His hands were shaking. “And that male just… laughed. Like it was funny. Like watching a child lose everything was entertainment.”
Maelic’s voice dropped to barely a whisper. “I heard my Papeer’s last breath. Smelled my Mamir’s blood. And I couldn’t do anything. I was fourteen cycles old, and I couldn’t save them.”
The silence stretched between them. Delaney’s hand found his chest, trying to offer him something to soothe the long-buried pain. But she knew some wounds would always be past the point of comfort.
“I would have died. If Katan had not shown up when he did.”
“Katan?”
“Yes. He is the captain of the Axioms. He had been chasing Barvarti’s crew at the time. He saved my life. In more ways than one. I owe him everything.” Maelic’s gaze grew distant. “I did not return to my home planet. I started training with Katan to become an Axiom after that incident.”
Her heart clenched. She couldn’t imagine losing her family like that and then leaving everything she’d ever known behind.
Delaney shifted closer, her shoulder pressing into his side. He startled, just slightly, then relaxed, his arm coming around her like it had been waiting for permission.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. It felt useless. She said it anyway.
Maelic dipped his head, his antennae brushing her hair. “I know.”
They sat like that while the house settled around them. The TV murmured quietly, forgotten. Outside, the wind rattled the windows, cold and insistent.
After a moment, Maelic shifted again. He reached into his pocket and hesitated.
“I made something,” he said.
He placed it in her palm. A small carving, rough but careful. A moth, wings spread wide.
Her throat tightened. “Maelic…”
“It is not good,” he said quickly. “But it is meant to be a promise.”
She traced the carved wings with her thumb. Warm. Real.
“I like it,” she said. “I like it a lot.”
She stared at the carved moth in her palm. This ridiculous alien had spent hours making this for her. With his hands. Because he wanted to give her something.
Grandpa used to carve little wooden ornaments for Grandma every Christmas. Clumsy things, never perfectly symmetrical, but Grandma had treasured every single one. Kept them in a special box, hung them on the tree first every year.
“It’s not about the craftsmanship, Delly,”Grandma had told her once.“It’s about the time. The thought. Your grandpa sat there with his hands and made something just for me.”
Delaney’s throat tightened.
This wasn’t a fling. This wasn’t grief-fueled bad decisions or pheromone-induced insanity.
This was real.
He’d lost everything—his parents, his home, his childhood—and somehow, impossibly, he’d chosen her. Wanted her. Not because she was special or had anything to offer, but just… because.
And she was falling for him.
Had already fallen, probably. Somewhere between the Christmas lights and the cocoa and the way he’d carried her out of the woods when she’d been falling apart.
Oh no.
“Maelic,” she whispered.
He looked down at her, those red eyes soft in a way that made her heart ache.
