She let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob. Her hands came up, fingers digging into his biceps.
"I…" She swallowed hard. "Kirr, I?—"
A siren wailed, sharp and piercing, slicing through the moment.
Red lights flashed, and heavy boots thudded above their heads somewhere.
"Security!" a voice bellowed, echoing off the bay walls. "Step away from the transport!"
Kirr turned, shielding Harper with his body.
The lead warrior stepped forward.
"Harper Sawyer." His blaster stayed trained on Kirr's chest. "You are under arrest for theft of station credentials and unauthorized flight protocols. Surrender immediately."
Harper's breath hitched, a terrified sound that cut right through him. She went to step around him, to put herself between him and the weapons, still trying to protect him even as the net closed around her.
"Don't," she whispered. "Kirr, let them take me. Don't fight them. Please."
Kirr didn't move. He didn't step aside. Instead, he planted his feet and glared at the security teams. He was Kirr M’Aab, War-Commander and Lord of the M’Aab clan. He didn’t step aside for anyone lower than the emperor himself.
"Stand down," he roared, his voice booming over the sirens.
The security team faltered, but they didn't lower their weapons.
"War-Commander," the lead warrior called out, uncertainty cracking his professional veneer. "She is a fugitive. She stole high-level credentials. We have orders."
"And I have a claim," Kirr snarled.
He shoved his wrist in the air. The sleeve of his jacket rode up, exposing the fresh mate marks. Under the harsh bay lights, they stood out even against his tanned skin.
"Look at them!"
A ripple went through the security squad. Weapons wavered. The lead officer took a step forward, frowning.
"That's..." He swallowed. "That's a mate mark."
Kirr didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. "She is my mate. Chosen by the gods. Bound by blood and soul. This is not a security matter. Not anymore."
Harper trembled against his back. He reached behind him, grabbing her hand and pulling her forward until she stood tucked against his side, under the shelter of his arm.
"The law is clear," Kirr said, his gaze sweeping over the security team, daring any of them to challenge him. "A mate bond supersedes all other considerations. It supersedes the Mate Programs protocols. You cannot take a male’s mate without challenging the bond itself and, by extension, our laws. You all know this."
The lead warrior hesitated, his gaze flicking from the mark on Kirr's wrist to the small, terrified human female.
Every warrior in the bay knew what that mark meant. Separating fated mates was blasphemy in the eyes of the gods. Arresting a War-Commander's female? Ill-advised. Trying to take Kirr M’Aab’s bonded mate? Suicidal.
"Sir, my orders are to detain her," the officer said, his weapon dipping a fraction. "But if... if the bond is genuine.
"It is genuine," a new voice cut in.
Duke Kaarigan strode onto the deck, followed by two LMP officials. The Duke looked irritated, his formal robes sweeping the metal grating, but his gaze zeroed in on Kirr's wrist immediately. He stopped ten feet away, staring at the mark.
"Well," Kaarigan said, his expression shifting from annoyance to begrudging acceptance. "That does change things."
"It changes everything," Kirr corrected him. "The charges against my female will be dropped. The matching decision will be rendered null and void. She is mine as decided by the gods themselves."
The Duke pinched the bridge of his nose, then snapped two fingers at the squad. "Stand down. War-Commander M'Aab is correct. The matching program is secondary to the will of the gods. If the marks have manifested, then we have no jurisdiction to separate them."
