“Explain that to me,” I said, surprising myself. “The mating system. I‘ve read about it while researching your species, but accounts of the mating bond are clinical. Detached. I want to understand what it actually means.”
Baleck shifted in his chair. His skin flickered with colors I couldn’t interpret. “For Destrans, true mates are precious, andthey don’t happen for everyone. When we find ours, we know. The bond is written in our biology, marked on our skin. It’s not something we choose. It’s something that happens to us.”
“Like an illness?” Because that’s what it sounded like.
He laughed, a short, surprised sound. “Like a revelation. Like suddenly seeing in color when you’ve only ever known shades of gray.” He paused, considering his words. “The marks usually appear when we first touch our mate, but they can appear at other times. They burn into our skin, permanent and undeniable. And from that moment, everything changes. Our priorities. Our desires. Our very sense of self. The mate becomes central to everything we are.”
“That sounds…” I searched for the right word. “Overwhelming.”
“It is. But also clarifying. There’s no uncertainty. No doubt. You know what you want. You know who you’re meant to be with. The only question is whether they’ll have you.”
I thought about that. The certainty of it. The absolute removal of choice. It was terrifying and appealing in equal measure. More appealing, if I was being honest. To not wonder if you were accepted and supported by a capable mate would be an asset, in my opinion.
“Did Cleo feel the same way?” I asked. “About Rezor? Did she have those feelings for him?”
“Yes.” Baleck’s answer was immediate, confident, and I did my best to ignore how closely he watched me as he spoke. “Strong feelings. Anyone who saw them together could see it. The way she looked at him. The way she leaned toward him when he spoke. She was falling for him, and falling hard. The mating bond is never one way, even when it’s with humans.”
“Then why didn’t she stay?” I didn’t understand. If the bond was real, vital, and irrefutable, leaving just didn’t sound like a practical move.
Baleck smiled, and there was deep knowing in his expression. “Aren’t human feelings more complex than binary code? Stay or go. Love or don’t. It’s rarely that simple for your species.”
“True, but from what I’ve learned about your species, rejecting a Destran bond is physically and mentally debilitating,” I countered. “Leaving would create unnecessary suffering.”
“Again, not that simple.” He tapped a finger to his full lower lip, and I did not stare too long at it. “Cleo has a life beyond this planet. Responsibilities. Relationships. A sense of self that she built long before she ever met Rezor, and scars from her past that make trusting someone difficult. Also, well, Rezor made a mistake and she hadn’t forgiven him when your group appeared in the sky.”
I frowned. “What did he do?”
“He didn’t let Zara in to see Cleo. He was so used to the valley being closed off to everyone from the outside that he held a little too firm to that line. And, he was probably afraid to lose her.”
“I see no such inflexibility from Rezor.” I raised my brows. “He let her leave without issue. And he has been quite accommodating to us as new arrivals.”
“Yes, because he learned his lesson,” Baleck said. “But Cleo needs time to process and to understand what the bond means for her, not just for him.” He leaned back in his chair, his smile turning softer. “She’ll come back. They’ll be together in the end. I’m certain of it.”
“How can you be certain?” Why was I so invested in the relationship of two people I didn’t—not really—know?
“Because they’re two people who are clearly meant for each other. And because I know Cleo. She loves Rezor, but he hurt her and she got scared. After she finds her footing, and she misses him enough, she’ll come back. Sooner rather than later, I think.”
I turned back to the monitors, checking the transmission status even though I knew it hadn’t changed. I needed a moment to process what Baleck was saying and what it might mean for other situations.
The Raycer ride came back to me unbidden. The warmth of Baleck’s thighs bracketing mine. The solid presence of his body behind me. The way his breath had felt on my neck, rapid in the darkness of the tunnel, slow and steady in the light.
I liked how strong he was. Not just physically, though that was undeniable. But emotionally. Mentally. He felt things openly, without shame or pretense. He didn’t hide behind walls the way I did. Didn’t treat vulnerability as weakness.
And he was open. So open. I never had to wonder what he was thinking or feeling. His skin broadcast his emotions like a signal beacon, and even when his colors were muted or confusing, his words and actions filled in the gaps. He found me attractive. That much was obvious. The way he looked at me. The way his skin warmed when our eyes met. The way he’d called me beautiful without any hint of calculation or agenda.
I adjusted the monitor angle, pretending to optimize the display while I gathered my thoughts. Then I turned and looked at him.
He was sprawled in the chair, one leg extended, the other bent with his foot flat on the floor. His head was tilted back, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, his expression thoughtful. The posture should have looked lazy, careless. Instead, it looked like a male comfortable in his own skin. At ease with himself in a way I’d never managed to be.
Did he think I was his mate?
The question surfaced before I could stop it. Attraction wasn’t common for Destrans without the mate bond. That’s what the briefings said. That’s what Baleck himself had implied.So if he found me attractive, if his skin warmed and his eyes softened when he looked at me, what did that mean?
I wondered how I’d react if he told me. If he looked at me with those amber-gold eyes and said the words out loud. You’re my mate. My true mate.
I didn’t know.
The realization was unsettling. I always knew how I’d react to things. I planned for contingencies, mapped out responses, prepared myself for every possible scenario. It’s what made me good at my job. But this. This was uncharted territory. A variable I couldn’t predict or control.
