“Thank you.”
“That’s what family does.” She glances off-screen, where I can hear a deep voice rumbling questions. “Henrok says to tell you he’s activating full defensive protocols and clearing firing lanes. Also, he wants to know if your bond-mate requires any ceremonial accommodations.”
Rynn’s hand finds mine. Squeezes. “Tell the First Blade I require only a relay and the opportunity to defend what is mine.”
Suki’s expression softens. “I’ll tell him. Safe travels, Polly. Both of you.”
The connection cuts, and I’m left staring at the blank viewscreen.
“Fourteen hours,” I say quietly. “We jump in thirty seconds.”
Rynn leans close enough that his forehead touches mine. Close enough that I can feel the bond thrumming between us, warm and constant and absolutely terrifying.
“This is a terrible idea,” he murmurs. “But it’s ours.”
I kiss him once, hard and quick, tasting the promise of it. Then I pull back and grip the controls.
“Zip, get us out of here.”
“WITH PLEASURE, CAPTAIN CHAOS. JUMPING IN THREE... TWO... ONE.”
The stars stretch, reality warps, and Pink Slip leaps into hyperspace. Behind us, the Meridian fleet arrives thirty seconds too late. Ahead of us: sanctuary, or war, or maybe both.
But we’re together. Bonded. Claimed.
And somehow, against every scrap of common sense I’ve ever possessed, that feels like enough.
10
Resonance
Rynn
Fourteenhoursisaneternity when the bond is a live wire under my skin and every beat of my heart is her name.
I sit on the bunk’s edge, shirtless, fists clenched on my thighs, trying to breathe through the need clawing at my spine. I’m still half-hard from the claiming, scales flickering with residual heat, but the ache is deeper than flesh now. I feel her worry in the shower (sharp, metallic, tasting of ozone and guilt), and I want it gone. I want her soft and gasping and certain of only one thing: that she is loved beyond reason.
The bathroom door hisses. Steam pours out, sweet with her soap and the warmer, darker note of her skin.
She steps into the doorway, naked, water beading on her collarbones, pink hair dripping down her back. My mark glows gold on her throat, raw and perfect. Her eyes find mine and go dark with the same hunger humming through the bond.
“Rynn,” she says, soft, like my name is a secret she’s been keeping.
I stand. One step. Two. I stop just short of touching her.
“I need to take care of you,” I rasp.
A slow, wicked smile curves her mouth. “Yeah? Funny. I was just thinking the exact same thing about you.”
Before I can speak, she closes the distance and drops to her knees.
My breath locks in my chest.
Water still clings to her lashes, her lips. She looks up at me (fierce, reverent, utterly unafraid) and wraps one small hand around the base of my cock. I’m heavy, aching, already slick at the tip. She hums, pleased, and the vibration shoots straight to my spine.
“Polly—”
“Shh.” She leans in, presses a soft kiss to the head, then swirls her tongue around it like she’s memorizing the taste of me. My knees nearly buckle.
