by Lydia Hope
“Because you’re a legend,” she whispered.
“I don’t think of myself as such. I served my people and I did it well. As does he.”
She glanced sideways. Commander Aiek, a huge, uncompromising, feral Rix male, a commander of a massive space station, was standing at attention in front of Simon who was still showing signs of malnutrition.
Her heart swelled with pride. She smiled at Simon, unable to contain the tremulous nature of it. He moved closer and put his arm around her shoulders. Reading the intimacy of their embrace, Aiek said something short, bowed his head curtly and left them.
“What did he say?” Gemma whispered.
“Blessings, Commander Aeshac.”
“You? He called you Commander?”
“Yes.”
“You were one?”
Simon’s eyes flashed with humor. “I guess I still am if you can stretch the title of a spaceship to Butan.”
“And Aeshac?”
“A name.”
“Your last name?”
He shook his head. “Rix don’t have last names.”
Dumbfounded, Gemma stared at her mate. “Your name is Aeshac?”
“That’s what I was called, yes,” he admitted with some reluctance.
“You never told me! I’ve been calling you Simon this entire time.”
“It doesn’t matter now.”
“How can it not? And how did you end up being called Simon, anyway?” A terrible thought took root. “Oh, no. No no no. Please tell me Dr. Delano didn’t give you this name.”
He shrugged. “They had to call me something at that lab, and since I never told them my real name, they came up with Simon.”
Gemma felt like she was struck on the head by a two-by-four. “This is so wrong. I hate this name now. But why didn’t you say something, Sim… Aeshac?”
“Call me Simon.”
“I cannot.”
Very deliberately, he took her hand and threaded their incompatible fingers together to form a tight knot.
“At the time when I lost control of my mind, when I had no more fight left in me, and my only hope was to die, you walked into my cell and said, Hello, Simon.” He kissed the back of her hand. “I am Simon.”
