“No. That is what you do. And I know you will succeed at this as well.”
She leaned into him, letting his solid warmth ground her. “It would take money. I don’t know how much, but definitely more than nothing.”
“I have some funds.” His voice was careful, measured. “Not a fortune. My warrior’s salary was modest, and I sent most of it to support the reproductive facility. But I have savings. Enough to begin, perhaps.”
“I can’t take your money?—”
“It is not ‘my money.’“ He pulled back to look at her, his black eyes serious. “It is our money. We are mates. What I have is yours. What you have is mine. That is how it works.”
“That’s how it works for Cire.”
“That is how it works for us.” His hand came up to cup her face. “Unless you object.”
“I don’t object.” Her voice came out smaller than she’d intended. “I just… I’m not used to partnership. Real partnership. Where someone actually shares the burden.”
“Then you will become used to it.” He pressed his forehead to hers, a gesture that was becoming familiar, comforting. “I will not let you carry this alone, Melissa. Not ever.”
She closed her eyes against the sudden sting of tears. God, she was tired of crying. But these weren’t the tears of fear or grief or exhaustion—they were something else. Something softer. Something that felt like hope.
“What about you?” she asked, when she trusted her voice again. “What do you want to do?”
“Want?” He said the word as if it were foreign. “I… have not considered it.”
“You haven’t thought about what you want?”
“I have spent forty-seven years doing what was required. What was necessary. What my people needed.” He paused, his brow furrowing in that way that meant he was truly thinking. “No one has asked me what I want since I was a child.”
“Well, I’m asking now.”
He was quiet for a long moment. She let the silence stretch, sensing that he needed time to find the answer within himself.
“I want to be useful,” he said finally. “I want to contribute something meaningful. Something that matters.”
“You were a captain. You led warriors.”
“I led warriors in service of a facility that was failing. I gave orders and maintained discipline while our species continued to die.” His voice held a bitter edge she rarely heard. “I want to do more than that. Better than that.”
“What does ‘better’ look like?”
“I don’t know.” The admission seemed to cost him something. “I have skills—combat, tactics, leadership. I know how to protect and how to fight. But I do not want to return to war. I do not want to spend my remaining years preparing for battles that may never come.”
“Then don’t.”
“It may not be that simple. My skills are specific. My experience is narrow.” His tail tightened around her waist. “I am not certain what value I offer outside of violence.”
“Becsul.” She put her hands on either side of his face, forcing him to meet her eyes. “You are so much more than your fighting skills. You’re strategic. You’re observant. You’re good with people—don’t give me that look, you are. You made alliances with everyone from the pilot to the supply workers. That’s not nothing.”
“That was survival.”
“It was leadership. Real leadership, not just the kind that comes from giving orders.” She smiled at him. “Captain Trevan clearly respects you. Koss thinks you’re fascinating. Even Wei-Lin—and I don’t think she respects anyone—listens when you speak.”
“I had not noticed.”
“Because you’re too busy being humble to see your own worth.” She kissed him, soft and quick. “Whatever you decide to do, I’ll support it. If you want to become a freighter captain or a security consultant or a children’s entertainer who makes scary faces on demand—I’m with you.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “I do not think children’s entertainment is my calling.”
“Katie would disagree.”
