Chapter 7 Rynn
RYNN
Sleep’s a distant thing now. A memory, maybe.
I’ve got the lights off. The window cracked just enough to let the dry wind whistle through, a low hum that usually calms me. Not tonight.
My body’s still. My mind isn’t.
I curl my knees up under the threadbare blanket, stare at the ceiling like it might whisper answers.
But there’s only silence.
And guilt.
And something else I don’t want to name.
I get up. I don’t even put shoes on. Just pull my jacket over the tank top I slept in and let the door hiss shut behind me.
The hallway’s empty. Lights on low cycle. Medcenter’s asleep — or pretending to be.
My feet take me without thinking. Past the labs. Past the diagnostics ward. Down to the far wing where the training center sits tucked into a corner like some forgotten muscle of this quiet place.
I palm open the door.
Expect darkness. Solitude.
But he’s there.
Vael.
Shirtless, drenched in sweat, muscles straining as he pushes through a set of one-armed lifts on the parallel bars.
His back is scarred. Not just from war, but from reconstruction. Metal lines seam down his shoulder blades like silver tattoos. The kind of damage you don’t come back from unless they pour half a ship’s worth of credits into rebuilding you.
He’s breathless. Wild-eyed.
Beautiful.
And I hate myself for thinking it.
I step back, ready to leave.
His voice stops me.
“Why do you run?”
It’s barely a whisper.
But it hits like a spear to the chest.
I freeze.
“Rynn.” He doesn’t look up. Just stands there, hanging between bars, chest heaving. “Why do you always run when I get close?”
“I don’t,” I say, too fast.
He turns. Face unreadable in the low light. “You ran five years ago.”
My heart pounds. “You don’t remember—”
“I do,” he cuts in. “Not everything. But enough. Enough to know your voice was the last thing I heard before I went under.”
I look away. “Then you know I tried to save you.”
“Did you?”
I flinch.
He steps down from the bars, limping slightly as he approaches.
I should leave.
But I don’t.
Because I’m angry too.
Because my hands are clenched at my sides and my skin’s burning.
Because everything I’ve buried is clawing up through my chest and it hurts.
“You have no idea what I gave up,” I snap. “What I lost trying to protect—”
“Then tell me!”
He’s close now. Too close.
His hands grip my arms, not rough, but firm. Grounding.
“You look at me like I’m a ghost,” he says, voice low. “But I lived, Rynn. And I came back. Doesn’t that mean something?”
Tears sting my eyes. I don’t want this. I don’t need this.
“I can’t do this,” I whisper.
“Can’t or won’t?”
His breath brushes my lips.
And I break.
The space between us collapses.
His hands twist into my hair, yanking me down. His mouth crashes against mine — fierce, hungry, furious.
It’s not soft.
It’s not tender.
It’s five years of rage and love and loss, melting into heat.
He lifts me into the air as if I weigh nothing, crushing me against his chest even as his mouth crushes my last vestige of resistance.
My pussy throbs with aching need. Precursors’s Plans, this just feels right.
Even his clawed fingers pricking my skin feels just perfect.
He backs me into the wall, one hand sliding down my spine, the other gripping my waist like he’s afraid I’ll vanish again.
I moan against his lips. He swallows it whole.
Fingers trace the curve of my jaw. Unexpected tenderness reigns in his eyes as he pulls back from the kiss to examine me.
“Rynn,” he says, and I know what he intends to say. He’s going to say we shouldn’t be doing this, and he’s right on so many levels. I stop him with a kiss anyway.
The beast returns, devouring my gasps and moans as his hands peel away my clothing. His scaled skin is warm and wonderful against me. My hand drifts down to his cock and grasps the shaft through the thin fabric of his undergarments.
He grabs my wrists, slams them against the wall. My mouth opens in a gasp and he plunges his tongue inside, claiming me utterly. I arch against him, instinctively, as if seeking solace and release and an urgent quench to this burning fire.
He releases my left wrist, dropping his grasp to my thigh instead.
I lean into him, my fingers grasping the huge cords of muscle in his neck and shoulders.
My heart thuds like a drumbeat as he lifts my leg, opening my dripping wet pussy wide.
The heart shaped, ridged head of his Vakutan cock presses against my opening.
I groan as he stretches me, fills, me, linking our bodies in an ancient ritual older than civilization itself.
Every swiveling thrust of his powerful hips sends waves of pleasure crashing through me.
I open my mouth and suck in a ragged, deep gasp of air.
But before I can let it out as a scream--sure to alert anyone nearby to the medical malpractice now taking place--he clamps his huge, scaly hand over my mouth.
Then he pounds my pussy harder. I break into a thousand fragments as the orgasm hits me, thundering through my body and soul. But he’s not done. He keeps going, and I’m shocked to find I build up to another crescendo quickly.
It’s like being on a roller coaster ride--I know I’m not in danger but every exhilarating plunge carries a note of can I really live through this?
A deep growl emanates from his throat as he pumps me full of his seed. We cling together, falling into a heap on the floor, with me on his lap. I cuddle up to his massive form like I never left.
“Why?” he whispers between kisses. “Why did you leave me?”
My answer’s a gasp. “Because I had to.”
“Liar.”
I pull back, panting. “You don’t get to call me that.”
“Then tell me the truth.”
“I’m trying,” I breathe.
His forehead rests against mine. “So try harder.”
And just like that, I’m kissing him again.
Because it’s easier than talking.
Because my body remembers what my brain’s too scared to admit.
Because for one breathless, shattering moment…
He’s mine again.
…
I slip out before he can speak.
Before he can ruin it.
Or worse — understand it.
The door to the training room hisses shut behind me with a soft thump, and I press my back to the cold corridor wall.
My lungs won’t work right. My breath’s coming in ragged gasps that scrape the back of my throat like gravel. My heart’s a war drum.
My lips are still tingling.
His taste lingers — salt and sweat and memory.
Too much. Too familiar.
Too dangerous.
I drag trembling fingers through my hair, trying to piece myself back together.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to no one. To myself. To the ghosts.
For what I’m still keeping from him.
For what that might cost.
I push off the wall and stumble forward, each step heavier than the last. My legs feel like they don’t belong to me, like I’ve been hollowed out and filled with static.
Because that wasn’t just a kiss.
It was a fuse.
And I lit it.
I reach the lift and slam the panel harder than I need to. The soft glow of the system flickers once — barely perceptible — and I freeze.
Not again.
Not now.
The last thing I need is a surge. I close my eyes and force myself to breathe deep, to push the rising current down, to lock it under skin and silence.
When the lift opens, I practically dive inside.
I don’t see the figure standing at the end of the corridor.
Motionless. Silent. Watching.
Tarek doesn’t blink.
Doesn’t speak.
Doesn’t move.
He waits until the lift door closes behind me before he steps out of the shadowed alcove.
His face is unreadable. Blank as Alliance stone.
He lifts his wrist compad and taps a secure channel open. The screen glows, casting faint light over his features.
He types one word.
Confirmed.
The device chirps quietly and locks.
Tarek turns away, footsteps muffled against the sterile floor, and vanishes down the hall without a sound.
Back in my quarters, I don’t turn on the light.
The dark feels safer. Like if I can’t see the truth, maybe it won’t find me.
I shed my jacket and drop it on the chair. Slide to the floor next to Nessa’s toy bin and let my fingers trace the curve of a worn plush raptor she’s slept with since she was two.
There’s a frayed spot near its jaw where she chewed the stitching loose during one of her first tantrums. I never fixed it.
It’s real. Honest. Like her.
And I’m none of those things.
I lean my head against the side of her bunk. Try to breathe through the knot in my throat.
Even after all these years. All the lies. All the careful distance.
It took one look, one pull of gravity between our broken pieces… and I caved.
But I can’t do this.
I can’t want him.
Not when I’m hiding the very thing he has every right to know.
A daughter.
Our daughter.
If he finds out, if he claims her… what happens next?
What happens if someone else gets there first?
I bury my face in my hands and let the tears fall.