He followed her moments later, his body rigid, and his breathing harsh in her ear. He held her through the aftershocks, stroking her wet hair, murmuring soft words of endearment.
They stayed like that for a long time, the water cooling around them as their pulses slowed.
Eventually, he stirred. "Come. You need sleep."
He stood, lifting her with him, water cascading off their bodies. He dried her with a thick towel, patting her skin dry with the same patience he'd used to wash her. He carried her to the bed—his bed, their bed—and pulled back the covers.
She crawled in. The sheets were cool and smelled like him. She curled on her side, heavy with exhaustion.
Kirr lay down behind her, curling his massive frame around hers and pulling her back until she was flush against him.
"Kirr?" she whispered into the dark.
"Yes, kelarris?"
"I love you."
He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "I love you, too, my beloved. Sleep now. I have you."
She closed her eyes, her hand coming up to rest on the arm draped over her waist. Even in the dark, she felt the marks around his wrist and traced them.
They weren't ink, even though they looked like it. They weren't biology either. They were a promise.
He wasn't going anywhere and neither was she.
She let out a long breath and just… slept, safe and content in the arms of her handsome alien mate.
The other half of her soul.
The air in the medical bay smelled different today.
It was the same crisp, recycled antiseptic scent that had greeted Harper every time she walked through the sliding doors, but for the first time since the crash, she headed toward Delilah's room without the crushing weight of impending doom sitting on her shoulders.
Kirr's hand was warm and heavy on the small of her back. He hadn't stopped touching her since they'd left the LMP offices twenty minutes ago. His thumb swept back and forth over the fabric of her blouse in a silent reassurance she didn't need but craved anyway.
"I still can't believe they just... dropped it," Harper said, her voice low in the quiet corridor. "After all that bullshit… and they just dropped it!”
"They did not have a choice." Kirr's tone was matter-of-fact as he looked down at her, a fond expression in his eyes. "You are my mate. To charge you after everything you did would be to challenge the M'Aab clan, and Duke Kaarigan values his position too much for that."
He sounded so calm about it. Like threatening to go to war with the rest of the Latharian empire was just another Tuesday.
She looked down at her wrist. The silver vines of her bracelet caught the overhead lights. It was still a tracker, but she didn't hate it. It was a lifeline. A silver thread connecting her to the massive warrior walking beside her.
Her mate. Her husband now, she guessed.
She still couldn’t believe it.
She was safe. She wasn't going to be deported and she wasn't going to lose him.
They reached the door to Delilah's room. Her cousin was the same as she had been yesterday… still pale and surrounded by the soft hum of machinery. But she looked a little more peaceful, maybe?
Harper sank into the chair beside the bed and took Delilah's hand. It was cool and limp in her grip.
Kirr moved to stand behind her chair, settling his hands on her shoulders. He didn't speak, just let his presence calm her.
"Kirr?"
"I am here."
