The absurdity of it makes me laugh—a slightly hysterical sound that I cut off quickly by pressing my hand over my mouth. This isn’t funny. My career is over. Everything I’ve worked for, every protocol I’ve followed religiously for three years, every perfectly documented inspection—all of it destroyed in the span of hours.
And the worst part? Looking at my reflection, at the claiming marks on my throat and the thoroughly debauched state of my hair and the flush still visible on my skin...
I look happy.
That realization sends me into a mild spiral.
“This is insane,” I mutter, starting to pace in the small refresher space. “I don’t do impulsive. I don’t do life-changing decisions without extensive analysis and risk assessment. I certainly don’t bond myself permanently to gorgeous alien warriors during asteroid field navigation!”
My hands shake slightly as I try to process the implications. What am I supposed to tell Mother? ‘Sorry, I accidentally mated with the subject of my safety inspection while fleeing from his gladiatorial past’? She’ll think I’ve lost my mind.
Maybe I have.
I sink onto the refresher’s fold-down seat, head in my hands. “Get it together, Cross. You’re a safety engineer. You solve problems. This is just... a very complex, very personal problem that happens to involve permanent biochemical alteration and legal implications across multiple star systems.”
When put like that, it sounds almost manageable.
Almost.
The trembling in my hands gets worse, and I realize I’m hyperventilating slightly. This isn’t just about career implications or legal complications. This is about the fact that three hours ago I was a single, independent woman with a clear life plan, and now I’m permanently bonded to someone I’ve known for less than a week.
Someone who’s currently being hunted by an alien warrior with a very legitimate grievance.
Someone who used to kill people for entertainment in underground fighting circuits.
Someone who makes my heart race and my brain shut down with just a look.
“Oh, void and starfire,” I whisper, using one of Crash’s expressions without thinking about it. “I’m in love with him.”
The admission hits me like a plasma bolt to the chest. Not just attracted, not just bonded—in love. Completely, irrevocably, ridiculously in love with a Velogian warrior who calls me ‘partner’ and looks at me like I hung the stars.
And that terrifies me more than any safety violation I’ve ever encountered.
A soft knock on the refresher door interrupts my spiral. “Zola?” Crash’s voice is gentle, concerned. “Are you alright? I can feel your distress through our bond, but I wanted to give you space to process.”
Of course he can feel it. We’re connected now, probably for life. No more privacy, no more independent decision-making, no more—
“I’m fine,” I call back, though my voice cracks on the words. “Just... give me a few more minutes?”
“Take all the time you need,” he replies, and I can hear him settling against the door. “I’ll be right here.”
The simple assurance makes something settle in my chest with emotion. He’s not demanding explanations or trying to fix my crisis. He’s just... there. Available if I need him, patient while I work through my own mental chaos.
It’s exactly what I need, and somehow he knew that without me having to explain.
I take a deep breath, forcing myself to approach this like any other engineering problem. What are the actual facts?
Fact One: I am permanently bonded to Crash, whether I panic about it or not.
Fact Two: The bonding was not entirely accidental—I made a conscious choice to claim him during the asteroid navigation.
Fact Three: I don’t regret the bonding itself, just the circumstances and implications.
Fact Four: He’s been nothing but respectful, protective, and understanding throughout this entire situation.
Fact Five: We work well together—our skills complement each other, our bond enhances our abilities rather than hindering them.
Fact Six: I was already falling for him before the bonding occurred.
