Neither did he. For the first time in twenty years, he felt like he’d come home. Tomorrow would bring difficult decisions and hard conversations. Tonight, he’d hold his future in his arms and dare to hope it might actually stay.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Corinne woke to the absence of warmth.
She reached out instinctively, searching for the solid presence that had anchored her through the night, but found only cooling sheets where Selik had been. She blinked her eyes open, squinting against the soft ambient light filtering through the room, and confirmed what her body already knew. He was gone.
But the indent in the mattress beside her remained, a ghost of his weight. She pressed her palm into it, feeling the last traces of his heat seeping into her skin. Part of her wanted to be embarrassed about last night—about the desperate way she’d kissed him, about how she’d invited him to stay, about waking up wrapped around him like he was the only solid thing in the universe. But mostly she just felt… safe. For the first time since they’d been taken, she’d slept without nightmares.
Mikoz stirred against her chest, making small hungry noises that would escalate to full-blown wailing in approximately thirty seconds if past experience was any guide. She sat up carefully, trying not to disturb Anya, who was still curled in a tight ballon her other side. The girl had migrated closer during the night, seeking warmth and comfort even in sleep.
She slipped quietly out of bed and padded to the main room, cradling Mikoz against her shoulder. The bottles and nutrient powder Selik had provided were where she’d left them on the counter. She prepared one quickly as Mikoz’s fussing increased in volume. The moment the nipple touched his lips, he latched on with single-minded intensity, his tiny hands gripping her shirt.
She settled into one of the chairs and watched him eat, marveling at how much he’d already changed her life. A month ago, she’d been a widow trying to navigate a relationship with a stepdaughter who resented her existence. Now she was… what? A refugee? A survivor? A makeshift mother to an alien infant who wasn’t hers but felt like hers anyway?
And then there was Selik.
Heat flooded through her at the memory of his mouth on hers, the way he’d touched her like she was something precious. The absolute control he’d maintained even when she could feel how much he wanted her. And she had felt it—the hard length of him pressed against her stomach, the tremor in his hands as he’d cupped her face, the way his tail had tightened around her waist like he couldn’t bear to let her go.
David never made me feel like that.
The traitorous thought was immediately followed by guilt. David had been a good man and a kind husband. They’d built a life together based on mutual respect and comfortable companionship. Their marriage had been… pleasant. Safe. She’dloved him in her own way, had mourned him when he died, and had tried her best to honor his memory by caring for Anya.
But there had never been passion. Never that desperate, consuming need to touch and be touched. Never that sense of rightness when their bodies aligned. With David, sex had been a pleasant physical release, an expression of affection rather than raw desire. She’d assumed that was normal, that romance novels and movies had it wrong, that real relationships weren’t built on chemistry but on shared values and compatible life goals.
Selik had destroyed that assumption in approximately two minutes.
One kiss, and her entire body had lit up like she’d been electrified. One touch, and she’d forgotten everything except the desperate need for more. She’d wanted him with an intensity that should have terrified her, but instead felt completely natural. Like her body had been waiting her entire life for someone who would make her feel that alive.
Which is ridiculous.She’d known him for less than twenty-four hours. She didn’t know his favorite food or his political opinions or whether he preferred mornings or evenings. She didn’t know if he had siblings or hobbies or what made him laugh. She didn’t know anything except that he made her feel safe and desired and seen in a way she’d never experienced before.
And he’d offered to raise Mikoz.
That still stunned her. The almost casual way he’d said it, like taking in an orphaned infant was a perfectly normal suggestion rather than a life-altering commitment. She’d seen the flash of surprise in his own eyes after the words left his mouth, like he’dshocked himself as much as he’d shocked her. But he hadn’t taken it back. He hadn’t backpedaled or qualified the offer.
I could take him.
Four words that had shifted her entire world. Because if Selik raised Mikoz, that meant she could return Anya to Earth with a clear conscience. The girl deserved normalcy, deserved to finish her education and have friends her own age and experience all the things teenage girls were supposed to experience. She deserved a life that didn’t involve running from slavers or sleeping on shuttle floors or wondering if she’d survive the next day.
But returning to Earth also meant leaving Mikoz behind.
The thought made her chest ache. She looked down at the infant in her arms, watching him eat with fierce concentration, his tail curled around her wrist. In three weeks, he’d become hers in every way that mattered. She’d fed him and changed him and soothed him through countless fussy nights. She’d sung him lullabies in a language he couldn’t understand and made promises she wasn’t sure she could keep. She’d loved him with a fierce protectiveness that had nothing to do with biology and everything to do with choice.
How could she leave him? But how could she keep him when staying meant denying Anya the chance at a normal life?
Mikoz finished the bottle and let out a satisfied burp that would have been impressive for an adult, let alone a three-week-old. She couldn’t help but smile as she shifted him to her shoulder and rubbed his back.
“You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you?” she murmured. “Already have me wrapped around your tiny fingers.”
He made a contented gurgling sound and nuzzled against her neck. Her heart squeezed painfully.
“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered to him. “I want to keep you safe. I want to give Anya a normal life. I want… I want things I have no right to want.”
Like Selik. Like the impossible fantasy of building something with a male she barely knew. Like the dream of having both children and him and some semblance of the family she’d always wanted but never quite managed to create. One night wrapped in his arms, and she wanted to throw caution to the wind and chase this impossible connection to see where it led.
But that was selfish. She had responsibilities. She had Anya to think about, and a life waiting back on Earth that didn’t include seven-foot-tall alien warriors with tails that wrapped around her waist like they belonged there.
“What would you do?” she asked Mikoz. “If you could choose?”
