He doesn’t move. “This thing with her…”
“Say it.” My voice comes out low. Dangerous.
He doesn’t flinch. “She’ll break you.”
I laugh. The sound is crueler than I mean it to be. “Let her try.”
Brom's eyes flicker with something—respect? Worry? I can’t tell.
He steps closer. “The crew is watching. Some are uneasy. They see you favor her.”
“She wears my collar.”
“They want to see your control.”
I bare my teeth. “They canwatchall they want. But if any lay a finger on her?—”
“Iknow,” Brom interrupts. “They know too. But it’s not her safety I worry about. It’s yours. This…pullyou have to her. It’s stronger than anything I’ve seen.”
I look at my hands. At the faint shimmer of her scent still clinging to my skin.
“She’s not just mine,” I say softly. “She’smeant.”
Brom exhales through his nose and nods, once. “Then make sure you don’t forget who you are, Captain. Reapers do not worship. We rule.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” I murmur.
But deep down, I wonder if maybe, for her, Iwouldkneel.
And maybe I wouldn’t mind.
I findher alone in my quarters, seated cross-legged on the sleeping platform, wrapped in one of my furs. Her hair spills down her shoulders like molten light, and she looks up the moment I step in. No fear. Just that maddening calm she wears like armor.
In my hands, wrapped in crimson cloth, is her gift.
She watches me approach, eyes narrowing like she’s trying to guess what game I’m playing now. I kneel before her, not as a servant—but as a male presenting a treasure to his mate.
Her fingers brush mine as she takes the bundle, slow and careful. The cloth peels back to reveal a ceremonial Reaper blade—short, curved like a crescent moon, the hilt crafted from bone polished to a soft ivory sheen. Not ornamental. Functional. Sized for her grip. Balanced to her weight. Forged by my hands.
She stares at it.
For a long breath, she says nothing.
Then she runs her thumb over the serrated edge, slow. Reverent. “This is... beautiful,” she murmurs.
I nod. “It’s yours. A symbol. Reapers do not give these lightly. Only mates bear them.”
Her head jerks up. “You’re saying I’m your mate now?”
I crouch beside her, the heat from her skin calling to mine. “I’m saying you alreadyare.”
She stares at the blade a moment longer, then back at me. Her voice is soft, edged with something like awe. “You’re not afraid I’ll use it on you while you sleep?”
I laugh—a real one this time. “Maybe you will.” I tilt my head, my grin sharp and unrepentant. “Let’s see if you’re fast enough.”
She shakes her head, but she’s smiling, even if she tries to hide it behind her hair.
“You’re mad,” she mutters.
