Page 84 of Starfighter’s Salvation

Then I collapsed against his chest, shaking, and his arms locked around me. He pressed his face into my hair. Breathed me in. I felt a tremor run through his whole body.

“I love you,” I whispered into his skin.

His hand traced slow lines up and down my spine. “You're mine and I'm never letting you go.”

I kissed the center of his chest, right over the bruise, and settled my cheek against his chest.

Outside the windows, Arturri turned slow and green beneath a spill of unfamiliar stars. A whole alien world I had somehow ended up belonging to. Inside, Corvan’s breathing evened out beneath my ear, and his heart settled into one slow, steady rhythm.

I fell asleep counting every beat.

21

Corvan, Moon Base Arturri, Five Weeks Later

* * *

Tavar brought his daughters to see the Salvation five weeks after Dome Erys. He walked into the rescue bay on his own. Slowly, with a medical brace beneath his uniform, but he walked. Gina saw him first. She always spotted the walking wounded before anyone else did, some deep nurse’s radar that had been pointed at me the day we met and had never fully powered down since. Five weeks had made a big difference for us and for our ship. Fresh plating shone where scars had darkened the hull, and the ship smelled of polish instead of smoke for once. I was fully healed as well, in more ways than one. Thanks to my bondmate.

“Look at you.” Gina's smile was contagious, as usual.

Tavar smiled. “You told me to stop being dramatic.”

“I did. You listened. That’s rare around here.”

His mate carried a covered dish. Two small girls walked between them in festival clothing, holding their father’s hands. “Sella and Brin,” he said. “My daughters.”

The older girl looked at the ship, then at me. “Are you the pilot?”

“Yes.”

“You saved my Papa after he got shot?”

“Also, yes.”

She considered us. “Mama says men are difficult patients.”

Gina covered a laugh with her hand, and I noticed the movement the way I caught everything she did now — the crease at the corners of her eyes, the breath she held to keep quiet, the small sound she made in the back of her throat right before she lost control in my arms.

“Your mother is correct,” I said.

Tavar’s mate handed Gina the covered dish. “I made you a cake. Chocolate. From Earth.”

Gina took it in both hands, beaming at her like they’d known each other for years. “I love your family.”

I watched Gina's smile — the wide, unguarded one she gave people she had decided to keep — and felt the old possessive thing in me soften into something with no edges left when the Sargeant's wife dropped all pretenses and pulled Gina into a tight hug.

Five weeks ago, the sight of her handing her heart to strangers would have made me want to stand between her and every single one of them. Now I only wanted to be close to her, counted among the people she kept. Because when she was finished winning over every single person she came into contact with, she always came back to me. She was mine.

“You met them two minutes ago and you're in love already?” I laughed as the little girls joined the hug, leaving me and the Sargeant nothing to do but stand by and grin at our mates like two besotted fools.

“They brought cake. Try to keep up.” Gina's voice bubbled with happiness.

Tavar lifted each daughter high enough to touch the painted name beneath the cockpit. “This is the ship that came for us,” he told them. “Remember her.”

Back on her tiny feet, Sella finally looked at the burned plating, then up at me. “Were you scared?”

I could have lied to the child, but we were a planet at war. Lies served no one. “Yes. I was scared.”