And trust me, you’re about to thank me.”

He raises an eyebrow. “We’ll see.”

The meal is, as always, incredible. Orion’s reactions are priceless—his eyes widen slightly at the first bite of the burrata, and he’s halfway through his second plate of fettuccine before I’ve finished my first. “Okay,” he admits, leaning back in his chair. “You were right. This is… impressive.”

“Told you,” I say, smug. “But the best is yet to come.” I signal the waiter for dessert—a decadent chocolate torte—and then pull my old diary from my bag. “So, about that surprise…”

He sets his fork down, his full attention on me now. I open the diary to the page I’d marked earlier and slide it across the table. “I wrote this when I was twelve. It’s… well, you’ll see.”

Orion takes the diary, his massive hands careful as he flips through the pages. His expression softens as he reads the description of my “perfect man,” his eyes flicking up to meet mine. “Tall enough to lean on. Takes care of you. Challenges you. Loves you the way you need to be loved.” His voice is low, almost reverent. “You think I fit that?”

“Are you kidding?” I say, my cheeks warm. “You are that. Every single word.”

He smiles—a real, full smile this time—and flips to the end of the diary. His eyes scan the page, and then he freezes, his expression shifting to something I can’t quite read. He closes the diary carefully and hands it back to me, that grin returning. “I’ll tell you in the limo.”

“What? No, tell me now!” I protest, but he’s already standing, his hand extended to help me up.

“Patience, Cora,” he says, his tone teasing. “Some things are worth waiting for.”

Orion calls for the check with a nod to the waiter, his eyes never leaving mine. There’s a glint in his gaze, something playful yet predatory, and it sends a shiver down my spine. I’ve seen that look before—it usually ends with me in some deliciously compromising position. But tonight, it feels different. Softer. Warmer.

We step into the waiting limo, the cool night air giving way to the plush interior. Orion slides in beside me, his massive frame taking up more than his fair share of the seat. He holds out his hand, palm up. “The diary.”

I hesitate for a moment, my cheeks already heating at what he’s about to see. But I hand it over anyway, because when Orion asks for something, I have a hard time saying no. He flips through the pages with deliberate care, his sharp eyes scanning the words and sketches. Then he stops, his finger tracing one of the drawings.

“Here,” he says, amused. “It appears that your mother is not the only artist in the family.”

I peek over his arm, and my stomach drops. There it is—a drawing of myself as an adult version of Little Red Riding Hood. The hood is all I’m wearing, and the wolf… well, the wolf is massive, muscular, and very clearly interested in more than just the contents of my basket. I groan, covering my face with my hands.

“Oh god, I forgot I drew those pictures. You must think I’m really pathetic.”

“On the contrary,” Orion says, his tone light but sincere. “I really like your art. It’s… creative. And surprisingly accurate.” He flips to another page, and I catch a glimpse of the wolf chasing me through the woods, his claws outstretched. I let out a strangled laugh, wishing I could disappear into the limo seat.

“Accurate?” I squeak, peeking at him through my fingers. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He smirks, leaning back against the seat. “Well, I do like to hunt. And I am the big bad wolf, aren’t I?”

My face burns hotter, but I can’t help the laugh that bubbles up. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Impossible to resist, maybe,” he teases, his hand finding mine. He laces our fingers together, his grip warm and reassuring. “I’m willing to play the role of the wolf anytime, Cora. Just say the word.”

I shake my head, but I’m smiling. “You’re not going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Not a chance,” he says, his smile softening. “But I want you to know something. All of this—your art, your kinks, your quirks—it’s part of who you are. And I love every part of you.”

My heart swells at his words, and I lean into him, resting my head against his shoulder. “You mean that?”

“Always,” he says, his voice steady and sure. “Now, what do you say we get out of here? I think it’s time for the wolf to take his Red Riding Hood home.”

I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in weeks. “Lead the way, big bad wolf.”