8. Hakan
Hakan
Daisy is gazing up at me, breathless, her face flushed.
And then I see her snap back into the moment as her eyes land on my shoulder. “You’re hurt!” she cries out.
I glance down. The bloody gashes look bad, but they’re not deep. “A minor wound.”
She’s not having it. “But you’re bleeding!”
“Kravans heal fast.”
“But —“
“I’ll show you.” I’m reaching down to splash water over the wounds when the boys race up to us. “What happened?” Riz demands, frantic and scared.
“A rakkor,” I tell them. “It’s gone now.”
Daisy pulls the boys in for a hug. “Hakan fought it off. Both of us are fine.”
“But Hakan is hurt,” Davi says, looking at my shoulder.
I use water from the stream to clean the blood from my wounds. “Daisy’s right — I’m fine. The cuts are not deep. They’ll heal quickly.”
When I kneel down to show them, the boys surprise me by rushing into my arms.
The gesture is unexpected. They cling to me fiercely, their thin bodies trembling.
“You need you to get better,” Riz says.
“We can’t lose you,” Davi says.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say. “How about we go grill some more meat?”
“Back at the cave?”
“Yes, back at the cave.”
Reassured by that plan, the boys race to the cave, Daisy and I following.
I can still taste her on my lips — still feel the softness of her mouth against mine, the way she melted into me when I pulled her close. The memory sends heat coursing through my veins, makes my shaft throb insistently against the tight leather of my pants.
What the hell is going on with me?
I glance at her beside me, her hand occasionally brushing mine as we navigate the jungle path.
Even in the simple leaf garment, she looks lush and beautiful.
The way it hugs her curves, the way her breasts press against the fabric, the flush still lingering on her cheeks, the concern for me in her warm green eyes… .
I want her. There's no denying it anymore.
But wanting and having are two different things. I have nothing to offer her — no home planet, no certainty about the future, just a farm in the middle of nowhere and a heart that's been shattered into pieces.
She deserves better than a broken warrior hiding from the galaxy.
"Hakan?" she asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
She stops walking and gazes up at me with her beautiful green eyes.
“Listen,” she says quietly. "I know we barely know each other.
I know everything about this situation is insane.
But I also know that when that beast was about to attack me, you didn't hesitate.
You protected me. And not just me — you've protected the boys, too.
You've been kind and patient and strong, and I…
" She trails off, her cheeks flushing deeper. “I just want to thank you. For everything you’ve done for us.”
My hands move of their own accord, reaching for her, cupping her sweet soft tiny face. "You make me feel things I thought I'd never feel again."
"Is that good or bad?"
"I don't know yet," I admit. "But I know I can't seem to stay away from you."
She rises on her toes, and for a moment I think she's going to kiss me again. But instead, she rests her forehead against my chest, and I wrap my arms around her, holding her close.
We stand like that for a long moment, the jungle alive around us, before resuming our walk to the cave.
The boys look at us when we arrive. From the knowing smirks on their faces, I can tell they’ve recovered from their fright and are back in teasing mode.
*You kissed her,* Riz's voice sounds in my mind, gleeful.
*Which is so gross,* Davi adds, though his mental tone is amused rather than disgusted.
*Out of my head, both of you,* I send back firmly.
They dissolve into giggles, and Daisy looks at me. “Did they just send thoughts to you?”
"They're being brats," I tell her.
"We are not!" Riz protests aloud. "We're happy you kissed her. You've been thinking about it for hours and hours."
Daisy's eyes widen, and I feel heat crawling up my neck. Being around telepaths is going to take some adjustment.
"How about you two make yourselves useful and add some wood to the fire?" I suggest pointedly.
*Because you want to think about kissing her some more without us listening?* Davi sends privately, and I make a mental note to work on my shielding techniques as soon as possible.
The boys turn to gather wood still giggling, and I'm about to suggest that Daisy get some rest when I hear it — the faint hum of an approaching craft.
The craft is most likely mine — but what if it’s not?
“Everyone,” I order, “into the cave.”
Daisy and the boys look at me, startled, and quickly comply.
I crouch near the cave entrance and relax when I see the craft hovering above the clearing. It’s the small transporter I use at the farm. It settles near the cave, its landing struts extending smoothly.
After a quick perimeter check to make sure it wasn’t followed, I turned to Daisy and the boys.
“Our ride is here,” I tell them. “Let’s go.”
“This is yours?" Daisy asks, eyeing the ship with obvious curiosity.
“It’s a shuttle craft, good for short trips.” I key in the access code and the hatch opens with a soft hiss. "It's not luxurious, but it's sturdy and reliable."
"Where are we going?"
"My farm," I tell her as she and the boys pile in. "We'll be safer there."
The boys are fascinated by the craft.
"Can we drive it?" Riz asks eagerly.
"Can we push the buttons?" Davi adds.
"No and no," I say firmly, but I can't help but smile.
We pile in — it's cramped with four of us, but manageable. The boys immediately start exploring every surface, their fingers itching to touch the controls until I give them a stern look that makes them settle down.
Daisy takes the co-pilot seat beside me, watching with fascination as I run system checks.
"You clearly know what you're doing," she observes.
"I've been flying since I was a boy. Every Kravan warrior learns to pilot."
The flight takes two hours. I keep the craft low over the jungle canopy. Daisy is quiet beside me, but I can feel her presence like a warm glow. Every so often, I catch her watching me instead of the view, and each time our eyes meet, something electric passes between us.
*She really likes you,* Riz sends to me privately. *Her thoughts are very loud about it.*
*I told you both to stay out of my head.*
*We're not in your head,* Davi protests. *We're in hers. And she thinks you're very handsome. And strong. And — *
*Enough,* I send back, fighting the urge to smile.
Finally, the farm comes into view. It's nestled in a valley between two ridges.
I've cleared several acres for crops — neat rows of purple grain and clusters of pod-trees heavy with fruit.
Beyond that is the barn and my house, built by hand from timber and stone.
It has a wide porch, large windows to catch the breeze, and a solid roof that's weathered more than one monsoon season.
It's home.
Or more accurately, it’s the place I’ve lived for the past five years.
"It's beautiful," Daisy breathes as we descend toward the landing pad beside the barn.
"It's functional," I correct, but her words warm something in my chest.
We settle with barely a bump, and the boys are out of their seats before I've turned off the engine, pressing their faces against the windows.
"Can we explore?" they ask in unison, their excitement palpable.
I look at Daisy, who nods with a smile. "Stay within sight of the house," I tell them. "And if you see anything dangerous —"
"Run back to you immediately," they chorus, having clearly heard this instruction in my thoughts.
I open the hatch and they tumble out, racing toward the barn with shouts of delight.
Daisy steps out more slowly, turning in a circle to take in the view. The afternoon sun filters through the clouds, casting everything in warm golden light. The air smells of growing things and earth.
"You built all this yourself?" she asks.
"Most of it. I have robots that help." I point to where one is methodically harvesting grain in the field. "But yes, the design and construction were mine."
She walks toward the house, and I follow, watching her take in the details — the carved posts supporting the porch roof, the flowering vines I've trained to grow up the railings, the sturdy door with its simple latch.
"It suits you," she says finally.
"What do you mean?"
"It's strong. Solid. Built to last." She turns to look at me, and the expression in her eyes makes my breath catch. "It's also beautiful, even if you don't want to admit it."
Before I can respond, she's climbing the porch steps and pushing open the door.
I built the interior to be simple but comfortable — an open main room with a kitchen area on one side, a seating area with a low couch and chairs on the other.
Doorways lead to a bedroom and a small storage room.
Everything is clean and orderly, because keeping busy with maintenance has been one of the ways I've survived the loneliness.
Daisy moves through the space slowly, running her fingers along the back of the couch, examining the few possessions I have.
She pauses at the shelf where I keep my most precious items: a small carved figure my daughter made for me when she was barely old enough to hold a knife, and a framed portrait.
Daisy’s hand hovers over the portrait, and I see her expression shift as she realizes who’s she's looking at.
"Is this…?"
"My wife and daughter," I say quietly.
The portrait was taken a few months before I lost them — my wife with her deep blue skin and knowing smile, her dark hair braided elaborately for a friend’s wedding celebration, and my daughter, barely four, perched on her mother's lap, amber eyes bright with mischief, her hair already showing signs of the same stubborn wave as mine.
I watch Daisy's face as she studies the image. Her eyes well with tears.
“They’re beautiful," she whispers.
"They were my everything," I say, the words coming out raw.
Daisy turns to me, and the compassion in her eyes nearly breaks me.
"I'm so sorry, Hakan."