Chapter 4
The science lab was dark. Not in a creepy something 's-going-to-devour-you way—though honestly, depending on who did the devouring, that might not be a terrible fate. My mind drifted back to Lyrin's gentle touch on my back.
Get it together, you horny teenager. We are about to do science.
I shook my head hard. It felt like my libido had been launched into overdrive without even submitting a request form. Well, chew on this, libido—alien data awaits. Nothing cools the engine like some good old-fashioned nerding out.
A new sheriff was in town, and that sheriff was me.
As if acknowledging my dominance, my heartbeat steadied, and the heat in my face began to fade—
Vaelix cleared his throat.
I turned, and was immediately greeted by an alien eight-pack that looked like it had been carved from shimmering lapis and glued onto his torso by the gods of anatomy. My gaze traveled up to an outstretched arm—corded with elegant veins—to a white lab jacket he was holding out.
"For me?" I croaked.
Of course it's for you, you absolute oaf.
"Yes, Doctor," he said politely. "We must wear sterilized clothing in the lab."
Judging by the way my face went from pasty to fire engine red, he must have noticed my internal meltdown. He glanced down at himself, and with sudden urgency threw a shirt over his shoulders—condemning his glorious abs to fabric prison. A crime, really.
"I am so sorry," he blurted. "Our customs differ from yours. Among the crew, I am used to working without clothing. I forgot humans are more modest."
"It's fine," I squeaked. "Honestly, I don't mind."
"I promise it won't happen again."
I stepped toward him, mortified at my reaction. "You don't have to change for me. I'm a guest on your ship—it's my responsibility to adapt. Please don't make yourself uncomfortable. I'll feel awful."
He studied me quietly. "Are you certain? Your comfort and safety are my highest priority."
Why does everyone on this ship keep saying that?
"It's fine. I'm fine. You're fine. Everything's fine."
I laughed a little too loudly.
Why am I fifteen again? Stop it, brain.
"As you wish," he said, removing the shirt again and offering the jacket.
"Mm-hmm," I murmured, eyes locked on his chest. "Just as I wish…"
"I'm sorry, what was that?"
"Oh—nothing!" I blurted. "Just excited to see what you're working on."
Smooth, Kira. Very smooth.
He nodded once, expression softening. "To be honest, nothing I am working on compares to your paper on the quantum-biological signature phenomenon. I am not exaggerating: your words changed my perception of the universe."
My heart skipped. "You… read that? The corporation said it was pseudoscience."
Vaelix stepped closer. "They said that because they feared you were right. And they wanted it buried before anyone else could obtain it."
My eyes widened. "How could you possibly know that?"
He flashed a sharp, knowing grin. "We find things others hide."
"Like pirates," I muttered.
"We aren't pirates," he said immediately.
"Everyone keeps telling me what you're not. Nobody tells me what you are. So what are you?"
He was quiet for a moment—long enough that I thought he might actually answer.
"We are... seekers," he said finally. "Of knowledge. Of justice. Of things the galaxy would prefer stay buried." He paused. "And sometimes, of people."
"People like me?"
"May I show you something?" he asked, sweeping a hand toward the back of the lab.
Classic deflection. But he'd given me more than anyone else on this ship had, so I let it slide—for now.
"Are you going to inject something into me?"
"No."
"Subject me to tests?"
"No."
"Are yo—"
"How about I show you," he said gently, moving toward a crystalline workbench.
"Sure,” I mumbled, following.
He positioned himself before the bench, eyes closed, hands spread. Particles shimmered into existence—drifting across the surface like dust motes caught in cathedral light.
"Come closer," he murmured.
I stepped forward.
"Closer, Doctor Vale. You won't experience the full effect unless you stand beside me."
I swallowed and moved to his side. My shoulder brushed his arm. He towered over me—broad, carved, blue-skinned perfection that should have been terrifying, yet somehow radiated calm.
"Close your eyes," he whispered. "Open your mind to the quantum particles. Become a blank space."
I took a breath and obeyed.
It was difficult—twenty-four hours ago, I had been trapped in a failing habitat unit, dreading the biggest fear of my life: a work dinner with my wildly inappropriate boss.
Let it go—blank canvas.
I shoved Director Voss out of my head and slammed the door behind him. A soothing calm washed in. Something flickered at the edge of my awareness. I reached for it—too fast. It slipped away. I waited, and it returned, a little brighter.
Then—everything opened.
Particles flowed around me, like the first snowfall of winter. Patterns appeared and vanished. Biological life signatures glowed like distant stars piercing dark velvet.
"Your work is not theory," Vaelix murmured. "It is real. I knew it the moment I saw your signal."
I opened my eyes. The crystalline table was alive, mirroring the patterns in my mind.
"Am I doing that?" I whispered.
"We are doing that," he said, his voice low, the air suddenly electric.
A connection was forming—I could feel it. Imperfect, incomplete, but undeniable. An algorithm—my algorithm—came to mind, and it materialized on the table in shining crystalline script.
"The crystals respond to your commands," Vaelix breathed.
"The third variable is off," I said, sliding into the data instinctively. "You got ninety percent of the way there. But if I adjust this—"
The moment the correction locked in, a surge of energy burst across the lab.
It hit me square in the chest—and leapt into Vaelix.
A soft moan escaped my lips as his body pressed into mine. I braced against him, hands splayed across those impossible abs. His slate-gray eyes burned with desire as he looked down at me. His breath warmed my neck. His lips parted.
I tilted my chin up.
My eyes fluttered closed.
He pulled me closer—
Then stopped.
We stayed suspended in that moment, breath mingling, hearts racing.
"I must not move too quickly," he whispered. "Our bond—the Zorathi bond—begins with the mind. To move past it alone is forbidden."
"You're not alone," I whispered. "I'm here. See? Two of us. It's okay."
He gently released my waist and stepped back.
"There is much for you to learn," he said quietly. "I am sorry. But in my culture, this is forbidden."
I narrowed my eyes. The sting hit fast and hard—not because I believed him, but because part of me desperately wanted to.
"Your culture," I repeated, and hated how small my voice sounded. "Right. Of course."
I stepped back, arms crossing over my chest like armor I didn't know I needed.
The rejection shouldn't have hurt this much.
I barely knew him. But something about that almost-kiss had cracked open a door I'd welded shut years ago, and now all the old feelings were rushing through—inadequacy, longing, the familiar certainty that I'd misread everything.
"I have offended you," he said quietly. "That was not my intention."
"You haven't offended me." The lie tasted bitter. "I just—I misread the situation. It happens. I'm a scientist; I can handle being wrong about a hypothesis."
His expression softened into something worse than pity—understanding.
"This is not rejection, Doctor Vale. Among my people, what we just experienced would be considered... significant. Sacred, even. To proceed without the proper ceremonies would dishonor us both."
"Sure," I said, already retreating toward the door. "Ceremonies. Got it. Very sacred. I'll just—I need some air. Do spaceships have air? Doesn't matter. I'm going."
I didn't storm out—I made a strategic retreat. There's a difference. Storming implies emotion. I was simply... relocating. With purpose. And speed.
The ship's corridors twisted in ways that didn't quite make sense to my human brain, all smooth curves and bioluminescent panels that pulsed gently, as if the whole vessel were breathing. I walked until my legs ached, then slumped down at a small viewport and watched the stars drift by.
Were these not-pirates actually into me? Or was this some elaborate game where they took turns making the human feel stupid?
I pressed my forehead against the cool glass. For a wild second, I almost wished I were back on the habitat—at least there, I understood the rules. Director Voss was a creep, but a predictable creep. These aliens and their sacred bonds and their abs and their eyes...
I didn't know what I was supposed to want anymore.
The viewport fogged with my breath. I drew a frowny face in it, then felt stupid, then drew a spaceship next to it because I was already committed.
That's when I noticed the reflection behind me—four arms, perfectly still, watching.
I spun around.
Kaedren stood at parade rest, his green eyes calm and unreadable. He moved like someone who'd learned to make his massive frame disappear when he wanted to—which, given that he had four arms and shoulders like a freight train, was genuinely impressive.
"How long have you been standing there?" I demanded.
"Long enough to observe your artwork," he said, nodding toward the viewport.
My face went hot. "That's—it's abstract. You wouldn't understand."
"Vaelix notified me you left the lab in a hurry. The captain has informed me you will be a guest on our ship." He tilted his head, studying me with the detached interest of someone cataloging a new species. "I wish to ensure you are useful if something dangerous occurs."
I blinked. "Something dangerous? What exactly do you think I can do?"
He leaned forward, four arms folding with unnerving grace.
"Come with me," he said. "I will show you."