I headed back toward the cockpit, needing desperately to escape these curious, electric sensations coursing through my body. Each step away from her felt like a small betrayal, but I forced myself to continue.
Jolie sleeping in my bed invaded my thoughts. I imagined her small body rolling against my sheets, her hair spread across my pillow like spun gold, her scent everywhere. My cock surged to life with an intensity that nearly staggered me. Since the queen’s torture, I had felt nothing. No desire for anything except survival. Certainly not desire for any female, no matter how beautiful or alluring.
Yet after one soft brush of her lips against my skin, my entire body felt as though flames I had thought permanently extinguished consumed it.
No.
I could not allow myself to consider harboring feelings like this. Seeing Jolie and Lilibet safely to Zarpazia was my duty, nothing more. That was all this could ever be—duty, honor, obligation. Nothing deeper, nothing more dangerous to either of us.
I settled into the pilot’s seat, busying myself with the mundane tasks of setting coordinates and running diagnostic checks. Anything that would keep my mind occupied and away from vivid visions of joining Jolie in bed, of feeling her soft curves pressed against my scarred body, of losing myself in her warmth and forgetting, even temporarily, the darkness that haunted me.
Of course, there was only so much one could do with routine ship maintenance, and eventually I succumbed to bone-deep exhaustion, my eyelids growing heavy despite my best efforts. Sleep was not easy for me, but I still needed at least a few hours of rest to function. I engaged the autopilot and allowed myself to doze in the chair, hoping desperately that the inevitable dreams of torture and pain wouldn’t make me scream aloud in my sleep. I would hate to terrify Lilibet with the sounds of my nightmares.
**************
It felt profoundly strange to wake like this—not with the bone-jarring, heart-racing intensity of being violently torn from the midst of torture into the harsh realm of wakefulness. No, this time when I opened my eyes, blinking against the soft amber glow of the control panel, I felt something I hadn’t experienced in cycles. An almost peaceful sense of rest. The familiar weight of dread that usually pressed against my chest upon waking was notably absent, replaced by something lighter, warmer.
I glanced at the navigation console, the holographic display indicating that several hours had passed since I’d fallen asleep. Odd. The nightmares tended to pay their cruel visits no matter how brief the nap, yet this time they had mercifully stayed away. I shook my head slowly, ridding my brain of the last vestiges of sleep, when the unmistakable sense that I wasn’t alone prickled along my spine.
Turning my head, I found myself face to face with a pair of enormous emerald eyes staring with unblinking curiosity from within a halo of dark pink curls. Lilibet stood barely an arm’s length away, her tiny hands clasped behind her back in a gesture that was both innocent and endearing.
“What’s the matter, princess?” I asked, swiveling the pilot’s seat to face her fully. Lilibet didn’t appear upset or frightened—just curious. I extended my hearing toward my cabin, picking up the deep, steady rhythm of Jolie’s breathing, suggesting she still slept peacefully.
“How come you don’t have a bed?” Lilibet asked, her small brow furrowed with concern.
“I do,” I chuckled, the sound rumbling low in my chest. “You and your MeMe are sleeping in it.”
Lilibet’s face immediately crumpled into something resembling righteous indignation, her lower lip jutting out in a way that was both fierce and utterly adorable. “You shouldn’t sleep in a chair. It’s not good for you,” she fussed, then brightened as inspiration struck. “The bed is really big. You could sleep in it with us. MeMe sleeps with me sometimes when I’m sick or afraid. She says it helps chase the bad dreams away.”
The innocent suggestion hit me with the force of a plasma blast. The idea of sleeping beside them—of holding them close, keeping them safe and protected through the vulnerable hours of darkness—stunned me with the raw intensity of how desperately I desired exactly that. The image bloomed unbidden in my mind. Lilibet curled between Jolie and me, her small body radiating warmth and trust, while Jolie’s soft breathing whispered against my shoulder.
No. It was too dangerous, too tempting, too much like the life I could never allow myself to have. The nightmares might have stayed at bay tonight, but they would be back. And I didn’t want them to touch my females.
“It’s not so bad,” I told her, forcing my voice to remain steady. “Besides, I have to be here in case the ship needs something.” I didn’t tell her that as the queen’s guard, I’d endured sleeping arrangements far worse than a padded pilot’s chair. Cold stone floors, cramped cells, sometimes no rest at all for days on end, and that was before the torture.
Lilibet approached with the fearless confidence of youth, her small, chubby hand landing on my forearm. Her touch was feather-light yet somehow grounding, and I held perfectly still, afraid to disturb this moment of simple connection. “Your scales are pretty,” she said matter-of-factly. “They look like water and sunlight dancing together.”
I glanced down to where her tiny fingers traced delicate patterns over the cerulean scales that covered my forearm, each one edged with hints of gold that caught the light. The youngling’s gentle, accepting touch made all the cruel words about my inability to shift my scales disappear. The scales that had marked me as different, as lesser, suddenly felt like something beautiful.
“Thank you,” I managed, my voice tight.
“Is there water where you are taking us?” Lilibet asked absently, her fingertips continuing their exploration of my scales. “MeMe promised to teach me to swim, but the water on Prince Qurbaga’s planet was dirty and smelled bad.”
“Yes,” I promised, my heart clenching at the casual way she mentioned the horrors of her former life. “Zarpazia has beautiful, crystal-clear lakes and rivers. There’s even an ocean with pale green sand that our queen calls a beach.”
Lilibet’s face lit up with pure delight, her eyes sparkling like captured starlight, then her expression shifted to something more serious, more vulnerable. “Will we be safe there? Really and truly safe?”
The worry in her voice was more than I could bear. I reached out slowly, letting my palm cup her soft cheek. “No one will ever hurt you or your MeMe again,” I vowed, pouring every ounce of conviction I possessed into the words. “I promise.”
Lilibet studied my face for a long moment with those impossibly wise green eyes, as though she could see straight through to my soul. Then her features relaxed into a smile.
“Is being a pilot hard?” she asked. I’d been around enough Zarpazian younglings to recognize this type of shift in focus as perfectly normal for a youngling.
“It’s easy,” I grinned broadly, surprised by how natural the expression felt. “Would you like to learn?”
Watching the look of unbridled excitement bloom across her face was like watching the sunrise after an endless night, turning my heart to something mushy and warm. I held out my arms in invitation, and she came to me without hesitation, climbing up to perch on my knee.
While piloting a shuttle like mine didn’t require the complex skills needed for warships or fighters, there was still plenty I could teach an eager young mind. It was surprising how delightfully she absorbed every piece of instruction, her questions intelligent and her enthusiasm infectious.
