Chapter 6 #2
"Harper." He rose, pulling out a chair as he shot a look at Kirr. "Please, sit. You look like you could use it."
She opened her mouth to argue—she was fine, dammit—but her knees chose that moment to wobble. Fine. She'd sit.
Kirr hadn't moved from the doorway. His gaze swept the medical bay like he expected someone to leap out of the shadows. When he looked at her, his jaw tightened.
"I have training." The words came out rough. "Kellat will watch over you until I return."
She sighed. "I'm not a child, Kirr. I don’t need a babysitter."
He just looked at her, his expression sour as if biting back about fifteen different responses…she’d bet money on it.
Instead of replying, he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small device. Crossing the room in three strides, he pressed it into her palm. She looked down. It was small, about the size of her thumb and silver-purple in the light.
"It's a personal comm." His fingers lingered against hers, warm and rough. "If you need me for anything... I will be here."
His gaze speared hers, pinning her in place.
"Fine." Her fingers closed around it before she could stop herself. "But I'm not calling you because someone looked at me funny."
Relief flickered across his face. Or satisfaction. It was hard to tell with him. Then he gave Kellat a sharp nod, turned on his heel and disappeared through the doors.
She stared at the comm in her hand. Such a small thing to feel so heavy.
"He doesn't give those out often." Kellat didn't look up from the console he'd returned to. “In fact, you're the first person not under his command to carry one linked directly to his personal channel."
Great. Another thing to overthink.
She tucked the comm into her pocket and forced herself to focus. "How's Delilah?"
The healer’s attention shifted to a display showing vitals, brain scans, data streams she couldn't interpret, and a look of frustration crossed his face. Quickly, no more than a fraction of a second before he cleared his expression, but she caught it.
"She's stable. Her vitals are holding steady, which is encouraging. But there's unusual activity in her neural patterns that I'm still studying."
"Unusual how?"
"I'm not entirely certain yet." He frowned at the readouts. "It's not harmful, as far as I can determine. More like... heightened processing. As though her brain is working through something even in stasis."
Harper's stomach twisted. Delilah, trapped in her own head, fighting battles no one else could see. It sounded like hell. "But she's okay?” She pressed, unable to stop herself taking a step forward. “She's not in pain or anything?"
"There are no pain indicators." Kellat met her eyes, his expression frustratingly neutral. "I'm monitoring her constantly. If anything changes, you'll know as soon as I do."
She nodded, throat tight. It wasn't enough… it wouldn’t be enough, not until Delilah opened her eyes and told her to stop hovering. Or yattered on and on with gossip like she always did. But it was something, and it was all she had at the moment.
The healer gestured toward the observation window that looked into the adjacent room. "Would you like to sit with her for a while?"
She was moving before he'd finished the sentence. Into the room, past the monitoring equipment, until she was beside Delilah's bed. Her cousin looked so small. So still. Reaching across, she took Delilah's hand.
"Hey, Dee." Her voice came out rough and low, just between the two of them. "It's me."
The monitors beeped softly. Delilah didn't respond.
"We're on a space station now. Can you believe it?
" She smoothed her thumb over Delilah's knuckles.
"There's this alien. Kirr. He's... I don't know what he is.
Infuriating. Overprotective. " She paused, swallowing hard.
"He slammed a guy against a wall today for looking at me wrong.
Full-on alpha-male caveman stuff. You'd have loved it. "
Delilah's expression was serene and peaceful. It looked like she was just asleep.
"I'm sorry." The words scraped out. "I should have tried harder to make you listen. Should have refused to get in the car. Should have—"
"That guilt isn't yours to carry,” Kellat said. "Don't put this on yourself."
Her head snapped up. Kellat stood in the doorway, his expression gentle but firm.
“What did you hear?”
“Enough,” he said as he stepped into the room, moving to check the monitor attached to Delilah’s bed. "You weren't in control of that vehicle. Whatever happened in that crash, it wasn't your fault."
"You don't know that."
"You were in the passenger seat." He looked at her over the bed. "That's all I need to know."
“That doesn’t matter,” she bit her lip and swallowed as the back of her eyes burned. “I’m the eldest, this is all my fault.”
"Guilt like that doesn't fix anything." He adjusted a readout, his voice quiet. "It just eats you alive. Believe me, I’ve been there."
She didn't have an answer for that.
The silence stretched between them, filled with the soft hum of medical equipment as Kellat did whatever tests he needed. Harper's thoughts drifted back to the gangway. To Kirr's hand around that male's throat...
"Can I ask you something?" Harper worried the edge of the chair with her fingers.
Kellat looked up. "Of course."
"On the ship this morning. Kirr..." She trailed off, not sure how to frame the question.
"A warrior looked at me, spoke to me, and Kirr just..
. he had him against the wall before I could blink.
Hand around his throat. And his face —" She shook her head.
"Is he always like that? That violent? That. .."
“Violent?” Kellat tilted his head, in question. "Or protective?"
She blinked. “Protective? He almost killed the guy! Just for looking at me!”
The healer was quiet for a moment, considering. "I can't speak to how he handles threats; I'm a healer, not a warrior who serves under his command. But I've known him for years." He scrolled through a display without really looking at it. "What you saw… isn't how he usually presents."
She didn't know what to do with that information. So she filed it away.
"But you are under his protection. And he’s a War-Commander, it isn't just a title. Males like that are built… harder than most."
She nodded. "So… dangerous."
"They are." No hesitation. No sugar-coating. She appreciated that.
"War-Commanders are the most dominant males in our society.
They have to be. The decisions they make, the battles they fight…
they carry the weight of every life under their command.
That requires a certain... intensity." He paused and frowned.
"Kirr didn't get his rank by being gentle. Don’t get me wrong.
He's gentle when he can be, but he's lethal when he has to be.
" Kellat checked Delilah's readout on the secondary display.
"What you saw this morning? That's who he is.
Under everything. A male that will do anything to protect those under his care. "
She thought about Kirr blocking her from the other male, putting his body between her and danger without even thinking about it. The way his first instinct had been protection, not violence. The violence came second…
“He said he'd claimed responsibility for me." The words tasted strange on her tongue. "What does that mean, exactly? Is it ownership?"
Kellat's brows snapped together. "No, not at all. It’s responsibility, not ownership. There's an important distinction." He leaned forward, leaning one elbow on the monitor in front of him.
"It's a vow. Protection. Consequences. If something happens to you, it lands on him." He met her gaze. "That warrior learned that lesson this morning. After what happened? Everyone's already adjusted. You'll feel it in the corridors."
"But I didn't ask for that."
The healer’s mouth tightened. "No. You didn't, and that's something the two of you will need to navigate. But I can tell you this. His claiming responsibility for you doesn't give him control over your choices. It means he's sworn to support them. Even the ones he disagrees with."
She wasn't sure she believed that. Not completely. But she filed it away to think about later.
He studied her for a moment. "Has Kirr ever hurt you? Made you feel unsafe?"
The question surprised her.
"No." Her nails bit into her palm. "He's been… careful with me. Patient, even when I've been a complete bitch about everything."
Kellat nodded slowly. "He doesn't turn that temper on the people he's guarding. Only on whatever he thinks might touch them."
"So what's his deal?" The question came out before she could stop it. Then, softer: "I'm not asking for details. Just… a headline."
Kellat finally looked away from the monitors and held her gaze long enough that she couldn't dodge.
"He’s a War-Commander. He’s lost people. He's made decisions that cost lives. Not through carelessness, but through impossible choices where no outcome was good." Kellat recalibrated a sensor, his hands steady. "He doesn't sleep much. He double-checks everything. Males don't do that for fun."
Her chest went tight.
She knew that weight. Shit, did she know it. The constant second-guessing, the what-ifs that played on loop at three in the morning, the desperate need to control every variable because if she just tried hard enough, planned well enough, maybe this time no one would get hurt.
"He needs you to let him protect you. If you keep shutting him out, he'll just push harder." Kellat's voice dropped, gentler now. "If you give him a little room… you might be surprised."
The words hit her like a punch to the gut.
Trust him with her fears. Like it was that simple. Like she could just hand over the tangled mess of guilt and terror and desperate hope she'd been carrying since Delilah collapsed, and trust a seven-foot alien warrior not to use it against her.
But that wasn't fair either. He hadn't used anything against her. He'd fed her. Given her a room. Held her while she cried into his chest like she wasn't a goddamn adult who should have her shit together by now.
Kellat gathered his instruments. "You're both sharp in the same places. That can be… compatible." He rose, gathering his tools. "Training would be almost over now, so Kirr will be back soon. Is there anything you need?"
"No, thank you." She stared at the floor for a second. "Can I just stay here until he does?"
“Of course,” Kellat smiled and headed out the door, giving her space.
Harper sat in the quiet hum of the room, the comm device a small weight in her pocket.
The violence this morning made more sense now. It was protection taken to its absolute extreme. Not cruelty or ferocity, and it had been aimed outward, not at her.
She and Kirr were the same—both carrying guilt they couldn't put down, both trying to control everything because losing control meant people died. The realization settled into her bones as the comm device pressed against her thigh through her pocket.
Such a small thing. She pulled it out, turned it over in her palm.
He'd said if she needed him for anything, he'd be there. Her thumb hovered over the activation button. What would happen if she actually used it?