Chapter 19
Xabat
I awoke to the sensation of Harper in my arms, her body molded against mine, her warmth seeping into my chest as she slept.
Contentment flooded through me in a way I'd never experienced before.
The weight of her pressed against me felt inherently right, as natural as breathing, as if the universe had carved out this space in my arms specifically for her and her alone.
I took advantage of the burgeoning light to study her face.
The elegant curve of her jaw. The way her dark lashes fanned out against her cheek.
A lock of auburn hair had fallen across her forehead, and I carefully brushed it back with the pad of my thumb, my touch feather-light, not wanting to disturb her slumber.
Harper shifted slightly, murmuring something soft and unintelligible, and burrowed deeper against my side, seeking my warmth. The corners of her mouth quirked up in a faint smile, as if even in sleep she found comfort in my presence.
My hand moved to the small of her back, my palm spreading wide across the gentle dip of her spine, tracing slow, deliberate circles there.
A gesture I'd discovered soothed her. In the past few weeks, life had fallen into an easy, comfortable rhythm.
Breakfast together in the mornings. Long conversations that stretched into the evenings, covering everything and nothing.
The way she laughed at my terrible jokes.
How she fit in so easily with the rest of the crew, carving out a place for herself, making a home here—with me.
The lights brightened another degree, a subtle signal that the ship was waking up, that the day was beginning whether we were ready or not.
I wasn't ready. I tightened my hold on my mate, wanting to preserve this perfect moment as long as possible. The warmth of her skin against mine, the soft, rhythmic sound of her breathing, the profound peace that settled over me like a blanket when she was near.
My mate.
The Historia still resided in the Milky Way, the ship holding position while the Alliance deliberated over what to do about Declan—Nigel—Hewes.
Thanks to Maddie's considerable expertise with accessing Earth's internet, Harper had been able to settle her affairs back on Earth in a way most abducted humans could only dream of.
She'd listed her house in a place called Raleigh for sale and arranged for the beach house to be managed by a rental company.
The proceeds from both properties would flow directly into funding the elementary school where she used to teach, ensuring students would have the resources they needed long after her departure.
The thought of her generosity, her unwavering commitment to those younglings, made my chest tighten with pride.
Harper's friends and family had been told a carefully crafted version of the truth to account for her sudden disappearance—a story that built upon the messages she'd sent after the storm. Messages we now realized had allowed Declan and his mercenaries to track her location.
Harper told them she'd been caught in the hurricane, and that I'd rescued her from certain doom.
That we'd fallen immediately, irrevocably in love, the kind of whirlwind romance that existed in something she called a romance novel.
And that she was now traveling with me to my home in a place called Malta to begin our new life together.
She'd even convinced me to engage my cuddwisg device so she could send pictures of us together through something she called 'Snap-Chat,' whatever that was.
Her friend April had referred to me as a total hottie in her response, which made Harper dissolve into peals of laughter.
I snuggled against her now, my arms tightening around her waist, acutely aware that I had duties waiting for me—reports to file, training exercises to oversee, a ship and crew that required my attention.
But I wanted nothing more than to spend a few more minutes lounging with my mate, breathing in her scent, feeling the steady beat of her heart against my chest.
Fate... and the Historia had other plans.
The call siren erupted through the room.
A sharp, piercing wail that shattered the peacefulness.
Harper jolted awake with a startled gasp, her body tensing against mine before she fully registered what had torn her from sleep.
Her eyes, still heavy-lidded and unfocused, snapped toward the speaker mounted on the wall.
"Fuck," she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep and irritation. Then, with deliberate slowness, she raised her hand and extended her middle finger toward the offending speaker in a gesture I'd learned was a human expression of displeasure.
I couldn't help the small smile tugging at my lips. Even disheveled and grumpy, she was beautiful.
"What?" I barked at the intrusion.
"Good morning to you too," Cristox's voice filtered through the comm, rich with barely suppressed amusement.
"I thought you might like to know that an approaching Alliance vessel has hailed us.
They located the compound where your brother was held, buried deep underground on one of Neptune's moons. Xytol will arrive within the hour."
Relief crashed through me in a powerful wave, so overwhelming and all-consuming that for a moment I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but feel the weight of it washing over me.
My chest constricted, my heart hammering against my ribs in a frantic rhythm.
Xytol was alive. After all this time, after all the searching, the gnawing fear that I'd never see him again—my brother was alive and safe.
"Thank the stars," I whispered, my voice rough and raw with emotion, barely more than a rasp.
Harper threw herself into my arms with such force that we nearly toppled off the bed, her lips finding mine in an enthusiastic kiss that landed with a loud, joyful smack. "Oh, Xabat, that's wonderful! I'm so happy for you."
"Yes." I pulled her close, wrapping my arms around her and pressing a lingering kiss to her temple, breathing in her scent, grounding myself in her presence. "Yes, it is."
But even as joy flooded my chest, something darker coiled beneath it like a serpent waiting to strike. Guilt.
After he'd been abducted so many years ago, I'd mourned Xytol as though he was already dead. Searched for him with every resource at my disposal, followed every lead. I'd never forgotten my brother, not for a single moment.
But what would Xytol think when he learned the truth? That while he'd suffered imprisonment in some underground hell, enduring who knows what horrors, I'd claimed the only thing he'd asked of me—the female he'd begged me to find and care for. A female I'd fallen in love with myself.
He'd hate me. In his position, I would hate me too. But I could live with the hate, could bear the weight of his anger and resentment. What I couldn't live with was the idea of losing Harper.
"It will be okay, Xabat," Harper murmured against my chest, as though reading the dark spiral of my thoughts. She kissed me gently, lovingly, her lips warm and reassuring. "Xytol will understand."
"I hope you're right, my love," I said, though doubt gnawed at my insides like a living thing.
An hour later, we congregated on the dock while the Alliance ship completed its landing sequence.
The massive vessel settled onto the reinforced platform with a deep, resonant thrum that vibrated through the deck plating beneath my boots.
Adtovar and Maddie stood with us, ostensibly to welcome the Alliance crewmen, but I knew they were here to provide support for whatever came next.
Harper pressed close to my side, her fingers intertwined with mine. Her grip tightened suddenly, a wordless signal that prompted me to gaze down at her beautiful face, at the determination etched in every line of her expression.
"No matter what happens, I'm yours and you're mine," she whispered fiercely, rising on tiptoe to press a tender kiss to my cheek, her breath warm against my skin. "Nothing will change that."
"Nothing," I agreed, my voice rough with emotion as I dropped a soft kiss on her lips, savoring her sweetness.
The metallic groan of the ramp lowering drew my attention back to the ship, the hydraulics hissing as the heavy platform descended.
The Alliance troop hauler was larger than a standard shuttle.
A hulking beast of reinforced durasteel, built for combat and carrying soldiers who had no need for comfort or luxury.
The first male to disembark was a Vaktaire.
His massive frame cast a long shadow across the dock as he strode down the ramp.
He introduced himself as Chieftain Sawin of the Alliance forces, his voice a deep rumble that carried authority in every syllable.
He briefed Captain Adtovar, describing how they'd been able to trace my brother's message—though with considerable difficulty—following digital breadcrumbs through layers of encryption to a compound buried deep on one of Neptune's moons.
They'd liberated dozens of enslaved beings—some human, some not—with minimal violence since the compound was primarily a technical outpost, its sole purpose the monitoring and manipulating Earth's internet and technology.
They'd taken most of the rescued to planet Calpa for deprogramming and safe relocation.
I was so engrossed in his story that I barely heard the fall of footsteps coming off the ramp.
"Xabat?"
The voice—familiar yet changed, roughened by time and hardship—stopped my heart.
I turned.
My brother stood before me, thinner than I remembered, though his build had always been much leaner than mine.
But the familial coloring was unmistakable.
The same green skin, perhaps a shade paler than it should be, the same distinctive ridge pattern along his brow, the same purple eyes that mirrored my own.