“Anything, brother,” Qhix quickly sobers. "Is Jules not well?"
"The female is more than fine." I cast a sideways grin where Jules sits next to me at the command console. "It’s me that needs help and I'll explain soon enough. We're coming in for a landing now. Meet me at the landing zone and bring a Ziarian medical cuff with you."
"Sounds serious. What have you gotten yourself into this time?" There's an edge to his curiosity, the kind only found in those who've navigated the Universe's dark underbelly alongside you.
"Let's just say I've got a Grymlok souvenir lodged in my spine that needs removing," I growl.
My freighter glides smoothly through the vibrant atmosphere of Pryt. As we descend toward the designated landing zone, the lush greenery of the tropical paradise unfolds beneath us like a mesmerizing tapestry.
The pink sand beaches stretch out in gentle curves along the turquoise waters that sparkle under the radiant sunlight. Lush vegetation sways lazily in the balmy breeze, which I recall is heady with the scent of exotic flowers and salty sea spray.
With a soft thud, my craft touches down on the cleared area, stirring up a swirl of pink sand that dances in playful spirals before settling down. The landscape around us is alive with vibrant colors, from the vivid hues of blooming flora to the iridescent feathers of tropical birds flitting overhead. Safe and welcoming.
Everything Ritk is not.
I release my seat strap and glance at Jules doing the same. Despite her fiery spirit, her species is fragile, easily broken, and in need of protection.
By nature, Star Mavericks are loners, embracing solitude, but also living apart since we are all wanted males. It’s safer for us to not congregate in one place for too long. However, when I peer into Jules’ bright gaze, I can’t shake the tranquility and refugePryt offers. And with so many other females of her species living here, she belongs on the pink sandy beaches of Pryt more than she does dwelling inside a biodome on Ritk.
We leave the command deck, Jules trailing behind me, her silence a shroud of tension I can almost touch. The walls of my ship hum softly as we make our way to the medic bay to await Qhix.
"Behtu," Jules’ voice is steady but laced with an undercurrent of doubt, "are you sure there's no one else more... qualified to do this?"
The medic bay door swishes close behind us and I turn to face her. Her verdant gaze searches mine, seeking reassurance or perhaps an escape from the task at hand. But it's her hands that catch my attention, slight tremors betraying her composed exterior.
"Jules, there's no one else I trust more than you." My words are a vow, spoken with the gravity of a male who's witnessed the cosmos and all its merciless beauty. "You’re a healer on your world. I know you can do this. I need for you to do this, otherwise, my sivot will never wake."
I watch the conflict play across her features, a dance of fear and determination that makes her all the more captivating. She takes a fortifying breath. "Okay, let's do this.”
The door to the medic bay hisses open, and Qhix strides in with the swagger of a male who has navigated more star systems than most have charted on maps. He pauses, his eyes landing on the protrusion along my spine. "Past deeds catching up to you, brother?"
“You have no idea,” I reply curtly and hop up onto the padded table.
“Aside from delivering the medical cuff, what can I do?” Qhix sets the long, white life-saving device aside.
“He needs to be under while I extract the device,” Jules tells Qhix. “I’ll need you to help administer the correct anesthesia, and hover the scanner over his spine so I can see exactly what I’m doing.”
“I can that,” Qhix says, pointing to the cuff. “The medical cuff needs to be calibrated to his weight and donned just as soon as the neuroblocker is removed. It will heal the damaged tissue from insertion.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Jules says. “Ready to get that thing out your back, Behtu?”
“More than ready.” I lay face down on the cushioned surface of the examination table, my arms tucked at my sides and my head turned toward Jules.
Qhix's fingers dance over the medical console with practiced ease, his movements a blur of efficiency as he prepares the anesthetic. The hiss of the hypospray is soft against my skin where he places the pad on my shoulder.
My gaze finds Jules, her verdant gaze luminous in the bright light of the medic bay. She steps forward, so close, that I can catch the scent of her, the faint trace of antiseptic from the sterile environment mingling with the underlying warmth that is uniquely hers. It's intoxicating, a heady mix that binds me to this moment, to the vulnerability I feel with her standing sentinel over my prone form.
As the anesthetic takes hold, its tendrils spreading through my veins like liquid night, my consciousness begins to fray at the edges. My muscles loosen, surrendering to the strength of the drug, but my heart thuds with intense affection I never knew I was capable of.
"I love you," I manage to murmur, though I'm not sure if the words actually make it past my lips.
Her hand brushes my forehead, a feather-light touch that anchors me. She whispers words my sluggish mind can’t process as sleep claims me.
JULES
Behtu’s last words echo inside my head. Barely audible as he drifted off to sleep, but I heard them loud and clear. His declaration explains why he knotted me in his Kaul form, claiming me as his after keeping me at arm's length. He’d given into his heart the same as me.
Now it is up to me to keep in one piece.
