Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Selik made it three steps down the corridor before the magnitude of what he’d just offered hit him with the force of a plasma blast.
I could take him.
What had he been thinking? He hadn’t raised a child in over two decades.
He’d failed the last one. He’d failed his mate.
He’d failed his entire family when he’d left them in response to a Council order.
By the time he’d received word and made it home, there was nothing left but ash and memories.
Perhaps it wouldn’t have made any difference if he’d been there, but the thought of them dying alone still haunted him.
His hands clenched into fists as he walked, his tail lashing behind him in agitation.
The corridor was empty at this late hour, the ship operating on minimal crew during the sleep cycle.
Good. He didn’t want to see anyone right now.
He didn’t want to maintain the carefully constructed facade of the stoic commander when his insides felt like they’d been torn apart and reassembled wrong.
He’d held that infant in his arms and felt something he’d thought dead for twenty years.
Hope.
It was terrifying. Hope meant vulnerability, and vulnerability meant pain. He’d vowed never to feel that vulnerable again. Never to care that deeply. Never to hope.
But then a small human female had stumbled into him on a desert planet, fierce and terrified and protecting two children with nothing but sheer force of will. And something in his chest that had been frozen solid for twelve years had started to crack.
Corinne.
Even thinking her name sent heat through his veins.
His body’s response to her was undeniable and impossible in equal measure.
Every Cire knew that mating bonds only formed between Cire males and females.
It was a biological fact, written into their very DNA.
Without a compatible female, a male couldn’t achieve full sexual release.
Theoretically they could become erect, they could even ejaculate, but they couldn’t knot and they couldn’t achieve full completion.
He’d encountered many females in the course of his duties since leaving Ciresia, but no female had ever even tempted him before.
But Corinne’s scent drove him mad with need. The feel of her soft curves pressed against him made him want to claim and possess and protect all at once. And when he’d kissed her, tasted her, felt her respond to his touch with that breathy little gasp…
He’d been fully, achingly erect. His body didn’t seem to care about biology or facts or anything except the overwhelming need to make her his.
He’d been unable to stop touching her, unable to maintain any semblance of control.
Even now, walking away from his quarters, he wanted nothing more than to turn around and go back.
To finish what they’d started. To peel that oversized shirt off her soft body and learn every curve, every sensitive spot, every sound she made when he touched her.
Focus.
He forced himself to keep walking, letting his feet carry him to the only place on the ship where he could work out this restless energy—the training room.
He’d spent countless hours here over the years, pushing his body past its limits, trying to outrun grief and guilt and the crushing weight of survivor’s remorse. Tonight felt different. Tonight he wasn’t trying to run from the past as much as move towards the future.
He stripped off his tunic and selected a training staff from the wall rack. The weight felt good in his hands, solid and familiar. He moved through the first forms automatically, muscle memory taking over as his mind worked through the impossible situation he’d gotten himself into.
I could take him.
The words kept echoing through his thoughts.
He’d offered to raise Mikoz, to give the infant a home and a future.
It was insane. It was reckless. But it would give him a reason to live rather than just exist. It would force him to build something instead of just protecting what little remained.
And perhaps it would help heal the wound that Lira’s death had left in his soul.
But could he do it? Could he open himself up to that kind of loss again?
He spun the staff, bringing it down in a vicious arc that would have shattered bone if it had connected with anything other than air. The movement flowed into the next form, then the next, his body finding a rhythm as his mind spiraled.
Kessa’s face suddenly appeared in his mind. They’d been friends since they were children, and had known for most of their lives that they would be together. Would she want this for him? Would she want him to take in an orphaned infant and try again at something resembling family?
He knew the answer immediately. Kessa had loved children.
She’d wanted more after Lira, but complications during the birth had made that impossible.
She would have taken Mikoz in without hesitation.
She would have loved him fiercely and completely, just as she’d loved their daughter.
And she would have wanted Selik to be happy.
The thought brought him up short, the staff freezing mid-swing.
Happy. When was the last time he’d even considered that possibility?
Happiness felt like a betrayal of everything he’d lost. Like admitting that life could go on without the people he’d loved most. But maybe that was the point.
Life had gone on, whether he wanted it to or not.
He’d survived when they hadn’t. He’d joined the Patrol, thrown himself into protecting others since he’d failed to protect his own family.
He’d existed in a state of carefully controlled numbness for twenty years.
And then Corinne had crashed into his life and shattered that numbness completely.
She made him want things he’d thought dead.
Not just physically, although Granthar knew he wanted her with an intensity that bordered on madness.
But he wanted more than just her body. He wanted her laugh, her strength, her fierce protectiveness toward those she loved.
He wanted to see her safe and happy and thriving instead of just surviving. He wanted her trust.
The realization settled over him with quiet certainty. He wanted Corinne to trust him enough to leave Mikoz in his care. He wanted her to believe he would protect the infant with his life. But more than that… he wanted her to stay.
The thought should have terrified him. Instead, it felt right in a way nothing had felt right in years.
He could picture it so clearly, Corinne and Mikoz and even the wary young Anya, all of them safe under his protection.
A family. Not a replacement for what he’d lost—nothing could replace Kessa and Lira—but something new. Something worth building.
He wanted to march back to his quarters, pull her into his arms, and tell her she was his. That she belonged with him, that he would protect her and the children, that he would move stars if it meant keeping them safe.
The staff whistled through the air as he moved through a complex sequence, channeling his frustration into controlled violence.
His muscles burned with the exertion, sweat slicking his skin, but he didn’t stop.
If he stopped moving, he’d start thinking too much about how soft her lips had been, how perfectly she’d fit against him, how right it had felt to hold her. How much he wanted to hold her again…
“You are going to hurt yourself.”
He spun, staff raised defensively, to find Tarak leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. His second-in-command looked amused despite the late hour.
“I am training,” he said curtly, lowering the staff.
“You are brooding.” Tarak pushed off the doorframe and sauntered into the room. “I know the difference. You train when you are focused. You brood when you are trying not to think about something.”
He didn’t bother denying it. The other male knew him too well.
“What brings you here at this hour?”
“I was thinking about our conversation. Or perhaps trying not to think about it.”
Tarak selected his own staff from the rack, and they circled each other, falling into the familiar rhythm of combat. Tarak struck first, a testing blow that he deflected easily. They traded attacks, the crack of wood on wood echoing through the training room.
“The female and the children are settled?” Tarak asked conversationally, as if they weren’t engaged in combat.
“Yes.”
“Where do you think the biological mother came from? The Red Death killed all our females.”
“I do not know, but I think perhaps that if I were a Cire female living somewhere else, I would not have wanted to return to Ciresia.”
Tarak nodded thoughtfully as he deflected a blow.
“The pressure would have been unbearable.”
Which meant perhaps there were other females hiding in remote parts of the system. It was a question that needed answering, but not tonight. Tonight he had other concerns. “Corinne asked me to find a home for the child.”
Tarak’s staff froze mid-swing. “And?”
“I offered to take him.”
Silence. Then Tarak lowered his staff completely, his expression unreadable.
“You offered to raise the infant.”
“Yes.”
“You. The male who has spent twenty years avoiding anything resembling attachment.”
“I am aware of the contradiction.”
Tarak studied him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “It is more than just the child.”
It wasn’t a question, but he answered anyway.
“Yes.”
Tarak set his staff aside and moved to the water dispenser in the corner. He filled two containers and handed one to Selik. “Tell me.”
He drank deeply, using the pause to organize his thoughts. How could he explain something he barely understood himself?
“She is fierce and determined and protective. But it is more than that. When I touch her, I feel…”
“Feel what?”