Page 102 of Enslak

"Both." I admitted it because lying to her was impossible. "I want to know them. Want to remember more. But I'm also..." I paused, searched for words that fit. "Scared. What if I can't be who they remember? What if I'm too different now?"

"Then you're different." She said it like it was simple. Like it didn't matter. "That's okay. You don't have to be who you were before. You just have to be who you are now."

"And who am I now?"

"You're Enslak." Her fingertips touched my cheek, gentle and sure. "You're a survivor. A fighter. A protector. You're my mate. That's enough."

"Is it?"

"Yes." She pulled me down and kissed me, soft and certain. "More than enough."

I kissed her back, lost myself in it. In the taste of her. In the feeling of her body pressed against mine. In the way she made everything else fade to background noise.

When we broke apart, I rested my forehead against hers, our breath mingling. "I love you."

"I love you too." She smiled. "Now—when do you want to meet with your family?"

"Tomorrow." The word came out rough. "Tonight is just for us."

"Okay." She took my hand and led me toward the bed. "Then let's make tonight count."

We made love slowly. Tenderly. Taking our time. Every touch felt sacred. Every kiss felt like a promise. And when we finally came together, the bond between us flared bright and strong—a living thing that pulsed with warmth and light.

Afterward, lying tangled in the sheets, I felt more at peace than I had in I couldn't remember how long.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"For what?"

"Everything. For saving me. For believing in me. For loving me."

"Always." She whispered it back. "I'll always love you."

I held her close and let myself drift, knowing that whatever tomorrow brought, we'd face it together.

The next morning I stood outside Mother's private sitting room trying to remember how to breathe.

My heart was doing that thing where it felt too big for my chest. Like it might crack my ribs if it beat any harder. Niki squeezed my hand and I knew she felt the same beat echoed in her own chest.

I'd finally put on the formal uniform they'd given me. Deep blue fabric with silver threading that caught the light. Cut to fit my larger frame but still elegant somehow. The high collar felt wrong against my throat—too much like the collar I'd worn for a century. Silver clasps ran down the front, each one bearing the crest of Vaktaire. The pants were tailored perfectly, tucked into polished black boots that made almost no sound on the station's floors.

I looked like a prince.

Like someone important.

It felt like wearing someone else's skin.

Beside me, Niki had chosen something that balanced formality with her own style. A deep burgundy dress that fell to mid-thigh. Structured fabric but not stiff. Long sleeves. Modest neckline. Simple black boots to her knees. Practical but elegant. She'd left her hair down, dark waves falling past her shoulders.

She looked beautiful. Professional. Entirely herself.

She squeezed my hand. "You've got this."

"What if—"

"No what-ifs." She rose on her toes and kissed me. "Just go in there and be yourself. That's all they want."

I nodded. Took a breath. Opened the door.