“You showed me the main areas. I want to see everything—the engine room, the cargo holds, whatever hidden compartments you use for smuggling.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “If this is going to be our home, I should know all its secrets.”
Our home.
The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He’d thought of theVagabondas his for so long—his ship, his sanctuary, his evidence of everything he’d built. The idea of sharing it, of making it theirs, felt simultaneously terrifying and exactly right.
“Alright,” he said, and stood. “But I warn you—some of those compartments are barely big enough for cargo, let alone a person.”
“Are you calling me big?”
“I’m calling you perfectly proportioned.” He caught her around the waist, pulling her close. “Also brave, stubborn, and dangerously good at getting me to talk about things I’d rather avoid.”
“It’s a gift.”
Ari chose that moment to wake, announcing her return to consciousness with a series of irritated chirps. Both adults looked down at the baby, who was glaring up at them with an expression that suggested she did not appreciate being squished between them.
“I think she’s hungry,” Emma said.
“I think she’s inherited her mother’s timing.”
“She’s not—” She stopped, her cheeks flushing. “I mean, I’m not?—”
“I know what you are.” He released her, but let his hand linger on her hip. “You’re her mother in every way that matters. The fact that you didn’t give birth to her doesn’t change that.”
Her eyes glistened. “Sometimes I forget that you can be sweet.”
“Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain.”
She laughed, the sound bright and clear, and something loosened in his chest, some knot of anxiety he’d carried for so long he’d forgotten it was there.
This is what having something to lose feels like.
It was terrifying. And wonderful. And entirely worth the risk.
“Come on,” he said, nodding towards the corridor. “Let’s feed the tiny dictator and then I’ll show you where I hide the really valuable contraband.”
“You have really valuable contraband?”
“Emma.” He gave her his most charming smile. “I’m a smuggler. Of course I have really valuable contraband.”
She shook her head, still laughing, and followed him out of the cockpit.
Somewhere ahead lay the first point on the star map, another piece of the puzzle that he had been assembling for most of his life. But for the first time in years, the destination didn’t feel like the most important thing. The journey did. And the people he was taking it with.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Warmth surrounded her like a cocoon. Emma drifted in that hazy place between sleep and waking, her body loose and comfortable, her mind pleasantly blank. She was aware of the steady hum of the ship’s systems, the soft recycled air moving across her skin, and the solid heat of Doren’s body pressed against her back.
His arm was draped over her waist, heavy and possessive even in sleep. His breath stirred the hair at the nape of her neck in slow, rhythmic puffs. She could feel his heartbeat against her spine—slower than a human’s, deeper, a bass drum keeping time with the universe.
She smiled without opening her eyes.
Three days in hyperspace had passed like a dream. Good food, better company, and the quiet intimacy of learning each other’s rhythms. She knew now that Doren preferred his not-coffee strong enough to strip paint, that he hummed off-key while running diagnostics, and that he talked to the ship like she was a person. She knew the particular way his tail curled when he wasconcentrating, and the flash of vulnerability in his eyes when he thought no one was watching.
She also knew exactly how to make him come apart.
That thought sent a pleasant shiver through her, and she shifted slightly, pressing back against him. The movement must have roused him because his arm tightened, pulling her closer.
“Awake?” His voice was rough with sleep, a low rumble that vibrated through her.
