“I’ve spent my entire life taking risks.” Doren covered her hands with his own. “This is the first one that’s ever felt like a sure thing.”
Their house wassmall—three rooms that had started as a guest cottage and become something more. Emma had added touches over the past months: woven blankets in warm colors, paintings from local artists, a shelf of the books she’d accumulated during their travels. It wasn’t theVagabond, but it had the same feeling of home.
No, Doren corrected himself as he pulled Emma through the door. It has a better feeling. Because she’s here.
They checked on Ari first—habit ingrained by months of parenthood—and found her sleeping peacefully in her small bed, silver skin luminous in the moonlight that filtered through the window. Emma lingered for a moment, brushing a gentle hand over the toddler’s hair, and Doren felt his chest ache with the sweetness of it.
Our daughter. And soon, maybe...
He didn’t let himself finish the thought. Didn’t dare, not yet. But the hope of it was a warm flame in his chest, burning away the last traces of the man he’d been.
“Come to bed,” Emma whispered, taking his hand.
He followed her willingly.
Their bedroom was smaller than the captain’s quarters on theVagabond, but the bed was larger—a concession to Doren’s height and their mutual appreciation for space to move. Emma lit a small lamp by the bedside, filling the room with a soft golden glow, and then turned to face him.
“I love you,” she said simply.
“I know.” He closed the distance between them, hands settling on her waist with a familiarity that still thrilled him. “I love you too. Have I mentioned that recently?”
“Not in the last hour.”
“Oversight. I apologize.” He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, the corner of her mouth. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”
“Better.”
“I try.”
Her fingers found the fastening of his shirt—the loose Kaisarian style he’d adopted on Sherae—and began working it open. He returned the favor, slipping the light fabric of her dress off her shoulders to pool at her feet.
“Beautiful,” he breathed.
“You always say that.”
“It’s always true.”
She laughed softly, and the sound turned into a gasp as he lifted her, carrying her the short distance to the bed and laying her down with a reverence that matched the moment.
This woman. This impossible, incredible woman.
He’d spent years chasing treasures across the galaxy—ancient artifacts, legendary fortunes, the dream of the Vault. He’d measured his worth in discoveries, in the things he could find that no one else could. And all that time, he’d been missing the truth.
The greatest treasure wasn’t something to be found. It was something to be chosen.
Emma reached for him, and he went willingly into her arms.
They moved together with the ease of long familiarity, but there was something different tonight—an edge of intensity, of meaning that transformed every touch. When she whispered his name, it sounded like a promise. When he pressed her into the mattress, he felt like he was claiming not just her body but her future, their future, everything they would build together.
“Please,” she breathed against his throat. “Doren.”
He gave her what she asked for. What they both needed.
And when pleasure crested and broke over them both, he held her through it, feeling her heartbeat against his chest and thinking: This. This is what I was looking for all along.
Later—muchlater—Emma slept curled against his side, her breathing slow and even, her face peaceful in the lamp’s dying glow.
Doren couldn’t sleep.
