If he finds out, if heclaimsher… what happens next?
What happens if someone else gets there first?
I bury my face in my hands and let the tears fall.
CHAPTER 8
VAEL
Iwake with the taste of her still clinging to my mouth.
Not in some poetic, flowery way. No — it’s real. Tangy-sweet and storm-slick. The kind of kiss you don’t forget, even if your brain's been half-replaced with cybernetic stabilizers. I lie still, eyes fixed on the ceiling, the medbay ceiling that always smells faintly of disinfectant and recycled air. But this morning, it smells likeher. Like charged ions and cinnamon tea and that goddamn citrus balm she used to keep in the pocket of her scrubs.
I sit up, slow. My ribs grind in protest, the cyber-frame humming low under my skin. I ignore the pain. I’ve ignored worse.
It’s not the pain that drives me wild this morning. It’sher silence.
She ran. Again. Just like five years ago.
Only this time, she left a fire behind her, and it’s still burning in my veins.
I get dressed in jerky, angry motions — half torn between the urge to hunt her down or to pound the wall again until I’ve vented this tension. I settle for walking. Not pacing. Not limping.Justmoving, like my body might forget what my mouth tasted last night.
It doesn’t.
When I getto the diagnostics wing, she’s already there.
She’s early.
Standing behind a console with her medcoat buttoned all the way to her throat, shoulders stiff, eyes on a datapad. She doesn’t even flick a glance my way when I walk in.
Cold air snakes down my back. Not from the room. From her.
"Morning," I say, voice low. Too calm. Controlled like a scalpel.
She doesn’t look up. “Vitals are steady. We’ll start with balance testing.”
“That’s all I get?” I take another step toward her. “No hello? No side-eye? No guilt?”
She clicks through tabs on the console like I’m a glitch in her program. “This isn’t personal, Commander. We’re here to track your rehabilitation. Not... whatever that was.”
My jaw flexes. “Whatever thatwas?”
She finally looks up, and damn if her eyes don’t slice straight through me like old times. “Yes. Last night was a lapse in judgment. For both of us.”
I blink at her. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”
She doesn’t answer. Just sets the pad down with a little too much force.
I cross the space between us in two strides. “You made love to me like a woman who’s been starving for years, Rynn.”
She flinches. Not enough for most to notice — but I see it. Feel it. In my bones.
“You think I imagined that?” I ask, quieter now, low and rough like gravel.
She sucks in a sharp breath through her nose, then lifts her chin. “You were emotional. Still disoriented from the sedatives. I should’ve kept it professional.”
I stare at her. “Professional? You kissed me like your life depended on it.”
