Then his rhythm faltered. The smooth strokes turned ragged, his breath coming in harsh gasps against her neck. She wrapped herself around him, and held on as he drove into her one final time and shattered.
The groan started in his chest and became something closer to a roar, his whole body shaking as he spilled inside her. His cock jerked and pulsed deep within her, and she felt the hot flood as he bathed her inner walls with rope after rope of his seed.
He collapsed against her, catching himself on his arm to avoid crushing her.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. Just lay there, tangled together, as their hearts raced. His face was buried in her neck, his breath hot against her skin. She ran her fingers through his hair and tried to remember how to form words.
"I love you," she whispered.
He lifted his head. His eyes were warm, his expression relaxed, all the sharp edges smoothed away.
"And I love you," he murmured. "I have loved you since you broke my nose and demanded to know where your friend was."
She laughed, the sound watery with tears she hadn't known were falling. "That's a terrible beginning to a love story."
"It's our beginning." He kissed her, soft and sweet. "I wouldn't change it."
She pulled him down against her. His weight was warm and solid, and when he moved to the side to keep from crushing her, she followed, curling into him like she'd always belonged there.
Maybe she had.
She'd never had a home. Not really. The apartment had been Emily's. The places before that had been temporary, transient, somewhere to sleep until the next eviction notice arrived.
But here, in the arms of an alien warrior on a crippled spaceship in the middle of nowhere, with Barnaby probably still asleep in the pilot's chair and an Imperial war-cruiser holding station outside...
She was finally home.
"Thyaar?"
"Mm?" His voice was drowsy, his hand tracing lazy patterns on her hip.
"The war-cruiser captain said six hours, right?"
"He did."
She propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at him. He was a mess, bruised, bloodied and exhausted, and he was smiling at her like she'd hung the stars in the sky.
"Good," she said. "Because I'm not done with you yet."
His laugh was warm and rough.
"As my mate commands."
EPILOGUE
Twelve hours later, the Vett'an limped toward Parac'Norr with the Parat'Vial running escort. The external drive units the bigger ship had attached hummed through the hull, a steady vibration that felt wrong in a ship this refined.
Thyaar didn't care. They were moving and that was enough.
Barnaby was asleep in the pilot's chair. He’d reclaimed it approximately thirty seconds after the fight and hadn't moved since, one paw dangling off the armrest, his furry chest rising and falling with the deep, rumbling purr of an animal who had fought pirates, won, and considered this adequate compensation for his troubles.
Amelia was asleep across Thyaar's lap.
She'd wrapped herself in one of the heavy blankets from the Emperor's bed and curled against him with her head on his shoulder. Her breathing was slow and even, her face soft in sleep.
He smiled down at her. He'd put that there. The peace in her expression. The trust that let her sleep while he handled the rest.
The bond hummed quietly in his chest and he looked down at the newly forming marks around his wrists.
