Then his expression transformed.
She’d seen Becsul happy before. She’d seen him tender with Robbie, warm with her, satisfied with his work at the training facility. But this—this radiant, incandescent joy—was something new entirely.
“A child.” His voice was reverent, awed. “Our child.”
“Our child.” She reached for him, and he caught her in his arms, lifting her clean off her feet and crushing her against his chest. His tail wrapped around them both, a living embrace that pulled them impossibly closer.
“I did not think—” His voice broke. He buried his face in her hair, his powerful body trembling against hers. “I did not dare to hope?—”
“I know.” She clung to him, laughing and crying simultaneously, overwhelmed by emotions too big to name. “I know.”
They stood like that for a long time, wrapped around each other in the small bathroom of their small house on this small corner of a planet neither of them had known existed a year ago. Two people from different worlds, different species, different everything—building a life together that neither of them had ever imagined possible.
When Becsul finally set her down, his hands came up to frame her face, tilting it so he could look into her eyes.
“You are giving me everything,” he said softly. “A mate. A family. A future. You are giving me reasons to hope again, when I had given up on hope entirely.”
“We’re giving each other those things.” She covered his hands with her own. “That’s what this is, Becsul. That’s what we are. Partners.”
“Partners.” He tested the word, seemed to find it fitting. “Yes. I like this.”
From the other room, Robbie let out an indignant squawk—the particular sound he made when his entertainment had grown boring and he required immediate adult attention.
Melissa laughed, the sound still watery but genuine. “Our son has opinions about being ignored.”
“He will have to share his parents soon enough.” Becsul’s hand dropped to rest against her still-flat stomach, his touch impossibly gentle. “How long? Until the child comes?”
“I don’t know.” The honest answer. “Human pregnancies last about nine months, but this…” She gestured at the space between them, the impossible reality of what they’d created. “This is something new. I’ll need to consult with Director L’chong, do some research, figure out what we can expect.”
“But the child is healthy? You are healthy?”
“The test says everything looks normal. But I’ll do a full workup tomorrow, just to be sure.” She smiled up at him, this alien male who had become her everything. “We’re going to be okay. All of us.”
Robbie squawked again, more insistently this time.
Becsul pressed a kiss to her forehead, then stepped back with obvious reluctance. “I will attend to our son. You should rest.”
“I’ve been resting all afternoon. Apparently.” She followed him out of the bathroom, still feeling slightly dazed. “I fell asleep at my desk, remember?”
“That was unconsciousness brought on by exhaustion. It is not the same as rest.”
“That’s not actually how sleep works?—”
He silenced her with a look that promised further discussion later, then scooped Robbie from his play area with practiced ease. The baby immediately settled against his father’s chest, one tiny hand reaching up to pat at the textured skin of Becsul’s face.
Father, Melissa thought, watching them. He’s already a father, even without sharing blood. And now he’ll be a father again, and this time…
This time it would be biological as well as emotional. A child with his tail and her eyes, or her hair and his strength. A child that was proof—living, breathing proof—that the mate bond Naran had tried to exploit was real, that it worked, that love could bridge the gap between species when science alone might fail.
The nausea that had sent her fleeing to the bathroom was gone now, replaced by a different kind of flutter in her stomach. Anticipation, maybe. Or hope.
“Director L’chong will want to study this,” she said slowly, the implications beginning to unfold in her mind. “A naturally conceived cross-species pregnancy between a human and a Cire… it’s unprecedented. The research value alone?—”
“No.”
The word was sharp, immediate. Becsul turned to face her, Robbie still cradled against his chest, and something in his expression made her breath catch.
“I will not allow our child to become an experiment.” His voice was low, intense. “I will not allow you to become an experiment. We escaped that fate once. I will not return to it.”
