“It’s beautiful.” Her voice was quiet. “On Earth, you’d have to pay a fortune to see something like this. Private reserves for the wealthy.”
“This whole planet is yours now.” The words came out rough, possessive. “Every view, every sunset. Yours.”
She turned to face him and her fingers found his wrist. The touch was light. She traced the dark marks that wrapped around his skin like living vines. They had darkened over the last three days, more pronounced each time they touched.
“What are these?” Her finger followed one dark line as it curved toward his palm. “They weren’t there before.”
“Mating marks.” His throat tightened around the words. “They appeared when I thought I’d lost you.”
“Mating marks,” she repeated. She was tasting the words. “And this means what, exactly?”
The question required truth. Complete and unvarnished. She deserved to know what she’d bound herself to and what those marks meant to his people.
“You’re my kelarris.” The word fell from his lips like a prayer. She gave him a questioning look. He continued. “It means beloved. More than mate, more than partner. It means you’re the other half of my soul. The one the gods chose for me before either of us drew breath.”
Her fingers stilled on his wrist. “That’s a pretty word for property.”
“No.” The word came out sharp and her eyes widened. He gentled his voice, needing her to understand. “Kelarris isn’t about ownership. These marks are the gods’ blessing on our union. A recognition that we’re meant to be together. Two halves of one whole.”
She studied his face and he held her gaze, letting her see the desperate need, the worship, the surrender. Her expression softened.
“The warm feeling in my head,” she said quietly. “That’s your legion?”
“A fragment of it. It chose to stay with you. To protect you from within.” He covered her hand with his, trapping her fingers against his marked wrist. “I’ve never heard of it happening before. The legion doesn’t separate. It doesn’t share itself. But for you, it did.”
“And you’re okay with that? Part of you living in my head?”
“Michelle.” He turned her hand over and kissed her palm. “I’m okay with anything that keeps you safe. If my entire legion wanted to transfer to you, I’d let it go.”
She made a soft sound and stepped closer. Her body pressed against his. The blanket fell as her arms wound around his neck. He caught it one-handed and wrapped it back around her without breaking their embrace.
“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” Amusement was in her voice, not irritation. “Always trying to take care of me.”
“Always.” He pulled the blanket snug around her shoulders. “You’re too precious to risk.”
“I’m tough enough.”
“You’re perfect.” His hand cupped her face and his thumb brushed her cheekbone. “Delicate and fierce. Perfect.”
She leaned into his touch. Her eyes closed briefly. When they opened again, something vulnerable flickered in the depths. “I need to tell you something.”
His chest tightened. He kept his voice steady. “Anything.”
“My children… I want them to visit someday. My grandchildren too. I want them to meet you, to see this place.” She gestured at the landscape. “But Zeke, I can’t give you children. That ship has sailed. Menopause hit years ago. Even before that, having kids at my age would have been risky.”
The words tumbled out in a rush and her body went tense against his. He felt her brace herself, waiting for his reaction. Disappointment? Anger? He wasn’t sure what she expected.
Instead, he smiled.
“Michelle.” He tipped her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You think I care about that?”
“Most men want?—”
“I’m not most men.” His thumb traced her lower lip. It trembled. “There are always children brought to Parac’Norr. Younglings who manifest early and have nowhere else to go. If we want a dozen children, we can have them. But if it’s just us forever, that’s perfect too.”
Her eyes went bright. “You mean that.”
“Every word.” He pulled her closer and she melted against him. “You’re all I need. Everything else is extra.”
