Chapter 14
Tall, Dark, and Brooding - Just My Type
Lily
“My first heart beats for a Mokra, fierce and blue;
He takes me dancing, but I’m already through.
My second heart beats for a Dak’ri knight;
We finally meet—and I’m bored by the sight.
My third heart beats for a Divani flame;
And I know I’m lost by name.”
Post-Fusion Ballad, runner-up at the IMPERIUM Interspecific Song Festival, theme for the holo-reality Galactic Love
Lily had never considered herself reckless.
She weighed decisions carefully. She ran simulations in her head before acting. She built quiet contingency plans for everything, because the universe had already proven it could yank the floor out from under her without warning.
Falling for Khar should have triggered alarms.
Instead, it felt inevitable.
She knew it made no sense. He was alien in every way that mattered, a Divani male shaped by war, hierarchy, and instincts she could barely begin to understand. Yet none of that muted the pull. If anything, it sharpened it.
She wanted him – unadorned, in daylight or in artificial dusk, uniform or nothing at all.
She wanted him to touch her like he did everything else, with focus and intent and that unnerving calm that made her feel both seen and claimed.
She had no idea whether their bodies would even cooperate, but she was willing to stumble through the awkwardness if Khar was.
When he had settled beside her on the light deck with only that thick, luxurious towel between them, Lily had needed every scrap of discipline she possessed not to climb into his lap and find out firsthand why Divani males were called stallions.
What stopped her was not fear.
It was trust.
Since being torn from Earth, peace had been a rare thing. Silence did not equal safety. Calm did not mean rest. But with Khar, something inside her loosened. Her breathing slowed. The constant edge dulled.
She could not risk shattering that just because she lacked restraint.
So she thought. She evaluated. She replayed moments until they blurred together.
And eventually, she reached a conclusion.
Unless she had completely lost her grip on reality, Khar noticed her too.
Maybe as an exotic curiosity. Maybe as something unfamiliar and intriguing. But not as nothing.
The memory that sealed it came from their last journey.
During the two chrono-years she had spent mostly alone with Helios, Lily had dressed and styled herself for function.
When Khar returned from his brief absence, something shifted. She found herself wanting to look better.
Not for anyone in particular. The lie barely held.
One morning, she braided her hair into a long, neat plait.
When she entered the control room, Khar looked at her longer than usual.
“Lily,” he asked in that precise, formal Divani cadence, “may I touch your hair?”
Her heart had slammed against her ribs.
Khar almost never touched her unless there was a reason. Every deliberate movement from him felt weighted. Intentional.
“If you want,” she said. “It’s just a braid.”
She stepped closer, tilting her head up toward him. Instead of touching her from the front, he turned her gently by the shoulder so her back was to him.
His hand moved down the braid, barely there at first, as if testing whether the contact was permitted. Then he slid his fingers upward, slow and controlled, until they reached the nape of her neck. Where hair met skin, he traced a single line.
Lily shuddered.
Then he closed his hand around the braid and gave it a sharp tug. Not painful. Decisive.
A sound escaped her before she could stop it.
“What are you doing?” she snapped, heat flooding her face.
Khar stood behind her, unrepentant. If anything, he looked entertained.
“It’s a good style,” he said calmly. “Practical. Controlled. In combat, it gives an opponent something to grab, but it’s safer than wearing your hair loose if you leave only one braid.”
“Then why don’t you wear yours like this?”
“Divani braid their hair only after bonding with a mate.”
She had no answer for that.
Khar had chuckled softly and walked away, leaving Lily furious and uncomfortably aware of every nerve he had ignited with a single, casual gesture.
She thought about it far more often than she should have.
And the more she analyzed their interactions, the clearer it became. One moment stood out in particular. When she commented on his physique, his answer could even be considered flirty, if she squinted.
“Khar, tell me your secret,” Lily said, her voice quiet but determined.
“What secret?” Khar sputtered with uncharacteristic hesitation.
“Your secret workout routine. You look the best you ever have since I’ve known you, so speak up.”
“Oh, blasted Cradle… I suppose one or two things have changed lately… but it is a rather big secret.”
“Come on. Out with it.”
Khar paused, considering. He absently tossed the restart rod into the air, spinning it once before catching it and sliding it into his uniform pocket against his thick thigh.
“Maybe later…” his voice dropped, rough with amusement. “Some secrets are better shown than told.”
Yes, she confirmed. Khar saw her. Not just as a coworker. Not just as a responsibility.
As a woman.
He was not cruel. If he did not want her, he would not play with ambiguity. And if she had misread him, she trusted him enough to believe he would not mock her for it.
Still, the idea of rejection hurt.
But she owed herself honesty.
That resolve burned steadily all the way back to the Vitromium, only to be derailed when Horos intercepted her.
Lily barely registered the words he said.
Her thoughts were already elsewhere, racing ahead to what she would say to Khar once she escaped.
Only Horos’s rusty cough caught her attention briefly, making her consider asking if he had the flu or something, but she thought he would notify her if it was a matter of concern.
At least she left with something tangible. The solar collector for Helios was finally in her hands.
When she returned to Vitro, she found Khar sprawled in the command chair, boots resting against the console. He leaned his head back as she entered, dark hair spilling down the chair like liquid night.
“Hi, Khar.”
“Hi, Lily. Good to see you intact.”
She laughed quietly and took her seat. “It wasn’t that bad. He said they’re satisfied with my work. And that I’m a good influence on you.”
Khar narrowed his eyes. “That diseased feather-thing did not say that.”
She grinned. “True. I lied so you wouldn’t sulk. You’re a lost cause.”
He released the grav-lock and pushed himself closer, tapping the package in her lap.
“What’s that?”
“My solar collector. For Helios.”
“Your ship’s named Helios?”
“Yes. After an ancient Earth sun god. Dead religion. Nice sound.”
“Fits,” he said. “For a sun-loving girl.”
She lifted the package. “Want to help me install it?”
“Absolutely. To Helios.”
They sealed the Vitromium and crossed to Lily’s much smaller ship. Khar paused at the entrance, surveying the interior with a stillness that made her pulse spike.
“Welcome aboard Helios,” she said. “May I… show you my ship more closely?”
She braced herself for confusion. For laughter. For polite rejection.
Instead, the atmosphere shifted.
Khar did not move at first. He studied her, luminous eyes searching her face, her posture, her resolve. Then, without breaking eye contact, he sealed the hatch behind him.
The click echoed too loudly.
Lily’s skin prickled as if she had stepped into a predator’s territory. The air felt heavy, charged, thick with something unspoken. Like the moment before a storm breaks.
He waited.
Testing her.
She forced herself to lift her chin and meet his gaze.
Slowly, Khar smiled. He dimmed the lights, letting shadows pool around them, then advanced with unhurried certainty.
When he stopped in front of her, Lily had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. One claw traced a path from her thigh upward, over her stomach, between her breasts, to her throat, until her chin rested in his palm.
The touch was agonizingly slow.
Even through fabric, it unraveled her.
Her body responded instantly, heat blooming low and sharp, more intense than anything she remembered with human lovers. She inhaled sharply.
Only then did Khar speak.
“Such courage,” he murmured. “From such a small human. Very well. Tell me what you want.”
She wanted him now, closer, without restraint, but the words tangled in her chest. She had never been seductive by nature, and Khar was overwhelming in a way no one else had ever been.
So she chose honesty.
“What do you want, Khar?”
He leaned closer, his hand sliding to her waist, holding her in place.
“I want to see what happens when someone as controlled as you loses it,” he said softly. “I want to know if you taste the way you smell. I want to hear my name on your lips while I am inside you.”
The world narrowed to breath and heat and that dangerous, perfect voice.
Lily felt like she was standing at the edge of a cliff. One step forward meant there was no going back.
She stepped anyway.
“Then it’s time you found out, Khar.”