“Good, Sage,” cooed Vorthain.
We’d been at this for… I didn’t even know how long. And we wouldn’t stop until I reliably sought out closeness to Victor.
My alpha.
My… mate.
Victor broke out into a soft purr, his hand running down my back.
They hail you, an act of neutrality. But the alien language coming through the comms is unknown, your translator chip not recognizing the clicks and hisses. What do you do?
“I think you’ve earned yourself a break, darling. You’ll have water and a steak salad.”
I don’t answer right away, instead routing power to the Dominion’s linguistics core to initiate a probabilistic scan.
The screen flickers.
Threat assessment: Inconclusive
Emotional tone: Cautious
Intent: Unknown
“Starlight Dominion to unidentified vessel,” I say evenly. “You are within restricted space. State your purpose.”
“Thank you, alpha.”
* * *
I never got to be the Navigator.
That was Kaleb’s role. And he was good at it, too. He had a million different voices, and could quiet a room with a single, dramatic pause. A look. A breath.
His stories were detailed and immaculate, his grasp on the hard, and not so hard, science made everything believable. At least to someone like me, who took everything at face value.
An alien species that existed as a sentient cloud? Sure, sign me up.
He’d made it seem so effortless, but I knew he’d spent months crafting these expeditions. He’d bought all the manuals, and when we were dating, would always ask me for my opinion and input.
“I want it to be fun for everyone at all levels,” he’d said. “And since you’re a beginner, you’re the perfect baseline.”
He’d always been so considerate like that.
He was gone now, though. And so were Nellie and Conan.
Someone needed to tell the story, and it all fell to me. Because Ronan wasn’t ready yet.
* * *
Victor sat at his desk, reading the latest reports on the city-state’s expenditures.
A small chair had been pulled up so I could sit beside him, and he kept one hand on the back of my neck, his thumb tracing circles on my skin. His other hand rested on the mouse, his middle finger slowly moving the scroll wheel with soft, gentle clicks.
He didn’t like any noise while he worked, whereas I’d always studied with some sort of music in the background. Silence had always made me nervous, forcing my attention on every sound in the background rather than what mattered.
Maybe it was a witch thing. Our cauldrons were almost always bubbling with some potion or concoction when we were at home.
Damn, I missed my cauldron.
