Corinne pulled back with a startled laugh, color rising in her cheeks. “Sorry, kiddo.”
“It’s fine. Just giving fair warning that I’m still conscious back here.”
He found himself grinning despite the interruption. This was family too—the mortified teenager pointing out parental displays of affection, the slightly awkward navigation of privacy in close quarters, the humor that took the edge off potentially uncomfortable situations.
“Noted,” he said solemnly. “We will contain our enthusiasm until you are properly unconscious.”
Anya snorted but didn’t comment further, turning her attention back to her data pad with exaggerated focus.
Corinne settled back against his side, warm and solid and real. They sat like that while the ship’s lighting gradually dimmed for the night cycle, watching over their small family and planning futures that seemed increasingly possible.
This was what he’d fought for all those years in the Patrol. Not abstract concepts of duty or honor, but concrete moments like this. Safety for children to grow and learn. Space for families to form and flourish. The simple peace of knowing tomorrow would come and they would face it together.
He’d lost that once and thought it gone forever. But the universe, in its infinite complexity, had given him a second chance wrapped in the most unexpected package. A human female fierce enough to claim a Cire infant as her own. A teenager learning to trust again after trauma had shattered her world. And an infant taking his first wobbly steps toward a future that suddenly held infinite possibility.
His family.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sleep wouldn’t come.
Corinne lay in the darkness, listening to Mikoz’s soft breathing from the crib and Anya’s occasional sleepy murmurs. The celebration dinner had ended hours ago, but her mind refused to quiet enough for rest. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Mikoz burning with fever. Felt the terrible heat of his small body against her chest. Heard his labored breathing and the frightened catch in Anya’s voice when she’d come running for help.
They’d almost lost him.
The thought kept circling through her mind like a predator stalking its prey. So close to tragedy. So close to having this fragile family she’d built torn apart by something as random and cruel as a respiratory infection. Adrenaline still hummed through her veins, keeping her alert and watchful despite exhaustion dragging at her bones.
Perhaps a walk through the ship’s corridors would help her burn off enough excess energy for her body to finally surrender to sleep.
She slipped quietly from the bed, the cool deck plating beneath her bare feet sending a shiver up her spine as she padded toward the door. She paused there to glance back at the sleeping forms. Mikoz looked so peaceful, his small chest rising and falling with perfect rhythm, tail curled around his favorite blanket, no trace of the fever that had nearly?—
Stop.Dwelling on what could have happened wouldn’t help anyone.
The corridors were dim for the night cycle with just enough illumination to navigate safely. Most crew members would be sleeping now, the ship running on minimal staff. It was peaceful, quiet, exactly what she needed to settle her jangling nerves. Except her feet didn’t carry her on a random circuit. Instead she found herself slipping into the area of the ship where Selik had been spending his nights since giving up his quarters for her family.
She should turn back. Let him sleep instead of bothering him with her restless energy and need for… what? Comfort? Reassurance? Something she couldn’t quite name but desperately wanted? But her feet kept moving until she stood outside his office door.
She raised her hand to knock, then hesitated. This was crossing a line somehow, seeking him out in the middle of the night after their previous fiery encounter. Would he think she was here for more of that?
Am I?
The door slid open before she could decide whether to knock or flee. Selik stood in the opening, dressed only in a pair of loose sleep pants, his muscular chest bare and gleaming in the low light of a desk lamp. He studied her with an intensity that made her breath catch.
“I sensed you standing there,” he said quietly.
“Sensed me?”
“I have become… attuned to your presence.” He stepped back, gesturing for her to enter. “Are the children well?”
“They’re fine. Both sleeping peacefully.” She moved into his office. Large, functional, efficient–and sterile. Very different from the cozy chaos that had transformed his quarters. Did he enjoy the serenity of his office, or did he miss their… family when he was here? “But I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about… about what could have happened if we hadn’t gotten Mikoz help in time.”
His face softened as he moved over the small formal seating area. “Fear does not always fade with danger.”
“No. It doesn’t.” She settled onto the stiff couch beside him, and they sat in silence for a moment, close but not quite touching. The space between them felt charged somehow, like the air before a thunderstorm when electricity built to dangerous levels.
“You lost your mate and child to the Red Death.” It wasn’t quite a question, but he nodded. “Tell me about them?” She reached out and took his hand. “If you want to. If it doesn’t hurt too much.”
“It always hurts. But perhaps the hurt has purpose now.” He studied their joined hands, seeming to draw strength from the contact. “My mate’s name was Kessa. Our families wereclose and we grew up together. Our mating was… traditional. Expected. We were good together, my mate and I, but there was always an element of obligation woven through the connection.”
