She was moving before he'd finished the sentence. Into the room, past the monitoring equipment, until she was beside Delilah's bed. Her cousin looked so small. So still. Reaching across, she took Delilah's hand.
"Hey, Dee." Her voice came out rough and low, just between the two of them. "It's me."
The monitors beeped softly. Delilah didn't respond.
"We're on a space station now. Can you believe it?" She smoothed her thumb over Delilah's knuckles. "There's this alien. Kirr. He's... I don't know what he is. Infuriating. Overprotective. " She paused, swallowing hard. "He slammed a guy against a wall today for looking at me wrong. Full-on alpha-male caveman stuff. You'd have loved it."
Delilah's expression was serene and peaceful. It looked like she was just asleep.
"I'm sorry." The words scraped out. "I should have tried harder to make you listen. Should have refused to get in the car. Should have?—"
"That guilt isn't yours to carry,” Kellat said. "Don't put this on yourself."
Her head snapped up. Kellat stood in the doorway, his expression gentle but firm.
“What did you hear?”
“Enough,” he said as he stepped into the room, moving to check the monitor attached to Delilah’s bed. "You weren't in control of that vehicle. Whatever happened in that crash, it wasn't your fault."
"You don't know that."
"You were in the passenger seat." He looked at her over the bed. "That's all I need to know."
“That doesn’t matter,” she bit her lip and swallowed as the back of her eyes burned. “I’m the eldest, this is all my fault.”
"Guilt like that doesn't fix anything." He adjusted a readout, his voice quiet. "It just eats you alive. Believe me, I’ve been there."
She didn't have an answer for that.
The silence stretched between them, filled with the soft hum of medical equipment as Kellat did whatever tests he needed. Harper's thoughts drifted back to the gangway. To Kirr's hand around that male's throat...
"Can I ask you something?" Harper worried the edge of the chair with her fingers.
Kellat looked up. "Of course."
"On the ship this morning. Kirr..." She trailed off, not sure how to frame the question. "A warrior looked at me, spoke to me, and Kirr just... he had him against the wall before I could blink. Hand around his throat. And his face —" She shook her head. "Is he always like that? That violent? That..."
“Violent?” Kellat tilted his head, in question. "Or protective?"
She blinked. “Protective? He almost killed the guy! Just for looking at me!”
The healer was quiet for a moment, considering. "I can't speak to how he handles threats; I'm a healer, not a warrior who serves under his command. But I've known him for years." He scrolled through a display without really looking at it. "What you saw… isn't how he usually presents."
She didn't know what to do with that information. So she filed it away.
"But you are under his protection. And he’s a War-Commander, it isn't just a title. Males like that are built… harder than most."
She nodded. "So… dangerous."
"They are." No hesitation. No sugar-coating. She appreciated that.
"War-Commanders are the most dominant males in our society. They have to be. The decisions they make, the battles they fight… they carry the weight of every life under their command. That requires a certain... intensity." He paused and frowned. "Kirr didn't get his rank by being gentle. Don’t get me wrong. He's gentle when he can be, but he's lethal when he has to be." Kellat checked Delilah's readout on the secondary display. "What you saw this morning? That's who he is. Under everything. A male that will do anything to protect those under his care."
She thought about Kirr blocking her from the other male, putting his body between her and danger without even thinking about it. The way his first instinct had been protection, not violence. The violence came second…
“He said he'd claimed responsibility for me." The words tasted strange on her tongue. "What does that mean, exactly? Is it ownership?"
Kellat's brows snapped together. "No, not at all. It’s responsibility, not ownership. There's an important distinction." He leaned forward, leaning one elbow on the monitor in front of him.
