Chapter 9 Static in the Void
Static in the Void
Polly
I wake up drowning in him.
Rynn’s heavy thigh is slung possessively over mine, pinning me to the bunk like I’m his prize and he’s never letting go.
One thick arm locks around my waist, fingers splayed over the dip of my spine as if even in sleep he needs to feel every inch of me.
His face is buried in the hollow of my throat, lips brushing the raw, throbbing mate-bite that flares hot every time my pulse stutters.
The air is thick with us: salt-slick skin, the sharp metallic bite of spent desire, and that low, addictive burn of his scent soaked so deep into my lungs I’ll never get it out.
The Aethel crystal lies discarded on the floor beside my crumpled jacket, dark now.
Just a cold, fist-sized stone. As if it didn’t rip open last night and flood us both with starlight while he was buried to the hilt inside me, teeth sinking into my neck, growling mine mine mine until the word carved itself into my marrow.
I still feel it. That merciless snap behind my ribs when the bond locked.
His pleasure slamming into mine, mine pouring into him, until the whole universe collapsed to the slick drag of his cock and the brutal, perfect stretch of being taken so completely I forgot my own name.
Now the echo hums both ways, a second heartbeat that whispers he’s just as wrecked for me as I am for him.
His breath fans slow and hot across the bruise he left.
For once the lethal tension that’s ridden him since the moment he stepped aboard is gone, melted into lazy, trusting weight.
He’s sprawled over me like I’m the only safe harbor in all the black, and gods help me, I want to keep him here forever.
I should move. Should check the nav. Should pretend I’m still the captain and not a woman who begged an alien warrior to ruin her against her bunk until her voice shredded.
Instead I stay perfectly still, memorizing the way his scales flicker soft indigo along the ridge of his shoulder, slow as breath.
The dermal resonance thrums between us: low, filthy, sub-audible, vibrating straight to the ache between my thighs that still remembers exactly how thoroughly he took me apart.
I’m marked. Owned. The bite throbs with every pulse, tender and swollen, his scent soaked so deep into my skin that anyone who comes near will know in seconds I’ve been fucked and claimed and bonded by something wild and unstoppable.
The thought should terrify me.
It doesn’t.
I’m still reeling from that particular revelation when Rynn stirs.
His hand flexes on my waist, fingers spreading wide and possessive, digging in just enough to remind me who I belong to now.
He inhales deep, nose dragging along my throat, and the vibration in his chest kicks up a notch, that low, hungry purr that makes my nipples tighten against his chest.
“Good morning,” I manage, because somebody has to say something before I do something stupid like roll him onto his back and ride him until the bunk collapses. “Or, you know, whatever cycle it is in space. Zip, what’s our—”
“CURRENTLY IN STABLE ORBIT AROUND AN UNINHABITED MOON,” Zip chimes in, smug as ever.
“LIFE SUPPORT OPTIMAL. HULL INTEGRITY HOLDING AT NINETY-FOUR PERCENT FOLLOWING RECENT... ENTHUSIASTIC STRUCTURAL STRESS TESTS. ALL SYSTEMS GREEN, CAPTAIN CHAOS. ALSO, GOOD MORNING TO YOU BOTH. YOU’RE WELCOME FOR THE PRIVACY MODE, BY THE WAY. ”
Rynn’s lips curve against my skin. A smile. An actual, lazy, devastating smile that I feel more than see.
“Your AI has opinions,” he rumbles, voice gravel-rough from sleep and last night’s growls. The sound licks straight down my spine and pools hot between my legs.
“Zip has opinions about everything. It’s his most endearing quality.
” I twist in the cage of his arms until I can see his face.
Starlight from the viewport spills over him: molten-gold eyes with no pupil, just endless liquid fire, scales at his temples shimmering like spilled starlight.
He looks like sin made flesh, and he’s looking at me like I’m the only thing worth burning for.
“How do you feel?” I ask, voice softer than I mean it to be.
He cups my jaw, thumb stroking over the swollen bite mark with deliberate reverence. His eyes flare brighter, pupils blown wide even though I still can’t see them.
“Satisfied,” he says, the word a low growl that vibrates through my bones. “Claimed.” His thumb presses harder, possessive. “Yours.”
My breath catches. “Yeah, well.” I swallow, throat dry. “Same.”
For a moment we just stare. Him: all alien elegance and lethal grace, somehow even more beautiful wrecked and sleep-rumpled. Me: hair a disaster, skin painted with his marks, still smelling like sex and him and us. And yet he’s looking at me like I’m something sacred.
It’s terrifying. And I want it to last forever.
I clear my throat. “So. Mining data. You said you needed to show me something?”
The mask doesn’t quite slam back down, but I watch him shift gears. Soldier mode. Mission focus. He sits up carefully, and I immediately miss his weight. The bunk feels too big without him sprawled all over it.
He reaches for his jacket and retrieves the crystal. In the ambient light, it’s still faintly luminous, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. Or maybe mine. Hard to tell now that we’re bonded.
“This,” he says quietly, “contains the original survey data for the Baltharax sector. Three generations of my family’s work.
Mining claims, resource maps, geological analyses.
” He turns it over in his palm, and I catch the ghost of old pain in his expression.
“Meridian has spent thirty years trying to invalidate our claims through legal channels. Bribing officials, falsifying counter-surveys, challenging every authorization.”
“Let me guess,” I say, pulling the sheet up to cover at least some of my nakedness. “They finally gave up on legal and went for theft?”
“Among other solutions.” His mouth twists. “My family has been... targeted. My brother barely survived an attack last year. Our shipping convoys are harassed. And then someone leaked the existence of this crystal—the master file that proves our claim predates theirs by decades.”
“So you ran.”
“I secured the asset and contracted with OOPS because you were the only courier service Meridian hadn’t already compromised.” He meets my eyes, and the vulnerability there makes my chest ache. “I did not expect... complications.”
“You mean me.”
“I mean us.” He reaches out, fingers tangling with mine. “Polly, if I transmit this data to the Valorian Council, Meridian loses everything. Thirty years of illegal operations, exposed. Billions in contested territory, forfeited. They will come for me with everything they have.”
“They’re already coming,” I point out. “We’ve been running since you unlocked that thing the first time.”
His lips quirk. Almost a smile. “True. But now they will come harder.”
I squeeze his fingers. “Then we’d better make sure that data gets where it needs to go. What do you need? Some kind of quantum relay?”
“Precisely.” He activates the crystal with a thought—or maybe a pulse of bio-energy, I’m still figuring out how his biology works—and the holographic map explodes into the air above us.
It’s beautiful. Spiraling stars and asteroid fields, survey markers and mining coordinates, all rendered in delicate threads of light that cast shifting shadows across the bunk.
“This is the survey data,” Rynn says, voice taking on a formal cadence. “My family’s mines. If I transmit this to the Council, Meridian loses their legal claim forever.”
“Okay.” I study the map, trying to ignore how close he is. “So what’s the problem? Hit send and call it a day.”
“The file is massive. Thirty years of geological data, biometric locks, chain-of-custody documentation.” He gestures, and the hologram zooms in on a series of data nodes.
“It requires a military-grade relay to transmit securely. Pink Slip’s communications array is excellent for standard courier work, but this.
..” He shakes his head. “The encryption alone would take hours. And we would be vulnerable the entire time.”
“Hours?” I whistle low. “Yeah, that’s not happening. Not with Meridian breathing down our necks.”
“Indeed.” He deactivates the crystal, and the hologram collapses. “I had planned to use the relay at Helios Station. But given recent complications—”
“PROXIMITY ALERT.”
Zip’s voice cracks through the cabin like a whip. Rynn and I move simultaneously—him grabbing his pants, me lunging for my jacket. My fingers are clumsy with the zipper, and I can feel his eyes on me even as he yanks his shirt over his head.
“Report,” I snap, already moving toward the cockpit.
“MERIDIAN STEALTH PROBE,” Zip says, and there’s an edge to his voice I don’t like. “DROPPED OUT OF HYPERSPACE AT 2,000 KILOMETERS AND CLOSING. ACTIVE SCANS. THEY KNOW WE’RE HERE, CAPTAIN.”
My bare feet hit the cold deck plating, and I’m in the pilot’s seat before Rynn finishes fastening his jacket. The viewscreen shows it: a sleek black wedge, no bigger than a personal shuttle, bristling with sensor arrays. It’s not a warship. It’s a hunter.
“How did they find us?” I bring up tactical, fingers flying across the controls. “We’ve been dark for hours.”
“I believe,” Rynn says from behind me, voice tight, “I know how.”
I twist to look at him. He’s holding the Aethel crystal, and in the cockpit’s ambient light I can see it pulsing. Not dramatically—not like last night when it lit up the room. Just a faint, steady rhythm. Like a heartbeat.
Like a beacon.
“You have got to be kidding me.”