“When have you not?”
“You are acting as if you are attached to the female and the child.”
The accusation hung in the air between them. He wanted to deny it, but Tarak had served with him for too many years. They’d fought together, bled together, and trusted each other with their lives. Lying would be pointless.
“I feel a… pull towards them, but my personal feelings are irrelevant. My duty is to protect civilians under my protection. All of them.”
“Is it?” Tarak leaned forward. “You cannot save everyone, Commander.”
“I can save these three.” The words came out as a vow, and Tarak sighed.
“I will support whatever decision you make. You know that. But be honest with yourself about why you’re making it.”
“I am always honest with myself.”
Tarak’s expression suggested he doubted that, but he merely stood and saluted. “I’ll have additional security posted near your quarters. Discreetly.”
“Thank you.”
His second left, and he sat alone with his thoughts. Was he protecting Corinne and the children out of duty? Or was he trying to fill a void that should remain empty? Was he being rational and strategic, or was he letting emotion cloud his judgment?
He didn’t know. For the first time in twenty years, he genuinely didn’t know.
CHAPTER FIVE
The bed was too soft. After a month of sleeping on a hard bunk in a Vedeckian cell, the comfort of Selik’s bed threatened to smother Corinne.
She lay perfectly still, staring at the ceiling of his quarters and trying not to notice how the sheets smelled like him—clean and unfamiliar, with a hint of that spicy scent she’d noticed up on the ridge. Anya slept beside her, curled on her side with one hand tucked under her chin, while Mikoz dozed in the nest of blankets she’d fashioned on the other side.
She should sleep. Her body screamed for it, exhaustion pulling at her bones, but her mind refused to quiet. Every time she closed her eyes, she was back in the Vedeckian ship, listening to footsteps in the corridor and wondering if tonight would be the night they came for the children. And not just for Mikoz. She’d heard them discussing whether or not Anya was old enough for breeding.
Except they were safe now. Selik had promised to protect them, and something in his quiet, powerful presence made her believe him—which was dangerous in its own way.
Don’t get attached.
The warning echoed through her thoughts, but it came too late. She was already attached to this oversized reptilian warrior with his careful hands and unexpected gentleness. The way his tail wrapped around her waist felt protective rather than threatening, and when his fingers brushed her skin, the heat that had flooded through her had nothing to do with fear.
She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. This was insane. She’d been rescued less than twelve hours ago. She was traumatized, exhausted, and clearly not thinking straight. Whatever she felt toward Selik was just gratitude mixed with relief and a healthy dose of Stockholm Syndrome. Except it didn’t feel like any of those things.
Mikoz stirred, making a small distressed sound, and she immediately reached for him. He settled against her chest, his tiny fist curling against her collarbone, and her heart clenched painfully.
I have to give him up.
The thought had been circling her mind for hours, vicious and relentless. Getting Anya home meant returning to Earth, but she couldn’t take Mikoz there. He needed a home with his own people. He deserved to grow up knowing his culture and heritage, rather than being hidden away on an alien planet. It was the right thing to do. The logical thing.
So why did the thought of letting him go feel like ripping out a piece of her soul?
She pressed a kiss to his forehead, breathing in his clean infant scent, and fought back tears. She’d promised his mother shewould protect him. But maybe protection meant finding him a better life than she could provide.
Anya shifted in her sleep, mumbling something incoherent, and she gently smoothed her stepdaughter’s short auburn hair. The girl looked younger when she slept, vulnerable in a way she never allowed when awake. Thirteen years old and already so guarded, so careful about showing weakness.
I’ll get you home, she promised silently.Whatever it takes.
Even if it meant leaving Mikoz behind. Even if it meant never seeing Selik again.
The door chime sounded softly, and she tensed before remembering where she was. Right. Selik’s quarters. He’d said he would check on them.
She returned Mikoz to his nest of blankets and slipped quietly out of bed and into the main room, leaving the door to the bedroom slightly ajar.
