6
“Do you know why I have to be at this docking bay?”Emily asked, keeping her voice low.She didn’t look back, but her shoulders had gone tight.
The summons had come through priority channels, encrypted with the Emperor’s personal seal, but devoid of details.Docking Bay 4.Immediate presence required.The Empress-to-be is to be escorted.
“I don’t,” Raaevik said.“But if Station Command cleared it, it could be official.”
“Official how?”
“Earth official,” he said, and immediately regretted it when she went still.“Or it could be.A delegation, maybe… someone who wants to be seen paying respects to the new Empress.”
Emily’s laugh was short and humorless.“The President of Earth, come to take a selfie with their exported bride?”
Raaevik’s jaw tightened.He didn’t like being reminded of how easily humans could turn her into a headline.
“I bloody well hate surprises,” she muttered, more to herself than him.“The last surprise I got was a one-way ticket to an alien planet.”
“The docking bay is secure,” he said, trying to reassure her.Nothing was secure.Not after the shuttle.“Whatever is arriving has been cleared by Station Command.”
He walked half a step behind her, body angled to shield her from the open expanse of the corridor, his hand hovering near his sidearm.He scanned the corridor.Faces.Hatches.Light panels.
The assignment was an hour old, and his nerves were already shredded.
Emily walked with her head down, skirts brushing her boots.Tension rolled off her in waves.
The need to protect her hit him like a fist under the ribs… visceral, possessive, and completely inappropriate.
Gritting his teeth, he forced the feeling down, buried it under discipline and duty.It wasn't his place to keep her safe because she belonged to him.It was his place because the Emperor had ordered it.There was a difference.Averyimportant difference.
They reached the transition point, and the VIP sector’s polished panels gave way to the docking ring’s industrial metal.Cooler air carried ozone and the faint tang of recently powered-down drives.
Guards snapped to attention as they passed.They all had good lines of sight, their weapons charged but holstered.He nodded to them in approval, his eyes tracking their hands and their focus.
The blast doors of Bay 4 stood open.Beyond them was a metal-and-glass reception hall designed to make visitors feel small.
A ship had already docked.
It wasn’t a military vessel, but a civilian transport, sleek and expensive, its hull a glossy white that screamed money.The airlock seal hissed, steam venting in thick white plumes that curled along the floor.
Moving closer to Emily, he stepped into her personal space without a thought.His body was a wall between her and the opening door.If this was a threat, it would have to go through him to get to her.
The ramp descended with a whine of hydraulics.
A figure appeared at the top of the ramp, black against the ship’s bright interior.Raaevik narrowed his eyes, tracking the outline for weapons, gait… anything wrong.
The human female who descended the ramp moved with a practiced, camera-ready grace, her blonde waves styled into place.Tall and willowy, she wore a tailored white suit and looked like dirt was a personal insult.
Next to him, Emily made a small, choked gasp.“Mother?”
He stiffened.Thiswas the female who had given birth to his ma—The empress-to-be?
The female stopped at the bottom of the ramp, striking a pose as she surveyed the docking bay.Her gaze swept over the waiting guards, the utilitarian architecture, and finally landed on Emily.
She didn’t smile or rush forward to embrace the daughter uprooted from her life on Earth to marry an alien emperor.Instead, she tilted her head, expression one of mild distaste.
“Well,” she said, her voice carrying clearly in the silence.“It’s certainly...industrial.Quaint, if you like that sort of thing.”
Emily took a step forward, then stopped, her boots scuffing on the metal.Her shoulders squared, and a flicker of the stubbornness he’d seen in the alleyway surfaced.“Mom?What are you doing here?Aren’t you supposed to be on a cruise?”
