Zara crossed the room and stood in front of me, reaching up to adjust the collar of my jacket with a gentleness that made my chest ache. “You can’t protect me from everything.”
“I can try.”
“And I love that about you.” She smiled, and I felt the warmth of her affection through the bond, mixing with my anxiety in a way that was both comforting and unsettling. “But we’re partners now. That means we face the danger together, not with you trying to shield me from every possible threat.”
Partners. The word settled over me like a truth I was still learning to accept. My whole life, I’d been taught that strength meant self-reliance, that depending on others made you vulnerable. Even as a pilot, I’d maintained emotional distance from my crews after losing Bren and Kira.
But Zara was different. The mating bond made her different. And maybe that wasn’t weakness. Maybe it was a different kind of strength.
“Fine,” I said, though the word came out more grudgingly than I’d intended. “Partners.”
“Good.” She rose up on her toes and kissed me, quick and sweet. “Now finish packing so we’re ready when Vikkat returns. And try not to look quite so much like you’re preparing for battle.”
“I am preparing for battle.”
“I hope there isn’t a battle,” she said, moving back to her own gear. “I found the last one near the Destran city—the one Maya and Rykar were in—waytoo overstimulating and I wasn’t even present for it.”
The reminder of what could happen left me standing there with the taste of her still on my lips and the uncomfortable realization that she could, very possibly, be part of a battle.
I was approaching this expedition like a military operation, which made sense given my background. But Zara was right: the D’tran weren’t enemies, at least not yet, and treating them like potential threats would only create the very problems I was trying to avoid.
The door chimed again, and this time it was the younger D’tran who’d delivered our supplies earlier. The youth carried a tray loaded with food that smelled significantly better than the emergency rations we’d been surviving on.
“From kitchen,” he said in careful words. “For strength before journey.”
“Thank you,” Zara said warmly, accepting the tray. “This is very kind.”
The young D’tran ducked his head, then hurried away before either of us could say anything else. Zara set the tray down on the stone table and gestured for me to join her.
“Eat,” she commanded. “You’ll need your strength, and I don’t want you getting grumpy from hunger halfway through this expedition.”
“I don’t get grumpy.”
“You absolutelydoget grumpy.” She handed me whatlooked like a meat pastry of some kind, still warm from the oven. “You get this pinched look around your eyes, and your skin goes all dark and stormy, and you stop talking in complete sentences. We called you Captain Grumpy before the expedition began.”
I bit into the pastry to avoid responding—I probably was grumpy back at the Destran city—and was immediately glad I had. Whatever meat they’d used was rich and savory, seasoned with herbs I didn’t recognize but that tasted like home in a way I couldn’t quite explain.
“This is incredible,” I said around the mouthful.
“Right?” Zara was already on her second pastry, eating with the single-minded focus she brought to everything she enjoyed. “I think the D’tran might be distant genetic cousins, but their cuisine is definitely superior to standard Destran fare.”
We ate in companionable silence, both of us aware that this might be our last comfortable meal for several days. The expedition gear Vikkat had promised included food supplies, but traveling rations were never as satisfying as hot, freshly prepared meals.
When we’d finished eating and packed the last of our equipment, I took a moment to really look at Zara. She’d changed into the thick, reinforced D’tran travel clothing that had been provided. They were practical layers designed for harsh conditions. Her blond hair was pulled back in a tight braid, and she’d secured her breathing mask to her belt for easy access.
She looked competent and prepared, but I could see her brown gaze flitting all over the place, the slight tremor in herhands as she double-checked her equipment. She was scared, even if she was trying to hide it.
“Hey,” I said softly, catching her attention. “Come here.”
She crossed to me, and I pulled her against my chest, holding her close and breathing in the scent of her hair. Through the bond, I could feel her anxiety mixing with my own, a feedback loop of worry that we’d both been trying to contain.
“We’re going to be okay,” I murmured into her hair, saying it as much for myself as for her.
“You don’t know that.”
“No, but I believe it.” I tightened my arms around her. “Because the alternative is unacceptable.”
She laughed, the sound muffled against my chest. “Very logical.”
