Epilogue
Cristox
I stood near the entrance of Space Pearls, my chest swelling with pride as I watched Ruby move gracefully between tables, her smile radiant as she greeted guests.
My tail twitched with pleasure at the sight of her in her element.
The restaurant was packed—standing room only—and the air hummed with excited chatter and the clinking of glasses.
Warm light spilled from the fixtures overhead, casting everything in a golden glow that made the polished tables gleam.
Space Pearls was everything Ruby had dreamed of and more.
The interior was elegant yet welcoming, with plush seating in deep burgundy and cream, and decorative touches that spoke to Earth's culture.
Framed vintage photographs, delicate ceramic vases with fresh flowers, and soft textiles that invited guests to linger and lose themselves in conversation.
Thanks to Buck and Lula's farm, the meat and produce were fresh—something everyone could tell by scent and taste.
The aroma alone was intoxicating: roasted herbs, caramelized vegetables, perfectly seared meats that made mouths water from across the room.
My jaw tightened slightly as I thought of that temperamental Framaddi chef, Kokki.
Talented, yes—the little bastard could work magic with spices—but he had an attitude that grated on my last nerve.
I'd walked into the kitchen one day to find him berating Ruby over some minor issue with a vegetable shipment, his voice shrill and his gestures wild, his short blue arms flailing dramatically as he questioned her judgment.
That had been a mistake.
I'd made it crystal clear, in terms even a hot-headed Framaddi couldn't misunderstand, that Ruby was not to be spoken to that way.
Ever. I'd backed him into the walk-in cooler, and explained in excruciating detail what would happen if he ever disrespected my mate again.
Kokki had gone pale—well, as pale as his blue-tinted skin could manage—stammered an apology, and hadn't raised his voice since. Problem solved.
The whole village had turned out for the opening. I recognized faces from every corner of our community, all dressed in their finest, all eager to celebrate with my mate. I caught sight of Buck raising a glass toward Ruby, Lula beaming beside him, her round face creased with genuine joy.
I adjusted my peacekeeper's uniform, the familiar weight of the badge grounding me.
The dark fabric was crisp, the insignia polished to a mirror shine.
I was off duty tonight, here only as Ruby's mate and biggest supporter, but I knew what the uniform represented.
Safety. Order. Protection. I'd caught more than a few grateful glances from the villagers, their shoulders relaxing when they saw me, their conversations flowing more freely knowing Tau Ceti was safe again.
Chef Pearl had flown in for the opening with her Vaktaire mate Jutuk and their baby son Titus.
Pearl had been instrumental in helping Ruby refine her vision for the restaurant, spending hours on comm discussing menu design, kitchen workflow, and the delicate balance of serving both human and alien palates.
Her presence tonight meant the world to Ruby.
My cousin Tarrick was here too, with his mate Isabella, who currently occupied the small stage up front, her voice ringing out in dulcet tones that wrapped around the room like silk.
I would've made fun of my cousin for the completely besotted expression on his face as he watched his mate, but I knew my own expression mirrored his every time I gazed at Ruby.
While Pearl disappeared into the kitchen to oversee operations and ensure everything met her exacting standards, I found myself standing with Jutuk near one of the tall windows overlooking the village square.
He cradled little Titus against his chest, the baby fast asleep despite the noise and celebration around us.
The kid was a perfect blend of his parents—human features softened by Jutuk's golden pelt, and those striking blue-gold eyes that marked him as part Vaktaire.
Even sleeping, his tiny fingers clutched at his father's shirt with surprising strength.
"He's going to be a big boy," I observed, watching the gentle rise and fall of the infant's chest. My own son was in the back with Mei and Bartholomeus's kids in the makeshift playroom Ruby set up, complete with enough toys to occupy a small army.
Jutuk's expression softened with unmistakable pride. "Growing like a weed. Pearl says he has my appetite." He chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. "Already demanding food every two hours like clockwork."
I chuckled at that, then shifted the conversation toward more serious matters. "Any word from the Alliance? Any intelligence on Declan Hewes's location?"
Jutuk's face darkened at the name, his jaw setting in a hard line. "Nothing concrete. The bastard's gone to ground since the Romvesians helped him escape. It's like he vanished into the void."
My jaw clenched, my hands curling into fists.
Declan Hewes—human tech billionaire, philanthropist to the public, and architect of one of the most sophisticated human trafficking operations the Alliance had ever encountered.
He'd been using his technology empire as a front to funnel Earth women into the slave trade, destroying lives with the casual indifference of a man crushing insects beneath his boot. I’d crossed his path twice on Earth, once helping my friend Xabat rescue his mate and again helping the American President retake her office from his clutches.
"The American President has made it impossible for him to return to Earth," I said, forcing my voice to remain level. My friend Rickon had been part of that operation and ended up mating with the president, choosing to remain at her side on Earth and help dismantle what remained of Hewes's network.
Jutuk shifted Titus slightly, one large hand cradling the baby's head with infinite gentleness. "A month in Alliance custody, and then the Romvesians staged that extraction. Someone paid a fortune to break him out. We're talking enough credits to buy a small moon."
"Any leads on who?"
"Too many to count. Hewes had clients everywhere. Kwado royalty, Skaarn warlords, the Xethian crime syndicate, even some corrupt Alliance officials." Jutuk's expression was grim. "He made a lot of powerful people very rich. Any one of them could have bankrolled his escape."
"The Alliance will find him," I said, more to convince myself than anything.
"Hopefully," Jutuk said, his voice dropping lower, barely audible over the ambient noise. "The new plan is risky."
I'd comm'd with Rickon a few days ago, so I knew exactly to what Jutuk was referring. The conversation had left me uneasy, torn between hope that they'd finally catch the bastard and fear of what could go wrong.
Jutuk adjusted his hold on Titus, who made a tiny mewl of contentment but didn't wake. "Using the Blackwood female as bait is dangerous. Declan Hewes is a bastard, but he's not stupid. He's evaded capture this long for a reason."
"She volunteered for it," I said, remembering what Rickon told me when he'd explained the plan and her insistence.
"Doesn't make it less dangerous." Jutuk's jaw tightened. "But if it works, they'll finally have him. One less piece of filth preying on the Earth."
"Here's hoping," I agreed. The thought of Hewes still out there, still a threat, made my blood run cold. Every day he remained free was another day he could hurt someone, ruin another life, tear apart another family. "The Prime wouldn't authorize it if she didn't think they could keep her safe."
Jutuk nodded, though his expression remained troubled.
We stood in companionable silence for a moment, watching the celebration unfold around us.
The laughter, the clinking glasses, the warmth of community.
Then his features relaxed as he looked down at his sleeping son, his thumb gently stroking the baby's soft cheek.
"This is what we're fighting for, isn't it?
So they can grow up in a galaxy where monsters like Hewes are on prison planets where they belong. "
"Damn right," I said quietly.
My gaze drifted across the room and landed on Ruby, drawn to her as inevitably as a moon to its planet.
She was seated at a table with Mei, Bartholomeus, Doc Pritchett, Mrs. Chen, and Marcus, her face animated as she spoke, her hands gesturing expressively.
The soft lighting caught the warmth in her eyes, the way her whole being seemed to glow with contentment.
She was laughing at something, her head thrown back, joy radiating from her like sunlight.
My tail twitched involuntarily, responding to the sight of her as it always did.
I almost missed it.
Such a slight movement I barely noticed at first. The subtle flick of her hand dropping to rest on her belly. Just for a moment. A gentle, protective gesture that made my heart skip a beat, then thunder in my chest.
She did it again a minute later, almost unconsciously, while laughing at something Marcus said. This time I caught Doc Pritchett's reaction—a knowing smile, the kind that spoke volumes. My tail gave another twitch, more pronounced, betraying the surge of emotion flooding through me.
My chest tightened with a wave of feeling so powerful it nearly staggered me. My vision blurred for a second, and I had to brace myself against the window frame, my fingers gripping the wood hard enough to leave marks.
Ruby's gaze lifted from her conversation and found mine across the crowded room, as if she could feel the intensity of my stare.
The noise of the restaurant faded to a distant hum as our eyes locked.
Her hand still rested on her belly, and I watched as she registered where my focus landed, watched understanding dawn across her beautiful face.
Her smile changed. Softened. Became something intimate and private, meant only for me—a smile that held promises and futures, that acknowledged the secret we now shared, the miracle growing between us. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears—happy ones—and she gave the smallest nod.
I knew.
My legs moved before my brain fully processed the decision, carrying me through the crowd with single-minded purpose.
I mumbled apologies as I navigated between tables, barely aware of the villagers I passed, of Jutuk's knowing chuckle behind me, of the curious glances following my trajectory.
Nothing existed except Ruby and the need to reach her, to touch her, to make this moment real, to hold the future in my arms.
When I reached her table, she was already standing, as if she'd been pulled to her feet by the same magnetic force drawing me forward. The others at the table fell silent as they registered the intensity crackling between us.
I cupped her face in my hands, my thumbs stroking her cheeks, and searched her eyes for confirmation of what I already knew in my bones. "Ruby?"
"Yes," she whispered. That single word contained everything. All our hopes, all our dreams, all our love distilled into one perfect syllable. "About six weeks, Doc thinks. I wanted to be sure before I told you. I planned to tell you later tonight. I wanted it to be perfect."
"It is perfect," I breathed, then kissed her with everything I felt—all the love, all the joy, all the fierce protective devotion that threatened to crack my chest wide open.
She melted into me, her arms wrapping around my neck, and I heard the scattered applause and cheers erupting around us as people realized what was happening, as our private joy became a shared celebration.
When we finally broke apart, both breathless and trembling, I pressed my forehead against hers, savoring her warmth, her scent, the reality of her in my arms. "I love you," I breathed. "Stars, Ruby, I love you so much."
"I love you too," she said, laughing through tears that now spilled freely down her cheeks. "We're having a baby, Cristox. Another baby."
Another baby. The words hit me like a punch to the solar plexus, stealing my breath, making my vision swim with overwhelming emotion.
I dropped to my knees in front of her, right there in the middle of her restaurant on opening night, uncaring of who watched, and placed both hands on her belly.
Still flat, still unchanged to the eye, but I knew better now.
Knew what was growing inside her, what miracle we'd created together.
The third bedroom would definitely be a nursery.
I could already picture it—soft colors on the walls, maybe a pale green or gentle yellow, a crib by the window where the starlight could filter in, shelves for toys and books we'd read together, a comfortable chair where Ruby could nurse while I read stories aloud and Teddy sat at our feet relishing his job as a big brother.
And this time—this time, I would be there for everything.
I'd missed so much with Teddy. The pregnancy, the birth, those first precious months.
I'd been absent for the sleepless nights, the first smiles, for tiny fingers wrapping around mine.
That loss was a wound that would never fully heal, a constant reminder of what I'd lost, what had been stolen from us by circumstance and fate.
But this time would be different.
I'd be there when Ruby's belly swelled with our child, would feel every kick and roll, every hiccup and stretch, would press my ear against her skin and listen to the flutter of a new heartbeat.
I'd attend every checkup, hold her hand through morning sickness, and rub her feet when they ached.
I'd feel our baby move under my palm and know—really know—that I was part of this miracle from the very beginning.
I'd hold her hand through the birth, be the first to hold our baby after she did, count tiny fingers and toes with wonder.
I'd change diapers at 2 a.m., pace the floor during colicky nights, sing off-key lullabies until my voice was hoarse and the baby finally drifted off to sleep.
I'd watch Teddy play with his brother or sister, watch them grow together, safe and happy and surrounded by love.
I'd be there for all of it. Every moment, every milestone, every messy, exhausting, beautiful second.
And I couldn't fucking wait.