Chapter 9
Selena
The nestroom was full of my males.
I led Zirene through the back doorway, his massive paw engulfing mine, his shadow trailing behind us like a living cloak. The sight of my clan waiting made my heart lodge somewhere behind my ribs.
Kaede sat near the edge of the nest, spine straight, every line of him controlled and watchful even in rest. His sharp neon-green eyes found mine immediately, tracking my entrance with the focused intensity that made my pulse kick.
Xylo occupied one corner, a quiet galaxy made flesh.
His dark gray—almost black—skin was patterned with splotches of deep greens, blues, and purples, colors shifting subtly in the low light like nebulae caught mid-drift.
When his teal eyes lifted to meet mine, there was a calm there that steadied me.
Odelm reclined beside him, carefully setting aside his long, spiraled alien flute—the aelthryn—before turning toward me with a warm, welcoming smile.
The echo of his song lingered faintly in my chest, humming through the bonds between us like an afterimage of sound, reminding me of the song he’d played for me earlier.
V’dim sat cross-legged on the far side of the nest, all dark water and quiet gravity.
His dark cobalt blue skin flowed with loose swirls of lighter and deeper blues, teals, and violets, as if light moved through him instead of over him.
Speckled hues traced his arm and thigh blades, and his tentacles—deep blue fading into dark turquoise—rested loosely around him, webbed feet tucked in close.
Z’fir stood near the window, moss-draped shoulders squared, dark brown skin threaded with tan and rich emerald vein-root patterns. He was positioned where he could see everything—grounded, immovable, a quiet promise of protection.
Both princes positioned where they could see everything, their protective instincts never fully at rest… as if Kaede wasn’t there, always on high alert.
And Zyxel…
My breath caught before I even finished the thought.
My newest mate hovered at the edge of the nest, coiled uncertainly, his crimson-tinged scales catching on the gemmed orb light. Still learning his place. Still trying to figure out where he fit in this complicated, impossible family we’d built from broken pieces and fate-woven threads.
They were all watching me.
Waiting for me.
My mental web trembled with the weight of their attention—six distinct threads pulsing with emotion.
Fear threaded through love. Desire tangled with grief.
Want and worship and the kind of devotion that made my chest ache.
The air itself felt thick with it—charged, electric, heavy with all the things none of us could say.
Our last night together.
The thought crashed through me like a wave.
Tomorrow, Zirene would be gone—flying toward a war that could swallow him whole.
V’dim and Z’fir would follow soon after.
My constellation would fracture, stretch thin across the void of space, and all I would have left were the threads connecting us. The dreamscape. The bond.
It wasn’t enough.
But it would have to be. I needed to be stronger—to hold fast to my clan’s threads, to keep Destima’s mental web safe and secure. Once Zirene was gone, I would throw myself into more lessons with Ryzen, anything to do my part and stay anchored.
I stepped deeper into the nestroom, tugging Zirene with me.
The lights sensed the shift immediately, dimming a fraction—just enough to soften the space, to signal privacy without ever plunging us into shadow.
The door sealed behind us with a muted click, the sound carrying a strange finality, like a bell tolling midnight—marking the end of one thing and the fragile beginning of another.
Water whispered along the glass walls, gentle and constant, reflections of starlight rippling across the pool that encircled the nestbed.
Color scattered over the rainbow grass and the amethyst headboard at the room’s heart, the glow from the night lamps tracing the walkways and glass bridges in quiet arcs of light.
Everything here seemed to breathe with us—adjusting, accommodating, holding.
I felt it settle in my chest then, the purpose of this room.
Not indulgence. Not excess. Sanctuary. A space built to cradle us when the universe demanded too much.
The retracting ceiling remained open, stars drifting slowly overhead, as if Zirene had bent the heavens closer just for me—just for this moment.
I tightened my grip on his paw, painfully aware of how fleeting this was.
Tomorrow would scatter us across battle lines and council chambers, across distances measured in light-years and loss.
But here, now, with the lights dimmed and the water murmuring softly along the glass, the world narrowed to this room.
To us.
Something precious.
Something fleeting.
Zirene’s shadow unfurled as we moved, tendrils of darkness brushing my ankles, my calves, climbing my body like it couldn’t bear even the smallest distance between us. His amethyst eyes burned with an intensity that made heat pool low in my belly.
I led him to the center of the nest, feeling my other mates’ gazes tracking every step. Watching. Wanting.
“Nova.” Zirene’s voice was rough. Raw in a way he rarely let anyone hear.
I released his paw and turned to face my clan. All of them watching. All of them waiting.
My fingers found the clasp of my dress. The nanite fabric hummed against my skin, waiting for my command. I could have dismissed it with a thought—instant, efficient, practical. But that wasn’t what tonight was about.
Tonight was about savoring every moment.
My fingers brushed the living suit disk nestled between my breasts, just below my scar.
At my touch, the fabric obeyed—melting against my skin in warm, silken waves.
It hesitated only once, catching briefly on the gentle swell of my stomach before curling inward, dissolving back into the disk and leaving cool air in its wake.
I felt their attention settle on me all the same, a tangible weight that lingered as my skin was bared.
Heat unfurled beneath it, slow and inevitable, my spots shifting through soft pink and violet as my body responded—quietly, instinctively—to being seen.
I stood before them bare and unguarded, the rounded curve of my abdomen unmistakable.
Proof of what we’d built together. What we were fighting to protect.
Zirene made a sound low in his chest—somewhere between a growl and a prayer.
His shadow surged forward, wrapping around my calves, my thighs, climbing my body like it couldn’t bear the distance between us anymore. The darkness was cool against my heated skin—a contrast that made me shiver.
“Come. Here.” His voice dropped an octave. Command and plea woven together.
This time, I stepped into him.
The nest cushioned my steps as I closed the last distance between us.
Soft fabrics and piled furs, arranged in careful layers that my mates had prepared while I was in the garden with Zirene.
A space made for comfort. For intimacy. For a clan determined to hold onto each other before dawn tore them apart.
I could see the care in every fold, the love in every placed pillow.
They’d been preparing for this moment while I stood in the moonlight, trying to find words for goodbye.
Zirene rose to his knees as I approached. Still towering over me, even kneeling—his massive frame a wall of shadow-wrapped muscle that would have terrified anyone else. His paws went to the clasp of his ceremonial cape, fingers working the catch with unusual clumsiness.
The fabric fell away, revealing the broad plane of his chest. The low orblight caught on his dark fur, tracing the natural striping that ran across him in subtle bands of shadow and sheen. As he shifted, the light moved with him, accentuating the lines of his body—the tension there, the restraint.
And somehow that made it worse. Want. Fear. Love so fierce it pressed in my chest, heavy enough to feel like drowning.
His kilt followed. The dark fabric pooled on the nestbed, leaving him as bare as me.
My breath stuttered.
Even after all this time—after years of his body against mine, inside mine—the sight of him still hit me like a physical blow.
The sheer size of him. The careful power contained in every line.
The way his shadow curled possessively around us both, creating a cocoon of darkness even as his hands reached for me with devastating gentleness.
“Selena...” My name on his lips was reverent. A prayer and a curse and a vow. “My Nova. My Beacon.”
I closed the remaining distance between us and climbed into his lap.
My thighs bracketed his hips, my arms winding around his neck.
The position pressed my belly against the hard planes of his abdomen, the swell of life between us a constant reminder of what we were fighting for.
His hands spanned my waist, claws careful against my skin, holding me like I was made of dreams and starlight.
I kissed him.
Not soft. Not sweet. This kiss was desperate and deep, all the things I couldn’t say poured into the press of my lips against his.
The taste flooded my senses—smoke and midnight and something that I’d never been able to name but was uniquely his.
His tongue swept against mine, and I swallowed his groan, dragging him closer.
Don’t leave me.
I couldn’t say it. Wouldn’t. He had no choice, and we both knew it.
So I kissed him instead. Poured my fear and my love and my desperate need into the heat of his mouth and felt him answer with equal fervor.
When we finally broke apart, both of us breathing hard, his amethyst eyes were molten. “Let me worship you,” he rasped. “Let me memorize every part of you. Give me something to carry into battle—the taste of you. The feel of you. The sound of my name on your lips.”
“Yes.”