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Because the three of us belong to each other, come hell or high water.
A wave of exhaustion hits me, the food making me sleepy. I rest my head against Taraven’s shoulder and he runs his fingers through my hair, Malix trailing kisses down my shoulder. I want them so badly, but my body isn’t quite ready for what I want to do with them—thatis going to be pretty damn strenuous. I close my eyes and sigh, cuddling up between them.
“Will you take me to bed?” I ask. “Not the med bay…yourroom.”
Taraven smiles. “Call it what it is,” he says. “Ours.”
I laugh. “Okay—ourroom.”
Malix curls his arms around my waist. “I’ll carry you,” he says.
Normally, that would bother me—but with the state I’m in, I let him do it.
And with a full stomach and an even fuller heart, my soulmates take me to bed.
EPILOGUE
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FRANKIE
Jaya looks different through Lyran eyes.
Or…one Lyran eye.
Now that the wound has healed, I’m learning to use my new prosthetic—and my vision is better than ever. I haven’t taken it into the field yet, but I practice examining things by studying the plants on Jaya, following the trail of pink flowers wherever they take me. Sometimes it reminds me of Qiloka’s mangled body on Liatra, but most of the time, all I think about is how Jaya helped bring us together.
She’s a great matchmaker…even for people so stubborn that they think they’ll never love again.
I meander my way down to the hull as the day shift ends, the firefern on Jaya dimming to a soft, warm glow. The three of us—me, Taraven, and Malix—have taken up new residence in one of the old quarters in Jaya’s deepest recesses, Taraven spending his days cultivating a combination of plants from Zanpi, Rath, and Earth in the bigger room. It’s taken a while to feel like home, but I’m starting to get used to it, and the company makes it all worth it.
If we’re at war, at least I have a safe place to land.
The war is at a stalemate for now, though. Dalphox has called his troops back to Skoro, platoons ofzephtanand elite warriors swarming the Second House. We aren’t strong enough yet to take him on his own turf, and he’s weakened by the attack on Liatra. We won’t use the terraforming weapon on him, either; we aren’t willing to destroy an entire planet when so many of the people living on Skoro are prisoners.
Not everyone agrees with that decision…but it’s the status quo for now.
I don’t know how to feel about it myself.
I walk through Jaya’s hull, past Taraven’s workshop and toward our quarters. I run my fingers over the foliage on the walls, closing my eyes for a moment and justfeeling and listening. With my new eye, I get information overload sometimes—it’s easy to get lost in the complexity of a flower’s petals when I catch every detail.
Voices drift from our room. I tune in on them, listening to their conversation. It’s Taraven and Malix, alone in our quarters. Their voices are interspersed by the sound of shifting clothing, Taraven’s tail sweeping across the moss.
“Tell me about this one,” Malix’s voice says, his drone low and cloying.
“Ellenakflowers,” Taraven says. “A sign of love and desire.”
“Mmhm…” Malix trails off, and I hear a sharp intake of breath. “Keep talking.”
“How am I supposed to talk when you’re doing that?”
Ah…they’re flirting.
I lighten my step and draw closer, eager to catch a glimpse of them. They’ve been slower to warm up to each other than they were with me, but Malix is eternally horny and Taraven is more than happy to show him new tricks. I hold my breath as I peer around the corner, my jaw dropping at the sight of them.
I’ll never get tired of these men.
Malix stands behind Taraven, his taller and more slender form wrapped around Taraven’s broad shoulders. Cool silver scales stand in contrast with bright turquoise, Malix dressed in a casual sleeveless tunic and pants. His hands are splayed across Taraven’s skin—one hand on the other man’s chest, the other dipping below the waist of his pants.
