Chapter 89
Sofi falls into my arms, bright-eyed and breathless from laughter.
My stryllas.
One night, after hearing me call her that for the hundredth time, my mate whispered in our bond, telling me a story. Apparently, humans make wishes on falling stars. She confessed to thinking it was silly, but recounted a story about doing it once, when she was a pip.
As she recalled all the things she’d hoped for, my hearts ached for her. Although, not as much as they did when she reached her sweet conclusion.
I guess the stars heard me, she’d said.
And, gods—I guess they heard me, too.
Smiling, I hold her closer, hoarding her even in the midst of a crowd.
I inhale her scent, loving the way all three of ours have woven into it so completely.
It warns others off, but it also helps me note shifts in her pheromones.
With how delicious she smells tonight, I’d guess her next heat is very close.
Although, there’s a special softness to her sweet aroma that I haven’t sensed before.
Perhaps it’s just… happiness.
We’ve danced a dozen times today—at least once for each festival we’ve attended—but my mate hasn’t complained. Quite the opposite; Sofi has absorbed every sacred Roktusian tradition with a loving sort of awe that humbles me.
No one could ever deserve such a perfect queen.
Least of all, me.
The old thought still intrudes from time to time, pulling like the scars on my back. It hurts, but it no longer feels true. Not when Sofi constantly reminds me what a good Zortaire I am.
She doesn’t see my quiet nature or calm temper as weaknesses. She insists they make me the very best alpha to rule our people. And if I ever doubt her sincerity? She proves it, offering her body with unrestrained enthusiasm, begging me to breed her.
Which is exactly what I’ll be doing as soon as we finish these never-ending festivities.
My packmates hear that thought and give their fervent agreement.
Cylus has been fed up with the revelry since breakfast—but, at this point, even Rask is fading.
Neither of them have ever been forced to attend all the celebrations in Rholoko before.
I’m just grateful they were willing to accompany me—and relieved this doesn’t seem as taxing for Sofi as it is for us.
Possibly because we are guarding her from the alphas around us every second.
I know it isn’t necessary. Our clanspeople love her as one of their own. Perhaps more.
She represents the hope our planet desperately needs. More importantly, Sofi is a kind, generous queen. She has a smile for everyone she meets and constantly pleads different cases on their behalf, bringing me special causes she champions until she gets her way.
Stubborn, beautiful omega.
I told Rask to Select a strong one. And he could not have done this planet prouder.
I tell him so for the millionth time. He’s across the party, standing near the dais we’ll use to view the Turn—but he flashes a grin as he speaks to group of lieutenants.
You’re welcome, alpha-hole, he returns.
Cylus joins Sofi and me at the edge of the designated dance space, grumbling about all this “strange alpha musk” around his omega. She giggles, hugging him while he pouts.
I toss our packmate a smirk. “I’m just glad I’m not the crankiest alpha in attendance anymore, McGrumpy.”
Cylus glowers over Sofi’s shining dark hair, tucking her head under his chin. “No, you’re just the greediest. I want to dance with our omega.”
Our mate chuckles at his complaining. We all know he has no desire to dance. He just wants an excuse to hold her.
Rask suddenly signals for us in the bond. I scan the gathering until I find his enormous pink wings and hooked horns. He nods at the dais, where Norabi has appeared.
She isn’t alone, I note with a smile I can’t hide. Sofi hears me and practically climbs Cylus, whipping her head around to try to see across the crowd.
I love many things about my omega, but her genuine desire to help the people she cares about find happiness is probably one of my most treasured traits.
When I approached the Galactic Council to demand an apology on her behalf, they scrambled to make amends any way possible.
The first thing Sofi asked for was another Selection—one that would give a few dozen Roktusian alphas the chance to search for omegas of their own.
She also demanded Cylus and Norabi interview every single omega on the Selection Station to verify they weren’t there against their will.
In the end, we wound up with thirty new omegas on Khanos, from an assortment of Desiccated planets. One in particular has barely left Norabi’s side since.
It’s been a lapse since she arrived, but the small being is still decidedly odd-looking to me.
She has scales, like all Southern Roktusians, but she’s even more petite than Sofi.
And she’s a color my mate calls green. The shade is disconcerting, though not as odd as the tiny spikes that cover her hairless head.
The green omega’s native name is long, with many letters none of us recognize. Norabi can say it perfectly, but the omega requested we use the nickname Dez. She and Sofi have become fast friends.
“Awwww!” my mate trills, spotting Norabi and Dez in an embrace. “Cuties!”
Cylus blinks in their direction, honestly not understanding what is “cute” about them at all. His cluelessness makes me laugh as I nod at the dais. “Let’s go. The Turn is about to begin.”
Sofi lets Cylus carry her through the festival, nestling herself into his warm body when the winds kick up.
Her feet dangle over his arm, displaying his latest foot-covering creations.
Something called a “boot,” trimmed with pristine ice-blue fur to keep her dainty feet warm during the cold season.
It matches the shawl I had commissioned for her.
Over the last few spans, our azure sun has gradually surpassed the golden one and risen to the level of her rosy sister. Now, on the horizon, the large blue orb sits directly beside the smaller, pink one. It seems we only have a few moments left, if that.
Rask uses his wings to bypass the crowd, landing at my side as we climb the stairs to the viewing stage. The last time we were all on a platform like this…
Memories from Sofi’s Presentation swirl into the bond. Rask purrs as I growl, recalling our mate’s perfect performance.
My queen turns her head to dazzle me with a grin, mimicking Rask’s taunt. You’re welcome, Alpha.
She loves to tease me—and I love anything that fills her chest with this much joy. The sensation bleeds into our bond, mixing with Sofi’s excited fascination as silence gradually swells through the gathering.
Every Roktusian on the planet goes still, watching the sacred moment when our largest sun finally edges higher than her sister, shifting the light in our world once again. Bringing us a new season.
Sofi gasps softly, her opal eyes wide as she absorbs the purple glare beaming across the sky. When our pink sun bows to her sister, I bow my head to our queen and kiss her hand, relishing the relief that soars through me every time I lower myself for her.
I feel her focus shift to me, a throat-thickening wash of love flowing between us. Her other alphas crowd behind her as I slant my gaze to hers, speaking where only our pack can hear.
I could never thank you enough, stryllas. You’ve given me everything.
Sofi’s answering grin is slow and stunning, just like the Turn itself. One of her hands cups my jaw as the other falls—
To her belly.
Well, not everything, she thinks. Not yet. But give it eight months or so.