Maxym
MAXYM
Weapons are my safe space. I know weapons. I can handle weapons. Anything else, such as managing an annoyed mate, is not within my remit, and Cleo looks very annoyed.
I’m not sure what to do, and the helmet I’m wearing, which admittedly has made me feel like I could fight a ziggurex bare handed, is also blocking the thoughtbond, so I’m not sure why she is annoyed and what I can do about it.
Retah works his way through a myriad of screens, lost in his work, so I pull my Cleo against me. She squirms.
“What is it, my mate?” I query.
She looks at me, her lips scrunched up in a weird way which can’t possibly be good or comfortable.
“Don’t think you can just kiss me and it’ll all be fine, ,” she says as I wrap my wing around her, concerned her strange face is because she might be cold. “Or do this.” She pushes at the feathers surrounding her, my primaries rattling.
“Why not? You are my mate, and I want you to be happy.”
“Then don’t offer to go charging in regardless of your own safety,” she responds, her hands on my breastplate, something I want to tear off instantly so I can feel her soft skin against mine.
I refrain.
“I would fight a supernova if it meant it kept you from harm,” I say.
“I know, but did it ever occur to you I’d prefer to have you by my side rather than dead in a ditch?” Cleo growls.
I love my growly mate. Her anger bristles through her like a rouse through my feathers.
“My sweet mate.” I drop onto one knee in front of her, keeping my wings wrapped around us both. “I didn’t mean to disrespect your feelings, but fighting is what I do. It’s what I’ve always done from the day I woke up in the facility to the day the Bogarok appeared in the dome.”
“I appreciate that, . I don’t want to change what you are.” Her breath hitches.
“I want to change who I am,” I say. “I will always fight, but if my fight is for you, then I want to be with you.” I shake my head. “I blamed what I have become on my injury, but it is my refusal to face my past which did that.”
Cleo gently runs her hand under my chin, and I lean into her touch.
“You are all I want, my eregri , all I’ve ever wanted, and yet I didn’t know I needed you,” I murmur, never wanting her to let go.
“Then let’s work this out, together,” she says. “Perhaps with less fight and more brainpower.”
I shake out my wings.
“You think I have brain power?” I hitch up a lip at her.
“I’m sure you’re more than a pretty face and endless abs.” Her mirth is evidence on her face, all traces of her annoyance gone.
“Then I must prove it to you,” I respond, snatching a kiss from her lips and running my hand over her sweet belly, the swell more than evident. “Before this youngling arrives.”
“I think we have time. Humans are pregnant for a while.”
“I’m not sure how long Gryn females are with young,” I puzzle. “I’ve never met one.”
“Not even your mother?” Cleo asks.
“All I recall is a soft touch and a brush of feathers. Other than that, none of us know what happened to our parents. Including Klynn, even if I can’t believe that vrexer ever had any.”
“You’re worried about him.” Cleo studies my face.
“I am not,” I growl.
“I think you are.”
“He’s a contrary vrexer who would kill me as soon as look at me, or anyone. I do not miss him, nor am I worried about him,” I huff.
Cleo folds her arms, and somehow the action makes my stomach squirm in not a good way.
“I saw you both together. You miss him.” she says.
“Cleo, come look at this,” Retah calls out, and before I can say anything, she’s by his side, staring at the screen.
“!” she says urgently, beckoning to me.
I’m by her side in two strides and staring down at the vid-screen.
“It’s not a weapon…it’s an info vault,” Retah says quietly. “Where the Galactic Council keeps all its secrets.”
I look closer at the heat signature at the heart of the dome.
“Why keep them?” Cleo asks.
“Because sometimes you need leverage, and the best place to keep it is the one place no one will ever look for it,” Retah replies.
“Until now,” I growl.
“Until now,” Cleo echoes. “And it’s where we’ll find the truth.”