Chapter 15
"How did you find me?" Harper's voice was barely audible. Her face was pale. She backed up until her heels hit the edge of the ramp's metal grating, her expression confused. "I was careful. I used the service corridors. I stole an ID. How did you find me?"
Kirr occupied the center of the ramp, planting his boots wide to block any path around him. "You think you can hide from me? On my station? While you’re under my protection?"
The noise of the bay faded—hydraulics, shouting loaders—drowned out by his own pulse. He'd run all the way from the medical bay, tearing through corridors and unauthorized shortcuts, driven by the terror of losing her.
He'd almost been too late. A few minutes more and the transport's engines would have fired. Five minutes more and she would have been gone.
"You thought I wouldn't notice you were gone?" He took a step forward. The metal groaned under his weight.
"How?" she repeated, a frantic edge creeping into her tone. Her gaze darted around, looking for an escape route, but there was nowhere to go. Just the airlock he’d ordered locked behind her and him in front.
"The bracelet." He didn't bother softening the blow as he tapped his wrist.
She froze, her hand flying to her wrist. Her fingers brushed the delicate silver vines, her eyes wide as they met his.
"It has a tracker embedded in it." His voice was flat. "I always knew where you were."
Betrayal flashed across her face, sharp and gutting. She clawed at the clasp, trying to undo it, but her hands were shaking too badly. "You tracked me?" Her voice cracked. "You said it was a gift."
"It is a gift. It keeps you safe." He closed the distance between them, needing to be close enough to grab her if she tried to bolt. If she jumped from the ramp at this height… His voice was hard as he looked down at her.
"The moment you left the medical bay, I got an alert. When you entered the service corridor, I was already running. When you entered this bay, I was already here."
"You didn't trust me," she whispered, giving up on the clasp and letting her hand drop. "You acted like you cared, like you trusted me, but you were just... tagging me. Like an animal."
"I trusted you." The words tore out of his throat, rougher than he intended. "I didn't trust what's out there." His jaw tightened. "Other females have been taken."
He reached for her. He had to touch her. He had to know she was real and not just a ghost he was chasing. Had to know that he’d gotten here in time. But as he moved, the tingling that had plagued his wrists for days flared into a sudden, searing heat.
Hissing, he stumbled back a step. It wasn't just heat. It was fire, molten and consuming, racing beneath his skin. His gaze dropped to his wrists.
Dark lines were surfacing on his skin, rising like ink through water. They wrapped around his wrists like twisted vines interlocking in a pattern every Latharian knew.
His heart leapt.
Mating marks.
He had mating marks.
The pain vanished. In its place, rightness hummed through his bones. Through his very soul.
He looked up to find her staring at him, her eyes wide, and her breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
He held up his wrists. "Look."
She stared at the dark marks standing out against his skin. She shook her head, a jerky, denial-filled motion. "No. They’re not for me. They can’t be for me."
"They are mate marks," he said, his voice firmer, more commanding as he crowded her. "The gods chose, Harper. Your soul calls to mine, to my skin. You are chosen, bonded… You are mine. You can run, but you’ll always be mine."
"No," she said again, backing away until she hit the railing. "That's... that's a mistake. It's stress. It's a rash. It's not real."
"They don't appear for nothing." He took another step, following her. "The gods chose us for each other."
"I can't be yours." Her expression crumbled, her voice breaking into a sob. "I'm poison, Kirr. Don't you get it? I'm cursed. The gods made a mistake."
His heart ached at the pain in her eyes, and he reached for her. "The gods do not make mistakes."
"Well, they did this time!" She shoved at his chest with small hands. "Look at my life! Everyone I love gets hurt. Everyone I get close to dies or ends up broken. I'm doing this for you. I have to leave to save you."
She fought to pull away, but he held on, hard hands capturing her upper arms. "Then I'm coming with you."
She stopped fighting and stared up at him, her mouth falling open. "What?"
"If you get on that transport," he said, his voice steady, absolute, "I am getting on it with you. We will go to Earth. We will live in your poverty. I will work whatever job I can find. I do not care."
"You… you can't." She sounded horrified. "You're a War-Commander. This is your life. You can't just throw it away."
"None of it means anything without you."
"You're crazy," she shook her head. "You don't even know me. You know the version of me that holds it together. You don't know what’s underneath. You don't know—"
He cut her off. "You were twelve and in the backseat. You were trapped for three hours."
She went still, eyes wide.
"I read the file,” he carried on. He wouldn't let her hide in the dark anymore. He'd drag every secret into the light. "Your parents died on impact. You were trapped until they cut you out."
Her face drained of color. "How?"
"I requested your records."
"That's private," she whispered, tears filling her eyes. "You had no right."
"I will use anything to protect you. Even if it means invading your privacy. Even if it means you hate me for it." He let go of her arms to frame her face, his thumbs brushing away the tears. "You think you caused that crash?"
"I survived." Tears that broke his heart rolled down her cheeks. "Why did I survive?"
"Because you are strong. Because life is random and cruel, and sometimes the best of us pay the price for it. That is not a curse, kelarris. That is survival."
"My guardians—"
"Died of old age and heart failure," he told her firmly. "Natural causes. Not a curse. Not you."
"Delilah is lying in a bed with her brain rewiring itself!"
"Because she took the credits and rented a flyer instead of waiting for pickup," Kirr said firmly. "She is an adult. She made a choice. You can't carry that, kelarris. Not all of it. Not alone."
"I have to try," she whispered, her legs buckling.
He caught her, wrapping his arms around her waist and hauling her up against him. She buried her face against him, sobbing like something had finally cracked open.
"You are not poison," he murmured into her hair. "You are exhausted. You have been carrying the weight of the world since you were a child, and you think that if you set it down, everyone will die. They won't."
She shook her head against his sternum. "But I'm so broken, Kirr. I'm so messed up."
"I do not want perfection." He pulled her closer. "I have enough perfection. I have a perfect ship, a perfect record, a perfect career. It is cold, and it is lonely. I want you. I want your broken pieces and your stubborn, foolish need to save everyone but yourself."
She looked up at him, eyes red-rimmed and swollen, something fragile and terrified flickering in their depths. "Why?"
"Because I love you."
The words hung in the air between them. He hadn't planned to say them. He hadn't known they were true until the moment he thought she was gone. But now they were out, undeniable as the marks on his skin.
"I love you," he repeated, louder this time. "That's why I'm here." His grip tightened. "I cannot let you go."
She let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob. Her hands came up, fingers digging into his biceps.
"I…" She swallowed hard. "Kirr, I—"
A siren wailed, sharp and piercing, slicing through the moment.
Red lights flashed, and heavy boots thudded above their heads somewhere.
"Security!" a voice bellowed, echoing off the bay walls. "Step away from the transport!"
Kirr turned, shielding Harper with his body.
The lead warrior stepped forward.
"Harper Sawyer." His blaster stayed trained on Kirr's chest. "You are under arrest for theft of station credentials and unauthorized flight protocols. Surrender immediately."
Harper's breath hitched, a terrified sound that cut right through him. She went to step around him, to put herself between him and the weapons, still trying to protect him even as the net closed around her.
"Don't," she whispered. "Kirr, let them take me. Don't fight them. Please."
Kirr didn't move. He didn't step aside. Instead, he planted his feet and glared at the security teams. He was Kirr M’Aab, War-Commander and Lord of the M’Aab clan. He didn’t step aside for anyone lower than the emperor himself.
"Stand down," he roared, his voice booming over the sirens.
The security team faltered, but they didn't lower their weapons.
"War-Commander," the lead warrior called out, uncertainty cracking his professional veneer. "She is a fugitive. She stole high-level credentials. We have orders."
"And I have a claim," Kirr snarled.
He shoved his wrist in the air. The sleeve of his jacket rode up, exposing the fresh mate marks. Under the harsh bay lights, they stood out even against his tanned skin.
"Look at them!"
A ripple went through the security squad. Weapons wavered. The lead officer took a step forward, frowning.
"That's..." He swallowed. "That's a mate mark."
Kirr didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. "She is my mate. Chosen by the gods. Bound by blood and soul. This is not a security matter. Not anymore."
Harper trembled against his back. He reached behind him, grabbing her hand and pulling her forward until she stood tucked against his side, under the shelter of his arm.
"The law is clear," Kirr said, his gaze sweeping over the security team, daring any of them to challenge him.
"A mate bond supersedes all other considerations. It supersedes the Mate Programs protocols. You cannot take a male’s mate without challenging the bond itself and, by extension, our laws. You all know this."
The lead warrior hesitated, his gaze flicking from the mark on Kirr's wrist to the small, terrified human female.
Every warrior in the bay knew what that mark meant. Separating fated mates was blasphemy in the eyes of the gods. Arresting a War-Commander's female? Ill-advised. Trying to take Kirr M’Aab’s bonded mate? Suicidal.
"Sir, my orders are to detain her," the officer said, his weapon dipping a fraction. "But if... if the bond is genuine.
"It is genuine," a new voice cut in.
Duke Kaarigan strode onto the deck, followed by two LMP officials. The Duke looked irritated, his formal robes sweeping the metal grating, but his gaze zeroed in on Kirr's wrist immediately. He stopped ten feet away, staring at the mark.
"Well," Kaarigan said, his expression shifting from annoyance to begrudging acceptance. "That does change things."
"It changes everything," Kirr corrected him. "The charges against my female will be dropped. The matching decision will be rendered null and void. She is mine as decided by the gods themselves."
The Duke pinched the bridge of his nose, then snapped two fingers at the squad. "Stand down. War-Commander M'Aab is correct. The matching program is secondary to the will of the gods. If the marks have manifested, then we have no jurisdiction to separate them."
The security team holstered their weapons, looking relieved they didn't have to shoot a superior officer. The alarms cut out, leaving a ringing silence in their wake.
Kirr didn't care about them. He didn’t care about any of them. He turned to Harper.
She was staring at his wrist, her eyes wide. She reached out, her fingers hovering over the mark without touching it.
"It's real," she whispered, then looked up at him. "Please… tell me it’s real. You didn't... You didn't just draw it on?"
"It is inside me," Kirr said, bringing her hand to his lips. "It appeared because I thought I was losing you. Because my soul knew what my brain was too stubborn to admit."
The last of her walls crumbled. He saw the tension draining from her shoulders, the defensive tilt of her chin dropping. She looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time since he'd pulled her from the wreckage, he didn't see guilt. He saw hope.
"Say it." Her voice cracked. "Say it again. Don't do this if you don't mean it."
"I love you."
"I'm terrified," she admitted, tears spilling over again. "I don't know how to not be the one who fixes everything. I don't know how to be... safe."
"Then let me teach you," Kirr promised. "Again. Every day. For the rest of our lives. Come home, Harper."
She let out a long, shuddering breath. "Okay. Okay. I choose you. I choose us."
"Good girl." He swept her up into his arms, lifting her high against his chest. She buried her face in his neck, wrapping her arms around him, holding on tight.
Turning his back on Duke Kaarigan, the security team, and the LMP officials, he carried his mate out of the bay. He didn’t ask permission, and he certainly wasn’t filling out any paperwork.
There was just the soft weight of his beloved female in his arms and the lifts ahead.
They were going home.