God, I loved this male.
Right on cue, a polite knock echoed from the ornate door, and several of the harem girls entered carrying elaborate silver platters loaded with an array of refreshments. I did a double-take when I realized they were wearing more actual clothing than I’d ever seen them in during my entire time in the harem, flowing silk tunics in soft pastels, hair arranged in elegant styles rather than the provocative displays Qurbaga had demanded. Their movements seemed lighter, more natural, no longer the carefully choreographed seduction we’d been forced to perform. More importantly, each female appeared genuinely happy, faces radiating the kind of joy that comes from true freedom.
The conversation shifted away from the mysterious human and toward more practical matters. TheBardagawould take responsibility for ensuring that Qurbaga’s slaves were returned to their home world or relocated to a place where they could live safely and freely. A contingent ofBardagaguards were dispatched to handle the unpleasant but necessary task of moving the sickly Kwado, who still languished in the dining hall, to the ship’s brig. Binwee would remain aboard the royal barge with a small crew on loan from theBardagaand travel to planet Calpa, the seat of Alliance power, where the evidence could be properly catalogued and analyzed.
All in all, things seemed to wrap up nicely, at least until Charick’s comm chimed with an urgent, insistent tone indicating another shuttle had breached the planet’s atmosphere.
We trooped out of the barge just as the new ship touched down near the other shuttle, landing thrusters kicking up small clouds of dust that glittered in the afternoon light. The vessel was similar in shape and design to the others, sleek and aerodynamic, but what caught my attention was the golden ‘Z’ emblazoned proudly on its hull.
“It’s from Zarpazia,” Diarvet murmured, his arm sliding around my waist as we watched the shuttle hatch cycle open, releasing a small puff of cooled air that carried the faint scent of exotic spices.
The first person to emerge was an older male, moving with a dignified bearing. His close-cropped hair was a striking deep blue shade that perfectly complemented the intricate pattern of blue and gold scales covering his weathered face and exposed arms. At his side walked a human woman who looked to be in her late forties, her shoulder-length light brown hair streaked with threads of silver that caught the sunlight. She had warm, deep hazel eyes that sparkled with intelligence and wore a smile that spoke of genuine happiness and contentment, rather than mere politeness or social obligation.
The next male to exit the shuttle was easily as tall as Diarvet—perhaps even taller—and he cut an absolutely magnificent figure in his simple yet perfectly tailored black tunic and pants. Gorgeous purple and teal scales flowed over his exposed chest and muscular arms, creating a breathtaking riot of colors that seemed to shift and shimmer like liquid gemstones in the light. His dark purple hair cascaded over his broad shoulders in thick, lustrous waves that moved as if he belonged in a shampoo commercial. The moment he caught sight of my mate, his entire face transformed with a broad, delighted grin.
“That’s Vraxxan,” Diarvet murmured, and I heard the genuine affection and warmth coloring his voice.
When the large Zarpazian stepped to one side, reaching back into the shuttle to help someone else join him on the ramp, my heart literally stopped beating.
The last time I’d seen her, she’d been so much thinner and frailer, her dark auburn hair patchy and lackluster from months of aggressive chemotherapy. Not to mention, she’d been lying unconscious on the roof of the hospital, surrounded by those hairless cat aliens. But now... now she looked radiant, healthy, alive in a way that took my breath away.
Her eyes met mine across the distance, widening in shock as her mouth fell open in complete disbelief, one hand flying to her chest as if to still her racing heart. Then she was screaming my name, running toward me with her arms held wide, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks, and I was doing exactly the same thing, my feet carrying me forward without conscious thought. We crashed into each other with enough force to knock the breath from our lungs, arms wrapped tightly around one another as tears of joy and disbelief streamed down our faces.
“Jolie!” Lucy was laughing and crying at the same time, her voice muffled against my shoulder, her arms squeezing me so tight I could barely breathe, but I didn’t care.
“Oh my God,” I breathed, pulling back just enough to capture her face in my trembling hands, studying every detail of her features to make sure the healthy glow radiating from her was real and not some cruel trick of the light. “I thought you were dead.”
“I was,” she snorted with wry amusement, “or damn close to it. But those cat aliens had this healing machine, and when I came out of it....” She gestured to herself. “Completely cancer-free.”
A Garoot Healer. Qurbaga had access to one as well, using it to fix whatever damage his hedonistic excesses inflicted on his body. Thankfully, I was fairly certain that even advanced alien technology couldn’t reattach a severed head.
The large Zarpazian with the teal and purple scales strode to Lucy’s side, his hand settling possessively around her waist. “My love,” he said, his voice carrying a warm, regal quality that seemed to resonate with natural authority, “I take it you two know each other.”
“This is Jolie, the nurse I told you about,” she said, grinning so hard her cheeks had to hurt. “Jolie, this is my mate, King Vraxxan.”
“King?” I snorted, shaking my head in amazement. “That makes you....”
“Queen Lucy,” Diarvet announced, stepping up to give her a warm hug. “I see you already know my mate.”
“Mate?” Lucy blinked in confusion, her gaze bouncing back and forth between Diarvet and me. Then she squealed with pure, unbridled joy and hugged me again, then embraced Diarvet in turn, her laughter ringing like bells. “Looks like we’re going to have a lot to catch up on during the trip home.”
Home. The word settled into my bones like it belonged there, warm and perfect and right.
“You don’t know the half of it,” Diarvet teased with that crooked smile I loved so much.
Drawn by curiosity, Lilibet came running up to us, her cheeks flushed from playing, dark pink curls bouncing around her face. She launched herself into Diarvet’s waiting arms, her small body fitting perfectly against his chest.
“Who is this, Dede?” She demanded with all the imperious curiosity of a three-year-old.
“This is my very good friend King Vraxxan and his mate, Queen Lucy,” Diarvet told her, his voice filled with paternalpride, and the wash of love that came over his features was so strong it made tears prickle behind my eyes. “King Vraxxan, Queen Lucy, may I present Princess Lilibet—our daughter.”
I didn’t miss the way Lucy’s hand drifted almost unconsciously to her still-flat stomach. Was she already pregnant, or, like me, hoping?
“I am most pleased to meet you, Princess Lilibet,” Vraxxan said with exaggerated formality, as he swept into a deep, elaborate bow that would have made any royal court proud.
“As am I,” Lucy echoed with matching solemnity, dropping into the most perfect curtsey I’d ever seen. I really needed her to teach me how to do that.
Lilibet giggled, the sound light and musical. “Are these your friends?”
