“Imperial war-cruiser,” he said. “The beacon worked.”
The pirates scattered, peeling away from the debris field like they were on fire and accelerating hard in different directions. The war-cruiser didn’t bother to go after them. It just... sat there, massive and patient, while the pirates ran.
She remembered how to breathe.
“Oh, thank god.”
Thyaar’s hand found hers again. He was still watching her, not the screen.
“You’re safe,” he said. “It’s over.”
It hit her all at once… the raw terror she’d pushed so far down it shook her from head to toe and the tears she’d been holding back.
She’d almost died. He’d almost died. There’d been a gun to his head and she’d?—
“Hey.” His voice again, rough and warm. “Hey. Kelarris, look at me.”
She looked at him. His face was a mess, blood and bruises and exhaustion, but his eyes were clear and focused entirely on her.
Her hands were still on his chest and she could feel his heart beating under her palm, steady and strong. Alive.
“The bond,” she said, her voice tight. “What you said before. About being your mate.”
His jaw tightened. “Amelia?—“
“I need to know what that means. I need?—“
“It means nothing.” The words came out level and controlled. “If you don’t want it to. If you don’t want me.” He looked away, his expression tightening. “The bond is my burden, not yours. If you don’t want it then I’ll take you back to Earth. You’ll never have to see me again.”
The cold knot in her chest cracked open.
“Fuck off.”
His gaze snapped back to hers, his eyes widening.
Anger surged, rising up through the fear and the exhaustion like lava through rock, hot and bright and out of her control.
“You don’t get to do that,” she snarled, poking him in the chest. “You don’t get to tell me you’re bonded to me and then offer to just let me go, like I’m a god-damn package you can return. Like none of this meant anything.”
“That’s not?—“
“And you definitely don’t get to lock me in a room to keep me ‘safe’ while you go out there and almost get yourself killed.” Her voice cracked, but she didn’t care. “I’m still mad about that, by the way. And then?—”
She cut herself off, looking down. Reaching out, he covered her hands with his and when he spoke, his voice was low and soft in a way she hadn’t heard from him before.
“And then?”
“I mean—” The words were stuck somewhere in her chest, tangled up with the memory of him on his knees with a gun to his head. “When I saw you. In there. With the?—”
She couldn’t finish. The tears spilled over, blurring her vision, and she hated it. She hated crying in front of people. She’d learned young that crying didn’t help, didn’t change anything, just made you look weak when you couldn’t afford to be weak.
Strong fingers slid under her chin and tilted her face up.
Thyaar looked at her like she was something impossible. Something precious.
“You were scared for me?” He rumbled, surprise in his eyes. “Would my death have meant something to you?”
She batted his hand away.
