To a small body pressed against his and the taste of her kiss.
To the terrifying, exhilarating possibility that he could have something worth living for again.
“You’re thinking too much again,” Tarak observed, blocking a strike with ease.
“I am considering strategy.”
“You are panicking.”
His tail lashed with irritation because Tarak was right. He was panicking. He’d faced down raiders and pirates and hostile aliens without breaking a sweat, but the thought of courting one small human female left him feeling completely out of his depth.
“I do not know what she needs,” he admitted, lowering his staff.
“So ask her.”
“It is not that simple.”
“Is it not?” Tarak set his own staff aside and moved towards the door, then paused. “Trust the connection, Selik. Trust that if it is meant to be, she will figure it out.”
Then he was gone, leaving him alone in the training room with nothing but his thoughts and the lingering ache of unfinished combat. He stripped off his clothing and cleansed himself, but he couldn’t wash away the restless energy humming under his skin, the bone-deep need to return to his quarters and make sure Corinne was still there.
Still safe.
Still his, even if she didn’t know it yet.
Once he was dressed, he told himself that he should return to his ready room and get what rest he could so he could approach tomorrow with a clear head. Instead, he found his feet carrying him back toward his quarters.
He told himself he just wanted to check on them, and make sure they had everything they needed. He would verify that the environmental controls were properly adjusted for human comfort. All reasonable, commander-like concerns that had nothing to do with the desperate need to see Corinne’s face again.
He stood outside his door for a long moment, his hand hovering over the access panel. What was he doing? She didn’t need him hovering like an overprotective fool. She needed rest. But he pressed the panel anyway, and the door slid open on silent hinges, revealing the darkened interior of his quarters.
He stepped inside carefully, letting his eyes adjust to the low light filtering in from the corridor. The main room was empty, but he could hear soft breathing coming from the sleeping chamber. He shouldn’t go in there. He shouldn’t intrude on her rest.
His feet carried him to the doorway anyway.
The scene that greeted him made something in his chest constrict painfully. Corinne lay on her side, one arm curled protectively around Mikoz while Anya slept on her other side. The girl had shifted closer in sleep, a gesture of trust that she’d never shown while awake.
They looked like a family.
My family, something inside him whispered.
Corinne stirred, her eyes fluttering open to find him standing in the doorway. She should have been startled. She should have demanded to know what he was doing creeping into the sleeping chamber like a thief. Instead, she just looked at him with those hazel eyes, and whispered, “Can’t sleep either?”
“I needed to make sure you were safe.”
“We are.” She shifted slightly, careful not to disturb the children. “Thanks to you.”
He should leave. Should retreat to his temporary quarters and let her rest.
Instead, he heard himself ask, “May I stay?”
She bit her lip, considering. Then she nodded and shifted back slightly, making room beside her on the large bed. He laid down next to her, careful to keep an appropriate distance betweenthem, but she immediately rolled closer, tucking Mikoz in between them. His tail wrapped around her waist automatically, and she sighed and relaxed into him, her soft body fitting against his harder one like she’d been designed for exactly this.
“This probably isn’t smart,” she murmured, already half-asleep again.
“Probably not.”
“I don’t care.”
