“Perhaps. If we are not interrupted.”
Outside, Dale’s voice grows closer. More confident. “We know you’re in there, Fiona! You got one minute to make the right choice!”
“Then we work,” I say, reaching for my tools with hands that want to shake. “And we hope Christmas miracles are real.”
But as voices multiply outside my garage, as armed locals take positions around my sanctuary, as the impossible alien technology pulses with soft light in the darkness, I realize something has already changed.
I’m not just choosing to help a stranger anymore. I’m not even just choosing duty over safety.
I’m choosing him. His dream of delivering life-saving medicine. His promise to come back. His vision of a future where loneliness doesn’t have to be the price of independence.
“Ja’war,” I say as his hands move over the components with desperate efficiency.
“Yes?”
“When this is over, when you deliver that cargo...” I swallow hard. “Don’t make me wait three years for you tocome back.”
Even in the dim light, I can see his smile—fierce and possessive and full of promises that make my knees weak.
“Never,” he growls. “You are mine now, Fiona Davis. Distance and duty will not change that.”
The sound of boots on gravel draws closer. Multiple sets. Surrounding us.
“Time’s up, Fiona!” Dale calls out, his voice now directly outside the main door. “Last chance to do this the easy way!”
Ja’war’s head snaps up, enhanced senses cataloguing every footstep, every whispered order. His expression goes predator-still.
“How many now?” I breathe.
“More.” His voice carries a growl that makes my hindbrain shiver with want and fear in equal measure. “They brought reinforcements.”
8
Working in the Dark
Ja'war
TheChristmastreelightscast Fiona’s workspace in crimson and gold, transforming her garage into something that speaks to the predator in my blood. My mate, surrounded by the glow of Earth’s winter celebration and the pulse of Xarian technology, working to save lives she has never met.
Beautiful.Fierce. Mine.
“Thermal regulator is holding,” she murmurs, checking her improvised cooling system with the precision of a master engineer. “But I don’t know how long my bypass will last under full load.”
“Long enough,” I tell her, though my enhanced senses detect the subtle vibrations that suggest her jury-rigged system is operating at its absolute limits. “Your engineering is... resourceful.”
She snorts, a sound that should not be as endearing as I find it. “Resourceful. That’s mechanic-speak for ‘held together with spite and determination.’”
Through the walls, I catalogue the sounds of our enemies. Thirty-seven heartbeats now, scattered in defensive positions around the building. Radio frequencies buzzing with coordinated communications. The metallic scent of firearms and the chemical tang of human fear-sweat.
They are afraid, but they are also excited. The pack-hunt mentality that makes humans so dangerous when they believe themselves righteous.
“How many now?” Fiona asks, though her scent tells me she dreads the answer.
“Thirty-seven. They called for reinforcements from neighboring towns.” I look up from the quantum core to find her watching me with those sharp hazel eyes that see too much. “They are afraid, but they are also... excited. They believe they are hunting a monster.”
“Yeah, well, they’ve never seen you fix a power coupling.” She gestures to where I have convinced Earth electronics to interface with quantum mechanics through sheer determination and three years of studying her repair methods. “That’s the real magic.”
Something shifts in my chest at her words. Not fear of what I am, but... admiration? For my technical skills rather than my alien nature.
