“I think I need to find the Vultor you spotted.”
Alarm flickered across her face. “Why?”
“To find out why he’s here. To find out if he intends us any harm.” He hesitated, then told her the truth. “If he suspects there is a connection between us, he can track you here. I’d rather meet him on neutral ground first.”
Her worried look hadn’t faded so he bent down and nuzzled her mating bite. “Trust me. A single Vultor warrior is no threat.”
“All right. And I think I should…” Her words trailed off, her expression troubled.
“Stay here. Where you’re safe.”
“I can’t.” She pulled back enough to meet his eyes. “My father is not a good man, Valrek. I know that. But he’s not entirely a monster either. He’s trapped, the same way I was. If Merrick retaliates against him?—”
“Your father sold you to pay his debts.”
“Debts he incurred saving my life,” she said quietly. “I wouldn’t exist without him. I wouldn’t be able to breathe underwater, wouldn’t have my Song, wouldn’t have found the pipe or you or any of it. He made me what I am. He made me into currency, yes. But sometimes I wonder if he hates himself for it.”
He growled.
“That doesn’t excuse?—”
“I know. I’m not excusing him.” She pressed a palm to his chest, over his heart. “I’m just saying that if something happens to him because of me, I need to know I tried. I need to know I didn’t just leave him to Merrick’s mercy.”
He didn’t understand her feelings, not entirely, but he understood duty. He understood the weight of blood ties, even twisted ones.
“We’ll go together,” he said finally.
“No. You need to find that Vultor warrior. You can find out why he’s here while I check on my father?—”
“Absolutely not.” His arms tightened around her. “You just fled a man who wants to own you, and you want to walk back into his reach alone?”
“Not walk, swim. I can hide in the water and you can’t.” She smiled at his growl. “Think about it strategically. If we’re together, we’re easier to trap. But if you’re tracking information while I’m gathering intelligence from another angle?—”
“You’re not a spy. You’re a diver.”
“And you’re not a warrior anymore. You’re an exile and a father.” She cupped his face with a gentle hand. “We’re both pretending to be things we’re not. At least let me do it for something that matters.”
He wanted to argue. Every instinct screamed at him to forbid her from leaving his sight, to wrap himself around her and face the world with claws extended. But she was right, and the tactical part of his brain—the part that had kept him alive through exile and rejection and endless solitude—recognized the wisdom in her plan.
“I will find the Vultor,” he said slowly, “and learn what he knows. You will check on your father from a distance.” He held up a hand when she started to interrupt. “You will not enter the lab. You will not let Merrick see you. You will observe, gather what information you can, and return here before the sun reaches its peak.”
“That’s barely half a day.”
“That’s all you’re getting.” He pulled her down for a fierce kiss. “If you’re in danger, I will come for you, no matter what walls stand between us.”
She smiled against his mouth.
“My grumpy, protective alien warrior.”
“Your mate,” he corrected. “For the rest of our lives.”
“That’s what I said.”
They held each other for a few more precious moments, and then—reluctantly, painfully—they rose to face the day.
She put on a spare diving suit she’d left in cave with a sigh of relief. The ruined festival dress lay in shreds on the cave floor, and she looked at it with something like satisfaction.
“I hated that dress.”
