by Celia Kyle
“No, Swipt. It’s not crazy at all.” I clap him on his shoulder. “As you were.”
Lokyer glances over at me from his own console, his eyes somber under his horns. “Nothing’s going to be the same, Solair. Not saying it’s going to be bad, but it’s not going to be the same.”
“Everything is in constant flux in this galaxy, Lokyer. Stagnation of thought and purpose has mired the Ataxians and the Alliance in their centuries-old war. The trick is not only to be unafraid of change but to take advantage.”
Lokyer nods, but I can tell he’s not convinced. He’s the sort that needs charts, graphs, and peer-reviewed data before he’ll accept something as truth.
I head out of the bridge, my footfalls echoing off the curving burnished walls. My ship is filled with the sounds of voices in conversation, which isn’t anything new. What is new are the feminine voices joining the chorus and the peals of laughter that seem to come from everywhere.
Laughter. My crew and I enjoy a good rib, a good jest, but I don’t remember us ever laughing so much. It’s like with the women on board, we’re seeing old things in a new light. I can only assume it’s much the same experience for Varia and her people.
I find Zander in the guts of our primary gamma emitter array. He hovers ominously over two junior grade techs who are struggling to splice in a backup surge protector. It’s always a good day when I don’t have to fire our weapons, but I’m glad Zander’s here to keep them up to spec.
He offers me a firm nod and then gestures at the crewmen. “I’m pleased to announce that I’ve been able to reduce our power transfer loss during firing by nearly seven percent.”
“Highly commendable.” Zander is pretty grim for a Kilgari, so I’m not about to hurt his feelings by pointing out that seven percent isn’t all that high. Anyway, our lives might someday depend upon that paltry seven percent, so I’d rather not court disaster. “Zander, how is everyone adjusting to the presence of the women on board?”
“We’re professional Kilgari warriors.” He straightens up. “We’ll do our duty no matter how many distractions abound.”
“So, the women are distracting you from your duty?”
“Not me—the other men. But I’ve also noticed that after the initial, chaotic clusterfuck of their arrival, crew work efficiency has risen by over fifteen percent. The men are happy, so they’re working harder. Sir.”
I think his quick justification might have something to do with the way he stares at the brilliant-but-eccentric Professor Thrase, but I don’t say such a thing out loud. Poor Zander would be scandalized.
Leaving him to his duties, I next find my way to the mess hall. If the conversations throughout the ship are noticeable, in here it’s downright raucous. Jax smiles and does his typical greeting of pointing both his fingers toward me while keeping his elbows near his torso. “Captain in the mess hall.”
I stroll over to him, wincing at the tumult in the mess. It’s definitely never been this loud before, but all I see are smiles and engaged expressions at every table.
“What’s the good word, Jax?”
“Well, today I learned to make Salisbury steak, but I had to make a few adjustments to the recipe since we didn’t have any Terran beef.”
I arch an eyebrow at him. “Adjustments?”
Jax scratches the base of his horns and peers to the side. “Ah… good news, our rodent problem is a thing of the past.”
I laugh and clap him on the shoulder. “I trust you to make anything palatable, Jax. How is everyone making the adjustment to the Frontier women coming on board?”
“Well, I think it’s fantastic, personally. As does pretty much everyone else, even the ones who seem grumpy.”
“Well, we’re all adults here, Jax. Whatever happens, I’m sure we’ll be able to deal with it.” So, I’m not alone. It seems that some of my men already believe they have found “the one.” Just as I have.
This could disrupt the peace on my ship. There are roughly one hundred and fifty of us, and one hundred seven women. That will leave some of us out in the cold.
I need to speak with Varia again. As excited as I am to formalize our union and tell her she’s my mate, I can’t ignore the fact that all of this could disturb the harmony of the Queen.
And as captain, that troubles me deeply.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Varia
“What’s all this?”
Standing right before the doorway, I peer into Solair’s quarters and my pulse quickens. Tiny holographic candles float in the air, bathing the room in a dim but warm yellow light, and there’s a small round table at the center of the room. A crimson tablecloth has been draped over its surface and on top of it there’s a small flower arrangement, white and pink roses peeking over the rim of a silver jar. And these are real flowers, not a holographic stand-in.
“Step into my chambers.” Standing aside, Solair makes a slight bow and waves me in, an amused smile dancing on his lips.
“Said the spider to the fly,” I mutter under my breath, not feeling entirely sure of what’s going on. When Solair told me we needed to talk, I half-expected to be on the receiving end of more complaints regarding the Queen and its new occupants, not to be wooed with dinner.
“What was that?” he asks me, cocking one eyebrow up as I walk past him.
“Nothing,” I reply awkwardly. “Just an old human saying.”
Still smiling, Solair pulls up a chair for me. Surprised by his gentlemanly ways, I return his smile with one of my own and sit. It’s hard to believe this is the same Kilgari who exploded into the cargo hold where we had been trapped. Back then, I thought of him as nothing more than a brute—a very handsome brute, all right, but a brute nonetheless.
“I hope this is to your liking.” Taking his own seat, he clears his throat and looks at me. He looks slightly embarrassed, which makes for an odd sight. He’s always so sure of himself, his entire demeanor that of a man who’s never in doubt. “I made some enquiries as to what women would expect in a, uh…”
“In a dinner date?”
“Yes, that’s it, a dinner date.”
“Well, so far you’re doing great.” The smile still hasn’t left my lips, almost as if it’s permanently in place when I’m around Solair. “Although I gotta say, I wasn’t expecting this.”
“After what happened between us, is it that surprising?”
“Well, we spend half our time arguing, so I think that—”
“We don’t argue. We debate,” he corrects me, shifting his weight uncomfortably. “I mean, there’s a little friction at times, but we’re running large crews here. I think that’s to be expected.” Reaching to the side, where he has a small side table, he grabs a bottle of wine and pours some into our glasses. “A vintage red from Luvon. Hard to come by these days. I was saving it for a special day.”
“A special day, huh?”
“Yes, that’s what this is,” he says, all of his self-assurance returning to his voice. As he speaks, he removes the silver domes from our plates to reveal an elaborate dish. There’s an elongated purple fillet covered with an orange sauce with perfectly lined rows of a vegetable I’ve never seen before flanking it. The scent alone is enough to make my stomach rumble with hunger, and I immediately suspect Marion’s involvement in this.
“And why is this a special day?” Reaching for my glass, I take a sip out of the wine, allowing its sweet oaky flavor to coat my tongue. And to think that not long ago we were diverting distilled water out of the cryopods so we wouldn’t die of dehydration.
“Because I’ve finally come to terms with what you mean to me.” He stares into my eyes. He doesn’t flinch, nor does he seem uncomfortable with those words. If anything, he looks more relaxed now that he’s said them, as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. Taking a deep breath, I lean back in my seat and look down, allowing his words to echo inside my head. I want to tell him that the same is true for me, that I’ve made peace with what I feel toward him, but
it’s not easy.
“Are you sure?” I ask him, biting on the corner of my bottom lip. “I’m bad news, Solair. If you think I’m some perfect woman who always knows what she’s doing, if that’s what got you interested in me…”
“You are perfect.” Reaching for me, he lays his hand on top of mine, gently squeezing my fingers. “But that doesn’t mean you’ll always know what you’re doing. I don’t. Half the time I’m pretending.”
“It’s not just that,” I continue, all my fears and doubts bubbling to the surface. “I’m afraid that when you look at me you see someone virtuous and brave, someone who always does the right thing, but… that’s not me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I know you think you’ve got a pretty good idea of who I am, but truthfully, there’s so much you don’t know. There are reasons why I’m so such a confrontational hardass. I grew up the oldest of a large family—seven children, to be precise—in a military family, so from a young age I’ve been used to taking care of others. Both of my parents were part of the IHC fleet, so usually, only one of them was home with us at any given time and it fell to me to act as the missing parent.”
Solair watches me with kind, yet intense eyes, as if he’s been waiting a lifetime to hear my story. I’m encouraged by his soft gaze and even though I’m never really comfortable talking about my upbringing, I press on.
“When I got older, my parents often both went out on missions and left me in charge. I learned very quickly that managing a family of seven was not easy. There was homework to help with, meals to cook, clothes to wash. At the age of fourteen, I was essentially a mother and father to my siblings, the youngest of whom was only two years old. I think I’ve become such a strict, regimented person because of that. You can’t run a household that large without becoming a little neurotic. And then, because it was the only thing I knew and the only way out of being an adult before my time, I joined the IHC Marines at sixteen.”
“So young,” Solair comments, and I can tell he almost can’t fathom the thought.
“I was just so tired of taking care of everyone and, being a navy brat myself, I already knew what I was getting into. I signed up the day after my sixteenth birthday and never looked back. Until the day I saw combat on Horus IV. The Alliance and the IHC had just entered into the Titanus Vox Accords. It’s a miracle I survived it when so many didn’t. It messed me up for a bit and I left the navy as soon as I could—honorably discharged. I simply couldn’t do it anymore,” I tell him.
Unbidden tears form behind my eyes at the thought of how many friends I lost on Horus IV, but I take a deep breath and push them back down into the recesses of my heart where they belong. I’ve shed enough tears over that battle, and I don’t want to ruin this moment between us by dissolving into a blubbering mess.
“There’s nothing for you to be ashamed of, Varia. The loss of just one soul is often difficult to process. I can’t fathom that many at once. If my entire crew were killed… I don’t know what I’d do.”
“Entire crews were killed during that battle. It was literally hell.”
“Every sapient being in the known galaxy has heard about Horus IV, Varia. Everyone knows what you’ve gone through.”
“Being arrested and waking up in the cargo hold and having all these women to take care of… it just brought back Horus IV for me all over again.”
I haven’t spoken about Horus IV to many others because it’s nearly incomprehensible. Most can’t wrap their minds around a loss that large, but Solair—even though he hasn’t experienced it himself—as the captain of a large crew can. The thought makes me relax, a little more at ease with telling him more of my background. I realize with a sudden start that I want him to know me—all of me.
“I worked here and there. One by one, I lost touch with my siblings. Most of them moved out to the Outer Colonies in search of a better life. My parents passed away and I drifted. Worked whatever job I could find. I lived on Novaria for a time. Went to Earth. Didn’t like the paradise that people say it is. Found a transport to Erebus and began black market dealings. Made some pretty good money.”
“You’re talking to smuggler. I know what it takes to survive.”
“Do you know how I ended up in that cargo hold in the first place? I was arrested,” I say, finally looking up to return his gaze. “I used to have some dealings in the black market. I’d fence stolen tech here and there, trying to make ends meet, or I sold and resold whatever I could put my hands on. I’m not a good person, and that’s what landed me here.”
“Is that supposed to be a deal breaker or something?” His eyebrows knit together. He lets out a small chuckle and then leans back, waving one hand at the four walls around us. “You are not responsible for the loss of your unit on that blasted Horus IV. You didn’t kill them. The galaxy has gone mad. And in case you haven’t noticed, you’re aboard a smuggler’s ship and I’m the captain here. I’m not exactly a holovid hero either. So, stop trying to find excuses, Varia. I know who you are and I…” He gives a slight pause, almost as if he’s trying to look for the right words, and then gives my fingers a gentle squeeze. “I love who you are.”
“I’m not used to that,” I find myself saying, “love.” Pursing my lips, I take another sip of the wine, hoping the alcohol will give me some liquid courage. “I spent all my life trying to survive, and I never really had the time for a relationship. In fact, I had already given up on it. It didn’t strike me as something important, or as something I needed to have.”
“Is that still true?”
“No, it isn’t,” I admit. “After I met you… well, things have changed. I’m not sure of anything anymore, Solair. I don’t know what my place is in the universe anymore, or what I’m supposed to do with my life. The only thing I’m sure about is that I need you in it.”
“This is why I’ve brought you here,” he whispers although there’s strength behind his words. Setting his silverware down, he rests both his elbows on the table and locks his eyes on mine. Something in his gaze makes my heart tighten, and my breath catches in my throat even before he continues speaking. “Have you ever heard of the mating bond?”
“The mating bond?”
“It’s an old myth, dating back to the Precursors and their lessons they taught my people. We preserved them in something we call the Elder Scrolls,” he explains. “A long time ago, the Kilgari didn’t choose their mates. They were chosen for them.”
“By whom?”
“Fate,” he replies with a shrug, a small smile on his lips. “These special fated mates were known as jalshagar.”
“Fate chose?”
“Through lips entwined a mate is found, forever and ever the two shall be bound. That’s a passage from the Elder Scroll of the Kilgar. I knew these words but never truly believed until I finally came across you, and when we kissed that first time, I…” Taking a deep breath, he gives himself a little encouraging nod. “You are my mate, Varia. I’ve known it since that first kiss. You are mine, just as I am yours.”
I don’t say anything for a couple of heartbeats, my mind working hard to digest everything he has said. Fated mates? Now that’s a concept I thought to be nothing more than legend, something to tell your children while tucking them into bed. And yet, Solair’s right. That first kiss revealed the naked attraction between us, sealing it in place.
Fate brought him to me. To soothe my aching soul.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“I wasn’t sure how to tell you,” he admits. “I didn’t want to add to your stress.”
“Everyone’s stressed here,” I laugh, squeezing his hand back. “There’s no privacy for those who need it. Tempers are flaring. And yet, most of the women are happier than they’ve ever been.”
“Does that include you?”
“What do you think?” Pushing my chair back, I walk around the table and stand before Solair. I place both my hands on his shoulders, and then lean down and kiss his cheek. “I’v
e never been happier, Solair, and you’re the one to blame.”
“If that’s the case,” he says, slowing rising to his feet, “then I’ll gladly take the blame.”
Leaning in, he crushes his lips against mine.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Solair
Our lips meet and I feel it again.
It’s hard to describe. The feeling is strange and ethereal, but there’s no denying it’s real. It’s almost like opening your eyes after you’ve just woken up and your brain still hasn’t dragged your memories out of the shelf; it’s like sunlight falling on your face and warming your skin, absolutely no baggage at all to cloud the experience. It’s a feeling of belonging and connectedness, one that can’t be broken.
“I feel it too,” Varia whispers against my lips, and for a moment I wonder if she’s reading my thoughts. Pulling back from me, she places both her hands on my face and looks into my eyes, a timid smile on her lips. “I knew there was something about that kiss, but I didn’t know how to put it into words. But it’s as you said—a mating bond.”
“It’s more than that.”
“Yes,” she breathes out. “It’s love.”
Her lips return to mine before I can say a word more. Our bodies melt into a tight embrace, our hands exploring the warmth of each other’s skin, and our kiss grows frenzied with each passing second. Whatever remained of dinner turns into a forgotten detail, and we glide across the room as I lead Varia to the bed.
I pull her shirt over her head, the rising curve of her breasts immediately drawing my attention, and my heart beats almost too rapidly. Boiling blood rushes through my veins at neck-breaking speed, and a furious heat takes over the space between my legs. As my flesh turns hard, my two erections straining against my trousers, it becomes almost impossible to remain in control.
Unclasping her bra, I lean in and kiss that patch of smooth skin in the valley between her breasts. I push her down onto the mattress, my lips climbing up her right breast, and I suck her hard nipple into my mouth.
